A Close Call By Radhanath Swami

Anointment At Pashupatinath Temple

At the Pashupatinath Temple that does not allow non-Hindus to enter, RADHANATH SWAMI manages to get anointed by the chief priest.

An Intense Longing

As I crawled out from the icy Himalayan waters of the Bagmati river, I gazed at two heaps of ashes, one from a cremation pit and the other from a sacrificial fire. I was dressed in only a loincloth, and a cold wind chilled me to the bone. An intense longing gripped me. What was I doing here - shivering, alone,nearly starving, and so far from home? Was all my searching to be in vain? I stared up at stars that were shimmering through the branches of an ancient banyan tree.

An Outsider

Birds of the night warbled a melancholy song. Sacred fires burned brightly along the riverbank, where holy men, their hair matted like ropes hanging down below their knees, threw offerings of pungent herbs into the flames. From the smouldering remains, they scooped out handfuls of ashes and smeared them over their flesh. Completing the ritual, they marched toward the sacred shrine that I yearned to enter.

‘Get Out Of Here’

It was the spring of 1971 in Pashupatinath, Nepal, where a flood of pilgrims had converged that night. Just out of my teens, I felt half a planet away from my home in suburban Chicago, and I ached for the solace of a holy place, a place where I might pray for direction. An hour earlier, I had approached an ancient temple, its towering gateway carved with mythical lions, serpents, gods, and goddesses. As I climbed the stone steps, thrilled with anticipation, a gatekeeper whipped his club into my chest. I sunk to my knees, gasping for breath. Flanked on both sides by police, the gatekeeper blocked my path and shouted, "You are foreigner! Get out!" Their chief, dressed in a turban and military attire, burst forward with burning eyes and smacked his rod across a sign that read: No Foreigners allowed.

No Turning Back

"Out from here!" he roared. "If you try again, you’ll be severely beaten and thrown in prison. And I cannot say what the angry mobs will do." He ordered his charges to be vigilant. I had wandered to the bank of the river, crestfallen. My arduous quest for spiritual meaning had led me this far. I couldn't turn back.

Smeared By Holy Ash

Now, watching the holy men, an idea sprang into my mind. I kneeled down at one smouldering pit, where a sacrificial fire had burned and sunk both my hands deep into the warm, powdery ash, sifting out the lumps of glowing coals. Shuddering, I plastered the ash across my skinny body from my matted hair to my calloused bare feet. The musty powder burned into my nostrils, choking my throat and parching my mouth.

A Disguise That Helped

I wrapped two river-stained cotton sheets over my upper and lower body for robes and crept again toward the gate, my heart beating heavily in my chest. The same sentinels stood guard with clubs in hand, but they did not recognise me and let me pass.

Inching Forward

As I entered a vast open courtyard surrounding the ancient altar, I thought, if I’m caught in here, I could be killed. Several thousand people gathered in an unruly line and were waiting to see the altar. Only one person was allowed at a time. Patiently taking my place in the rear of the line, I inched forward.

Silence Was The Best Option

Suddenly, the same police chief who had stopped me earlier passed by. I gasped and turned my face away, my adrenaline surging. He stepped right in front of me, stared into my ash-covered face, then barked a question in the local Hindi language. I didn’t understand a word. If I spoke a single word of English here, I knew I would be finished. Receiving no reply, he stared at me and launched into a barrage of questions, this time much louder. My mind reeled with thoughts of years wasted in a filthy Nepali

prison or worse. With a blank expression, I stood motionless, knowing he was trained to detect anything suspicious. Did he recognise me? I could only guess. 

Mauni Baba

Another idea rose in my mind. Placing one palm over my mouth, I waved my other hand side to side. Those who vow never to speak, Mauni Babas often expressed their vow in this way.

Gripped By Terror

The chief gripped my arm and dragged me away. Where was he taking me? Was I under arrest? He yelled. Instantly, two police guards came running. Surrounded, I was yanked through the line of pilgrims until we reached the place of maximum congestion. Raising their clubs, my captors roared like thunder. Was this to be a public lashing? Would the mob tear me apart for defiling their sacred shrine? They shouted louder and louder as people scattered. I waited, terrified.

At The Altar

The men dragged me through the bustling crowd until I found myself standing directly in front of the altar, a colourful pagoda with swirls of sandalwood incense pouring out. In front, stood a massive stone bull. On the altar stood a stone figure of the deity Shiva, adorned with embroidered silks and glittering with gold and precious jewels.

