— Radhanath Swami's Journey

Radhanath Swami Lessons from the ganges

When Radhanath Swami reached the river Ganges, He sat on her sandy bank and thought back to those first days of his life in India. Radhanath Swami remembered sitting on that rock in Rishikesh while Mother Ganges taught him lessons that were to mold Radhanath Swami’s life. Radhanath Swami remembered hearing in her eternal song the Hare Krishna mantra that would become embedded in Radhanath Swami’s soul. Now, sitting on that sandy bank in Prayaga, Radhanath Swami knew that if he simply followed her current, He would come to her meeting with Yamuna and Saraswati at the confluence. It was this confluence that the Vedas declared to be the king of all holy places. Radhanath Swami walked in that direction. It was high noon, and fine white sands blazed like fire, scorching Radhanath Swami’s bare feet. Ever since that day Radhanath Swami had offended the Naga Babas by wearing their shoes at their sacred fire, Radhanath Swami had renounced shoes and walked barefoot. But that day, the sand was so unbearably hot that it seemed impossible to continue. The distance seemed endless.

Finally, after over an hour, a beautiful sight rose before Radhanath Swami’s eyes. The Yamuna River, descended from the Himalayas, having flowed through the plains of North India, was embracing Mother Ganges—Yamuna with her complexion of deep blue, Ganges with hers of white, and the transparent Saraswati joined them from below. Sitting on the sandy bank, Radhanath Swami gazed into the cloudless blue sky. There, a hawk, wings extended, soared the airways. Hawk’s reddish-brown feathers shone in the sun as it hovered lower and lower, till it was just a few yards above Radhanath Swami’s head, hawk’s glistening yellow eyes intently scanning the river. Suddenly it plunged headlong into the Ganges. There, a frantic underwater skirmish ensued until it emerged with a flapping fish, about a foot long, pierced in the grip of it’s talons. Squirming desperately, the fish was carried overhead and into a nearby forest. Looking on Radhanath Swami reflected:

“The unsuspecting fish, who knew nothing but a life in the river, went about its routine like any other day, but in an instant was ripped out of its reality to meet with death. Like that fish, we routinely live our lives hardly aware that, at the least expected moment, the yellow-eyed hawk of fate in the form of crises, tragedy, or even death, may wrench us out of our comfortable environment.”

We regularly hear of it in the news or see it around us but rarely take seriously that it could happen to us. Perhaps the lesson here is to guard against complacency and give higher priority to our spiritual needs. If the fish swam deeper, the hawk would not be able reach it. Similarly, if we go deeper into our connection to God, we will find an inner reality so deep and so satisfying that it lifts the consciousness to a place where we could deal with the effects of unforeseeable fate with a stable, detached mind.

On the bank of the three rivers, in the blazing summer heat, there was not a soul to be seen, so Radhanath Swami left his few belongings on the riverbank and entered the water. After bathing, Radhanath Swami was hit by a wave of enthusiasm to stay in as long as possible. After all, Radhanath Swami didn’t know if he would ever come to this magical place again. Radhanath Swami ventured to swim across to the other side. It was about a hundred yards wide. The flow of the Ganges was forceful, the Yamuna gentle. As Radhanath Swami swam, the force of the Ganges swept him to a bank where there was nothing and no one to be seen. Radhanath Swami pulled himself out of the water and stepped onto the sandy bank. To his horror, Radhanath Swami found himself being swallowed, seized by a power that sucked him downward.

Quicksand! It had appeared to be just like the soft sand that Radhanath Swami often slept on. But looks could be deceiving. Frantically, Radhanath Swami struggled for his life, but in spite of Radhanath Swami’s strongest endeavors, he sunk deeper and deeper. Already, Radhanath Swami’s body had been sucked down past his knees, and Radhanath Swami was gradually sinking deeper. Mustering all his strength, Radhanath Swami squirmed doggedly, in vain. Mother Earth was literally devouring him. Radhanath Swami scanned all directions for help but found nothing. And then to his left Radhanath Swami caught sight of a leafless bush. With a desperate lunge Radhanath Swami grabbed on to it as his single hope of survival. It was a thorn bush. Gripping it tightly, Radhanath Swami yanked with all his might. With bleeding hands, tugging and tugging on that thorny branch, Radhanath Swami struggled to free his legs. Under the blazing sun, Radhanath Swami squirmed for dear life. The razor-like thorns pierced his hands. Radhanath Swami’s blood flowed from burning wounds. But what choice did Radhanath Swami have? He could accept the agonizing pain, or surrender to the sands and an ignoble and ghastly death. Gasping in fatigue and soaked in sweat, Radhanaht Swami would somehow pry one leg free, only to have it sucked down again. With his next tug, the thorn bush with its rotted roots, sprung out from the sand. Radhanath Swami silently screamed. Letting go of the useless branch and exhausted by his frenzy, Radhanath Swami took a deep breath and relaxed. Amazingly, Radhanath Swami discovered that if he was calm the quicksand was less aggressive. Radhanath Swami laid his torso flat on the sand and found that he could almost float in that position. It was not a solution but it did give him some time. Inch by inch, in slow motion, Radhanath Swami raised his legs. Finally, at a snails pace, Radhanath Swami wormed his way back into the river.

