The Fifth Delight
Shri Raghavendra Gurusarvabhauma
Chapter 45: The Experience of Poverty
With Alakshmi taking refuge in their home, poverty had now made its way into Acharya Venkatnatha’s life. The time had come for him to truly understand the hardships of deprivation and the impact of Alakshmi's presence.
One evening, as Venkatnatha was returning from the Vidyapeetha, Srinivasa Acharya approached him and said, “Swami.”
Venkatnatha asked, “What is the matter?”
Srinivasa Acharya, with distress, explained, “Since there was no grain supply from our fields, I personally visited the farmland. The farmers told me, ‘The crops have been infested with pests, and everything has been destroyed. Please come and see for yourself.’
I went to inspect, and indeed, the entire harvest had perished. The farmers, devastated, wept that a whole year’s labor had gone to waste. I did not know how to console them. But the most astonishing thing was that while our fields were ruined, the adjacent farmlands remained unaffected!
At home, we only have enough food supplies for ten to fifteen days. What should we do next, Swami?” he asked with deep concern.
Venkatnatha gave a faint smile and thought to himself, “Ah, so it has begun, your influence?” But instead of expressing his thoughts, he said, “Forget about us, Srinivasa. Those poor farmers have lost an entire year’s effort. That is truly unfortunate.”
Srinivasa Acharya hesitated before adding, “Swami, the annual stipend from the Guru Peetha has not arrived yet. Should we send a letter to remind them?”
Venkatnatha firmly replied, “I do not like writing to the Matha asking for money. Let it come when it comes.”
Srinivasa Acharya sighed, “But Swami, now there is neither food grain nor money in hand. I am worried about what will happen next.”
Venkatnatha, remaining composed, said, “What use is worry? The Lord will protect us.”
Srinivasa Acharya, still uneasy, said, “Alright, I will take my leave,” and walked away.
Venkatnatha sat in deep thought, “How strange! It has been barely four days since I gave Alakshmi shelter, and already we have suffered this much! Our grains have been destroyed by pests. The Matha's stipend has not arrived. Could this be a sign of greater hardships ahead? Let everything happen according to the Lord’s will.”
He then left for Sandhya Vandana (evening prayers), choosing not to dwell on these thoughts any longer.
A few days later, another unfortunate event struck. Srinivasa Acharya came in a hurry and said, “Swami, three out of the four cows in our house have gone missing! The cowherd boy searched everywhere but could not find them. He finally brought Lakshmi, the only cow left, and informed me. Those cows were giving us plenty of milk, curd, and butter. Now, even that is gone.”
Venkatnatha was surprised. “Never before have our cows gone missing like this! Search again and see if you can find them. Beyond that, it is up to divine will.”
With that, he fell silent. For the first time, he was beginning to experience what true poverty meant. Yet, he did not let himself be troubled by it. Instead, he walked towards his chamber, immersing himself in studying the scriptures, unwavering in his faith.
On the Jyeshtha Krishna Dwadashi, Venkatnatha Acharya sat on the swing in the padasale (study hall), deeply engrossed in a scripture. At that moment, Srinivasa Acharya arrived.
Seeing him, Venkatnatha asked, “What is the matter?”
Srinivasa Acharya, with a concerned expression, replied, “Swami, tomorrow is the Maha Samaaradhane of Vijayindra Guru. Padmavati mentioned to mother that special dishes should be prepared. However, we do not have enough provisions for tomorrow. What should we do?”
Venkatnatha fell into deep thought. “It is true. Tomorrow is our Guru’s Mahasamaradhane. It has been a long time since our students had a satisfying meal. At least tomorrow, they should eat happily. Wait a moment.”
Saying this, Venkatnatha walked into his chamber and opened his iron chest. Inside lay the jewels and ornaments given to him by Sri Sudhindra, the King of Madurai, and his father-in-law. His wife’s jewelry was also there. Without hesitation, he picked up his own ornaments, handed them over to Srinivasa Acharya, and said, “Sell or pawn these to get money. Let this sustain our household for a few months.”
Srinivasa Acharya was taken aback. “Swami, these ornaments were given to you as a reward for your scholarship and achievements! Is it right to sell them?”
Venkatnatha smiled and replied, “I have already received the honor. These ornaments serve no purpose for me. At least let them be used for feeding students and running our household.”
Still uneasy, Srinivasa Acharya asked, “Swami, is it right to sell wealth for annadana (charity of food)?”
