How to tell false Guru

By Radhika Ravi Rajan Posted on May 27, 2015 at 02:19 pm Comments 73 | 5144 Views On the spiritual path, we need gurus or teachers to show us the way...how else can we find answers to the big questions! But often, we find leaders who mislead us, instead of guiding us correctlly on the right path to salvation... So, how do we know the good apple from the bad? How do we know the person we think is a sheep is actually a wolf in sheep's clothing? This is all the more difficult because a false teacher will do their best to hide this fact from you by pretending to be whatever you expect them to be... But here are a few tell-tale signs to nab a false guru from misleading you further, twisting the Divine word, or capitalizing on the aura of followers... 1. True teachers will quote from religious script A false messiah will just talk in the air, but a true teacher will only quote from sacred texts, because only the texts represent the word of God. 2. True teachers will admit the supremacy of God A false messiah will speak more about himself and his largesse than credit the true source of all things good, which is God. 3. True teachers will not hesitate to point out our flaws A false messiah will nourish our already bloated egos and promise us material goodies of all kinds, whereas a true leader will teach us how to correct our shortcomings, as walskjing on that path alone with reach us to God. 4. True teachers will give you answers that make sense A false messiah will leave you feeling even more deflated and unhappy than before, because the fruits he shares are not not spiritual enough. 5. True teachers make you part of God's love A false messiah will leave you hopeless about ever being forgiven or loved by God, whose love is inexhaustible. Seekers need not look far to recognise a true guru, because they will just melt like butter in the divine heat generated by the Master, says Om Swami, in this lovely video...

Hanuman and Veena

Bhakti story: Hanuman and vina of Narada Muni Once Hanuman and his mother Ketari heard a sound of misical instrument Vina and beautiful singing of Krishnas holy name. Ketari said, “Who is this singing? It must be Narada Muni coming!” Hanuman asked, “Who is this person?” Ketari replied, “He is a very great soul. He doesn’t need any introduction. You just go to him and you will find out the greatness of this man.” Immediately Hanuman jumped up and Narada was just on his way past their place, going to see some rishi, so Hanuman jumped in his way and paid pranams. “Narada Muni, I heard that you are a very great person, so you must bless me. Without blessing me, you are not allowed to go!” Narada said, “What blessing do you want?” Hanuman said, “Already the demigods have given me so many blessings. I cannot think of anything else, so you think of a blessing, and you give it to me.” Narada thought, “What blessing does Hanuman not have?” And so he said, “You will become expert in music.” That was the only benediction left to give. So Hanuman got that benediction, and Narada Muni said, “So I have given you the benediction, and now I am going.” Hanuman said, “One minute, one minute.” “What do you want?” Narada asked. “How will I know that I am the most expert in music?” Hanuman inquired. “My father told me that you are the most expert in music, so you must do me a favour today. Give me the benediction that I will be more expert than you!” So Narada said, “All right, I will sit somewhere and listen to you.” “Shall I start singing?” Hanuman asked. “Yes.” Narada Muni put his vina on a rock, and he sat down on the ground. So Hanuman selected that tune which would melt the rock, and he began to sing it. The rock melted, and the vina was in the liquid. He was singing and singing, and the vina was floating in the liquid rock. Narada was closing his eyes and enjoying in exstasy, and he said, “All right Hanuman, you are the best musician. You can stop singing now.” Hanuman said, “You open your eyes and tell me if I should I stop singing.” Narada said, “How do you mean?” Hanuman replied, “You open your eyes.” So Narada opened his eyes and looked around. He didn’t notice the vina floating in the stone water. “Yes, you can stop singing.” So then Hanuman stopped singing, and the liquid stone became rock, and the vina got stuck. Narada said, “I am going,” and he took his vina, but it wouldn’t move. “What did you do, Hanuman?” Hanuman said, “I only sung a song. You told me to sing a song, and you also gave me the ability. Now you are complaining. I have been a good boy for a whole week.” Narada said, “One week of doing nothing means that before that week you did too much.” And then Hanuman told him all about what he had done, swallowing the sun etc, and Narada became very pleased. Then he said, “Now whatever it was, you please sing the tune again, so I can get my vina.” Hanuman said, “Well, I don’t know….” Narada Muni said, “Please do it!” “No I won’t,” Hanuman said, and he jumped up and ran inside the palace. So Narada Muni was running after Hanuman who was just running from one room to another. And you know monkeys are fast it is very difficult to catch them. Finally Narada Muni become very tired so he called out, “Hey Hanuman, please come and give me my vina back ! I have to go! I have service to do!” Just then Ketari came out, and when she saw Narada Muni she touched his feet and spoke – “What is my son doing, he is giving you some trouble?” Narada said, “Oh no, no trouble, just that he got my vina stuck in the rock.” Ketari said, “Oh no, he has started his mischief again! Hanuman, get Narada’s vina out of the rock!” said Ketari. And then Hanuman said, “I wanted Narada Muni’s feet to touch every room in this palace, that is why I was doing this. Now he has touched all the rooms and he has made our home holy place of pilgrimage. The dust from his lotus feet is so rare that what is the use of just having it in one part of our kingdom? We should have it all over. Now I can give him back his vina. ” Narada said, “You are already blessed, because you are Lord Rama’s eternal servant.” So Hanuman went and sung for Narada, who quickly took his vina and left. Moral: Holy person is not envious. They are happy when other people are happy and successful.They easily give bllessings to people to even acomplish things bigger then their. As Hanuman was blessed to be even better musician than Narada. This story show value of visit of holy people at our home. One do not need to go to holy places of pilgrimage. We should invite holy people at our house and then our home will become holy place. That is very wonderful way to live always at holy place and remain at our home. Story show also how we should associate with each other. Throw singing. Singing for God is place where our souls can meet God. PS: I humbly request all the devotees to please forward moral / instructive stories they hear so that everyone can be benefitted. 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Gutu Parampara

31 Indian Epics - Facts and Memes Guru Paramartha and His Five Foolish Disciples A humorous fable from South India about a bogus guru and his five useless disciples. Each episode of the story defeats one of the six atheistic systems of Vedic philosophy (shad-darshanas). Here we provide only the story. The philosophical analysis is not included. Chapter One Long, long ago in a little village in South India, there lived a poor, aged simpleton called Paramartha. He was a bogus guru who had five equally bogus disciples. Their names were Mudhead, Foolish, Weakling, Idiot and Rascal. Since all gurus and their disciples live in ashrams, they did too and their activities and experiences together were many. One morning the guru and his disciples set out for a temple in a neighboring village. On the way Paramartha explained life to his eager disciples: “It’s so simple,” he said, “life is what all living things have, and all living things move. Look at this tree. It’s leaves move and so we can safely say that it is a living thing. Do you understand?” “Oh great and wonderful guru,” his disciples chorused, “you explain the most difficult things in the simplest ways. How fortunate we are to be your disciples!” Soon they came upon a river and the guru called one of his more senior men: “Rascal, do you know whether this river is asleep or awake? I know from previous experience that this river is a very cunning river. We must be very careful with our dealings with it. Before venturing across it we need to know whether it is asleep or awake. Please go and check the situation.” Rascal, eager to please his guru, ran to the riverbank. Plan in mind, he searched for an old, dry, tree branch. Quite soon he found one and set fire to it. “Hmmm,” he thought, “I will burn this river. Then I will soon know if this river is awake or asleep.” As soon as Rascal put the burning branch into the river he heard a loud hissing sound. It frightened him so much that he fell over. Shivering and shouting, he got up and ran to his guru: “My dear guru! Now is definitely not the time for crossing this river. It is very much awake! As soon as I touched it, it hissed loudly and covered me with smoke. It was so angry I was afraid it would get up and hit me. It is only by your great mercy and the mercy of my parents that I have come back alive. What a terrible experience!” “Please calm down Rascal,” said the guru. “What can we do? We have to accept this as the arrangement of God. We will just have to wait until the river falls asleep.” And so guru Paramartha and his disciples took shelter of a nearby garden and discussed the cunning nature of the river they were attempting to cross. Fool, one of the more philosophically inclined of the disciples said: “Guru maharaj, I have heard a great deal about the river mind and about this river in particular. We cannot afford to underestimate its prowess. My grandfather has had personal experience of its temperament. He is a very successful merchant and one day, returning from one of his business ventures, he happened to pass this way. His assistants, and two donkeys laden with salt bags, accompanied him.” “It was summer and the day was hot. They decided to take bath and give the donkeys some rest. Both men and donkeys stepped into the cool waters of the river, bathed and then spent some time under the green shady trees. When the heat of the day had passed they again went on their way.” “The party had not been traveling long when one of the assistants shouted in dismay: Oh no! Master, look! The salt bags are still well stitched but they are wet and there is no salt in them. Where has it gone? Who is responsible for this?” “Actually, we are very fortunate,” replied my grandfather after some thought, “If this river had not been able to rob us of our salt it may have become angry and swallowed us all. We have been saved by God. We are very fortunate indeed!” “And so all the servants were satisfied and continued on their way.” While Fool was discussing the nature of the river mind with his guru a man on a horse came by. Despite the warnings of the disciples, he entered the river and quickly and easily reached the other side. “What an extraordinary feat,” the amazed Paramartha guru exclaimed. “Yes,” chorused his disciples. “Guru Maharaj,” said weakling, as they watched the horseman disappear into the distance, “If you had a horse all our problems would obviously be solved. We wouldn’t have to worry about these tricky rivers anymore. We could easily cross them. Why don’t we buy a horse?” “Later,” said the guru, “we can discuss that later. Right now we have more important matters at hand. Evening has come. I think the river is now sleeping. Otherwise how could that horseman cross it so easily? Yes, I’m confident it is now asleep. Mudhead, please go and check.” Mudhead, though eager to serve his guru, was not the most intelligent of his disciples. “This is a very difficult task,” he thought, “I don’t want to displease my guru, so I will use Rascal’s system to check whether the river is sleeping. Yes… better to follow a proven path. Now, where is that branch he used?” Finally he found the branch, black and water logged as it was, and ran to the river’s edge. Gingerly he plunged it into the river, and to his relief, no sound or smoke came. “Ah, guru maharaj will be pleased,” he smiled. Quietly he tiptoed back to his fellow pilgrims. “Dear guru maharaj, this is the time. We must go now. This opportunity may not come again so easily. The river is presently in deep sleep. Please, don’t make any noise and step very carefully. If we go now and are cautious, the river will not wake up and we will be able to cross it without difficulty. Come!” As soon as guru Paramartha and his disciples heard this they immediately got up and slowly, step by step, began to cross the river. Hearts palpitating, ears magnifying the smallest sound, they stealthily waded across the river. When