You surely know that in the olden days kings kept in the courts a person
called the Jester -- a kind of clown or joker, who was appointed to make
the king and his courtiers laugh in every way he could. Once upon a time
there reigned a good king named Rajendra. To get his laughs, the Jester
would make fun of everyone in the kingdom; no one was spared. Even the
King himself, who was fat, jovial and had long white whiskers, was a
frequent butt of his jokes. But the King was a great fan of Jester, and he
considered his day well begun if he could snatch some time to read the
day's joke, posted by Jester on the throne-room wall.
But Rajendra was old, and his days were numbered. It was difficult now for
Jester to bring even a smile to his face. Eventually the King died of his
mortal illness. His son, whose name was Murkha, mounted the throne to rule
in his place. Now this King had had an unhappy childhood, in spite of
being a pampered prince (or perhaps just because of that) and had become
bitter. Murkha had developed a permanent scowl on his face. He did not
approve of laughter at all; it always disturbed him. So he sent out an
edict (that means a command) banishing all jokes and imposing heavy
penalties for disobeying. He went so far as to imprison the Jester because
the latter could in no way stop from smiling and making jokes of all
kinds. That was his life, after all! So the king threw him into a dungeon.
Even in the dungeon the Jester kept on smiling and thinking up jokes and
in this way relieved the monotony of imprisonment. But throughout the
country, the slightest sight of a smile resulted in the king's spies
reporting to him and those people were picked up and fined or put in jail.
The news went out to the animals of the forest. They already had an Animal
Union and the president of the Union called a meeting and spoke to them
this way: "We have accepted the rule of human beings for all these ages.
One of the reasons was that they could laugh and we could not. Now they
cannot laugh. So where is their superiority over us? So now, charge, all
of you; charge the city!! No more of human bondage!"
They all marched into the City, all kinds of animals: bears and tigers and
wolves and antelopes and snakes and rats and spiders and mosquitoes -- and
the city was conquered. King Murkha was captured. The animals again got
together to elect a new king, their king. Suddenly there came a boisterous
laughter that startled everyone.
It was the Jester, laughing to see the king held captive by a cordon of
cats and
dogs and mice and so on.
Now the president of the Animal Union came to his senses. He had to make
a quick decision. "This city life," he said, "is not for us, we know it.
Here is a man
who can laugh. Let him be the King, for he will surely bring back laughter
into all the country." The Union agreed, and the Jester was duly crowned
King.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Pop goes the ghost
It was a haunted house, the one inside a garden by the side of the river. Some unhappy ghosts lived there for a long period. The house was an earmarked haunt of the Holy Ghost, but the Holy Ghost would come only when many tough conditions were fulfilled by the wannabe ghost sighters. That rarely happened and so all the ghosts were living peacefully. But not exactly happily, for, while one ghost lived (or rather existed) in a content mode, the others were none too pleased. The happy one was the appointed boss which made the bossed upon ghosts very unhappy. When guest ghosts came to their haunt to haunt for varied periods of time, these unhappy ghosts found happiness in getting news, especially from the newly dead ones. The happiest topic of their conversations was their death. They had attained the status of ghosts by virtue of them all being done in. The devious ways of their killers and how they gave their opponents a bloody nose and a run for their money before turning ghosts was a very passionate subject.
They wished that these visiting ghosts would stay long enough, so that they may party hard or trouble their keeper ghost but these went back to be born again.
There was one pesky ghost which popped in amongst them quite often but refused to stay dead and again popped out into life.
The living and the dead were both irritated with him for his popping habits. How to hang him so that he gets booted out of both life and death is what baffles all of them. Anybody got an idea?
Swami Sampurnananda
Nilambar Mukherjee Garden House
Old Math, Belur Math
9 August 2006
They wished that these visiting ghosts would stay long enough, so that they may party hard or trouble their keeper ghost but these went back to be born again.
There was one pesky ghost which popped in amongst them quite often but refused to stay dead and again popped out into life.
The living and the dead were both irritated with him for his popping habits. How to hang him so that he gets booted out of both life and death is what baffles all of them. Anybody got an idea?
Swami Sampurnananda
Nilambar Mukherjee Garden House
Old Math, Belur Math
9 August 2006
The King's Wake-Up Call
Once upon a time there was a prince who caught a quirky disease from his healthy father, the King.
The King was approaching the end of his reign. As he lay on his death-bed, blind and sick, he uttered, ‘You may be weak in body, but still be tough on your enemies within. Be vigilant about the slightest danger to your suzerainty…’ It seemed he wanted to say a word more but his breath had run out. A hard look came upon the prince’s face as he heard these words.
