[Unlike other articles of ‘Gauḍīya’, this article is not in sādhu Bāṅglā which is the sanskritized version of Bāṅglā in which our Ācāryas used to write. Since these are supposed to be the words of a vagabond, hence this article has a distinctive flavour. In the present English translation, attempts have been made to preserve that flavour and thus the language of the article is not exactly ‘scholarly’ but rather carries the mannerism of a vagabond. I hope readers will appreciate such effort and bless our team. If there are any errors, we wholeheartedly apologize for them beforehand.]
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Every now and then, I think, ‘Alright, let me get my mind into bhajana.’ But the moment I try to chant the names of the Lord, my mind starts jumping around like a restless monkey. What am I supposed to do about that? You got some kind of medicine or mantra in your maṭha that’ll make me full of bhakti? But listen, brother, I ain’t givin’ up anything, alright? The other day, in your maṭha, I heard some talk — yeah, yeah, now I remember — the term ‘yukta-vairāgya.’ That’s a nice one, brother. Means no need to leave home and wander around as a sannyāsī. But, brother, let’s be real — I don’t think those other two things are gonna work for me.
Oh yeah, at the start of your magazine, in that little box up in the top right corner, I saw that word ‘anāsakta’ (without attachment) written there. One day, during the discourse, your pāṭhaka ṭhākura (one who gives discourse) was explaining how a person shouldn’t have this ‘mine, mine’ feeling about anything in this world — wife, son, daughter, father, brother, mother, sister, relatives, home, house, land, business — none of it should be thought of as one’s own. It’s all just temporary, just some fleeting connections with the body, affairs of a few days. Now, brother, you can call it good or bad, say what you want — but me? I just can’t wrap my head around this stuff.
And then there’s another thing — "kṛṣṇasambandhe nirbandha", meaning ‘All these things aren’t for my enjoyment; they’re meant to be used in Kṛṣṇa’s service’ — only then it’s proper. But, if that’s the case, doesn’t it still mean one has to become a sannyāsī? Of course! What else would it mean? And hey, if I speak plainly, will you get mad? But what else am I supposed to do, huh? Tell me! If everything — wife, servant, bed — is for Kṛṣṇa, then what’s left for me? Now, if you toss out these two ideas and just keep yukta-vairāgya, then I’m all in for it!
Brother, say whatever you want, but I really like Gosāi Govinda Prabhu and the others like him. They seem quite decent. They belong to your guru’s lineage, and at their doorstep, bhakti is tied up like a pet animal [i.e. in their presence, devotion is bound to flourish]. Now, if I could have yukta-vairāgya like them, then fine, I can accept it. But your Ṭhākura (Spiritual Master) — brother, don’t get mad — is way too strict! “Don’t eat fish, don’t eat meat, don’t even think about bhāṅga (hemp or cannabis), tobacco, or alcohol — not even pān (betel nut leaves)! Leave your home, dedicate everything to Hari’s service, live in the maṭha, and work for Hari.” But how is that, dear? Aren’t there other maṭhas? Look at Belur Maṭha (Headquarters of Ramakrishna Ramakrishna Mission) — what a fine place! Eat and drink as you like, do Relief Work, those who are sannyāsīs can stay in the maṭha, and the rest can go on living their family life — no restrictions! Can’t you run things like that? If you do, I bet tons of people will join your movement. I’ll even put it in writing — I myself will bring a thousand people under your banner!
If you want people, if you want your name to spread far and wide in the world, then such strictness just won’t work. I’m telling you plainly. But, brother, I’ll give it to you — there’s one thing about you all that’s quite good. During festivals, there’s a lot of feasting — though everything is vegetarian. Well, that’s fine, no complaints there. That day, I told your Ṭhākura about my difficulty. No matter how strict he may be, I’ll say this much — he really tried hard to explain things to me. And I? Oh, I listened carefully, nodded along like a good boy, even let out a few ‘hmm’s and ‘oh’s. But the moment I got back home — poof! — everything just slipped right out of my head. Can’t remember a single thing. But, hey, I do remember one story. And listen, not just me — almost everyone loves stories. Otherwise, why would novelists and storytellers get so much admiration, huh? Think about it — how many people actually care about what you all say? But the grand ships of stories — Baṅkima, Rameśa, Dāmodara (famous Bengali novelists Bankim Chandra Chattopadhyay, Romesh Chunder Dutt and Damodar Bidyananda) — they’re still sailing strong, even after their passing. Yes, yes, I was saying — I really love stories. Stories stick to my mind. But all those philosophical discussions? They go in one ear and out the other!