what seemed like an eternity had passed, they finally reached the other side. Immediately three of the disciples began jumping and dancing in ecstasy. “Guru Maharaj, how wonderful you are. By your mercy, we have finally crossed this terribly dangerous river. All glories to you, what power! What intelligence! What……” “Don’t be too happy yet,” Fool interrupted, “let us check whether in fact we did all arrive safely on this side.” And with that he began counting the members in the party. As his name suggests, Fool was not the most intelligent of men and hence he forgot to include himself in the counting. “Oh no! What a loss, what a great loss!” he exclaimed. “When we arrived at the river’s edge we were six in number and now we are only five. We have lost a person. What a treacherous river. What a disaster! What……..” “Wait,” interrupted his guru, “don’t be too quick in your conclusions. This is not the character of a sober man. Please let us sit down and I will count.” And so guru Paramartha began to count. Being a simpleton, he too forgot to include himself. Once, twice, thrice he counted and each time he counted only five members in the party. Confused, he locked his skinny legs in padmasana and meditated on the matter for some time. Finally he opened his eyes and with sobriety and detachment said to his disciples, “We must see this as the arrangement of God. We have lost a man. This river is indeed a treacherous one. Even while sleeping it has managed to cause some mischief. This loss has deeply affected my heart but what to do? We must remember we are sadhus and remain aloof from the influence of such distress.” In a state of panic his disciples frantically began to count and each came to the same conclusion. There were now only five men. One, two, three, four, five. A mood of intense lamentation filled the air and all the disciples began crying and rolling on the ground. The screaming and sobbing was so intense that guru Paramartha lost his composure and began cursing the river: “Oh evil-minded river! What an outcaste you are! Have you no mercy? Were you not born with brothers and sisters? Can’t you understand the grief your callousness has caused us? My disciples are such a wonderful and intelligent group of men, an inspiration to any guru, and now you have mercilessly swallowed one of them. Even though we were considerate and didn’t disturb your sleep, you cheated us. Being sadhus we will not take action against you, but rest assured that one day you will also be cheated.” Like mad men, guru and disciples continued to curse and cry. The air was pierced with arrows of loud abuse, anger and lamentation. At that time a pilgrim was passing by and he was amazed by the strange sight and intensity of noise. “What a curious sight,” he thought, “why are these people so disturbed I wonder? They look very upset. Something terrible must have happened. Let me make some inquiry into the matter.” And so he walked up to them and said, “My dear sirs, what is wrong? Why are you in such distress? Has someone died? Please tell me.” “My dear friend,” lamented the guru, “you could not possibly understand our grief. Previously I had five wonderful disciples. Now, by the treacherous mischief of this river I have only four. What to do? Such a great loss has caused us intense pain.” Hearing this the pilgrim himself counted the men and saw that there were factually six members in the party, one, two, three, four, five, six. “What a group of simpletons,” he mussed, “let me see what fun is to be had from them.” Solemnly offering obeisance’s to the guru the pilgrim said, “I can understand your grief. This river is indeed a treacherous one. Please allow me to assist you. I am very expert in the Atharva Veda. I know all about ghosts, yakshinis, gandharvas and so on and they are all under my control. They will follow my instruction. Please offer me a little gift as dakshina and I will call your disciple back from the river. It is my duty.” Hearing this the guru became overwhelmed with joy. “Dear Sir,” he lauded, “you are a Godsend. I am deeply impressed that though you are so learned you are prepared to help we poor sadhus. We are most grateful and are prepared to give the little we own as dakshina. Please, kindly bring our man back to us. We’ll give you 45 gold coins.” The pilgrim, overwhelmed by the thought of gaining 45 gold coins so easily, was quick to act. “My dear fellows,” he said as he theatrically took a large stick from his possessions, “All stand in a line, bend down and close your eyes. Don’t move or open your eyes, but when I touch you say: I am here! and give your name. In this way I will be able to bring your dear friend back to you. Do you understand?” “Yes, yes,” they all chimed and eagerly formed a line. Being simple souls they were fully confident that the man would fulfill his promise. “Right,” said the mystic rolling up his sleeves, “please close your eyes and we will begin.” The men closed their eyes and waited. Within seconds they heard a very loud “Whack!!” followed by their guru screaming “enough, enough! I am here. I am Paramartha guru.” They then heard the pilgrim count matter-of-factly, “one.” Trembling at the knees each disciple peeked through half closed eyes to see what had happened. The mystic was brandishing his large stick and their old guru maharaj was still on the ground trying to recuperate from the severe blow. Frightened, and feeling sick at heart they all looked to Rascal. He was a senior disciple. What was he going to do? Recognizing the gravity of the task Rascal braced himself to set a good example come what may. He was just in time for he also received a heavy blow. “Ouch! I am Rascal. I am here.” he said as rapidly as he could. And the mystic matter-of-factly counted , “two.” Slowly one after another he beat each of the six men, counting as he did so. And he counted six. One, two, three, four, five, six. Then he said, “please open your eyes. Now, as you can plainly see, you are six again. I have successfully called back your lost man. Please give me my 45 gold coins and be happy.” Guru Paramartha checked his number of disciples three times. Finally convinced that they were all present, he gladly gave the pilgrim his gold coins who, overjoyed, went on his merry way. The guru and his disciples embraced each other and marveled at their good fortune. Enthused, they collected their few belongings and returned to their ashram – this time over a bridge. Chapter Two For many a day guru Paramartha and his disciples discussed their adventure. Very elaborately they described how they eventually managed to cross the treacherous river and still lose a person. They marveled at how a God sent messenger had brought back their missing man for a mere 45 gold coins. Meanwhile, the old lady hired to do all the cleaning in the ashrama, listened attentively. Though she was blind, her hearing was as keen as her wit. “My dear boys,” she said, “you have been badly cheated. You have lost 45 gold coins unnecessarily. Your difficulty was not a serious one – certainly not worth 45 gold coins. Let me tell you, if at any time you cross a river and want to count your men, there is a much simpler and cheaper solution. Whenever you travel always carry some wet cow dung with you. Then when you cross the river, add some water, knead the cow dung, and make a big pancake out of it. Then you should put the cow dung pancake on the ground and all sit around it. Very carefully, one after another, put your nose in it and make a bold, clear impression. The rest is quite simple. Just stand up and count the imprints in the cow dung. In this way you can easily check how many people are present – and save yourself 45 gold coins.” “Wonderful!” exclaimed guru Paramartha. “What a clever idea! This lady is very intelligent. Mudhead, please don’t forget, next time we go traveling we must definitely take some wet cow dung. What a fabulous idea.” In the meantime Weakling had been meditating on his own plans: “Dear Guru Maharaj, why don’t we buy our own horse? Do you remember how easily that man crossed the river? Life would be a lot simpler if we had our own horse.” “Hmmm,” said the guru deliberating on the matter. “How much do you think a good horse would cost?” “No less than 100 gold coins,” replied Rascal. “Well, we certainly don’t have that much money. “We’ll have to forget the idea for now,” the guru concluded. And so the proposition was postponed and life went on as usual. Then one day the ashrama cow, which had been put out to pasture, went missing. Guru Paramartha sent his disciples all over the village looking for it. Eager to serve their guru maharaj, they searched high and low, leaving nothing unturned. However, to their dismay, the search was fruitless. “What shall we do now?” they wailed looking at each other pitifully. “How could we go back to our master?” He will be very displeased with our failure to find his cow.” Then Mudhead said, “Well my brothers, I’m not going back to the ashrama until I find it. I’m going to search the next town and the next one if necessary. Good day!” And so he left. A little bewildered the other disciples just stood staring at him as he walked away. Then Rascal said, “Come let’s go back to the ashrama. Our guru maharaj will be concerned about us.” For three days Mudhead was absent. Then on the fourth day he returned tired and cowless but still happy. “Why are you smiling, you fool.” guru Paramartha chastised. “You’ve been gone from the ashrama for nearly four days, and you dare to return with nothing but a smile on your face. Where’s the cow?” “Dear guru maharaj, wait until you hear the good news,” replied Mudhead. “True I was unable to find the cow. However, I found something much better. I managed to get a very cheap price on a horse.” The angry look on the guru’s face softened. “Really,” he said, “that sounds wonderful. Please tell me the details.” “Well, I was trying to find our ashrama cow. I searched so many nearby towns. People’s gardens, public parks, sadhus’ ashramas – I left no place untouched. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to find the cow. Feeling a little depressed I was walking along the bank of a lake. Then by your causeless mercy and the mercy of God I saw a most amazing sight. There were four female horses grazing contentedly and next to one of them were two huge horse eggs. They were so big. Two hands weren’t large enough to hold one let alone two. Then I noticed a local villager passing by.” “Kind sir,” I said, “who owns these wonderful horses?” “Nearby, there lives a very rich business man,” he answered. “He owns these fabulous horses. They’re so amazing. They’ll learn anything you care to teach them – and so quickly.” “Do you think he will allow me to buy one of their eggs?” I interrupted. “Yes,” he said, “I’m sure he would be happy to help you. I don’t think he will charge you more than five gold coins. That’s a very reasonable price for an excellent horse, don’t you agree?” “Wonderful! Wonderful!” beamed the guru clapping his hands. “A very fine achievement.” Then turning to his other disciples he asked, “Well, what do you think?” “We certainly don’t have much to lose if the price is only five gold coins,” Rascal answered. “That’s true”, the others chimed, “It sounds a very profitable venture.” “Rascal and Mudhead,” the guru said solemnly, “I want you to go and purchase the best horse egg immediately. Here, take the necessary five gold coins and some funds for travel expenses. We look forward to your return.” Then he placed his hand on their heads as a blessing. And they paid their obeisances and left. After some time Fool, looking more than a little bewildered, meekly inquired of his guru. “My dear guru maharaj. It is very amazing that we have found such a first class horse egg for such a cheap price. Please forgive me, but I have one question. “How will we get the horse out of the egg? In the village I’ve seen chickens. They have five or six eggs at a time and they sit on them until the baby chicks are ready to hatch. But even if we put 50 chickens on this horse egg it obviously won’t be enough. How are we going to get the horse out of the egg?” “Hmmm!” pondered the guru, “the devil is certainly in the details. It will take me some time to answer your question.” And with that he folded his skinny legs into the padmasana and began to meditate. After three days the guru finally broke his meditation and called for his disciples. “My dear disciples, I have contemplated Fool’s question. The answer is quite simple. One of us is going to have to sit on this egg. There is no other solution. If we want an intelligent horse then an intelligent person is going to have to sit on it. All of you are of keen wit. Who will please me by sitting on the egg?” Slowly he looked around the room and set his eyes on Fool. “Please guru maharaj,” Fool stammered timidly, “how can I possibly sit on the horse