Magical Mantra

The chief lifted his stick and squeezed my arm. Would he pummel me right before the holy image? Surrounded by his lieutenants, rod raised above his head, he shouted orders at a priest, who rushed

back into the altar. I waited, trembling. From the inner sanctuary, the high priest appeared, dressed in robes of red silk. A striking red circle of powder marked his forehead and he wore a gold necklace and strand of dried rudraksha seeds around his neck. In a deep, hypnotic tone, he recited the mantra, "Om

Namah Shivaya."

Baptism By Fire

My captor, his stout body sweating profusely despite the chilly wind, yelled something to the priest that I again could not understand. The high priest listened intently. He nodded his head, closed his eyes and paused. Moments passed as the mass of pilgrims clamoured impatiently. Then, straightening his posture, the high priest took a deep breath and began to recite incantations from ancient Sanskrit texts. He stunned me by wrapping a silk turban around my head. Then he draped a shawl over my shoulders, placed several jasmine and night-queen garlands around my neck, anointed my forehead with sandalwood paste and offered me saffron-flavoured water to drink.

God Is Merciful

Standing in a daze, I realised that the police were holding the massive crowd back in order to grant me an exclusive opportunity to worship the Lord and be honoured by the temple. Bowing low with humility, the police chief then begged with joined palms for my blessings and departed. Did he not recognise me

in my disguise or was he aware of who I was and simply honouring my determination? This, I will never know. Whatever the reason, I was deeply humbled. I had defied human law and deserved to be beaten, but God is merciful.

Tears In My Eyes

Standing before the altar, my limbs covered with ashes, my drab ascetic robes, and tangled, matted hair awkwardly covered with silks and flowers, I squeezed my tearing eyes shut, joined my palms and prayed that I would be shown my true path as I continued my journey.

Solitary Contemplation

I returned to the riverbank and sat on the cold earth. It was a moonless night. Stars glittered in the dark sky, a breeze filled the forest with the scent of blooming jasmine, and the cooing of an owl emerged out of the silence.

River Of Destiny

Gazing downstream, I wondered where the river of destiny would lead me next. How did I land into a life so foreign to my upbringing, but so familiar to my soul?

Excerpts from "The Journey Home, By Radhanath Swami". Jaico Publishing House.

Biography Of Radhanath Swami

In 1970, at age nineteen, Radhanath Swami left his family’s home in America and traveled to India to live the life of a sadhu or wandering monk. After trekking across Europe for months, often barely escaping with his life, he reached the land of the Gods. Years later, he returned back to America in order to share what he had learned in India. It was an extraordinary choice, given what he had survived to get there: a journey filled with bizarre characters, mystical experiences, and dangerous adventures. The story is recounted in his recently published memoir The Journey Home (Reviewers have called Radhanath swami’s saga “at once an engaging yarn, a love story, and the evocation of a transcendent paradise in all its savagery, solitude, and splendor.”

Radhanath Swami emerged from his years of travel wanting to explain for others the beauty and rewards of a life devoted to God, and therein lay a dilemma. His many followers and friends describe him as completely selfless and consequently unwilling to take credit for his work and restless when a spotlight is focused on him. By choosing Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada , a spiritual activist, as his guru (after declining offers of initiation from several tyagis or renunciants in the Himalayas), Radhanath Swami cast his fate to the wind and entered back into the society. More than a symbolic gesture of moving away from the mindset of physically renouncing the world, these were first steps toward an engaged form of devotion. This contemporary strain of the Bhakti or devotional yoga tradition maintains that people who are aware of their spiritual identity share an imperative to reduce suffering in the world—a view no doubt implanted in the years prior to Radhanath Swami’s meeting with other teachers he had met including Ananda Mayi Ma, Swami Satcidananda, the Dalai Lama, and Mother Teresa.

Although he travels constantly, Radhanath Swami established headquarters at Radha Gopinath Temple in Chowpatty, Mumbai. For the past twenty years he has guided the community development and has initiated a number of acclaimed social action programs including Midday Meals, which feeds more than 175,000 plates of nutritious vegetarian food daily to indigent children; missionary hospitals and eye camps; eco-friendly farms, schools and ashrams; and a number of emergency relief programs, value education, orphanage, cow protection, etc., throughout India.

“He sees life as a continuous blessing of God’s grace,” one follower says, “and yet he never loses his humanness. His accessibility leaves people feeling that, with a little sincere effort, they too will find the path to inner peace and God realization.”