The Prince had been loved by many, though he displayed a cruel streak sometimes, like when he had had a garden-hand tied to a tree and flogged for going away for a quick smoke on the sly. On becoming the king, this demon in him usurped the throne. As the demon grew in stature, the Prince’s body began to wither. He started to hate everyone within sight.
His palace guards and ministers bore the brunt of his hate. Some were executed, some exiled. Others soon learnt to tuck their hatred within, say a quick ‘yes’ and run away.
There was a young minister who refused to hate him and instead, advised him gently to restrain his hatred. The King bludgeoned him on his head for his services and had him hanged after a few days. His body was thrown away for the dogs and carrion birds.
As the hatred consumed the king’s body, he ordered his court magicians and ministers to brew for him many rare elixirs and potions to invigorate him.
Now, it is well known that it is love which really invigorates. A love-filled person may sometimes look weak and withered but works real wonders, while a hate-filled body may be invigorated by costly elixirs but becomes like a fattened pig for the gluttonous demon of hate.
Soon he was getting bored and furious at not getting anybody standing long enough before him for him to hate and subdue. He started missing that young minister. He started hating him now for dying. How dare he died on the gallows and stayed dead ever since. How nice it would have been to be hanging him every day.
Finally one fine morning, cursing the morning for being fine, he mounted his chariot and whipped his horses hard. They galloped in panic to where their whims took. The king found himself in a graveyard. A white face on the ground seemed to be laughing at him. Livid with anger, the king went for a closer look. It was a bleached skull. He noticed a dent in it. In a flash of fury he recognized his young minister’s bludgeoned head.
He gazed at it for a moment with hatred welling. Then with an explosive rage, he kicked it hard with a wild aim.
It flew and hit one of the horses of the king’s chariot square on its eye. The same instant, the king’s kicking feet felt a sharp stab of pain. He stumbled and fell. Next instant, hard horse hooves and wheels battered his head. A ghostly voice wailed, ‘You poor king, it was the enemies within your mind that he wanted you to be wary of!’
The King woke up to find his kingdom gone. But he set himself to overcome his setback. Come what may, if it takes eons, so be it, he would win an empire instead, for now he had spotted his enemy and was sure of his steady aim. He gritted his teeth. Then he did a thing he had not done for years. He smiled. It was a sorry smile that was aimed at himself.
Swami Sampurnananda
31 July 2006, Old Math, Belur Math
Exercise for the student:
Morals of the story :
1. Save your last words for the ears of God in silence. Otherwise, you may end up doing more harm than good.
2. If you don’t spare time to understand a thing, you will then be taught it the hard way.
3. A real minister will minister even from beyond the grave.
4. ………..
5. …………..
The King was approaching the end of his reign. As he lay on his death-bed, blind and sick, he uttered, ‘You may be weak in body, but still be tough on your enemies within. Be vigilant about the slightest danger to your suzerainty…’ It seemed he wanted to say a word more but his breath had run out. A hard look came upon the prince’s face as he heard these words.
The Prince had been loved by many, though he displayed a cruel streak sometimes, like when he had had a garden-hand tied to a tree and flogged for going away for a quick smoke on the sly. On becoming the king, this demon in him usurped the throne. As the demon grew in stature, the Prince’s body began to wither. He started to hate everyone within sight.
His palace guards and ministers bore the brunt of his hate. Some were executed, some exiled. Others soon learnt to tuck their hatred within, say a quick ‘yes’ and run away.
There was a young minister who refused to hate him and instead, advised him gently to restrain his hatred. The King bludgeoned him on his head for his services and had him hanged after a few days. His body was thrown away for the dogs and carrion birds.
As the hatred consumed the king’s body, he ordered his court magicians and ministers to brew for him many rare elixirs and potions to invigorate him.
Now, it is well known that it is love which really invigorates. A love-filled person may sometimes look weak and withered but works real wonders, while a hate-filled body may be invigorated by costly elixirs but becomes like a fattened pig for the gluttonous demon of hate.
Soon he was getting bored and furious at not getting anybody standing long enough before him for him to hate and subdue. He started missing that young minister. He started hating him now for dying. How dare he died on the gallows and stayed dead ever since. How nice it would have been to be hanging him every day.
Finally one fine morning, cursing the morning for being fine, he mounted his chariot and whipped his horses hard. They galloped in panic to where their whims took. The king found himself in a graveyard. A white face on the ground seemed to be laughing at him. Livid with anger, the king went for a closer look. It was a bleached skull. He noticed a dent in it. In a flash of fury he recognized his young minister’s bludgeoned head.