egg all day. I must fetch water from the river, cut the fire wood and bring it to the kitchen. I have so much to do. Please forgive me, but it is impossible for me to meet your request.” “I also can’t do this service,” said Idiot. “Day and night I am busy cooking in the kitchen. There are six of us plus the servants. I have to cut so many vegetables and cook so many tasty dishes. And you do like your rotis, guru maharaj. I spend the whole day very busily working in the kitchen, I can’t possibly sit on the egg.” “Nor can I!” exclaimed Weakling, “I have to wake up before everyone else and go to the river and clean my teeth. It certainly hadn’t been my practice to do this before joining the ashrama. It’s a very great austerity for me. I also have to wash my own cloth and pick all the flowers for the garlands. I also have to keep all the lamps clean. I have so much work that it makes me tired just talking about it. I can’t sit on the egg. It’s impossible.” “Yes,” agreed the guru, “it certainly is a difficult situation. Rascal and Mudhead are also very busy. The only one who is doing nothing is myself. A very intelligent person must sit on the egg for good results and so I’ll do it. I’ll embrace it with my head and cover it with my chuddar. I’ll treat it with great care and affection then we will definitely get an excellent result. It will be very difficult but worthwhile work. Yes, I’ll do it.” In the meantime, after a two and a half hour walk, Mudhead and Rascal returned to the lake. The four horses were still grazing contentedly and next to them were many big, white pumpkins. As soon as Mudhead saw them he shouted excitedly: “Look! There are so many horse eggs and they’re so big. Guru maharaj will be greatly pleased. Quickly, let’s go and see the business man who owns these horses.” And so they went. The business man was lounging in his garden. The two sadhus pushed their way through the gate and ran to him. “Dear kind sir,” Rascal blurted, “We are from Kutralam. We are sadhus. We want to buy a horse egg. You have such wonderful horses. We’re poor. Please give us a horse egg for five gold coins.” The business man’s eyes gleamed. “What fools!” he gloated, “they want to buy a pumpkin for five gold coins. Let’s see what my fabulous horse eggs will fetch.” Turning to the disciples he said cunningly, “You must be joking, I can’t give these horse eggs for five gold coins. They are very rare and very special. I can’t possibly sell them to you so cheaply…..” “Don’t try to cheat us!” scolded Rascal pointing his index finger at the man. “We are Sadhus. We have intelligence. We have checked the price with the town farmers. They told us five gold coins was a very fair price.” “Very well,” complied the businessman. “You look like good natured sadhus and you are very intelligent. I’ll give you a horse egg for five gold coins. However, there is one condition. You are not to tell anyone that you got the egg so cheaply. Give me the five gold coins and go and choose the best of the horse eggs for your ashrama.” Mudhead dumped the five gold coins in the businessman’s lap and then raced off with Rascal to the bank of the river. They looked discerningly at all the pumpkins and took the biggest one. Overcome by excitement and the taste of success they immediately began their long journey back to the ashrama. Along the way Rascal began to glorify their guru: “Our guru maharaj is so advanced. He has such great mystic potency. I have often heard that for the spiritually enlightened the impossible is possible. Now I am seeing this practically demonstrated. I have never heard of a horse being born of an egg, but now, by the mystic potency of our guru maharaj, it is becoming reality. Not only is the impossible becoming possible, but it’s becoming possible so cheaply! Only five gold coins! This is truly miraculous!” “Yes,” continued Mudhead, “You can always judge an activity by its results. Because of the greatness of our guru, God has sent a horse egg. It’s such a practical example. Our guru is great and by his mercy if we have faith in him we will also become great.” In this way the two discussed their realizations. Before long they came to a narrow path. Mudhead, who was carrying the pumpkin on his head, stopped talking in order to increase his concentration. Though treading carefully, he stumbled over a branch across his path and toppled, pumpkin and all. Rascal tried to catch the flying ‘egg’, but his frantic effort was unsuccessful and it fell with a “thud” into a nearby bush. There was a rabbit nibbling on some tender grass beneath that bush and when the pumpkin fell he became frightened, as most rabbits would. He ran from the bush. “Quickly!” screamed Mudhead when he saw it. “Catch it! Catch it! There’s our horse. Catch him. He’s running away!” Both of them chased the rabbit. Up hill and down dale they chased it, hour after hour they chased it. However, the rabbit was a fast one and they couldn’t catch him. Then, overcome with fatigue, Rascal fell over a rock and onto a thorny bush. The adventure resulted in a few scratches on his arms and chest and a bump on his head. He sat glumly looking up at Mudhead. “Mudhead,” he said matter-of-factly, “I’m tired, I’m sore and I’m hungry. We’ve lost our guru’s horse and we’ve lost his money. What to do? I think its time for us to go back to the ashrama. It is not such a good idea to over endeavor.” And so, hungry and with no money in hand, they made their way. As they came closer to the abode of their guru they became concerned that he would severely chastise them. Overcome with anxiety they began to beat their chests and even their stomachs. They howled and cried like wolves on a full moon night. Wailing the name of their guru they tentatively stepped into the ashrama. When their guru maharaj came before them they simultaneously turned a shade of ghostly white and fainted at his feet. Mleccha immediately ran into the kitchen and fetched a large bowl of water. He ran back and threw it over his godbrothers. Rascal, who was first to come to his senses blurted: “Such a fast horse! I have never seen a horse run so fast. It was two hands long and looked like a rabbit. It had four legs and two very big ears. It was so small but it ran so quickly. I don’t think it was an ordinary horse. Neither of us could catch him. Look what happened when I tried! We decided to return to the ashrama.” The guru heard their story, pondered the matter and then looked at them affectionately. “You lost the five gold coins and that is not such a good thing. And the horse is also gone. Quite frankly I think that is a blessing. If it is able to run so fast at such a young age, what would it be like when it grew older. I am an old man. I can’t travel on a horse like that. I take it as a benediction that we didn’t get the animal. It would have caused us a great deal of difficulty. Let’s forget the incident. After all, it was only five gold coins. Don’t worry about it.” The matter settled, guru Paramartha and his disciples went to take rest. Chapter Three After some days guru Paramartha decided that he and his disciples should go on a long pilgrimage. When he told his disciples they were immediately concerned. Rascal said, “Guru maharaj, you are old and weak. It would be most irresponsible and cruel of us to take you walking over such a long distance. The least we can do is hire a bull.” “As you wish,” said the guru. “My life is in your hands.” As soon as they heard this they went out to hire a bull. Luckily, there was a farmer in a nearby village who had a bull which wasn’t fit enough for agriculture but was certainly fit enough to carry an old man on pilgrimage. They agreed to pay three gold coins a day for the hire of the bull and proudly led it back to the ashrama. Though it was a hot and heavy summer, somehow or other they managed to pack all their goods and chattels. Mudhead remembered the emergency supply of wet cow dung and having packed that, they set out on their way. Though the tour began quite early morning, after a few hours of walking the heat became unbearable. They came across a place that was so arid that not even a blade of grass grew. The hot parched earth and lack of water made the situation unbearably intense. The poor old guru who was hungry and couldn’t get any water to drink fainted and fell from the bull. Understandably upset, the disciples lifted and supported their guru and thought frantically about a possible place for him to lie down and take rest. An easy answer was not forthcoming. Finally Mudhead said, “We have no choice. He will have to lie down here in the shadow of the bull. That is the coolest arrangement we can make in this place.” Weakling took his chuddar and spread it beneath the bull for his guru maharaj to lie on. Then they all helped him on to the chuddar and Fool and Mleccha used their gumpshas to fan him. Slowly, slowly the guru recovered. As the day was spent it began to cool and a slight breeze blew. The disciples helped their guru once again onto the bull and went to a nearby village to take rest. It was in this little village that the owner of the bull lived. Early next morning they went to the farmer to return the bull and pay the three gold coin hire charge. “How dare you offer me this paltry sum?” challenged the farmer. “This is definitely not enough payment!” “Excuse me sir,” answered Rascal, “but you previously agreed that we would pay three gold coins for a day’s hire of your bull. It is not proper for you to change your mind now!” “Three gold coins gave you the right to sit on the bull and use him for traveling purposes. However, on the road, when the day became too hot, your guru rested in the shade of my bull. That was not in the agreement. Hence you have to give more gold coins.” “This is ridiculous!” interrupted Fool. “We hired your bull for a day. Why should we pay extra for his shadow?” Suddenly the man started swearing and the disciples were soon engaged in a brawl beyond their control. Immediately a large crowd, attracted by the harsh words and flying fists, gathered around them. After sometime an elderly man came foreword, “What is the matter? Why are you fighting? Please calmly tell me your story and I will try to solve your problem.” Mudhead, relieved by the sober interjection, began to explain the case. Patiently and attentively the old man listened to his tale. Then, very sagaciously he began a story of his own: “Long, long ago I was traveling the country just like you two youngsters. I had my own foodstuffs with me and was simply looking for a place to eat and take a little rest. I spied a little hotel on the side of the road and approached the man in charge. “Dear sir,” I said, “I have my own food, however I would like to relax in your little hotel and partake of it. Would you mind?” “No. That doesn’t pose any problems. Please feel free to take a seat. Please understand, however that if you do take anything from our shop you will have to pay for it.” I nodded my head, washed myself and sat down to eat. While I was eating my simple fare, a gentle breeze blew the scent of freshly cooked pakoras my way. One of the hotel cooks was busy preparing these fresh snacks. They smelt extremely tasty. However, being a poor mendicant, I couldn’t afford to buy any and so I just sat there, overpowered by the smell of delicious pakoras, eating my bag of rice. When I had finished I went to the hotel-in-charge to thank him for his hospitality. When he saw me coming towards him, he said “Don’t forget to pay for the pakoras.” “Pakoras?” I said, “I didn’t eat any of your pakoras, I….” “Come, come,” he interrupted, “I was watching you. You could only eat that bag of old rice because of the smell of our pakoras.” Well I didn’t know what to do. Then another man in the hotel came forward to support his in-charge.” “It is only by the smell of our pakoras that you could eat your rice. You will have to pay some fee. Usually people eat our pakoras and they pay in coinage. However, because you smelt them, you will have to pay by smelling.” Finding the whole situation incredulous, I asked, “And how do I do that?” “It’s simple,” he said matter-of-factly. “Please give me your little money pouch.” When I handed it to him he immediately started rubbing it against his nose. He did this for some time and then he stopped. “There,” he said, “that is enough payment for the smell of the pakoras. I don’t want to lose my nose.” Then the two went back into the hotel satisfied that the debt had been paid. So… just as I paid for my smelling of the pakoras, you can pay for using the shadow of the bull. You can pay in sound. Just shake your money bag in the ear of the bull for some time and your debt will be cleared.” Amazed at the old man’s philosophical and practical understanding of the situation, Mudhead immediately took the money pouch and began to shake it in the ear of the bull. “That’s enough,” the old man declared. “The