Champaklal Speaks

My Father

Of all my recollections about the elders of my family, the ones about my father are perfectly clear. His life was most sattwic due to which those who knew him well addressed him as 'Purani Maharaj'. Though externally he appeared to lead the life of a sanatani [practitioner of Vedic rituals], compared to others of his time he was quite liberal in his views.

“It is said that children inherit their parents' assets, then why did I not inherit anything from my father?” I sometimes wondered, in the early years of my life in Pondicherry. But now I realise that my sanskaras, my inner orientation, is the wealth he has bestowed on me; a treasure no amount of spending can diminish'

The sweet voice of my father is still ringing in my mind. When he read Okhaharan [a religious epic] in his melodious voice, not only would the room be filled up but, what is surprising, more than half of the audience would be children. And they came early to occupy their seats, such was. their interest. So captivating was my father's discourse that no instructions were needed to keep the children quiet; even those of them who could not understand sat quietly. It is only now that I understand fully how deep an impact the vibrations of his voice must have left on their inner beings.

I recall an example of his liberal thoughts. Once I went on a pilgrimage with him to Nashik and Tryambakeshwar, I was to perform my uncle's shraddha. [a ceremony for the dead]. As is customary, the priest asked me to shave my head but my father told me, “If you do not want to do it, it does not matter.” In spite of his apparently orthodox ways, he never insisted on our observing every custom.

But in all matters of daily life he insisted on discipline. He himself observed it strictly even in the smallest detail and taught us to do the same. Thus some of our clothes belonged to us only to the extent that we wore them but we could not emphatically say that they belonged to us alone; for instance, there was a coat which was used by two or three of us. However, each of us had a separate peg on which to hang our clothes. There were two roads from our house to our school, but we were told to use only a particular one so that in case one of us was wanted at any time it would be easy to find him.

My father did not interfere much in our lives once we reached a certain age. Thus, he never rebuked my brother Kantilal¹ My mother would complain, “You see everything but you never scold him; that is why he does not listen to me.” At such times, to pacify her, he would recite this Sanskrit couplet:

लालयेत् पञ्च वर्षाणि, दश वर्षाणि ताडयेत् ।
प्राप्ते तु षोडषे वर्षे, पुत्र मित्रमिवाचरेत् ॥

The first five years pamper the child; the next ten years, if necessary beat him. But from the time he attains the age of sixteen, behave with him as with a friend.

I recall another apparently trivial maxim. When I was young my parents often said, “You must wash your hands and feet before eating.” I never followed this advice. Some years back, I noticed that every time I sat down to eat there was a sort of tremor in my feet, but when I washed them and sat down, there was an immediate relief. Thereafter, interestingly, if for some reason I forgot to wash my feet, I had to get up in the middle of my meal to wash them. Once, long after I began doing it regularly, I read in a magazine that someone had researched this subject and showed why it is necessary to wash our feet before meals—in brief it helps digestion. It is from various big and small experiences of rishis and munis that such social customs have come up.

My father often said, “Ask and even the muktaphala [fruit of liberation] can be yours.” But he himself never asked for anything from anybody.

I remember another thing. Usually my father did not allow us children to be present when elders were talking. He would send us away saying, “Go, do your homework or read your lessons; if you don't have anything to study go out and play. You must not listen to our conversations here.” But sometimes it was the contrary; “You may sit here if you wish to,” he would say and ask us to pay attention to their conversation. Whenever he had thus permitted us to attend these talks we always learned many things. I fully understand now what was the purpose behind this apparently contradictory ways of my father. In this connection I remember another incident.