He gazed at it for a moment with hatred welling. Then with an explosive rage, he kicked it hard with a wild aim.
It flew and hit one of the horses of the king’s chariot square on its eye. The same instant, the king’s kicking feet felt a sharp stab of pain. He stumbled and fell. Next instant, hard horse hooves and wheels battered his head. A ghostly voice wailed, ‘You poor king, it was the enemies within your mind that he wanted you to be wary of!’
The King woke up to find his kingdom gone. But he set himself to overcome his setback. Come what may, if it takes eons, so be it, he would win an empire instead, for now he had spotted his enemy and was sure of his steady aim. He gritted his teeth. Then he did a thing he had not done for years. He smiled. It was a sorry smile that was aimed at himself.
Swami Sampurnananda
31 July 2006, Old Math, Belur Math
Exercise for the student:
Morals of the story :
1. Save your last words for the ears of God in silence. Otherwise, you may end up doing more harm than good.
2. If you don’t spare time to understand a thing, you will then be taught it the hard way.
3. A real minister will minister even from beyond the grave.
4. ………..
5. …………..
‘Where All Prospects Please, …. …. ’
It was a sprawling estate. Flowering trees and plants were everywhere. Friendly insects hummed about them. Wayfarers, especially the innocent young, were much attracted. They came in, met the chief of the estate, and were allotted their lodgings. They had a creepy feeling when they faced the chief. There was nothing to explain it, in his behavior. His talk was like a gentleman, though a little on the shorter side. They left shaking their heads. Soon the largeness and the pleasantness of their surroundings helped them to overcome their unease. But if they lingered a little too long in their rooms trying to figure out their perplexity, they started to feel creepy. It was as if the walls of the room had ears.
Then they met the buffoon of the place. Their hearts gave a joyful yelp when they saw him. His presence was soothing. His jokes disarmed them. But suddenly the Chief came. The youngsters froze half-way on their smile which now formed a hideous pattern.
They could feel that the Chief didn't want them to mix with the likes of the Buffoon, though he didn't say it in plain words. Soon their room walls closed on them. They felt the bugs that eavesdropped on their thoughts.
They tried to slip away. Some were successful. But will it be of any avail?
The Basilisk Chief smiled happily. Even those who slipped away would carry the venom.
But the buffoon's antidote may work in some of them. He frowned when thinking of that. No, he would let the buffoon be for some time. After all, he had amused him somewhat, not long back.
Swami Sampurnananda
Then they met the buffoon of the place. Their hearts gave a joyful yelp when they saw him. His presence was soothing. His jokes disarmed them. But suddenly the Chief came. The youngsters froze half-way on their smile which now formed a hideous pattern.
They could feel that the Chief didn't want them to mix with the likes of the Buffoon, though he didn't say it in plain words. Soon their room walls closed on them. They felt the bugs that eavesdropped on their thoughts.
They tried to slip away. Some were successful. But will it be of any avail?
The Basilisk Chief smiled happily. Even those who slipped away would carry the venom.
But the buffoon's antidote may work in some of them. He frowned when thinking of that. No, he would let the buffoon be for some time. After all, he had amused him somewhat, not long back.
Swami Sampurnananda
The Willful Prince
The prince has just crossed four years of age. He had been showing signs of genius during every moment of his four long years. His regent had to obey all his headstrong whims. The child’s genius spread to all fields his eyes wandered upon. He traveled a lot and his eyes covered still more spaces.
At his command the most promising young ones in all fields of arts and sciences are caught and brought before him. The gifted upcoming concert singer has to confine to sing lullabies for him. Another great one has to sing to his dream self. And the best of instrumentalists has to herald his waking. Excellent physicians are to prescribe for his coughs and cold. Skilled surgeons have to par his nails. Dexterous architects are commissioned to build his toy houses. Learned scientists have to devise intriguing games for him. Wise philosophers have their only duty of explaining his smile and his finger language. Skilled technicians are asked to devise diapers for him.
He is a willful child. He plays with the best like puppets on strings in his hold. At first they resent and try to wiggle away to freedom. Then they look up, see his smile and relent. Sometimes his string runs through layers of puppets. Often it seems to a puppet that another puppet is pulling it. The prince has his fun in setting his puppets against each other. When he pulls the strings apart they laugh.
The boxer needs the best of punching bags. The well-fed lazy spider spins his lovely home out of himself, wobbles with its walls and laughs together with the echo.
Arogya Bhavan
7.30 p.m.