bull has heard the sound of your coins. That’s enough. You have now paid for the use of the shadow of the bull. Please go now.” Grateful for the help of the old man had given, Mudhead and Rascal paid their respects and hurried back to their guru. What remained of the afternoon was spent philosophically discussing the venture. Chapter Four Next morning guru Paramartha and his disciples got up very early because they didn’t want to travel in the hot sun. After some hours of travel they came across a well-shaded garden and decided to rest there to avoid the midday heat. Still feeling fit despite the journeying, Fool explored the garden and soon found a crystal clear lake filled to the brim with refreshing cool water. He took bath and immediately felt wonderful. At the bank of this lake was a temple of the demigod “Iyyanar”, the village’s presiding deity. It was the practice of the local villagers to sculpture clay horses and elephants to decorate the boundary wall. This demigod assisted Lord Shiva in controlling the ghosts and goblins and hence it was considered important that he be satisfied by an offering of beautiful artifacts for his temple. Amidst his frolicking in the lake, Fool came across the reflection of one such sculptured horses. Immediately he became frightened, because although the sculpture was standing still, the horse in the lake was moving. Even if Fool tried to stand very still, the horse moved. And when he tried to leave the lake it became agitated and angry. It made no noise but it certainly was active. In fear of his life, Fool scrambled out of the lake and ran back to his guru maharaj. When he arrived at the camp site his legs were shaking and he was gasping for breath. Aware of his disciple’s distress, guru Paramartha immediately got up and ran to him. “My dear boy,” he asked holding his shoulders, “what has happened? You look as pale as a person haunted by a ghost. Please sit down. Tell me what happened.” “Maharaj! Maharaj! There’s a fierce and powerful horse in a little lake nearby. I was quietly going about my bathing duties when he became so agitated that I thought he was going to attack me. It was only by your sublime mercy that I was able to leave the lake rather than my life! What shall we do? That is the only lake for bathing but a terrible monster lives there. What shall we do?” More than a little confused, the guru turned to his other disciples, “I have trained you sufficiently to deal with such problems. What do you suggest we do?” Mudhead replied immediately, “This is a wonderful idea, guru maharaj! We have wanted to provide a horse for you for so long. Horses are only really a problem when they’re frightened. Why don’t we offer it some cooked dhal, befriend it, and take it back to the ashrama.” “Very well,” his mentor replied. “We will try your idea. However, I don’t want anyone to enter the water. He may bite. Let’s just leave the dhal on the bank of the lake and see if he can be coaxed that way….” “My dear guru,” suggested Rascal. “Why don’t we try something a little quicker and simpler. Why don’t we just hold a bundle of grass above the water. I’m sure he’s hungry and when he sees it he will be quick to try and make it his. Then we can catch him.” “Even that is an over endeavor,” interrupted Mleccha. “All we have to do is make a noise like another horse. He will come out immediately if he thinks there is another horse on the bank. If that doesn’t work we can just put a buffalo in the lake. The horse wouldn’t be impressed by that. I’m sure he would come out. Either way we would be in a good position to catch the animal.” Fool, who had been meditating on the problem for some time, interjected with an air of certainty, “These ideas are all quite good. However, they do not take into consideration the circumstance. This horse is in a lake. Why don’t we just make a fishing rod and catch him like we would catch a fish?” “Well thought out Fool, that is an excellent idea!” exclaimed the guru. “Yes,” echoed his disciples, “this is definitely the best idea. Let us see what we can do to please our guru maharaj.” Eagerly all the disciples ran off in different directions. Within a few moments one of them came back with a garden knife. Another brought a bundle of cooked rice, yet another brought the guru’s walking cane. Then Mudhead removed his turban and asked for all the different items. His idea was that the guru’s cane would be the fishing rod, the turban cloth the fishing line, the knife the fishing hook and the bundle of rice the bait. Deftly he made the peculiar contraption and threw it, hook line and bait into the water. Because of its weight and size, the lake suddenly became a mass of converging waves. The horse appeared very angry. Its legs were going in all directions and he seemed to be shaking his head ferociously. In fear, all the disciples fell back onto the riverbank. Mudhead alone persevered. He held onto the cane and waited until the waves calmed down. “Don’t be afraid,” he said to his godbrothers, the horse has calmed down now. If we are quiet and patient I’m sure we will catch him. Let’s try.” Meanwhile, attracted by the huge bundle of rice, a big fish in the lake began to nibble at it and pull at the cloth. “Oh, the horse is nibbling at the bait,” he yelled, “Quick, come and help me. He’s a big horse. It will take all of us to pull him to the shore. Come! Come quickly!” In less than a second, all of the disciples were doing their best to assist. Two helped by holding onto the cane. The others clasped their hands around the chests of the two in front, and pulled back with all their might. When they tugged on the line like this, the bundle was loosened and all the rice fell in the water. The knife, its blade now freed, became entangled in the reeds on the bottom of the lake. “Oh! We’ve caught the horse,” Mudhead yelled excitedly. “He’s taken the bait. Now we will have to pull together very hard. Ready? One, two, three, pull!” Inspired by the idea that the horse would soon be theirs, all pulled together with tremendous force. Suddenly the cloth tore in two and all the fishermen fell on their backs with a loud “thud!” “Ouch,” wailed Weakling, “this catching horses business isn’t easy!” “Not only that,” chorused Idiot, “Its damn painful! There must be a simpler way.” With that they all got up from the river bank rubbing their bruises and checking for scratches. A villager, who had been observing the farce for some time, came towards them to seek an explanation. “Excuse me good sirs, what are you doing?” he asked. Mudhead stepped forward. “We are trying to catch this wonderful horse,” he said, pointing to its reflection in the lake. He then continued to give a detailed description of their plan for catching the animal. “What fools you are!” the villager interrupted, “that is only the reflection of a clay horse. Let me show you!” He climbed onto the boundary wall of the temple and covered the clay horse with his chuddar. “What can you see now?” he asked good-humoredly. “Incredible!” said Rascal, “the horse has disappeared. All we can see is the color of your chuddar. Oh no! What will we do now? Our guru maharaj so much wants a horse and now we have disappointed him once again.” “Yes,” continued Mudhead, “our guru maharaj is very aged and weak. He needs a horse for traveling on pilgrimage. At first we spent five gold coins on a horse egg. Unfortunately, it was broken before it hatched. Then we hired a bull and the owner not only charged us a very high rate, but insisted that we also pay for using the shadow of the animal.” “We wasted so much of our guru’s money on these projects that we lost interest. Then by the mercy of God, we found this wonderful horse in the lake. We tried to catch it. However, now it seems it has disappeared. What can we do? We are such useless disciples. Our guru maharaj is truly unfortunate.” The villager’s heart softened. “They are undoubtedly very foolish men,” he mused. “However, they are good and innocent people and they are very dedicated to their guru. I’ll give them a horse and put an end to their anxiety.” He turned to them and said, “My dear sadhus, I have an old horse. It is no show pony. However, I think you will find it suitable for carrying your guru maharaj on pilgrimage. You don’t have to give me any money for it. I’m happy to donate it. Please just come to my house and I’ll give it to you.” Elated and enthused, the disciples jumped up and eagerly followed him home. The old mare had none of the traditional riding paraphernalia necessary and so its owner and the disciples searched high and low for anything they could use as a substitute. Within an hour, the horse was uniquely equipped with reins made of hay, blinkers made from creepers and a saddle sewn from old cloth bags. Quite suitable for travel, but certainly not so aesthetic. Then Mudhead checked the pancika to see when would be a good time to take the horse from the donor’s house and Rascal ran back to inform his guru and bring him for the presentation. Within a few hours the guru was seated on the old mare. The whole village crowded around the strange entourage to witness the first procession. One of his disciples held the reins. Another pushed from behind. Two others stood on either side to protect their guru. Mudhead stood at the front of the strange procession announcing proudly: “The guru is coming! Please pay your respects and move aside. The guru is coming!” In this way the first procession left in grand style. Guru Paramartha and his disciples were in ecstasy. At last they had their own horse and their pilgrimages were finally trouble free – or so they thought. As life would have it, a man in a strange uniform suddenly appeared before the procession and stopped the horse. Distressed, the disciples immediately chorused, “What are you doing? Why are you stopping us?” “I am the tax collector,” the man said menacingly. “Your horse procession is traveling on our roads. Obviously this means you will have to pay tax. Give me five gold coins or I will have to take action against you!” Mudhead who was the most outraged, chastised the man: “What is this? You are trying to tax our guru for traveling on a horse? This is ridiculous. He is a very old man and his body is weak. He can’t walk for long distances. I have never heard of anyone collecting taxes for such a purpose. This is very unfair practice. It certainly isn’t religious.” Unmoved, the tax collector admonished the group: “You fools! How dare you challenge me! Religion or no religion, you are not moving an inch from here until you give me five gold coins.” He raised his fist and then stormed over to a pile of rubble, found a large old tree branch and placed it across their path. For many hours, in a battle of patience, the guru refused to give payment and the tax collector refused to let them proceed. When late afternoon came, the guru finally conceded. “Rascal, give him five gold coins,” he sighed, “he isn’t going to allow us to continue on our way unless we pay him.” Grudgingly Rascal gave him the coins and the procession was once again on its way. “What unfortunate fate,” thought the guru, “if it wasn’t for this horse I would be five gold coins richer. Why did I allow my disciples to bring this animal to our ashrama? Obviously it wasn’t a good decision.” Just then the traveler sitting on the side of the road, got up and joined the procession. Guru paramartha began sharing his sorry tale with him. “My dear sir, I have always traveled on pilgrimage by foot. Recently my disciples concerned for my weak old body, managed to provide me with a horse. We were traveling quite happily, when a most improper incident happened. Just like a robber this uniformed man stepped onto the road, blocked our path and demanded five gold coins in tax. He told us that travelling by horse on public roads was taxable. He refused to let us continue on our way until we gave him five gold coins. Most disgusting and disturbing behavior. What is happening to this world?” “My dear old sadhu,” said the traveler apologetically, “this world is no longer the world you once knew. Nowadays, money is guru, money is God. If you have enough money even a dead body will follow your order. Today, if you are a rascal but you have money you are considered high class and cultured. If you are poor but have all good qualities you are considered not worth knowing. What to do? In today’s world only money has value.” “This is terrible,” replied the guru with a disgusted look on his face. “These days if a man sees ten paise in dog stool he will pick it up and put it in his pocket.” “What is so bad about that?” the traveler asked. “Every paise counts, and besides you may collect money from dirty places but that doesn’t mean the money will smell. Let me tell you a story:” Once, not so long ago, there was a king who was notorious for harassing his citizens by taxing them. Finally he introduced a urine