Chaitanya's Life and Teachings

Front matter

LIFE AND TEACHINGS

From his contemporary Bengali biography the Chaitanya-charit-amrita;

Translated into English BY JADUNATH SARKAR, m.a., i.e.s.

Chapter I

CHAITANYA-CHARIT-AMRITA

Glory to Shri Chaitanya! Glory to Nityananda, to Adwaita, and to all followers of Gaur! In the month of Mágh when the Master completed His twenty-fourth year, in the bright fortnight, He turned hermit. Then led by devotion He set off for Brindaban, and wandered for three days in the Rárh country, hallowing it with His footsteps and chanting the following verse in rapture:

"I too shall cross the terrible and dark ocean of the world by means of devotion to the Supreme Being, as the sages did of yore,—by service at the lotus-like feet of Mukunda."

The Master said, "True are the words of this Brahman, who chose the service of Mukunda as his life's task. The highest robe [in which a man can clothe himself] is devotion to the Supreme Soul, the service of Mukunda which brings salvation. That robe he put on. Now shall I go to Brindaban and serve Krishna in solitude."

So saying the Master moved day and night, the picture of religious ecstasy, heedless which way He walked. Nityananda, Acharya Ratna, and Mukunda, all three followed Him. All who saw Him, cried "Hari! Hari!" in devotion, and forgot sorrow and loss. The cow-boys shouted Hari's name, at the sight of the Master, who stroked their heads saying, "Go on with your chant," and thanked them saying, "Blessed are ye! ye have gratified me by pouring Hari's name into my ears!" Nityananda took the boys apart and thus tutored them, "When the Master asks you about the road to Brindaban, show Him the path leading to the Ganges." This they did and He took that path. Nityananda spoke to Acharya Ratna, "Hasten to Adwaita and tell him that I shall lead the Master to his house. He should keep a boat ready at the riverside. Thence go to Navadwip and fetch Shachi and all the disciples."

Sending him off, Nityananda came before the Master and showed himself. "Whither are you going, Shripád?" the Master asked. "With thee to Brindaban" was the reply. "How far is Brindaban?" "Behold, yonder is the Jamuna!" So saying Nityananda led the Master to the Ganges. This river He mistook for the Jamuna. He thanked His stars that He had beheld the Jamuna, sang its praise, and after bowing bathed in it. He had no second clothing except His loin-cloth with Him. Just then Adwaita arrived in a boat, with a fresh loin-cloth and upper garment, and appeared bowing before the Master, who was puzzled to see him and asked, "You are the Acharya Goswami. Why have you come here? How did you know that I was at Brindaban?" The Acharya replied "It is Brindaban wherever you are. It is my good luck that you have come to the Ganges bank." The Master said, "So, Nityananda has played me a trick: he has led me to the Ganges and called it the Jamuna!" The Acharya replied, "False are not the words of Shripád. You have now indeed bathed in the Jamuna, for the Ganges and the Jamuna flow in one channel, the eastern waters being called Gangá and the western (in which you have bathed) Jamuna. Change your wet cloth for a dry one. Four days have you fasted in fervour of love. Come to my house to-day, I invite thee. I have cooked a handful of rice, with dry coarse curry, broth and green herbs." Saying this he took the Master on board to his house, and joyfully washed His feet. His wife had already done the cooking. The Acharya himself dedicated the food to Vishnu, and served it in three equal portions. [Description of the dinner omitted.]

The Master said, "Long have you made me dance, now leave it off. Dine with Mukunda and Haridas." Then the Acharya broke his fast with those two, to his heart's content. The people of Shantipur, hearing of the Master's arrival, flocked to gaze on His feet. In joy they cried "Hari! Hari!" and wondered at His beauty. His fair complexion, which eclipsed the Sun in splendour, was set off by his red robe. Endless streams of people came and went throughout the day. At dusk the Acharya began a sankirtan; he danced, while the Master gazed on. Goswami Nityananda danced hand in hand with the Acharya, and Haridas behind them. This song accompanied their dance:

"How shall I speak of my bliss to-day? The Beloved (Krishna) has entered my temple for ever!"

With perspiration, thrill, tears of joy, shout, and roar, they turned and turned, touching the Master's feet now and then. The Acharya embraced Him and said "Long did you wander after escaping from me. Now that I have got you in my house, I shall hold you fast!" So the Acharya continued dancing and singing for three hours after nightfall. The Master was in an attitude of longing as He had not yet gained union with Krishna, and this separation made His love burn the more fiercely. Impatiently He fell down on the ground, at which the Acharya stopped his dance. Mukunda, who knew the Master's heart well, began to sing verses apt for His passion. The Acharya raised Him to make Him dance. At the verses, the Master could no longer be held back. He was all tears, tremour, thrill, sweat, and broken accents,—now rising up, now falling down, now weeping.