Venkatnatha placed his hand on Srinivasa Acharya’s shoulder and said, “Srinivasa, I have never considered you an outsider, and I understand you are speaking from concern for me. But listen—Gurukulas were once revered institutions where hundreds of students were provided with food and clothing, all while receiving education. This was the pride of Indian tradition.
Today, only ten students have left their homes to study under me, dedicating themselves to learning. If I cannot provide them even with basic food and clothing, what is the point of my existence? True wealth is knowledge! For that, I am ready to sacrifice this perishable gold with joy.
Do as I have instructed. Ensure that the Guru’s Aradhane is conducted properly, and arrange sufficient food for all. But make sure neither Saraswathi nor anyone else finds out about this.”
Overwhelmed by the greatness and generosity of Venkatnatha, Srinivasa Acharya’s eyes filled with tears of devotion. With a reverential bow, he said, “As you command, Swami.” He then went to a wealthy merchant, pawned the ornaments, and returned with money. With that, he procured all the necessary items for the Guru’s Maha Samaradhane and ensured a grand celebration.
The next day, the Maha Samaradhane was conducted with utmost devotion and grandeur in Venkatnatha’s home.
Saraswati, ensuring that all the students ate to their heart’s content, stood beside them and forced extra servings of sweets and delicacies onto their plates. The students, overwhelmed with love, showered praises upon their Guru and Gurupatni, touched by their selflessness.
This became a way of life for Venkatnatha. Whenever there was a shortage of money, he quietly sold or pawned his own and Saraswati’s ornaments to ensure that the students were well-fed and the household ran smoothly.
Within eight to ten months, almost all the silver and gold ornaments, utensils, and valuables in the house had disappeared. Yet, Venkatnatha never once worried. Instead, he remained immersed in teaching and discourse, his mind unshaken by material loss.
Thus, a whole year passed somehow—not with comfort, but with dignity and unwavering devotion.
As the Siddharthi Samvatsara approached, Venkatnatha Acharya finished dinner with his students and retired to his chamber. That night, Saraswathi, after putting her son to sleep, entered the room and asked, "Swami, where is the key to the iron chest?"
Acharya replied, "It should be in the drawer."
Saraswathi searched for the key, opened the iron chest, and was shocked—it was completely empty! Overcome with fear, surprise, and anxiety, she rushed to her husband and cried, "Swami, the ornaments in the chest are missing!"
Venkatnatha remained silent.
Saraswathi shook his shoulder and asked, "Why are you quiet? The ornaments are gone! Did you know about this?"
Venkatnatha replied calmly, "Haan, so what?"
Saraswathi gasped, "Swami! Our ornaments… all our jewelry… is gone!"
Venkatnatha smiled faintly, "Saraswathi, they are safe."
Saraswathi, still confused, asked, "Where are they, Swami?"
Venkatnatha replied, "They are where they need to be, Saras."
Saraswathi, realizing something was amiss, questioned him, "I don’t understand what you mean, Swami."
Venkatnatha then gently held Saraswathi’s hands, made her sit beside him, and narrated everything—how he had pawned or sold the ornaments over time to sustain the household, feed the students, and honor his vow to give shelter to Alakshmi (Goddess of Poverty).
Finally, he sighed, "Saraswathi, on one side, I had given my word to Alakshmi. On the other, I had the responsibility of protecting my students. Then there was you, our son, and our own survival… I have been drowning in this sea of worries, Saras! I only regret not telling you earlier. Do you feel angry at me?"
Hearing her husband’s words, tears welled up in Saraswathi’s eyes. She clasped her hands together and said, "Swami, you are my God. How could I ever be angry at you? Our mother once taught me that a household is a 'Dharmaratha' (Chariot of Dharma) and that husband and wife are its two wheels. Only when they move together in harmony can the chariot reach its goal. You let me share in your joy, but you did not let me share in your sorrow. That is the only thing that pains me, Swami! Why did you hide this from me?"
Venkatnatha, deeply moved, responded, "Saraswathi, you have spoken like a true Arya woman! No loving husband wishes to see his wife endure pain. You have grown up in a life of comfort, a delicate flower nurtured in prosperity. I feared that you might not be able to bear the hardships of this poverty, which is why I kept it from you."
Saraswathi, overwhelmed by her husband’s immeasurable love, was filled with devotion. With tears streaming down her face, she cried, "O my Lord! To be your wife is my greatest fortune! I am truly blessed."
Venkatnatha asked gently, "Saras, are you sad that you lost your ornaments?"
Saraswathi laughed through her tears, "Swami, what kind of question is that? A husband is the greatest ornament of a wife! Compared to the priceless jewel of your love, these perishable gold ornaments hold no value! If you do not need them, neither do I. I desire nothing more than your eternal love!”