tax and his son was given responsibility for collecting the funds. His portfolio involved catching people urinating and immediately taxing them.” “What a nasty business,” the prince complained to his father. “Why should I stand around waiting for people to pass urine? Such a low class occupation for a prince, I….” “Just be patient,” his father interjected, “just perform your duty and soon you will come to some realization about the matter!” Some days passed and still the prince did not enjoy his duty or appreciate its efficacy. Seeing this, the king called him to the treasury house and showed him all the money. Pile upon pile of gold coins lay there glittering. “Please my son,” said the king, “go and smell the gold.” The boy did as he was told and came back confused. “Dear father,” he said, “it doesn’t smell. It smells when I collect it, but it certainly doesn’t smell now.” “Ah! Now you understand,” exclaimed the king happily. “It’s the urine that smells, not the money. We can take money from any place and in anyway. There’s no problem. The money will never smell!” “An interesting story,” said the guru, “and not too far from being the reality, it seems.” Guru and the traveler continued their discussions as they walked, and soon evening was upon them. They came to a small village and the party decided to take rest on its outskirts. They took bath in a lake, let the horse free to pasture and settled down to take rest. When they awoke early next morning they found that the horse had disappeared. Rascal quickly took bath and traveled from house to house in the village looking for the horse. Before long, he found it tied to a tree outside a farm house. The farmer, who owned the house, was relaxing on the verandah. Rascal rushed to him and said: “Dear sir, this is our horse. He disappeared last night. Please be reasonable and honest in your dealings and give him back to us!” “This horse has been roving free in my fields all night. Half my harvest has been destroyed by your stupid horse. Please know for sure that I have no intention to return him to you!” The man was angry and brandished a fist menacingly at Rascal. Frightened, the disciple ran away and decided to take the matter to the local judge. For a whole day both parties argued back and forth and finally the judge gave his decision. Turning to guru Paramartha, he declared: “You will have to give this man ten gold coins. This will be enough compensation.” And so they gave the farmer ten gold coins. As they were leaving the village, the guru started lamenting. “As soon as we got this horse, I started spending money unnecessarily, and I have had to tolerate so much insult. We should get rid of this horse. It is certainly not in our best interests to keep it. I would prefer to walk than face so much unnecessary difficulty.” “No, no, dear guru maharaj,” his disciples chorused, “You cannot walk. You are far too old. Besides, you have already increased your standard. We have been on procession a number of times with this horse. If you return to your previous standard now it will be a disgrace. People will laugh at you. We could not tolerate it!” Over hearing the conversation, a local priest who was walking by stopped and told them: “You are facing difficulty at present because ther Timeline Photos · May 8 · View Full Size · Send as Message · Report Photo Like Comment Share Shaktimohito Subir likes this. Write a comment... Post  Kimaya Singh Thank God,It's bogus story! Like · Reply · More · May 10

Guru Parampara

29 Indian Epics - Facts and Memes Guru Paramartha and His Five Foolish Disciples A humorous fable from South India about a bogus guru and his five useless disciples. Each episode of the story defeats one of the six atheistic systems of Vedic philosophy (shad-darshanas). Here we provide only the story. The philosophical analysis is not included. Chapter One Long, long ago in a little village in South India, there lived a poor, aged simpleton called Paramartha. He was a bogus guru who had five equally bogus disciples. Their names were Mudhead, Foolish, Weakling, Idiot and Rascal. Since all gurus and their disciples live in ashrams, they did too and their activities and experiences together were many. One morning the guru and his disciples set out for a temple in a neighboring village. On the way Paramartha explained life to his eager disciples: “It’s so simple,” he said, “life is what all living things have, and all living things move. Look at this tree. It’s leaves move and so we can safely say that it is a living thing. Do you understand?” “Oh great and wonderful guru,” his disciples chorused, “you explain the most difficult things in the simplest ways. How fortunate we are to be your disciples!” Soon they came upon a river and the guru called one of his more senior men: “Rascal, do you know whether this river is asleep or awake? I know from previous experience that this river is a very cunning river. We must be very careful with our dealings with it. Before venturing across it we need to know whether it is asleep or awake. Please go and check the situation.” Rascal, eager to please his guru, ran to the riverbank. Plan in mind, he searched for an old, dry, tree branch. Quite soon he found one and set fire to it. “Hmmm,” he thought, “I will burn this river. Then I will soon know if this river is awake or asleep.” As soon as Rascal put the burning branch into the river he heard a loud hissing sound. It frightened him so much that he fell over. Shivering and shouting, he got up and ran to his guru: “My dear guru! Now is definitely not the time for crossing this river. It is very much awake! As soon as I touched it, it hissed loudly and covered me with smoke. It was so angry I was afraid it would get up and hit me. It is only by your great mercy and the mercy of my parents that I have come back alive. What a terrible experience!” “Please calm down Rascal,” said the guru. “What can we do? We have to accept this as the arrangement of God. We will just have to wait until the river falls asleep.” And so guru Paramartha and his disciples took shelter of a nearby garden and discussed the cunning nature of the river they were attempting to cross. Fool, one of the more philosophically inclined of the disciples said: “Guru maharaj, I have heard a great deal about the river mind and about this river in particular. We cannot afford to underestimate its prowess. My grandfather has had personal experience of its temperament. He is a very successful merchant and one day, returning from one of his business ventures, he happened to pass this way. His assistants, and two donkeys laden with salt bags, accompanied him.” “It was summer and the day was hot. They decided to take bath and give the donkeys some rest. Both men and donkeys stepped into the cool waters of the river, bathed and then spent some time under the green shady trees. When the heat of the day had passed they again went on their way.” “The party had not been traveling long when one of the assistants shouted in dismay: Oh no! Master, look! The salt bags are still well stitched but they are wet and there is no salt in them. Where has it gone? Who is responsible for this?” “Actually, we are very fortunate,” replied my grandfather after some thought, “If this river had not been able to rob us of our salt it may have become angry and swallowed us all. We have been saved by God. We are very fortunate indeed!” “And so all the servants were satisfied and continued on their way.” While Fool was discussing the nature of the river mind with his guru a man on a horse came by. Despite the warnings of the disciples, he entered the river and quickly and easily reached the other side. “What an extraordinary feat,” the amazed Paramartha guru exclaimed. “Yes,” chorused his disciples. “Guru Maharaj,” said weakling, as they watched the horseman disappear into the distance, “If you had a horse all our problems would obviously be solved. We wouldn’t have to worry about these tricky rivers anymore. We could easily cross them. Why don’t we buy a horse?” “Later,” said the guru, “we can discuss that later. Right now we have more important matters at hand. Evening has come. I think the river is now sleeping. Otherwise how could that horseman cross it so easily? Yes, I’m confident it is now asleep. Mudhead, please go and check.” Mudhead, though eager to serve his guru, was not the most intelligent of his disciples. “This is a very difficult task,” he thought, “I don’t want to displease my guru, so I will use Rascal’s system to check whether the river is sleeping. Yes… better to follow a proven path. Now, where is that branch he used?” Finally he found the branch, black and water logged as it was, and ran to the river’s edge. Gingerly he plunged it into the river, and to his relief, no sound or smoke came. “Ah, guru maharaj will be pleased,” he smiled. Quietly he tiptoed back to his fellow pilgrims. “Dear guru maharaj, this is the time. We must go now. This opportunity may not come again so easily. The river is presently in deep sleep. Please, don’t make any noise and step very carefully. If we go now and are cautious, the river will not wake up and we will be able to cross it without difficulty. Come!” As soon as guru Paramartha and his disciples heard this they immediately got up and slowly, step by step, began to cross the river. Hearts palpitating, ears magnifying the smallest sound, they stealthily waded across the river. When what seemed like an eternity had passed, they finally reached the other side. Immediately three of the disciples began jumping and dancing in ecstasy. “Guru Maharaj, how wonderful you are. By your mercy, we have finally crossed this terribly dangerous river. All glories to you, what power! What intelligence! What……” “Don’t be too happy yet,” Fool interrupted, “let us check whether in fact we did all arrive safely on this side.” And with that he began counting the members in the party. As his name suggests, Fool was not the most intelligent of men and hence he forgot to include himself in the counting. “Oh no! What a loss, what a great loss!” he exclaimed. “When we arrived at the river’s edge we were six in number and now we are only five. We have lost a person. What a treacherous river. What a disaster! What……..” “Wait,” interrupted his guru, “don’t be too quick in your conclusions. This is not the character of a sober man. Please let us sit down and I will count.” And so guru Paramartha began to count. Being a simpleton, he too forgot to include himself. Once, twice, thrice he counted and each time he counted only five members in the party. Confused, he locked his skinny legs in padmasana and meditated on the matter for some time. Finally he opened his eyes and with sobriety and detachment said to his disciples, “We must see this as the arrangement of God. We have lost a man. This river is indeed a treacherous one. Even while sleeping it has managed to cause some mischief. This loss has deeply affected my heart but what to do? We must remember we are sadhus and remain aloof from the influence of such distress.” In a state of panic his disciples frantically began to count and each came to the same conclusion. There were now only five men. One, two, three, four, five. A mood of intense lamentation filled the air and all the disciples began crying and rolling on the ground. The screaming and sobbing was so intense that guru Paramartha lost his composure and began cursing the river: “Oh evil-minded river! What an outcaste you are! Have you no mercy? Were you not born with brothers and sisters? Can’t you understand the grief your callousness has caused us? My disciples are such a wonderful and intelligent group of men, an inspiration to any guru, and now you have mercilessly swallowed one of them. Even though we were considerate and didn’t disturb your sleep, you cheated us. Being sadhus we will not take action against you, but rest assured that one day you will also be cheated.” Like mad men, guru and disciples continued to curse and cry. The air was pierced with arrows of loud abuse, anger and lamentation. At that time a pilgrim was passing by and he was amazed by the strange sight and intensity of noise. “What a curious sight,” he thought, “why are these people so disturbed I wonder? They look very upset. Something terrible must have happened. Let me make some inquiry into the matter.” And so he walked up to them and said, “My dear sirs, what is wrong? Why are you in such distress? Has someone died? Please tell me.” “My dear friend,” lamented the guru, “you could not possibly understand our grief. Previously I had five wonderful disciples. Now, by the treacherous mischief of this river I have only four. What to do? Such a great loss has caused us intense pain.” Hearing this the pilgrim himself counted the men and saw that there were factually six members in the party, one, two, three, four, five, six. “What a group of simpletons,” he