The song: [Rádhá speaks]

Woe is me, dear sister, for my present state! The love of Krishna has caught my body and soul like a poison. My heart burns day and night; I know no peace. O that I could fly where Kanu (Krishna) is to be found!

Sweetly did Mukunda sing the above ditty, which made the Master's heart burst, as the emotions of penitence, melancholy, rapture, frolicsomeness, pride, and humility struggled with it. He was stricken down by the force of His passion, and lay down breathless on the ground. The faithful grew alarmed, when lo! He sprang up with a shout, overcome with ecstasy and saying "Chant, chant, [the name of Hari]." None could understand the strong tides of His emotion.

Nityananda moved on holding Him, while the Acharya and Haridas danced behind them. Three hours did He pass thus, now joy now sadness surging in His heart. The dinner had come after five days of fasting; so the wild dance greatly fatigued Him, but He felt it not to His ecstasy. Nityananda held Him back by main force; the Acharya ended the kirtan, and laid the Master in His bed with every care.

In the same way ten days were passed in dinners and singing. In the morning the Acharya brought mother Shachi in a litter followed by the faithful. All the people of Navadwip came,—old and young, men and women,—forming a vast crowd. The Master was dancing and singing the Name, when Shachi arrived at Adwaita's house, and He fell prone at her feet. She took Him up into her bosom and wept, both of them being rapt at seeing each other. Shachi was distracted at seeing His shaven crown: she wiped His body, kissed His mouth, and gazed at Him intently; but could not see anything as tears filled her eyes. She mourned saying, "My darling Nimai! be not cruel to me as Vishwarup was, whom I never saw after he had turned hermit. If you too do so, it will be the death of me." The Master replied amidst tears, "Listen, mother! This body is your gift and not my own. My birth is from you, my body has been nursed by you. In ten million births I cannot repay my debt to you. True, I have become a sannyasi with or without your consent, but I shall never slight your wishes. I shall live wherever you bid me, I shall do whatever you command." So saying He bowed to her again and again, while she joyfully clasped Him repeatedly.

Then the Acharya led her in, and the Master made haste to receive the faithful, welcoming them, looking into their faces and embracing them, one after another. They grieved at the sight of His bare head, and yet delighted at His beauty. How can I name all the devotees—Shrivas, Ramai, Vidyanidhi, Gadadhar, Gangadas, Vakreshwar, Murari, Shuklambar, Buddhimanta Khan, Nandan, Shridhar, Vijay, Vasudev, Damodar, Mukunda and Sanjay? Graciously He smiled on meeting the people of Navadwip. They danced in delight singing "Hari, Hari." The Acharya's house was turned into Vishnu's Heaven. From Navadwip and many villages men flocked to see the Master. For many days the Acharya supplied them all with food, drink and quarters; his store was inexhaustible, the more he spent the more was it filled again. From that day forward Shachi herself did the cooking, and the Master dined in the company of the faithful. In the day they had the Acharya's love and the sight of the Master, at night His dance and song. While He was singing all passions swept over Him, now He stood still, now trembled, now shed tears of joy or uttered broken words, now He fainted. At times He fell down on the ground, at which mother Shachi wept, saying "Methinks Nimai's body has been shattered." Then she piteously prayed to Vishnu, "Grant me this reward for my worship of thee since my infancy, that when Nimai falls on the ground, it may not hurt Him!" The loving mother Shachi was out of herself with transports of delight and meekness.

Shrinivas and other Brahmans wanted to feast the Master. But Shachi entreated them saying, "Where again shall I see Nimai? You will meet Him elsewhere, but for me, miserable one, this is His only visit. Therefore, so long as He lives with the Acharya, I shall feed Him. I beg this favour of you all."

The faithful bowed in assent to the mother's wish. The Master too, caught His mother's love-longing and said to His assembled followers: "I had started for Brindaban without your consent. So my journey was cut short by a hindrance. True, I have embraced the monastic life all of a sudden, yet I shall not be dead to you all. I shall not leave you in life, nor shall I leave my mother. It does not, however, become a hermit to live with his kindred in his birth-place. Let me not lay myself open to this charge. Devise a means by which I can be true to both my duties."

At these sweet words, the Acharya and others went to Shachi and told her of His wish. