The Fifth Delight
Shri Raghavendra Gurusarvabhauma
61. Intellectual Revolution!
Venkatanatha sat on the steps of the Kaveri river, lost in deep thought. After completing his evening Sandhya worship, he returned home, purified himself, performed the Mangalarati to the deity, and went straight to his room.
Saraswathi, observing her husband returning from the monastery with a distressed face and burdened thoughts, became anxious. She noticed that he performed Mangalarati silently and withdrew to his chamber without even coming for dinner. She approached him and gently said, "Swami, it is quite late. Please come and have your meal."
Acharya replied, "Saraswathi, you and Lakshminarayana eat and rest. I am not hungry." Unable to argue with her husband, Saraswathi fed their son and put him to bed. Still concerned, she remained awake.
A few moments later, the sound of the Veena echoed from Acharya’s chamber. Saraswathi, carrying a plate with fruit and milk, entered and pleaded, "Swami, you haven’t eaten anything. At least accept these fruits and milk."
Venkatanatha simply responded, "No, Saraswathi, you go and rest," and immersed himself in playing the Veena.
Seeing her husband refuse to eat, Saraswathi, too, could not bring herself to eat. She lay on her cot in a corner of the room, leaning against the wall, and gazed at him with a deep sigh.
As Acharya's fingers moved over the Veena, the instrument produced a melody filled with profound karuna rasa (compassion and sorrow). Waves of deeply emotional and heart-touching music began to flow through the chamber, filling every corner of the space. Saraswathi realized that something was weighing heavily on her husband's mind. The poignant strains of the Veena unsettled her heart, and, unable to bear the sorrowful melody, tears began rolling down her cheeks. She continued gazing at him, lost in distress.
As time passed, the pace of the Veena music intensified, weaving intricate taanas and rhythms. It felt as if Acharya was pouring out all his inner turmoil and grief through the music! The melody resonated in the room for a long time.
Eventually, overwhelmed by sorrow, Saraswathi, still seated against the wall, drifted into sleep, surrendering to exhaustion.
Acharya’s Veena playing gradually ceased. Silence welcomed him, offering a moment of stillness. The storm of agitation and sorrow within him began to subside. His mind settled into a state of equilibrium. Placing the Veena on the pedestal, he turned his gaze toward his wife.
Saraswathi had fallen asleep in exhaustion. Tears that had streamed from her eyes still left a glistening trace on her cheeks. Observing this, Acharya gently approached her, carefully laying her down on the bed, covering her with a shawl, and then retreating to his own place.
"Poor soul! My tender-hearted wife has been silently witnessing my turmoil and suffering alongside me. How delicate is her heart! She is restlessly enduring my struggles as if they were her own. What a virtuous and devoted wife she is! How deeply she loves me! Can I truly abandon such a noble and affectionate wife to take up Sannyasa?"
A storm of contemplation arose in Venkatanatha’s heart!
The words of Sudhindra Guru echoed in his mind, one after another:
"How much love and faith Guru has in me! He has taught me all the scriptures, guided me with such care, and elevated me to an esteemed status. His affection for his disciples is unparalleled. He wants me to be his successor, to ascend to the revered Sarvajna Peetha (throne of wisdom). His wish is only for my well-being. Indeed—"
"Hitaṁ manohāri ca durlabhaṁ vacaḥ!"
("Words that are truly beneficial are rarely pleasing to the mind.")
"This worldly life is impermanent. If I remain entangled in it, how will I attain liberation? Guru desires that I become a great author, a Daitha Siddhanta Sthapaka (one who firmly establishes the philosophy of dualism). When I think deeply, his wish for me to take up Paramahamsa Ashrama is indeed for my highest good. But why does it not seem pleasing to my heart?
"That which is truly beneficial is never pleasing, and that which pleases the heart is not always beneficial."
"Where is the fault in what Guru has said? Right now, I am enclosed within a small circle of life. I consider it my entire world. But he wishes to elevate me to a vast, all-encompassing realm! Why do his words not feel agreeable to me? Is it because of attachment to worldly life? Is it because Vairagya (detachment) has not yet settled in my heart? Or… is it because of Saraswathi’s beauty, her unwavering love, and affection for me?"
"No, I am not infatuated by Saraswathi’s external beauty. That is transient; one day, inevitably, it will fade as age takes over. It is not her physical beauty that captivates me but rather her inner beauty, her pure love, her virtues, and her flawless character. But is loving someone wrong?
Yes… Saraswathi herself once asked me this very question!
This is a question that has perplexed people across ages! But what is the true answer?
What is love?
True love is nothing but pure affection, friendship, and devotion. But in whom should love be placed? How should it be directed? The perfection of love depends upon its consequences—what it leads to, what it cultivates.
What is the most worthy recipient of love?
Is it Madhava (God) or a mortal companion?
Is love for one’s wife truly love, or is it desire?
Can a wife be the right vessel for pure love?
Even if we call it love, does it not inevitably manifest as desire within the confines of marital bonds? For love to be truly pure, its object must be:
Supreme,
Perfect,
All-powerful,
Eternal,
Capable of uplifting the one who loves.
But then, how can a mortal wife, bound by a perishable physical body, be the recipient of selfless, eternal love?
I, too, am not eternal.
My home, my child, my wife—all of it is impermanent.
If I myself am not eternal, how can I place my eternal love in something that is transient?
Love directed toward an impermanent object inevitably leads to suffering when that object is lost. Such love cannot lead to salvation; instead, it entraps the lover in a cycle of sorrow.
This is why the scriptures declare that the most worthy recipient of love is Bhagavan Himself.
The Supreme Lord is:
Free from all flaws,
The abode of infinite auspicious qualities,
Absolutely independent,
Unimaginably powerful,
The cause of creation, sustenance, and dissolution,
Perfect in every way,
Compassionate toward His devotees,
A boundless ocean of mercy,
Ever unchanging,
The only eternal reality,
The ultimate refuge,
The Highest Being.
Thus, only Bhagavan Sri Hari is the true recipient of pure love. Love directed toward Him is selfless, eternal, and liberating.
Such pure devotion, firmly rooted in the eternal Lord, grows and flourishes under His divine grace. Through His boundless compassion, He rescues the soul from the endless cycle of birth and death, granting everlasting joy and liberation.
If that is the case… why, then, does the Lord create within the world the bonds of wife, children, and family?
What is the right path to transcend this dilemma?"
"Hmm... whatever it may be, what is my duty now?
Should I stay at home or go to the monastery?
Why am I still unable to detach from worldly ties?
Why are my Guru’s so determined to make me a renunciate?
What should I do now?
If I stay here, sooner or later, Guruvaru will compel me to take Sannyasa. If I remain, I will be forced into renunciation.
If I leave this place, it will seem as though I am fleeing like a thief, disregarding the Guru’s command. People will mock me. The Gurus will be angry and may even curse me!
Can I bear the sin of betraying noble saints?
Can I withstand the weight of a Guru’s curse?
Oh! Oh! What a terrible dilemma has come upon me!
I cannot stay... but neither can I leave!
What am I to do now?"
Lost in these thoughts, Venkatanatha trembled in distress."