Once my father and my maternal uncle were talking. I was sitting there, listening attentively. When my father said, “God's Grace is always there; whatever I desire is fulfilled on that very day or the next day”, my uncle exclaimed, “Purani Maharaj, what a strange man you are! If this had happened to me, the first thing I would ask for would be a mansion!” My father quietly replied, “By God's Grace, I have no such desire.” My uncle said, “I would not be able to live like you, Purani Maharaj. You amaze me.” My father said, “But I am fully satisfied. When God's Grace is with us, what more is required?” When I heard this conversation I was five or six years old. What my father said has left a permanent impression because of something in his voice and the way he expressed himself. But I did not follow some of the other things he said and wondered what he meant. But the Gracious Mother is explaining all that to me now, through personal experiences.

Taking a nap in the afternoon was never the practice in our family. On the contrary, one should walk at least a hundred steps after lunch. That most people take a nap, sometimes sleeping till late in the afternoon, was something I saw only after I was about eighteen and began visiting other places. Nowadays, when I go out for some work or I am working at home, I am repeatedly asked to take rest. At such times I remember something my father used to say: “Who needs rest in the afternoon? Only people who are tilling their lands in the scorching sun or doing heavy physical labour need to rest.”

Having mentioned farming, I am reminded of another anecdote. In those days, houses did not have a separate room for taking bath. In the severe cold of winter, my father would be taking his bath early in the morning, sitting on a small stone bench alongside the outer wall of our house. At that time our farmer neighbour would be going to his fields with his plough. Seeing my father he would remark, “O Lord, may I never be born a baraman (Brahmin) so that I do not have to take a bath early in the morning in severe cold.” Referring to this, my father told us, “Saying such things as 'I cannot do something' or T cannot do it in that way' are only mental ideas. That farmer goes to the fields on that same early winter morning wearing only thick khadi (hand-spun cotton) instead of woollen clothes or wrapping a shawl around himself, but bathing seems difficult to him!” By such anecdotes, my father used to illustrate the peculiarities of human nature. These stories have proved most useful in my life.

On occasions he taught us through couplets, verses, poems, or fables. At that time these things interested me but were not fully understood. Now I understand their deeper meanings only by the Mother's Grace.

A lesson that my father taught me through a doha of the saint-poet Tulsidas has had a lasting effect on my life. In a very melodious voice he would sing:

Kahān kahoon chhabi āpaki, bhale bane ho Nāth;
Tulasī mastak tab name, dhanushaban jab hāth.

Explaining this he said, “God appeared in front of Tulsidas as Sri Krishna and Tulsidas told Him, 'Lord, I have no words to describe Your Beauty; but my head will bow to You only when you come with bow and arrows in the form of Sri Rama.' And the Lord was forced to appear to him in that form.” Then, explaining the deeper meaning behind the lines my father said, “You see, we may bow to all gods and goddesses, but our total surrender ought to be only to the form of the Divine that we have chosen to worship. Devotion and surrender have to be absolute.” This too I liked but did not fully understand.

After coming here, when the Mother explained the same thing I found it perfectly natural. Nowadays I can understand such things easily, without making any effort. One day I saw Mother asking a sadhak not to read books on Sri Ramakrishna. It reminded me of my father's words which I had not properly understood; on the contrary they had surprised me. But this time I understood because Mother explained it through experience. To avoid misunderstanding I may add that Mother had specially asked the same sadhak, whom she was now telling not to read Ramakrishnadev's writings, to read other works besides Sri Aurobindo's. How Mother guided is now becoming clearer to me. Then I had only faith in her words and her workings. Now, the Gracious Mother has added to that faith an understanding even of the deeper mysteries.

In the early days I felt no desire to meet great personalities or read their books, though I did look upon them with respect. But now I can read books by any of them; not only that, I go to meet them on my own; yet my head bows only to the one to whom I have surrendered my all. Of course, when I admire someone I do namaskar to them, but never pranam. But that does not mean I believe I have progressed more than them. I write all this now only because nowadays Mother reveals everything to me. Sometimes some people wonder: “Why does Champaklal need to meet these people after staying so long with Sri Aurobindo?” Let me clarify that I do not go to them for guidance. I have an absolute faith in the Mother and Sri Aurobindo. They are doing and will continue to do everything that needs to be done for me.