26 November 2008
At his command the most promising young ones in all fields of arts and sciences are caught and brought before him. The gifted upcoming concert singer has to confine to sing lullabies for him. Another great one has to sing to his dream self. And the best of instrumentalists has to herald his waking. Excellent physicians are to prescribe for his coughs and cold. Skilled surgeons have to par his nails. Dexterous architects are commissioned to build his toy houses. Learned scientists have to devise intriguing games for him. Wise philosophers have their only duty of explaining his smile and his finger language. Skilled technicians are asked to devise diapers for him.
He is a willful child. He plays with the best like puppets on strings in his hold. At first they resent and try to wiggle away to freedom. Then they look up, see his smile and relent. Sometimes his string runs through layers of puppets. Often it seems to a puppet that another puppet is pulling it. The prince has his fun in setting his puppets against each other. When he pulls the strings apart they laugh.
The boxer needs the best of punching bags. The well-fed lazy spider spins his lovely home out of himself, wobbles with its walls and laughs together with the echo.
Arogya Bhavan
7.30 p.m.
26 November 2008
A Donkey Story
Once upon a time in God’s own land, lived a simple dhobi with a loyal donkey. The good man had a devil’s own handiwork for his wife. The poor man was constantly pecked by her though he toiled hard to keep her happy.
Once a cantankerous customer after a rough day dirtied his clothes and wanted them clean in double quick time. The harassed dhobi after much labour put the clothes on the donkey’s back and was setting off. His wife’s high-pitched angry call stopped him on his track. The man hastily patted the donkey and bid it to go on its own and deliver the clothes. The donkey trotted off. As it stood patiently at the door of the customer, that squanderer rudely yanked the clothes off from the back of the dutiful donkey that had brought them with care and gave it a good thrashing too for no fault of it. In fact all the faults were with that wayward wastrel himself. He knew it but thought that by thrashing the donkey he could hide it from others’ eyes.
The poor donkey scampered home sadly. The dhobi was in a bad mood because his wife had just given him earfuls of painful pecks. He forgot himself and spanked the donkey because its standing there with a gloomy face pained his conscience.
The donkey with rage caged within went resentfully to its favourite haunt near an old temple wall and kicked it.
A brick from the wall gave way and fell with a thud.
The old man with the short beard who seemed to be dozing, glanced up with a sly smile.
Once a cantankerous customer after a rough day dirtied his clothes and wanted them clean in double quick time. The harassed dhobi after much labour put the clothes on the donkey’s back and was setting off. His wife’s high-pitched angry call stopped him on his track. The man hastily patted the donkey and bid it to go on its own and deliver the clothes. The donkey trotted off. As it stood patiently at the door of the customer, that squanderer rudely yanked the clothes off from the back of the dutiful donkey that had brought them with care and gave it a good thrashing too for no fault of it. In fact all the faults were with that wayward wastrel himself. He knew it but thought that by thrashing the donkey he could hide it from others’ eyes.
The poor donkey scampered home sadly. The dhobi was in a bad mood because his wife had just given him earfuls of painful pecks. He forgot himself and spanked the donkey because its standing there with a gloomy face pained his conscience.
The donkey with rage caged within went resentfully to its favourite haunt near an old temple wall and kicked it.
A brick from the wall gave way and fell with a thud.
The old man with the short beard who seemed to be dozing, glanced up with a sly smile.
A Good Bye
It was all in joy and laughter.
It was 8 at night. The face of the 94 year old monk was lit with joy. He called loudly his long time companion, a younger monk, some 80 plus years of age. He came instantly and sat by his senior’s bedside. The Older one just started clapping his hands and laughed happily and loudly. He was hard of hearing for the last many years which had contributed more volume to his natural cheerful chattiness and laughing habits. The younger monk caught the vibration, and started laughing lightly and clapped in unison. They had been together very many years. So he understood what the older one was up to. As he clapped his hands, he said, 'Jai Sri Guru Maharaj-ji ki Jai, Jai Maha Mayi ki Jai, Jai Swamiji Maharaj-ji ki Jai, Jai Durga Mayi ki Jai'. The 94 year old continued to laugh and beam joyously. Then he looked somewhere and started calling 'Maharaj, Maharaj' loudly. The younger one left the room for a while.
He was soon called back by the attendants of the old man whose face was beaming though his breathing was getting heavier. When it finally ceased the face was still joyful.
This was how Swami Agehananda of Ramakrishna Order took his leave in Ramakrishna Math in Tiruvalla. Swami Samagrananda his friend and junior companion gave him this understanding farewell. The joy was palpable and lingered for the next few days.
It lights the joy inherent in all of us. We get a joyful wake-up call when we hear such inspiring instances happening right in our midst.
Hari Om Ramakrishna
Om
It was 8 at night. The face of the 94 year old monk was lit with joy. He called loudly his long time companion, a younger monk, some 80 plus years of age. He came instantly and sat by his senior’s bedside. The Older one just started clapping his hands and laughed happily and loudly. He was hard of hearing for the last many years which had contributed more volume to his natural cheerful chattiness and laughing habits. The younger monk caught the vibration, and started laughing lightly and clapped in unison. They had been together very many years. So he understood what the older one was up to. As he clapped his hands, he said, 'Jai Sri Guru Maharaj-ji ki Jai, Jai Maha Mayi ki Jai, Jai Swamiji Maharaj-ji ki Jai, Jai Durga Mayi ki Jai'. The 94 year old continued to laugh and beam joyously. Then he looked somewhere and started calling 'Maharaj, Maharaj' loudly. The younger one left the room for a while.
He was soon called back by the attendants of the old man whose face was beaming though his breathing was getting heavier. When it finally ceased the face was still joyful.
This was how Swami Agehananda of Ramakrishna Order took his leave in Ramakrishna Math in Tiruvalla. Swami Samagrananda his friend and junior companion gave him this understanding farewell. The joy was palpable and lingered for the next few days.
It lights the joy inherent in all of us. We get a joyful wake-up call when we hear such inspiring instances happening right in our midst.
Hari Om Ramakrishna
Om
Swami Talk-Ananda narrates a Squirel Story
Swami Talk-Ananda tells his reminiscences to Brahmacharins in the year 2020
‘When Rama’s ape army started building the bridge to Lanka the huge stones would not bridge. They just floated away and won’t jell’ started Swami Talk-Ananda.
“The engineers were worried. They searched for Rama and found him sitting on a rock, smiling pleasantly and looking intently somewhere. They followed his gaze and found an army of squirrels rolling on the beach and bathing in the sea. It annoyed them a bit to see some others desecrating the beach where an epic holy task was underway. But Rama’s quick glance forbade them from driving the squirrels away. They looked further and were surprised to find that all the squirrels were in fact getting themselves covered by sand and washing themselves in the water. There was a singularity of purpose in their work. Then they observed that the sand particles were not only floating but were floating together, jelling easily… Then it hit upon them. This is the Jell. They coated the stones with it and at once the stones stuck to each other. With a gusty ‘Jai Shri Ram’ the bridge work restarted and was over in triple-quick time.
Sri Rama called the squirrel king and blessed him and his people. When pressed to ask for a boon, the king declined. When Sri Rama was insistent he asked ‘We have had your darshan. We have been allowed to serve you. What more do we want? Let all our future generation carry the mark of your blessings on them for ever and ever’
And so it happened. As you can all see, Indian squirrels still carry the holy fingerprints of Sri Rama” concluded Swami Talk-Ananda
Swami Sampurnananda
`Talk-Ananda' series
July 23, 2010
Old Math, Mother’s Place
Belur Math
‘When Rama’s ape army started building the bridge to Lanka the huge stones would not bridge. They just floated away and won’t jell’ started Swami Talk-Ananda.
“The engineers were worried. They searched for Rama and found him sitting on a rock, smiling pleasantly and looking intently somewhere. They followed his gaze and found an army of squirrels rolling on the beach and bathing in the sea. It annoyed them a bit to see some others desecrating the beach where an epic holy task was underway. But Rama’s quick glance forbade them from driving the squirrels away. They looked further and were surprised to find that all the squirrels were in fact getting themselves covered by sand and washing themselves in the water. There was a singularity of purpose in their work. Then they observed that the sand particles were not only floating but were floating together, jelling easily… Then it hit upon them. This is the Jell. They coated the stones with it and at once the stones stuck to each other. With a gusty ‘Jai Shri Ram’ the bridge work restarted and was over in triple-quick time.
Sri Rama called the squirrel king and blessed him and his people. When pressed to ask for a boon, the king declined. When Sri Rama was insistent he asked ‘We have had your darshan. We have been allowed to serve you. What more do we want? Let all our future generation carry the mark of your blessings on them for ever and ever’
And so it happened. As you can all see, Indian squirrels still carry the holy fingerprints of Sri Rama” concluded Swami Talk-Ananda
Swami Sampurnananda
`Talk-Ananda' series
July 23, 2010
Old Math, Mother’s Place
Belur Math
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