Radhanath Swami was free, or so he thought. Now all He had to do was swim across Yamuna’s mild current. But that meant challenging the mighty current of the Ganges head on. No matter how hard Radhanath Swami swam, Mother Ganges kept forcing him back toward the quicksand. Exhaustion was threatening to overtake him.

Radhanath Swami could no longer fight against the current. Radhanath Swami toiled feverishly, but still Radhanath Swami was moving backwards. His arms were fatigued almost to the point of paralysis; still Radhanath Swami strained to keep body and soul engaged in a battle he was not winning. Radhanath Swami’s destination was so distant that he could barely see it. Struggling for survival, Radhanath Swami prayed.Suddenly, hope appeared. About two hundred feet ahead, a small fishing boat passed. There on the deck stood a shriveled man with a white beard wearing a red turban. Still chopping against the current, Radhanath Swami screamed out to him again and again for help. Will he hear him? Radhanath Swami continued crying out for help as his strength faded. Finally, that man spotted him. Smiling, the man waved his hand in a forward direction. Then, still smiling, the man glided right past Radhanath Swami, leaving Radhanath Swami to drown.

Involuntarily swallowing more and more water, Radhanath Swami now lost all hope. Even as his hopes died, Radhanath Swami thought, It is better to drown in a holy river than suffocate in that quicksand. The same Ganges who, in Rishikesh, had taught Radhanath Swami so many precious lessons and nourished him as a mother, to whom Radhanath Swami offered his egotism in the form of his harmonica, and whose song awakened Radhanath Swami’s soul, to her Radhanath Swami now offered his life. Prayer was the only thing Radhanath Swami had left. Then something wonderful happened. Submerged under water, on the verge of death, a beautiful song awakened in his heart: Hare Krishna Hare Krishna Krishna Krishna Hare Hare Hare Rama Hare Rama Rama Rama Hare Hare.

Just as the Ganges first revealed this mantra to Radhanath Swami, she was revealing it again at the hour of his greatest need. Silently reciting this mantra, Radhanath Swami resigned himself to die in a holy place. The mantra brought Radhanath Swami into a state of peace beyond fear. Then, like the rising sun, a thought appeared in Radhanath Swami’s mind. He thought, Why did that fisherman wave his hand forward? What did it mean? Suddenly, Radhanath Swami understood. The man was saying, “Do not fight against Mother Ganges. Go across her current by swimming with the current of the Yamuna.” In his passion to survive, Radhanath Swami’d not thought of that. That fisherman’s wave saved his life. As Radhanath Swami was carried across the Ganges, Radhanath Swami was seized by worry once more. He had left his passport and whatever little he carried alone on the other side of the river’s bank. Now Radhanath Swami was swimming in the opposite direction. Then he started thinking “Would my things be there when I returned?” And then it occurred to Radhanath Swami. Why brood over such a trifle? He started contemplating, Moments before, death was threatening my life and with only the passport of God’s Names I crossed over and was saved. Hours later, when Radhanath Swami made it back to the other shore where he had left his things, evening was beginning to fall and hundreds of people were scrambling to take a bath. Radhanath Swami’s belongings sat in their midst, unmolested. Surrounded by the noisy crowds, Radhanath Swami sat on the sandy bank. In the morning, Radhanath Swami thought:

“The sand scorched me like blazing fire, and later, was greedy to devour me. But now the same sand is cool and soft and gives me shelter. Like sand, a person influenced by circumstances can become viciously envious or affectionately kind. Our company and surroundings have a crucial effect on our consciousness. How important it is to be an instrument to bring out the inherent good of each other rather than the worst.”

So much wisdom is being whispered through every grain of sand if only I have ears to hear. As the soft sand glided through his fingers, Radhanath Swami pondered his life and death struggle in the current of Mother Ganges. An affectionate mother may, at times, deal harshly with her child to impress a lesson that will not be easily forgotten. What was Radhanath Swami to learn from today’s ordeal? Perhaps we cannot always succeed by directly opposing a powerful force. Radhanath Swami thought of the many trials he had faced on his path. If we do, our efforts will drown in failure. It is like swimming against the Ganges’ current. In such circumstances, it might be more effective to find a path of less resistance to accomplish the desired end indirectly. The summer sun was fading below the horizon and Radhanath Swami recalled how earlier that day he witnessed a hawk rip an unsuspecting fish out of its home, the river.

A little later, with no warning, the talons of fate had Radhanath Swami gasping for dear life, in the same river. Today, Radhanath Swami reflected, the Lord has given me a startling glimpse of how far I am from my goal. It was not an easy lesson to learn. And hopefully it will not be easily forgotten. Radhanath Swami took a deep breath and looked up into the sky, there, far above all the smaller winging birds, He saw a hawk, with the confidence of an emperor, gliding effortlessly into the twilight.

Related Posts:

• The Hawk and the Unsuspecting Fish
• The Naga Babas
• Tat Walla Baba