mussed, “let me see what fun is to be had from them.” Solemnly offering obeisance’s to the guru the pilgrim said, “I can understand your grief. This river is indeed a treacherous one. Please allow me to assist you. I am very expert in the Atharva Veda. I know all about ghosts, yakshinis, gandharvas and so on and they are all under my control. They will follow my instruction. Please offer me a little gift as dakshina and I will call your disciple back from the river. It is my duty.” Hearing this the guru became overwhelmed with joy. “Dear Sir,” he lauded, “you are a Godsend. I am deeply impressed that though you are so learned you are prepared to help we poor sadhus. We are most grateful and are prepared to give the little we own as dakshina. Please, kindly bring our man back to us. We’ll give you 45 gold coins.” The pilgrim, overwhelmed by the thought of gaining 45 gold coins so easily, was quick to act. “My dear fellows,” he said as he theatrically took a large stick from his possessions, “All stand in a line, bend down and close your eyes. Don’t move or open your eyes, but when I touch you say: I am here! and give your name. In this way I will be able to bring your dear friend back to you. Do you understand?” “Yes, yes,” they all chimed and eagerly formed a line. Being simple souls they were fully confident that the man would fulfill his promise. “Right,” said the mystic rolling up his sleeves, “please close your eyes and we will begin.” The men closed their eyes and waited. Within seconds they heard a very loud “Whack!!” followed by their guru screaming “enough, enough! I am here. I am Paramartha guru.” They then heard the pilgrim count matter-of-factly, “one.” Trembling at the knees each disciple peeked through half closed eyes to see what had happened. The mystic was brandishing his large stick and their old guru maharaj was still on the ground trying to recuperate from the severe blow. Frightened, and feeling sick at heart they all looked to Rascal. He was a senior disciple. What was he going to do? Recognizing the gravity of the task Rascal braced himself to set a good example come what may. He was just in time for he also received a heavy blow. “Ouch! I am Rascal. I am here.” he said as rapidly as he could. And the mystic matter-of-factly counted , “two.” Slowly one after another he beat each of the six men, counting as he did so. And he counted six. One, two, three, four, five, six. Then he said, “please open your eyes. Now, as you can plainly see, you are six again. I have successfully called back your lost man. Please give me my 45 gold coins and be happy.” Guru Paramartha checked his number of disciples three times. Finally convinced that they were all present, he gladly gave the pilgrim his gold coins who, overjoyed, went on his merry way. The guru and his disciples embraced each other and marveled at their good fortune. Enthused, they collected their few belongings and returned to their ashram – this time over a bridge. Chapter Two For many a day guru Paramartha and his disciples discussed their adventure. Very elaborately they described how they eventually managed to cross the treacherous river and still lose a person. They marveled at how a God sent messenger had brought back their missing man for a mere 45 gold coins. Meanwhile, the old lady hired to do all the cleaning in the ashrama, listened attentively. Though she was blind, her hearing was as keen as her wit. “My dear boys,” she said, “you have been badly cheated. You have lost 45 gold coins unnecessarily. Your difficulty was not a serious one – certainly not worth 45 gold coins. Let me tell you, if at any time you cross a river and want to count your men, there is a much simpler and cheaper solution. Whenever you travel always carry some wet cow dung with you. Then when you cross the river, add some water, knead the cow dung, and make a big pancake out of it. Then you should put the cow dung pancake on the ground and all sit around it. Very carefully, one after another, put your nose in it and make a bold, clear impression. The rest is quite simple. Just stand up and count the imprints in the cow dung. In this way you can easily check how many people are present – and save yourself 45 gold coins.” “Wonderful!” exclaimed guru Paramartha. “What a clever idea! This lady is very intelligent. Mudhead, please don’t forget, next time we go traveling we must definitely take some wet cow dung. What a fabulous idea.” In the meantime Weakling had been meditating on his own plans: “Dear Guru Maharaj, why don’t we buy our own horse? Do you remember how easily that man crossed the river? Life would be a lot simpler if we had our own horse.” “Hmmm,” said the guru deliberating on the matter. “How much do you think a good horse would cost?” “No less than 100 gold coins,” replied Rascal. “Well, we certainly don’t have that much money. “We’ll have to forget the idea for now,” the guru concluded. And so the proposition was postponed and life went on as usual. Then one day the ashrama cow, which had been put out to pasture, went missing. Guru Paramartha sent his disciples all over the village looking for it. Eager to serve their guru maharaj, they searched high and low, leaving nothing unturned. However, to their dismay, the search was fruitless. “What shall we do now?” they wailed looking at each other pitifully. “How could we go back to our master?” He will be very displeased with our failure to find his cow.” Then Mudhead said, “Well my brothers, I’m not going back to the ashrama until I find it. I’m going to search the next town and the next one if necessary. Good day!” And so he left. A little bewildered the other disciples just stood staring at him as he walked away. Then Rascal said, “Come let’s go back to the ashrama. Our guru maharaj will be concerned about us.” For three days Mudhead was absent. Then on the fourth day he returned tired and cowless but still happy. “Why are you smiling, you fool.” guru Paramartha chastised. “You’ve been gone from the ashrama for nearly four days, and you dare to return with nothing but a smile on your face. Where’s the cow?” “Dear guru maharaj, wait until you hear the good news,” replied Mudhead. “True I was unable to find the cow. However, I found something much better. I managed to get a very cheap price on a horse.” The angry look on the guru’s face softened. “Really,” he said, “that sounds wonderful. Please tell me the details.” “Well, I was trying to find our ashrama cow. I searched so many nearby towns. People’s gardens, public parks, sadhus’ ashramas – I left no place untouched. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to find the cow. Feeling a little depressed I was walking along the bank of a lake. Then by your causeless mercy and the mercy of God I saw a most amazing sight. There were four female horses grazing contentedly and next to one of them were two huge horse eggs. They were so big. Two hands weren’t large enough to hold one let alone two. Then I noticed a local villager passing by.” “Kind sir,” I said, “who owns these wonderful horses?” “Nearby, there lives a very rich business man,” he answered. “He owns these fabulous horses. They’re so amazing. They’ll learn anything you care to teach them – and so quickly.” “Do you think he will allow me to buy one of their eggs?” I interrupted. “Yes,” he said, “I’m sure he would be happy to help you. I don’t think he will charge you more than five gold coins. That’s a very reasonable price for an excellent horse, don’t you agree?” “Wonderful! Wonderful!” beamed the guru clapping his hands. “A very fine achievement.” Then turning to his other disciples he asked, “Well, what do you think?” “We certainly don’t have much to lose if the price is only five gold coins,” Rascal answered. “That’s true”, the others chimed, “It sounds a very profitable venture.” “Rascal and Mudhead,” the guru said solemnly, “I want you to go and purchase the best horse egg immediately. Here, take the necessary five gold coins and some funds for travel expenses. We look forward to your return.” Then he placed his hand on their heads as a blessing. And they paid their obeisances and left. After some time Fool, looking more than a little bewildered, meekly inquired of his guru. “My dear guru maharaj. It is very amazing that we have found such a first class horse egg for such a cheap price. Please forgive me, but I have one question. “How will we get the horse out of the egg? In the village I’ve seen chickens. They have five or six eggs at a time and they sit on them until the baby chicks are ready to hatch. But even if we put 50 chickens on this horse egg it obviously won’t be enough. How are we going to get the horse out of the egg?” “Hmmm!” pondered the guru, “the devil is certainly in the details. It will take me some time to answer your question.” And with that he folded his skinny legs into the padmasana and began to meditate. After three days the guru finally broke his meditation and called for his disciples. “My dear disciples, I have contemplated Fool’s question. The answer is quite simple. One of us is going to have to sit on this egg. There is no other solution. If we want an intelligent horse then an intelligent person is going to have to sit on it. All of you are of keen wit. Who will please me by sitting on the egg?” Slowly he looked around the room and set his eyes on Fool. “Please guru maharaj,” Fool stammered timidly, “how can I possibly sit on the horse egg all day. I must fetch water from the river, cut the fire wood and bring it to the kitchen. I have so much to do. Please forgive me, but it is impossible for me to meet your request.” “I also can’t do this service,” said Idiot. “Day and night I am busy cooking in the kitchen. There are six of us plus the servants. I have to cut so many vegetables and cook so many tasty dishes. And you do like your rotis, guru maharaj. I spend the whole day very busily working in the kitchen, I can’t possibly sit on the egg.” “Nor can I!” exclaimed Weakling, “I have to wake up before everyone else and go to the river and clean my teeth. It certainly hadn’t been my practice to do this before joining the ashrama. It’s a very great austerity for me. I also have to wash my own cloth and pick all the flowers for the garlands. I also have to keep all the lamps clean. I have so much work that it makes me tired just talking about it. I can’t sit on the egg. It’s impossible.” “Yes,” agreed the guru, “it certainly is a difficult situation. Rascal and Mudhead are also very busy. The only one who is doing nothing is myself. A very intelligent person must sit on the egg for good results and so I’ll do it. I’ll embrace it with my head and cover it with my chuddar. I’ll treat it with great care and affection then we will definitely get an excellent result. It will be very difficult but worthwhile work. Yes, I’ll do it.” In the meantime, after a two and a half hour walk, Mudhead and Rascal returned to the lake. The four horses were still grazing contentedly and next to them were many big, white pumpkins. As soon as Mudhead saw them he shouted excitedly: “Look! There are so many horse eggs and they’re so big. Guru maharaj will be greatly pleased. Quickly, let’s go and see the business man who owns these horses.” And so they went. The business man was lounging in his garden. The two sadhus pushed their way through the gate and ran to him. “Dear kind sir,” Rascal blurted, “We are from Kutralam. We are sadhus. We want to buy a horse egg. You have such wonderful horses. We’re poor. Please give us a horse egg for five gold coins.” The business man’s eyes gleamed. “What fools!” he gloated, “they want to buy a pumpkin for five gold coins. Let’s see what my fabulous horse eggs will fetch.” Turning to the disciples he said cunningly, “You must be joking, I can’t give these horse eggs for five gold coins. They are very rare and very special. I can’t possibly sell them to you so cheaply…..” “Don’t try to cheat us!” scolded Rascal pointing his index finger at the man. “We are Sadhus. We have intelligence. We have checked the price with the town farmers. They told us five gold coins was a very fair price.” “Very well,” complied the businessman. “You look like good natured sadhus and you are very intelligent. I’ll give you a horse egg for five gold coins. However, there is one condition. You are not to tell anyone that you got the egg so cheaply. Give me the five gold coins and go and choose the best of the horse eggs for your ashrama.” Mudhead dumped the five gold coins in the businessman’s lap and then raced off with Rascal to the bank of the river. They looked discerningly at all the pumpkins and took the biggest one. Overcome by excitement and the taste of success they immediately began their long journey back to the ashrama. Along the way Rascal began to glorify their guru: “Our guru maharaj is so advanced. He has such great mystic potency. I have often heard that for the spiritually