Radhe Radhe

Today this Zen parable caught my eye –

There was an old woman in China who had supported a monk for over twenty years. She had built a little hut for him and fed him while he was meditating. Finally she wondered just what progress he had made in all this time.

To find out, she obtained the help of a girl rich in desire. “Go and embrace him,” she told her, “and then ask him suddenly: ‘What now?'”

The girl called upon the monk and without much ado caressed him, asking him what he was going to do about it.

“An old tree grows on a cold rock in winter,” replied the monk somewhat poetically. “Nowhere is there any warmth.”

The girl returned and related what he had said.

“To think I fed that fellow for twenty years!” exclaimed the old woman in anger. “He showed no consideration for your needs, no disposition to explain your condition. He need not have responded to passion, but at least he should have evidenced some compassion.”

She at once went to the hut of the monk and burned it down.

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This brought to my a similar incident that took place a few years ago in my little village which is full of Vaishnavs. Here  we have a   Bhagavat-speaker –  a young and dynamic orator, who sits on Vyas asan and speaks with might. A young Vaishnavi fell in love with him and gave him a letterfor marriage proposal  at the end of a discourse. Oh yes ! That too right in the Harikatha hall itself. In fact, she had passed the chit on through a chain of devotees in the audience. What surprises me even today is that no one opened the little letter to read it ! Anyway, what did this young renunciate do on receiving the letter ? He reported the matter to the headman of the hamlet, who in turn called upon all women to beat her and throw her out. The women did just that. They caught her, surrounded her, tore off her hair – in short, pecked her like crows. Thus they “cleansed” this part of the Holy land.

This proves that unlike Sage Dattatreya whose mere presence purified Pingala, this renunciate (the young, dynamic one, and the headman) had not the power to transform, nor th e wish for it. He did not try to explain lovingly her folly. After all, had she been th e type who would have given in to desire, she would have taken to some other profitable profession and not accepted the rigorous life of Bhakti-sadhana  in the Holy Land. But noone thought of that.  Radhe Radhe !