Venkatnatha, deeply moved, smiled with joy, realizing that his wife was truly his equal—his partner in both joy and hardship.
Acharya gently smiled and said, "Saras, I am truly blessed to have you as my devoted wife."
Saraswathi, however, remained concerned. "Swami, what has happened so far has happened. But what about the future? How will we manage?"
Acharya sighed, "I am pondering the same, Saraswathi."
She hesitated for a moment before suggesting, "Swami, should we write to my father and request some financial help?"
Acharya's expression changed. "Saraswathi, that is something I cannot do."
She was puzzled. "Why, Swami? What is wrong with it?"
Acharya explained firmly, "Saraswathi, I have never asked anyone for anything. I have taken a vow—an unshakable principle that I must follow. It is called Ayachita Vrutti—a vow of renunciation, where one does not ask for alms or help from anyone. This is an essential virtue for true devotees of the Lord and one of the core principles of Bhagavata Dharma."
Intrigued, Saraswathi asked, "Swami, what is Bhagavata Dharma? Please explain."
Acharya's eyes shone with wisdom as he began, "The ultimate goal of every soul is Moksha—liberation. To attain it, one must follow the Bhagavata Dharma, which brings us closer to the Lord. These principles are so profound that even celestial beings struggle to fully comprehend them. The Bhagavata Purana beautifully describes thirty types of Bhagavata Dharmas that lead one to salvation. Those who follow these principles are considered the greatest among devotees. Saints like Narada, Prahlada, and Ambarisha were among such Maha-Bhagavatas."
He continued, "A true devotee should never let his mind wander from the Lord. However, since maintaining the physical body is necessary for spiritual pursuits, the scriptures define two types of Jeevika Vruttis (means of livelihood) for devotees—Ayachana (renouncing requests) and Sayachana (seeking support)."
Acharya elaborated, "Devotees can be classified into three types—Pakva Bhaktas (fully realized souls), Kalpa Bhaktas (spiritually progressing), and Paksha Pratinidhis (those who still rely on worldly support). Among them, Pakva Bhaktas are the highest. They follow Ayachana Vrutti—a life of complete surrender, accepting only what comes to them naturally by divine will."
He outlined the two types of Ayachana Vrutti:
1. Yadṛcchā-lābha-santrupti – A devotee who is content with whatever comes his way naturally, believing it to be the Lord’s arrangement.
2. Shilonchana Vrutti – A more extreme renunciation where one survives by collecting fallen grains from harvested fields, consuming only what is left behind.
Acharya then looked at Saraswathi and said, "Saraswathi, those who practice Yadṛcchā-lābha-santrupti are the most beloved to the Lord. Their conduct should be an example to all. I have embraced this vow with full faith."
He sighed and continued, "If I wished, I could ask your father, my brother, my uncle, or even my revered Gurus for help. They would gladly give me wealth in abundance. But that would be Sayachana Vrutti—a path of seeking support, which is against my vow. That is why, Saraswathi, I cannot and will not ask your father for financial assistance."
Saraswathi listened in awe, her heart filled with admiration for her husband's unwavering devotion. She realized that her Swami was not an ordinary man—he was a true saint in a householder’s role, embodying divine principles that few could uphold.
Acharya turned to his wife with a gentle yet firm expression. "Saraswathi, do you know what the Ishavasya Upanishad teaches us?"
He recited:
"Īśāvāsyam idaṁ sarvaṁ yat kiñca jagatyāṁ jagat |
Tena tyaktena bhuñjīthā mā gṛdhaḥ kasya svid dhanam ||"
Then he explained, "This entire universe, composed of moving and non-moving beings, is pervaded by the Supreme Lord. Everything belongs to Him. He alone is independent; all else is dependent. Therefore, we should only live with what He grants us. The Vedas command us not to seek wealth from kings or rich men for our survival. That would go against divine injunctions."
He continued, "But you may ask—if kings and even our Gurus give us something willingly, can we accept it? Yes, we can—because we recognize that it is the Supreme Lord within them who is offering it to us. That is why accepting unsolicited gifts is still within the Ayachana Vrutti (renouncing requests) and does not violate our principles. But asking for it ourselves is prohibited."
His voice softened, "Saraswathi, do not ask me to seek money from others for our household. I have taken this vow, and I will not break it."
Saraswathi, deeply moved by his words, sat in stunned silence. Then, bowing to her husband, she said, "Swami, you are a scholar of the scriptures, a man of unwavering discipline. I spoke in ignorance—please forgive me. From now on, your dharma is my dharma. I will follow your teachings."