enlightened the impossible is possible. Now I am seeing this practically demonstrated. I have never heard of a horse being born of an egg, but now, by the mystic potency of our guru maharaj, it is becoming reality. Not only is the impossible becoming possible, but it’s becoming possible so cheaply! Only five gold coins! This is truly miraculous!” “Yes,” continued Mudhead, “You can always judge an activity by its results. Because of the greatness of our guru, God has sent a horse egg. It’s such a practical example. Our guru is great and by his mercy if we have faith in him we will also become great.” In this way the two discussed their realizations. Before long they came to a narrow path. Mudhead, who was carrying the pumpkin on his head, stopped talking in order to increase his concentration. Though treading carefully, he stumbled over a branch across his path and toppled, pumpkin and all. Rascal tried to catch the flying ‘egg’, but his frantic effort was unsuccessful and it fell with a “thud” into a nearby bush. There was a rabbit nibbling on some tender grass beneath that bush and when the pumpkin fell he became frightened, as most rabbits would. He ran from the bush. “Quickly!” screamed Mudhead when he saw it. “Catch it! Catch it! There’s our horse. Catch him. He’s running away!” Both of them chased the rabbit. Up hill and down dale they chased it, hour after hour they chased it. However, the rabbit was a fast one and they couldn’t catch him. Then, overcome with fatigue, Rascal fell over a rock and onto a thorny bush. The adventure resulted in a few scratches on his arms and chest and a bump on his head. He sat glumly looking up at Mudhead. “Mudhead,” he said matter-of-factly, “I’m tired, I’m sore and I’m hungry. We’ve lost our guru’s horse and we’ve lost his money. What to do? I think its time for us to go back to the ashrama. It is not such a good idea to over endeavor.” And so, hungry and with no money in hand, they made their way. As they came closer to the abode of their guru they became concerned that he would severely chastise them. Overcome with anxiety they began to beat their chests and even their stomachs. They howled and cried like wolves on a full moon night. Wailing the name of their guru they tentatively stepped into the ashrama. When their guru maharaj came before them they simultaneously turned a shade of ghostly white and fainted at his feet. Mleccha immediately ran into the kitchen and fetched a large bowl of water. He ran back and threw it over his godbrothers. Rascal, who was first to come to his senses blurted: “Such a fast horse! I have never seen a horse run so fast. It was two hands long and looked like a rabbit. It had four legs and two very big ears. It was so small but it ran so quickly. I don’t think it was an ordinary horse. Neither of us could catch him. Look what happened when I tried! We decided to return to the ashrama.” The guru heard their story, pondered the matter and then looked at them affectionately. “You lost the five gold coins and that is not such a good thing. And the horse is also gone. Quite frankly I think that is a blessing. If it is able to run so fast at such a young age, what would it be like when it grew older. I am an old man. I can’t travel on a horse like that. I take it as a benediction that we didn’t get the animal. It would have caused us a great deal of difficulty. Let’s forget the incident. After all, it was only five gold coins. Don’t worry about it.” The matter settled, guru Paramartha and his disciples went to take rest. Chapter Three After some days guru Paramartha decided that he and his disciples should go on a long pilgrimage. When he told his disciples they were immediately concerned. Rascal said, “Guru maharaj, you are old and weak. It would be most irresponsible and cruel of us to take you walking over such a long distance. The least we can do is hire a bull.” “As you wish,” said the guru. “My life is in your hands.” As soon as they heard this they went out to hire a bull. Luckily, there was a farmer in a nearby village who had a bull which wasn’t fit enough for agriculture but was certainly fit enough to carry an old man on pilgrimage. They agreed to pay three gold coins a day for the hire of the bull and proudly led it back to the ashrama. Though it was a hot and heavy summer, somehow or other they managed to pack all their goods and chattels. Mudhead remembered the emergency supply of wet cow dung and having packed that, they set out on their way. Though the tour began quite early morning, after a few hours of walking the heat became unbearable. They came across a place that was so arid that not even a blade of grass grew. The hot parched earth and lack of water made the situation unbearably intense. The poor old guru who was hungry and couldn’t get any water to drink fainted and fell from the bull. Understandably upset, the disciples lifted and supported their guru and thought frantically about a possible place for him to lie down and take rest. An easy answer was not forthcoming. Finally Mudhead said, “We have no choice. He will have to lie down here in the shadow of the bull. That is the coolest arrangement we can make in this place.” Weakling took his chuddar and spread it beneath the bull for his guru maharaj to lie on. Then they all helped him on to the chuddar and Fool and Mleccha used their gumpshas to fan him. Slowly, slowly the guru recovered. As the day was spent it began to cool and a slight breeze blew. The disciples helped their guru once again onto the bull and went to a nearby village to take rest. It was in this little village that the owner of the bull lived. Early next morning they went to the farmer to return the bull and pay the three gold coin hire charge. “How dare you offer me this paltry sum?” challenged the farmer. “This is definitely not enough payment!” “Excuse me sir,” answered Rascal, “but you previously agreed that we would pay three gold coins for a day’s hire of your bull. It is not proper for you to change your mind now!” “Three gold coins gave you the right to sit on the bull and use him for traveling purposes. However, on the road, when the day became too hot, your guru rested in the shade of my bull. That was not in the agreement. Hence you have to give more gold coins.” “This is ridiculous!” interrupted Fool. “We hired your bull for a day. Why should we pay extra for his shadow?” Suddenly the man started swearing and the disciples were soon engaged in a brawl beyond their control. Immediately a large crowd, attracted by the harsh words and flying fists, gathered around them. After sometime an elderly man came foreword, “What is the matter? Why are you fighting? Please calmly tell me your story and I will try to solve your problem.” Mudhead, relieved by the sober interjection, began to explain the case. Patiently and attentively the old man listened to his tale. Then, very sagaciously he began a story of his own: “Long, long ago I was traveling the country just like you two youngsters. I had my own foodstuffs with me and was simply looking for a place to eat and take a little rest. I spied a little hotel on the side of the road and approached the man in charge. “Dear sir,” I said, “I have my own food, however I would like to relax in your little hotel and partake of it. Would you mind?” “No. That doesn’t pose any problems. Please feel free to take a seat. Please understand, however that if you do take anything from our shop you will have to pay for it.” I nodded my head, washed myself and sat down to eat. While I was eating my simple fare, a gentle breeze blew the scent of freshly cooked pakoras my way. One of the hotel cooks was busy preparing these fresh snacks. They smelt extremely tasty. However, being a poor mendicant, I couldn’t afford to buy any and so I just sat there, overpowered by the smell of delicious pakoras, eating my bag of rice. When I had finished I went to the hotel-in-charge to thank him for his hospitality. When he saw me coming towards him, he said “Don’t forget to pay for the pakoras.” “Pakoras?” I said, “I didn’t eat any of your pakoras, I….” “Come, come,” he interrupted, “I was watching you. You could only eat that bag of old rice because of the smell of our pakoras.” Well I didn’t know what to do. Then another man in the hotel came forward to support his in-charge.” “It is only by the smell of our pakoras that you could eat your rice. You will have to pay some fee. Usually people eat our pakoras and they pay in coinage. However, because you smelt them, you will have to pay by smelling.” Finding the whole situation incredulous, I asked, “And how do I do that?” “It’s simple,” he said matter-of-factly. “Please give me your little money pouch.” When I handed it to him he immediately started rubbing it against his nose. He did this for some time and then he stopped. “There,” he said, “that is enough payment for the smell of the pakoras. I don’t want to lose my nose.” Then the two went back into the hotel satisfied that the debt had been paid. So… just as I paid for my smelling of the pakoras, you can pay for using the shadow of the bull. You can pay in sound. Just shake your money bag in the ear of the bull for some time and your debt will be cleared.” Amazed at the old man’s philosophical and practical understanding of the situation, Mudhead immediately took the money pouch and began to shake it in the ear of the bull. “That’s enough,” the old man declared. “The bull has heard the sound of your coins. That’s enough. You have now paid for the use of the shadow of the bull. Please go now.” Grateful for the help of the old man had given, Mudhead and Rascal paid their respects and hurried back to their guru. What remained of the afternoon was spent philosophically discussing the venture. Chapter Four Next morning guru Paramartha and his disciples got up very early because they didn’t want to travel in the hot sun. After some hours of travel they came across a well-shaded garden and decided to rest there to avoid the midday heat. Still feeling fit despite the journeying, Fool explored the garden and soon found a crystal clear lake filled to the brim with refreshing cool water. He took bath and immediately felt wonderful. At the bank of this lake was a temple of the demigod “Iyyanar”, the village’s presiding deity. It was the practice of the local villagers to sculpture clay horses and elephants to decorate the boundary wall. This demigod assisted Lord Shiva in controlling the ghosts and goblins and hence it was considered important that he be satisfied by an offering of beautiful artifacts for his temple. Amidst his frolicking in the lake, Fool came across the reflection of one such sculptured horses. Immediately he became frightened, because although the sculpture was standing still, the horse in the lake was moving. Even if Fool tried to stand very still, the horse moved. And when he tried to leave the lake it became agitated and angry. It made no noise but it certainly was active. In fear of his life, Fool scrambled out of the lake and ran back to his guru maharaj. When he arrived at the camp site his legs were shaking and he was gasping for breath. Aware of his disciple’s distress, guru Paramartha immediately got up and ran to him. “My dear boy,” he asked holding his shoulders, “what has happened? You look as pale as a person haunted by a ghost. Please sit down. Tell me what happened.” “Maharaj! Maharaj! There’s a fierce and powerful horse in a little lake nearby. I was quietly going about my bathing duties when he became so agitated that I thought he was going to attack me. It was only by your sublime mercy that I was able to leave the lake rather than my life! What shall we do? That is the only lake for bathing but a terrible monster lives there. What shall we do?” More than a little confused, the guru turned to his other disciples, “I have trained you sufficiently to deal with such problems. What do you suggest we do?” Mudhead replied immediately, “This is a wonderful idea, guru maharaj! We have wanted to provide a horse for you for so long. Horses are only really a problem when they’re frightened. Why don’t we offer it some cooked dhal, befriend it, and take it back to the ashrama.” “Very well,” his mentor replied. “We will try your idea. However, I don’t want anyone to enter the water. He may bite. Let’s just leave the dhal on the bank of the lake and see if he can be coaxed that way….” “My dear guru,” suggested Rascal. “Why don’t we try something a little quicker and simpler. Why don’t we just hold a bundle of grass above the water. I’m sure he’s hungry and when he sees it he will be quick to try and make it his. Then we can catch him.” “Even that is an over endeavor,” interrupted Mleccha. “All we have to do is make a noise like another horse. He will come out immediately if he thinks there is another horse on the bank. If that doesn’t work we can just put a buffalo in the lake. The horse