The Journey Home By: Radhanath Swami

RADHANATH SWAMI writes about his experiences when as a young hippie from Chicago, he left home to roam the world...

I decided to leave Rishikesh and travelled north into the higher elevation of the Himalayas. In Dev Prayag, I came upon a man whose character is forever engraved in the slate of my memory. On a chilly morning, as the stars were fading and the new day’s sun about to emerge, I scrambled down a mountain to the place where the Bhagirathi and Alaknanda converge. From the point of this confluence the river is called the Ganges. The river’s song there was tumultuous. I dipped in for a bath, ignorant of the power of the current.

As I took a step forward, the rushing current yanked my feet from under me and swept me towards the treacherous rapids. At that moment, a strongly built man, who happened to be bathing beside me, seized my arm with a vice-grip and pulled me towards him and then on the riverbank. My rescuer then placed his right palm on my head and, with great feeling, chanted a series of mantras for my protection. This was how I first met Kailash Baba.

A holy man who appeared well into his 60s, he had a powerful build and matted, greying hair that coiled around his head. When uncoiled, it extended to the ground. It was decades since he had cut his hair. He had a square face, large brown eyes, high cheekbones and a mouthful of teeth, something quite rare for an old sadhu.

All he wore was a single quilt garment that extended from his shoulders to his feet. In his hand, he carried an iron trident with a huge damaru drum tied to the top....

Kailash Baba was the first to instruct me about how to survive as a wandering ascetic. On cold nights, we slept on hillsides often overlooking a river.

One night, he offered me his blanket, and although I at first refused to take it, he insisted. For many nights, we slept together under the one blanket. He taught me how to procure food and medicine by identifying the edible roots, fruits and leaves in the forest.

Taking me into a village, he instructed me on the proper behaviour in which a sadhu respectfully begs alms. Unlike in the West, the begging of religious mendicants in rural India is considered an honourable way of life because the people receive so much in return from the sadhus they serve by giving alms. And as Kailash Baba was such an exalted person, I, too, felt that this was an exalted thing to do. He educated me in surviving on dried, flat, chipped rice. Because it is the cheapest food, any grain merchant will gladly offer it, and because it does not spoil, it can sustain one in the jungles for weeks. All that is required for a meal is to add some stream water to a portion of it....

He taught me also how to clean my body by brushing my teeth with the twig of the neem tree and washing my skin with mud from the riverbed. Beyond lessons in how to eat and clean myself, he taught me how to respect not just sacred rivers, temples, trees, the sun, the moon and the sacred fire, but also snakes, scorpions and wild animals. He did not speak English, but seemed to have a mystical ability to transmit ideas to me, particularly the idea that God was in the heart of all creatures.

He taught me to see the soul within the heart of a poisonous snake, for example, and to show my honour and respect for the creature by giving it space. And when among other sadhus, he trained me in the etiquette of how to address different denominations and how to eat with them.

As we travelled alone together, he became more and more like a father to me and he lavished affection on me as if I were his own son. Although we never talked, where there is affection of the heart, communication transcends language.  

By a simple gesture — pointing of the finger, a smile or frown, he taught me whatever I was to learn. To an onlooker he appeared to be a fearsome, unkempt mountain of a man hardened by austerities and carrying an iron trident. But I found in him one of the kindest, gentlest men I ever met....

From him and the other people I was meeting, I had begun to learn more about the different manifestations of God, or the deities that made up the pantheon of the Hindu religion. I wasn’t sure of how I felt about all these deities and the many forms they took; it was all quite foreign to me. But I could see the deep love and devotion these manifestations inspired. My mind was open and I was eager to understand....

As the days passed, I began to sense that Kailash Baba wished to enter seclusion. I didn’t want to impose myself on him and I knew that it was time to move on. Bowing at his feet, I begged for his blessing. Baba laughed heartily and, with tearful eyes, hugged me with the strength of a bear, then offered his blessings with the recitation of a mantra. I was touched both by the unyielding quality of his detachment and the softness of his heart as he bid me farewell. Like a father and son we loved each other, but as roaming sadhus, we sensed that we would never meet again.

This bittersweet experience of developing dear relationships, then moving on to never again see the people I was meeting was part of the life I had chosen. It was difficult for me, but the pain of separation kept the joy of our relationship alive in my heart. As I turned and walked away from Kailash Baba, I prayed never to forget him. And I never have.

Abridged from the book Pilgrim’s India, edited by Arundhati Subramaniam, Penguin Ananda

CHANT HARE KRISHNA MAHA MANTRA 

AND ALWAYS BE HAPPY