After a moment of thought, she asked, "Swami, Yugadi is approaching. How will we manage the expenses?"
Acharya sighed, "I have been contemplating the same. Until now, our poverty has remained hidden from the world. If we fail to celebrate the festival properly, our situation will become evident. But I trust that Lord Hari will show us a way."
Without hesitation, Saraswathi removed her gold bangles and placed them in his hands. "Swami, this should be enough to celebrate the festival. Please accept it."
Acharya's face darkened with sorrow. He shook his head, his eyes welling up with tears. "Saraswathi! What are you doing? These bangles are symbols of your Saumangalya—your marital auspiciousness. Am I so wretched that I must now survive by selling the ornaments from my wife's hands? Hari, what kind of fate is this?"
Saraswathi smiled gently. "Swami, my true Saumangalya—my greatest fortune—is you. As long as the sacred Mangalsutra around my neck remains, I desire nothing else. Take this, Swami—it will bring no greater joy to me than to see our home celebrate the festival properly."
Acharya was deeply touched. He held the bangles and sighed, "'A wife is the true foundation of a home'—I have always known this wisdom, but today, I see it before my eyes. Saraswathi, you are the embodiment of that truth."
With reverence, he called for Srinivasa Acharya and handed him the bangles. "Sell these and arrange for all the necessities for the festival."
Srinivasa Acharya stood in awe. His voice trembled, "Such noble souls facing such trials… Lord, how can this be?" With a heavy heart, he took the bangles and left to fulfill his duty.
The Yugadi festival was celebrated with grandeur at Acharya’s home. Acharya retrieved ten to twelve sets of untouched upper garments and sarees from a chest and gifted them to Srinivasa Acharya, Padmavathi, and the students. Joyfully donning the new attire, they all prostrated before Acharya and his wife, and the festival concluded successfully.
A week passed after the festival. One night, Gopala, a student at the Vidyapeetha, was returning from the backyard after washing his feet when he overheard Srinivasa Acharya’s voice from his room:
"Alas, Acharya should not have had to face such hardship!"
Gopala froze in shock. What hardship had befallen their Guru? Curious and concerned, he quietly stood by and listened.
Srinivasa Acharya was confiding in his wife, Padmavathi, about the household situation:
"Padma, despite all this, Acharya has no concern for himself or his son. His only worry is about us and the students’ well-being."
With a sorrowful sigh, he continued,
"What can we do for these noble souls? Perhaps we should leave under some pretext. At least that way, we will lessen their burden."
Gopala, hearing all this, was overwhelmed with emotion. Slowly, he stepped away and returned to his room, but that night, sleep evaded him as he lay awake in deep thought.
The next morning, Srinivasa Acharya and his wife left, citing a family Upanayana (sacred thread ceremony), reassuring Acharya and Saraswathi that they would return soon.
From that day forward, Gopala started keenly observing Acharya’s household. Within a couple of days, he realized that what Srinivasa Acharya had said was indeed true.
One afternoon, Gopala invited Acharya to have lunch with the students.
Acharya smiled, "I have some parayana (recitation) to complete. You all go ahead. I will eat later."
He then proceeded to the temple for recitation.
After the students finished their meal and left, Saraswathi went to fetch water. Gopala seized the opportunity to enter the kitchen. What he saw left him shaken.
The cooking pots were completely empty!
He rushed to the storeroom and searched frantically. There were barely four days’ worth of grains left!
A painful realization struck him—Acharya and his wife were not only skipping dinner, but they were also fasting even during the day.
Trembling with grief, Gopala returned to the Vidyapeetha and called a meeting of the students. He narrated the dire situation at Acharya’s home.
"Our Guru is suffering for us. He feeds us, clothes us, and imparts divine knowledge, but in return, we are becoming a burden on him! How can we allow this?"
A heavy silence fell upon the students. Their hearts ached with the weight of gratitude and guilt.
Finally, Krishna Murthy, one of the students, spoke, "Gopala, suggest a way out of this."
Gopala turned to Vasu, another student, and asked, "Vasu, isn’t your elder brother’s wedding coming up? When is the wedding date?"
Vasu replied, "Yes, it is in four days, on Chaitra Shukla Trayodashi."
Gopala immediately proposed, "Then here is what we will do. Let us all say that we are leaving for the wedding. We will depart from here under this pretext and return only when circumstances improve. This way, we will not burden Acharya any further."
The students unanimously agreed with Gopala’s plan.
