Radhanath Swami in Leper Colony
DEPARTING FROM THE CAVES of Mahavirdas Tat Walla Baba, Radhanath Swami lived again as a wandering mendicant. The winter was coming to a close. As the sun shone warmer, the days grew longer and spring buds appeared in the trees and bushes. One day, as Radhanath Swami walked along a jungle pathway headed north, Radhanath Swami came to the Laxman Jhulan, a long suspension bridge that crosses high over the river Ganges. Standing in the gently swaying middle, Radhanath Swami beheld the Ganges descending from the Himalayas, ornamented on either side by temples, ashrams, and rishis performing their rituals.
Radhanath Swami crossed the bridge and walked along a dirt pathway and into the forest. Suddenly Radhanath Swami froze, unable to bear the chilling sight before him. Dying people, some naked, others in filthy rags, were wailing in agony, their faces shriveled and deformed, their noses melted away, their hands and feet mangled with bloody stubs instead of fingers or toes. Emaciated from starvation, people lay in holes in the ground that served as beds and buried their bodies with blankets of dirt against the cold. All of them were pleading to him through desperate eyes. Radhanath Swami was horrified. He had stumbled into a leper colony.
Dozens of lepers surrounded Radhanath Swami, crying out, “Baksheesh! Baksheesh! Baksheesh!” Pressing their bodies against Radhanath Swami’s, they stuck their mangled, bloody hands into his face and demanded charity. But Radhanath Swami had nothing to give and, imprisoned by a wall of putrefied flesh, couldn’t move a single step. They refused to leave Radhanath Swami. “Baksheesh! Baksheesh! Baksheesh!” The mob shoved so tightly around Radhanath Swami that he was being smothered. Radhanath Swami could not escape the stench of their breath and oozing, rotting flesh. “Baksheesh,” they screamed. Radhanath Swami’s mind reeled in confusion, struck by ambivalence. On the one hand, Radhanath Swami was outraged to be so accosted. On the other hand, He pitied them, granting that their misery justified their behavior.
An endless twenty minutes passed. Agonizing, Radhanath Swami tried to come to grips with what was happening. Leprosy is contagious, Radhanath Swami thought. Will he be afflicted to suffer and die with them? Will this mob ever release him? Screaming “Baksheesh,” the lepers tugged and shoved one another in a desperate skirmish. Their eyes seared Radhanath Swami with stares of anguish. Finally, they patted Radhanath Swami down for valuables. What Radhanath Swami didn’t give, they were determined to take by force. When they realized that Radhanath Swami didn’t have anything, they dispersed.
Taking a deep breath, Radhanath Swami took a few steps, but was stopped in his tracks. Radhanath Swami saw an old woman in rags, her nose melted into the decaying flesh of her deformed face, lying on the ground in misery. Their eyes locked. In her teary eyes Radhanath Swami felt the tender love of a mother, an affection real and rare. She wanted nothing from Radhanath Swami but to open his heart to receive the love she so longed to give someone. She was beautiful. Folding her fingerless hands in a gesture of respect, she then extended her disease-smitten hand to bless Radhanath Swami. All Radhanath Swami’s fear of contamination was slain by her affection. Radhanath Swami rushed to her side and placed his head under her palm to receive her blessing. “May God bless you, my child,” she prayed. “May God bless you.” Radhanath Swami looked up and saw that now her face was lit with a supernatural joy, the joy of giving. Radhanath Swami wept, feeling the whole ordeal to be a small price for this unforgettable blessing.
Walking on, Radhanath Swami found a spot by the river and gazed down into the rushing current. Radhanath Swami tried to glimpse beneath the swirling waves, but was unable to see below the surface into its mysterious depths. Although that woman was plagued with a despicable disease, beneath the surface she was a beautiful soul who only wanted to love and be loved. In my contemplation, Radhanath Swami extended the analogy. Today the river is exposing how we have the tendency to judge others by their surface appearance, and to find only their negative qualities. But if we search beneath the surface we discover that a myriad of strains mix together to create a particular person’s nature. The faults we perceive are likely to be the effect of circumstances, the psychological response to trauma, abuse, rejection, heartbreak, insecurity, pain, confusion, or disease.
Radhanath Swami thought of the people who had nearly killed him in Istanbul, the racists that hated the Blacks during the civil rights movement, the people who had mistreated Radhanath Swami because of his long hair, and even himself, how Radhanath Swami had judged the generation He’d rebelled against, thinking older Americans wrong to be so concerned with money and security when, in fact, they had lived through the Great Depression, a hardship Radhanath Swami couldn’t fathom. If we understand the underlying cause of what we think of as bad in someone, instead of being hateful, we will be compassionate. For is not every soul inherently good? A saintly person will hate the disease but love the diseased.
Wonderful incident. Thank you for sharing!