You weren’t there that day, don’t know if you’ve heard this story or not. But let me tell it again. So, there’s this groom, the groom's father (the groom master) the whole wedding party — they’re all sailing down the river in a big boat, heading towards the bride’s house. Two-day journey. From early morning on the first day, they sat around stuffing their faces — cooking, eating, drinking — went on for almost half the day. By the time they were done, it was already evening. But it’s Aghrāṇa (mid November to mid December) month’s sky, clear and calm — no fear of storms. Perfect night for sailing.
As soon as everyone climbed onto the boat, the boatmen started shouting and hustling. The oarsmen grab their oars, ready to row. Heading south. There’s a strong current pushing north, so they hoist the sails to catch the tailwind. The groom’s father gives orders — "We’ll anchor at dawn, eat, and then by afternoon, just one more leg of rowing and we’ll reach the bride’s house. Wedding by night, all sorted." Everything seems perfect. The boat is sailing smoothly, the boatmen are singing, their voices filling the whole river. The current is on their side, wind in the sails, everything's just right. The groom’s father is sitting back, relaxed. The groom was thinking, ‘Would’ve been better if the wedding happened today itself instead of tomorrow.’ Then came drowsiness, and finally, deep sleep. But the boatmen didn't stop their racket. Scared of the Sun, they wanted to row through the cool of the night and reach early. With all their muttering and grumbling, the groom and the wedding party started stirring awake. Suddenly, at dawn, the wedding party wakes up — "What’s the commotion? What’s going on?" The boatmen, exhausted and frustrated, shout back, "Oh lord, our heads are spinning! We rowed all night, worked like slaves — what’s this sorcery?!" “Who would do sorcery, huh?” “Look, boss — where have we ended up?”
The groom-master rubbed his eyes, looked around, and shouted, “Oh no! This is the same damn sandbank from yesterday! Oi, you rascals, what have you done? Didn't even lift the anchor, huh? Oh, what a disaster, what a mess you've made — you've ruined the whole wedding timing!”
The Ṭhākura said that just like rowing all day and night without lifting the anchor won’t get you anywhere, in the same way, if you keep clinging to attachments, thinking of the body as 'I' and everything related to the body as 'mine, mine,' while counting thousands of rounds on the mālā and chanting Hare Kṛṣṇa, Hare Kṛṣṇa, it’ll all turn into offensive chanting (nāmāparādha). Nothing good will come out of it — there will be no real bhajana, only more sense enjoyment. So, you see, brother, this ‘yukta-vairāgya’ thing ain't for me. And tell me brother — how many people are even managing to do it anyway!
Through that tiny little hole in your 'yukta-vairāgya' filter, I see that only your Gosāi Ṭhākuras (Spiritual masters) manage to squeeze through. If you can widen the gap just a little, brother, then I’m in. I’ll come by, every now and then, to take darśana of the Ṭhākura’s lotus feet. Who knows — maybe, just maybe, something will come out of this sādhu-saṅga. But honestly, I don’t have much hope. That day, I heard something — turns out, sādhu-saṅga ain’t as simple as it seems. Forget about saṅga, even getting darśana is no easy deal! I go to a sādhu, bow down with a big thud, try to figure out if he knows some mantra to fulfill my desires or has any special medicine — and that doesn’t even count as sādhu-darśana? You people, I tell you — everything with you is full of technicalities and scriptural evidence at every step. After listening to all your talk, I’ve come to just one realization — saying that this one here is doing Hari-bhajana, that one over there is doing Hari-bhajana — it's all a big hoax, brother! Don't get angry, brother, but many of your Gosāi Bābājīs have set up co-wives alongside their so-called Hari-bhajana. And if you say that they are able to do it, then I should be able to do it too, right? Otherwise, tell me, brother, how else am I supposed to have any hope left in my heart? Give my full sāṣṭāṅga praṇāma to your Ṭhākura. Alright then, I’m off now.