The next day, they approached Acharya and informed him about the wedding, requesting permission to leave for a few days.
Acharya, though reluctant, agreed. "Gopala, it is reasonable for Vasu to attend the wedding, but do not waste unnecessary time there. Your studies will suffer. Return quickly," he advised.
One by one, the students bowed before Acharya and Saraswathi, blessed little Lakshminarayana, and left after receiving their Guru’s permission.
Venkatanatha’s household was enduring immense hardship. On days when food was available, they managed to eat, but for two days at a stretch, they had to fast. Proper clothing was scarce, and even obtaining milk for little Lakshminarayana was a rare luxury.
Despite these trials, Saraswathi never once voiced her suffering before her husband. Likewise, Venkatanatha never displayed anger or frustration. Their household was an embodiment of ideal companionship. Both were content with whatever they received, relying solely on the Lord, embracing poverty with joy rather than lamenting it.
Their son, Lakshminarayana, was no different. Unlike other children, he never threw tantrums demanding food or luxuries. He ate whatever was served without complaint and never mentioned hunger. Though this was his innate nature, his silent endurance pained his parents deeply.
Thus, their lives continued with resilience.
One day, while Acharya was performing his daily worship, Saraswathi stood nearby, downcast and sorrowful.
Seeing her, Acharya asked, "Saraswathi, why are you standing there like this?"
Without raising her head, she responded, "Swami, I am unfortunate. Today, I do not even have the fortune of offering naivedya to the Lord."
Venkatanatha smiled and gently said,
"Why do you worry about that, Saraswathi? Listen to what Lord Krishna has taught Arjuna:
"Patram pushpam phalam toyam yo me bhaktyā prayacchati |
Tadaham bhaktyupahṛtam aśnāmi prayatātmanāṃ ||"
‘O Arjuna! Do not think that worshipping Me is difficult. Even if one offers a single tulasi leaf, a flower, a small fruit, or even just pure water with devotion, I accept it with great joy. I do not desire grand feasts or offerings. It is only one’s devotion that I seek.’
So, even if we offer anything that is not forbidden, our Lord, the embodiment of compassion, accepts it with love. He is already fulfilled; He does not need our food. He only values the sincerity behind the offering.
For a God who is pleased with tulasi leaves and pure water, what more do we need to offer? Also, remember, our Lord is omnipresent—even in a tiny blade of grass, a grain of sand, or a drop of water. He exists in all food and offerings in various forms.
Thus, if we contemplate the Lord as present within everything and sincerely dedicate our worship to Him in this manner, He is pleased."
As Saraswathi listened to her husband’s words, her heart swelled with devotion and admiration. "How profound is my husband's wisdom!" she thought. Tears welled up in her eyes. She hesitated for a moment, then, in her natural feminine humility, asked softly, "Swami, what about Vaishvadeva and Baliharana offerings?"
Acharya laughed gently, "Once we mentally dedicate everything to the Supreme Lord, what is left to question? Even those rituals can be performed mentally!"
Unable to hold back her emotions any longer, Saraswathi burst into tears.
"Swami, but isn’t ‘Sharīram ādyam khalu dharma-sādhanam’ (The body is the foremost instrument for practicing Dharma) a fundamental truth? How can one engage in deep contemplation of scriptures, deliver discourses, or uphold Dharma if the body lacks even the basic nourishment for sustenance?"
Tears flowed down her cheeks as she spoke, overwhelmed by the struggle of their situation.
Venkatanatha realized his wife’s sorrow. Smiling gently, he reassured her, "Saraswathi, it is not right to worry about the impermanence of the body. Our mind and ultimate goal should be fixed on eternal bliss. The same Lord who protected us in the womb, saying ‘sa rakṣitā rakṣiti yo hi garbhaḥ’—will He not continue to protect us now? Saras, do you remember the words of our great saint Kanakadasa, who has beautifully conveyed this truth? Sing that song for me."
Saraswathi, with tears streaming down her face, sang the verse:
"Do not waver, O Mind, be patient,
He protects everyone, have no doubt!
For a tree growing atop a hill,
Can a fence and watering sustain it?
The Lord who has created it
Takes full responsibility for its care,
So do not doubt His grace!"
Venkatanatha gently consoled her, "Saraswathi, do not be anxious. The Lord who protects the entire universe will never abandon us. Yet, we, as humans, become so entangled in worldly attachments that we fail to place unwavering faith in Him. How unfortunate! Instead of surrendering completely, we worry about transient things. Are we not the true sinners, then?