wouldn’t be impressed by that. I’m sure he would come out. Either way we would be in a good position to catch the animal.” Fool, who had been meditating on the problem for some time, interjected with an air of certainty, “These ideas are all quite good. However, they do not take into consideration the circumstance. This horse is in a lake. Why don’t we just make a fishing rod and catch him like we would catch a fish?” “Well thought out Fool, that is an excellent idea!” exclaimed the guru. “Yes,” echoed his disciples, “this is definitely the best idea. Let us see what we can do to please our guru maharaj.” Eagerly all the disciples ran off in different directions. Within a few moments one of them came back with a garden knife. Another brought a bundle of cooked rice, yet another brought the guru’s walking cane. Then Mudhead removed his turban and asked for all the different items. His idea was that the guru’s cane would be the fishing rod, the turban cloth the fishing line, the knife the fishing hook and the bundle of rice the bait. Deftly he made the peculiar contraption and threw it, hook line and bait into the water. Because of its weight and size, the lake suddenly became a mass of converging waves. The horse appeared very angry. Its legs were going in all directions and he seemed to be shaking his head ferociously. In fear, all the disciples fell back onto the riverbank. Mudhead alone persevered. He held onto the cane and waited until the waves calmed down. “Don’t be afraid,” he said to his godbrothers, the horse has calmed down now. If we are quiet and patient I’m sure we will catch him. Let’s try.” Meanwhile, attracted by the huge bundle of rice, a big fish in the lake began to nibble at it and pull at the cloth. “Oh, the horse is nibbling at the bait,” he yelled, “Quick, come and help me. He’s a big horse. It will take all of us to pull him to the shore. Come! Come quickly!” In less than a second, all of the disciples were doing their best to assist. Two helped by holding onto the cane. The others clasped their hands around the chests of the two in front, and pulled back with all their might. When they tugged on the line like this, the bundle was loosened and all the rice fell in the water. The knife, its blade now freed, became entangled in the reeds on the bottom of the lake. “Oh! We’ve caught the horse,” Mudhead yelled excitedly. “He’s taken the bait. Now we will have to pull together very hard. Ready? One, two, three, pull!” Inspired by the idea that the horse would soon be theirs, all pulled together with tremendous force. Suddenly the cloth tore in two and all the fishermen fell on their backs with a loud “thud!” “Ouch,” wailed Weakling, “this catching horses business isn’t easy!” “Not only that,” chorused Idiot, “Its damn painful! There must be a simpler way.” With that they all got up from the river bank rubbing their bruises and checking for scratches. A villager, who had been observing the farce for some time, came towards them to seek an explanation. “Excuse me good sirs, what are you doing?” he asked. Mudhead stepped forward. “We are trying to catch this wonderful horse,” he said, pointing to its reflection in the lake. He then continued to give a detailed description of their plan for catching the animal. “What fools you are!” the villager interrupted, “that is only the reflection of a clay horse. Let me show you!” He climbed onto the boundary wall of the temple and covered the clay horse with his chuddar. “What can you see now?” he asked good-humoredly. “Incredible!” said Rascal, “the horse has disappeared. All we can see is the color of your chuddar. Oh no! What will we do now? Our guru maharaj so much wants a horse and now we have disappointed him once again.” “Yes,” continued Mudhead, “our guru maharaj is very aged and weak. He needs a horse for traveling on pilgrimage. At first we spent five gold coins on a horse egg. Unfortunately, it was broken before it hatched. Then we hired a bull and the owner not only charged us a very high rate, but insisted that we also pay for using the shadow of the animal.” “We wasted so much of our guru’s money on these projects that we lost interest. Then by the mercy of God, we found this wonderful horse in the lake. We tried to catch it. However, now it seems it has disappeared. What can we do? We are such useless disciples. Our guru maharaj is truly unfortunate.” The villager’s heart softened. “They are undoubtedly very foolish men,” he mused. “However, they are good and innocent people and they are very dedicated to their guru. I’ll give them a horse and put an end to their anxiety.” He turned to them and said, “My dear sadhus, I have an old horse. It is no show pony. However, I think you will find it suitable for carrying your guru maharaj on pilgrimage. You don’t have to give me any money for it. I’m happy to donate it. Please just come to my house and I’ll give it to you.” Elated and enthused, the disciples jumped up and eagerly followed him home. The old mare had none of the traditional riding paraphernalia necessary and so its owner and the disciples searched high and low for anything they could use as a substitute. Within an hour, the horse was uniquely equipped with reins made of hay, blinkers made from creepers and a saddle sewn from old cloth bags. Quite suitable for travel, but certainly not so aesthetic. Then Mudhead checked the pancika to see when would be a good time to take the horse from the donor’s house and Rascal ran back to inform his guru and bring him for the presentation. Within a few hours the guru was seated on the old mare. The whole village crowded around the strange entourage to witness the first procession. One of his disciples held the reins. Another pushed from behind. Two others stood on either side to protect their guru. Mudhead stood at the front of the strange procession announcing proudly: “The guru is coming! Please pay your respects and move aside. The guru is coming!” In this way the first procession left in grand style. Guru Paramartha and his disciples were in ecstasy. At last they had their own horse and their pilgrimages were finally trouble free – or so they thought. As life would have it, a man in a strange uniform suddenly appeared before the procession and stopped the horse. Distressed, the disciples immediately chorused, “What are you doing? Why are you stopping us?” “I am the tax collector,” the man said menacingly. “Your horse procession is traveling on our roads. Obviously this means you will have to pay tax. Give me five gold coins or I will have to take action against you!” Mudhead who was the most outraged, chastised the man: “What is this? You are trying to tax our guru for traveling on a horse? This is ridiculous. He is a very old man and his body is weak. He can’t walk for long distances. I have never heard of anyone collecting taxes for such a purpose. This is very unfair practice. It certainly isn’t religious.” Unmoved, the tax collector admonished the group: “You fools! How dare you challenge me! Religion or no religion, you are not moving an inch from here until you give me five gold coins.” He raised his fist and then stormed over to a pile of rubble, found a large old tree branch and placed it across their path. For many hours, in a battle of patience, the guru refused to give payment and the tax collector refused to let them proceed. When late afternoon came, the guru finally conceded. “Rascal, give him five gold coins,” he sighed, “he isn’t going to allow us to continue on our way unless we pay him.” Grudgingly Rascal gave him the coins and the procession was once again on its way. “What unfortunate fate,” thought the guru, “if it wasn’t for this horse I would be five gold coins richer. Why did I allow my disciples to bring this animal to our ashrama? Obviously it wasn’t a good decision.” Just then the traveler sitting on the side of the road, got up and joined the procession. Guru paramartha began sharing his sorry tale with him. “My dear sir, I have always traveled on pilgrimage by foot. Recently my disciples concerned for my weak old body, managed to provide me with a horse. We were traveling quite happily, when a most improper incident happened. Just like a robber this uniformed man stepped onto the road, blocked our path and demanded five gold coins in tax. He told us that travelling by horse on public roads was taxable. He refused to let us continue on our way until we gave him five gold coins. Most disgusting and disturbing behavior. What is happening to this world?” “My dear old sadhu,” said the traveler apologetically, “this world is no longer the world you once knew. Nowadays, money is guru, money is God. If you have enough money even a dead body will follow your order. Today, if you are a rascal but you have money you are considered high class and cultured. If you are poor but have all good qualities you are considered not worth knowing. What to do? In today’s world only money has value.” “This is terrible,” replied the guru with a disgusted look on his face. “These days if a man sees ten paise in dog stool he will pick it up and put it in his pocket.” “What is so bad about that?” the traveler asked. “Every paise counts, and besides you may collect money from dirty places but that doesn’t mean the money will smell. Let me tell you a story:” Once, not so long ago, there was a king who was notorious for harassing his citizens by taxing them. Finally he introduced a urine tax and his son was given responsibility for collecting the funds. His portfolio involved catching people urinating and immediately taxing them.” “What a nasty business,” the prince complained to his father. “Why should I stand around waiting for people to pass urine? Such a low class occupation for a prince, I….” “Just be patient,” his father interjected, “just perform your duty and soon you will come to some realization about the matter!” Some days passed and still the prince did not enjoy his duty or appreciate its efficacy. Seeing this, the king called him to the treasury house and showed him all the money. Pile upon pile of gold coins lay there glittering. “Please my son,” said the king, “go and smell the gold.” The boy did as he was told and came back confused. “Dear father,” he said, “it doesn’t smell. It smells when I collect it, but it certainly doesn’t smell now.” “Ah! Now you understand,” exclaimed the king happily. “It’s the urine that smells, not the money. We can take money from any place and in anyway. There’s no problem. The money will never smell!” “An interesting story,” said the guru, “and not too far from being the reality, it seems.” Guru and the traveler continued their discussions as they walked, and soon evening was upon them. They came to a small village and the party decided to take rest on its outskirts. They took bath in a lake, let the horse free to pasture and settled down to take rest. When they awoke early next morning they found that the horse had disappeared. Rascal quickly took bath and traveled from house to house in the village looking for the horse. Before long, he found it tied to a tree outside a farm house. The farmer, who owned the house, was relaxing on the verandah. Rascal rushed to him and said: “Dear sir, this is our horse. He disappeared last night. Please be reasonable and honest in your dealings and give him back to us!” “This horse has been roving free in my fields all night. Half my harvest has been destroyed by your stupid horse. Please know for sure that I have no intention to return him to you!” The man was angry and brandished a fist menacingly at Rascal. Frightened, the disciple ran away and decided to take the matter to the local judge. For a whole day both parties argued back and forth and finally the judge gave his decision. Turning to guru Paramartha, he declared: “You will have to give this man ten gold coins. This will be enough compensation.” And so they gave the farmer ten gold coins. As they were leaving the village, the guru started lamenting. “As soon as we got this horse, I started spending money unnecessarily, and I have had to tolerate so much insult. We should get rid of this horse. It is certainly not in our best interests to keep it. I would prefer to walk than face so much unnecessary difficulty.” “No, no, dear guru maharaj,” his disciples chorused, “You cannot walk. You are far too old. Besides, you have already increased your standard. We have been on procession a number of times with this horse. If you return to your previous standard now it will be a disgrace. People will laugh at you. We could not tolerate it!” Over hearing the conversation, a local priest who was walking by stopped and told them: “You are facing difficulty at present because ther Timeline Photos · May 8 · View Full Size · Send as Message · Report Photo Like Comment Share Shaktimohito Subir likes this. Write a comment... Post  Kimaya Singh Thank God,It's bogus story! Like · Reply · More · May 10