Not a day passes when we wholeheartedly worship Him without distraction. Our senses wander, our minds are preoccupied with material concerns, and we fail to focus on our true purpose. This forgetfulness of God—this is our greatest sin! We must accept the consequences of our past actions, endure them, and never blame God.
Our revered Ādiguru, Srimad Acharya, has instructed mankind:
‘O Man! With humility, surrender at the feet of Sri Hari. Perform the duties prescribed for you, accept the results according to your karma, and recognize Sri Hari as the Supreme—your father, mother, and ultimate refuge. There is nothing more worthy of worship than Him. Therefore, abandon these trivial worldly concerns and fix your mind upon His lotus feet!’
Even great saints like our venerable Vijayīndra Tīrtha have humbly prayed to the Lord. Do you know what they said?"
"Sukṛtaṁ tilamātratulyamīśa
Kriyatē naiva mayēka vatsarē’pi |
Apitu kriyatē sadāghapūgaḥ
Pratiyāmaṁ sakalēndriyērmukunda ||"
"O Mukunda! In an entire year, I have not performed even a mustard-seed-sized virtuous act.
But every moment, with all my senses, I have indulged in sinful actions!"
These great saints, despite their purity, lamented their own unworthiness and sought the Lord’s mercy:
"O Lord, in all the three worlds, many sinners exist,
But the sum of all their sins combined is not as great as mine!
I am the worst among all sinners!"
Finally, they pleaded:
"O Compassionate One!
Without Your boundless mercy,
How can this sinner be liberated from his sins?
Show me Your grace, O Kamalapati,
For those who bow at Your feet have no other refuge!"
Venkatanatha concluded, "Saraswathi, understand that every being must endure their prārabdha karma (past actions' consequences). Only by undergoing its experience does it get exhausted.
Thus, let us accept our fate without complaint, surrender at the lotus feet of the Lord, and place our complete trust in Him.
'Kuru bhuṅkṣva ca karma nijaṁ niyataṁ
Haripāda-vinamradhiyā satataṁ |
Harireva varo harireva guruḥ
Harireva jagat-tritayāmātra gatiḥ ||'
'Perform your duty and accept its fruits,
With humility, bow to Sri Hari always.
He alone is the Supreme refuge,
The Ultimate Guru and the Lord of all three worlds!'
So, my dear Saraswathi, let us discard all unnecessary concerns and immerse ourselves in the Lord’s devotion. That alone will lead us beyond suffering!"
Saraswathi, overwhelmed by her husband's wisdom and unwavering faith, felt peace wash over her.
"Oh Compassionate Lord! Who else but You can rid me of my sins? O Kamalesha! Show Your mercy upon me and uplift me. My infinite salutations to You, O Lord!"
Venkatanatha, deeply immersed in devotion, continued, "If even great saints have sought the Lord’s mercy for redemption, should we not strive to fix our minds upon Him at all times? Instead, we parade in false pride, forgetting the Supreme Lord! Are there any sinners worse than us?"
Lost in divine longing, he recited:
"Among the fallen souls,
Is there one more fallen than me?
There is no other refuge for me,
Except You, my Lord!
You bear the title ‘Savior of the Fallen’;
O Supreme Lord, Sri Krishna,
Are You truly the one who upholds this title?"
With heartfelt devotion, he continued:
"The demon of poverty clings to me,
Tearing me apart; I can bear it no more!
The afflictions of this worldly existence exhaust me;
The six enemies surround me on all sides,
Dragging me toward worldly desires!
O Sri Krishna! Who else but You can rescue me?"
He further pleaded:
"Just as Lord Vamana entered Bali’s palace,
As the sacred Ganga descended to Bhagiratha,
As Sri Mukunda graced Muchukunda,
And as Sri Krishna entered Vidura’s home,
Just as Sri Rama entered Vibhishana’s home,
O Lord, let Your holy name
Reside on my tongue!
O Purandara Vittala, come to my rescue!"
Venkatanatha, immersed in devotion, fell into deep meditation. Witnessing her husband’s unwavering surrender, Saraswathi was overwhelmed with emotion. Her body shivered in reverence. "What have I done?" she thought. "I spoke of worldly troubles before such a great soul, burdening his heart with my concerns. How foolish of me!"
The next morning, as usual, Saraswathi woke up early, completed her morning rituals, swept the house, decorated the courtyard and Tulasi altar with intricate patterns of rangavalli, and performed Tulasi worship. Once Venkatanatha began his daily prayers, she proceeded to the cowshed to perform Gopūja (worship of the sacred cow).
As she sang hymns, Saraswathi washed Lakshmi, the household cow, adorned her with auspicious offerings, and placed a garland of fresh flowers around her neck. She lit the ārati, placed a small portion of grass in front of her, and prayed earnestly:
"O Mother Lakshmi! Today, I do not have the means to offer you a proper meal. Please accept this humble offering of grass and bless us."
She then let the calf near the cow to drink milk and turned to leave. But as she took a few steps forward, she suddenly felt a strong pull. Turning back, she was astonished!
The cow had caught the edge of her saree in its mouth and was gently pulling her back. Even more astonishing, it was not allowing the calf to drink its milk!
This was no ordinary occurrence—it was a divine sign!
Saraswathi was deeply moved by the sight of Lakshmi, their household cow, and her calf growing weaker due to the lack of proper nourishment. She had refrained from taking milk for their son, Lakshminarayana, fearing it would deprive the calf of its share. For days, she had suppressed her motherly instincts, placing the calf’s needs above her own child’s. Yet, on this day, something astonishing occurred—Lakshmi, the cow, refused to let her calf drink! Instead, she clutched the edge of Saraswathi’s saree with her mouth, pulling her back while her eyes welled with tears.
Saraswathi trembled in disbelief. “Oh, my dear Lakshmi, what a compassionate soul you are! Are you holding back milk from your own calf because my child has none? Are you weeping for our suffering?” Her heart swelled with emotion. “Blessed is your kindness, O mother! Let go of my saree; I will take the milk as you wish.”
She brought a brass vessel and began milking Lakshmi. The cow, which usually gave only half a measure of milk, filled the entire vessel until it overflowed. Saraswathi was astounded. Overwhelmed, she lovingly fed half the milk to the calf and took the rest to her husband, Venkatanatha.
Seeing the milk-filled vessel, Venkatanatha was amazed. “Saraswathi, did you see this? We, as humans, boast of our intelligence, yet we forget the depth of love and sacrifice in mute beings. Even without words, these animals understand our struggles, express their affection, and share in our burdens. Today’s incident is proof of that! If only humans could display a fraction of this compassion, the world would be free from hatred, jealousy, and selfishness!”
Saraswathi nodded in reverence. “Indeed, my lord, our Lakshmi is a divine being.”
Venkatanatha smiled. “Not only did she give us milk, but she also relieved you of your worry about today’s offering for the Lord. Boil the milk, and let us dedicate it to Sri Hari.”
With joy, Saraswathi prepared the milk, and Venkatanatha offered it in worship. Taking a small portion himself, he gave the rest to Saraswathi. “Now, feed our son this blessed milk. Today, through Lakshmi’s grace, we all have a meal!”
The next morning was Ekadashi. After completing his morning prayers, Venkatanatha noticed Saraswathi standing with a troubled expression. “What is it, Saraswathi?” he asked.
She hesitated but then spoke. “Swami, last night, I forgot to secure the back door. This morning, I noticed signs of intrusion. Some of our utensils, clothes, and household items are missing.”
Venkatanatha remained silent for a moment before responding calmly, “Hmm… the will of the Lord. Let it be. Everything happens for the best.”
Saraswathi felt pain in her heart seeing her husband’s unshaken faith despite their hardships. But what he said next caught her off guard.
“Saraswathi, what kind of husband have you chosen? I have failed to provide you or our child with even the simplest comforts.” His voice carried a rare sorrow.
Saraswathi rushed forward, placing her hands on his. “Please do not speak this way, Swami! You are my everything. My fortune, my wealth, my very existence revolves around you. Do not think that this poverty pains me—it has, in fact, become my greatest blessing. I am submerged in the ocean of bliss that is your love and grace!”
A gentle smile formed on Venkatanatha’s lips. “Alright then, bring the Veena. Let us find solace in praising the Lord.”
With devotion, Saraswathi sat beside him, placing the Veena before him, as their son Lakshminarayana listened with wide-eyed wonder. The house, though bare of material wealth, was filled with divine music, faith, and the eternal grace of Sri Hari.
Venkatanatha, immersed in his devotion, began to sing the kirtana of Shri Padaraja:
"Nā ninagēnu bēḍuvudilla |
Enna hṛdaya-maṇṭapadalli nindirō Kṛṣṇā"
("O Krishna, I ask nothing from You. You reside in the temple of my heart.")
Gesturing to his wife to join, both Venkatanatha and Saraswathi lost themselves in the divine melody.
As the song concluded, their young son, Lakshminarayana, eagerly said, "Father, I too want to sing!"
With innocence and devotion, he began to sing a composition by Shri Vyasaraja:
"Tāyi embene ninna Dhruvanna tāyi, ninnaṁte kāydaḷe |
Tande embene ninna Prahlādanna, tande ninnaṁte kāydaṇe ||
Ava animitta bandhuvō, nīnāv kāruṇyasindhuvō !
Dēva Sirikr̥ṣṇa | Ninagē baṇṭaralli neṇṭatana hosa pariayyā"
("O Krishna, who else can we call our mother but You, who protected Dhruva?
Who else is our father but You, who saved Prahlada?
Are You not our only true bond, our ocean of mercy?
O Lord Krishna, accept my humble servitude.")
Hearing his son sing such profound words, Venkatanatha’s heart swelled with joy. He blessed Lakshminarayana and turned toward Saraswathi, who had chosen to sing a soulful composition by Shri Purandara Dasa:
"Ēke nirdayanāde ele dēvanē |
Śrīkānta, enamēle eḷḷaṣṭu dayavilla ||
("Why have You become so merciless, O Lord?
O Shrikantha, why do You show no compassion?")
Her voice quivered as she sang about how the Lord had protected Prahlada and blessed countless devotees, yet she wondered why His grace was still far from their home.
By the time she finished, tears streamed down her face. The weight of their hardships, of the endless struggles, became too much to contain.
Venkatanatha, seeing his wife’s silent suffering, gently spoke: "Saraswathi, no matter how much you try to hide your pain, your heart has now poured itself before the Lord. Your sorrow is mine too. Our son has gone without food for days. I understand your grief. If shedding tears before the Lord brings you peace, then cry, my dear, cry freely."
Saraswathi wiped her tears and replied, "Swami, the burden of our suffering has grown heavier by the day. I do not lament for myself, but I only pray that the Lord grants us the strength to endure this hardship."
Venkatanatha nodded. "Saraswathi, the Lord watches over us. When His gaze turns toward us, all our suffering will vanish. Until then, we must hold on to our faith."
The biographers of Shri Raghavendra Swami have described this period of Venkatanatha’s life as one of extreme hardship, a time when he, despite being a great scholar and devotee, was bound by fate to experience dire poverty.
On occasions like Diwali, when even the poorest celebrated with joy, there was no oil for an abhyanga bath, let alone ghee for food.
How could one who had not performed even an Agniṣṭoma Yajna hope to celebrate a grand Jyotiṣṭoma Yajna?
Even for Yugadi (New Year’s festival), Venkatanatha could not afford a simple cloth, let alone the fine silk garments traditionally worn on such an occasion.
The contrast was heart-wrenching: a man of immense scholarship, an ocean of divine knowledge, a beacon of intellect and devotion, was struggling to provide for his family. But despite the dark cloud of poverty, his faith never wavered.
Venkatanatha often went without proper meals. Even when food was available, he had no proper leaf plates and would spread water on the bare ground before eating. Many days, his hunger was unbearable, yet he endured it with mental composure, never once resorting to begging.
The clothes of the Acharya couple were tattered and full of holes. They stitched them together or tied knots to keep them wearable, managing to sustain themselves in extreme poverty. Their hardships reached another level when thieves broke into their home and stole whatever little utensils, fabrics, and belongings they had left.
At that time, Venkatanatha adopted only a single loincloth (kaupīna)—the same attire he would later wear after taking sannyasa (renunciation). Just as a Prayājayajna is performed before a Pashuyajna, his struggles seemed like a preparatory phase before his ascetic life.
In worldly life, the Lord has designated two Ekadashi fasts per month, one in Shukla Paksha and one in Krishna Paksha. But in Venkatanatha’s household, Ekadashi fasting seemed to come five or six times a month—as if the austerities of Chaturmasya (four-month monastic observance) were constantly extending!
Ironically, while his ancestors had lived in prosperity, and after he became Raghavendra Swami, his descendants flourished, Venkatanatha himself went through unimaginable poverty in his pūrvāśrama (pre-monastic life). The extent of his hardship had no real comparison—he suffered beyond measure.
Despite the extreme conditions, he never wavered in his devotion. He dressed with the same honor as if adorned with sandalwood paste and sacred flowers, and his mind remained joyful, as if he had feasted sumptuously. His focus on scriptural debates and teaching never diminished.
His devoted wife, Saraswathi, found contentment not in wealth, but in her husband’s presence, his love, and his divine wisdom. She stood by him as an equal in his trials, accepting poverty with the same joy as she would have embraced prosperity.
Their marriage was an embodiment of true companionship, where love, dharma, and devotion triumphed over material hardships.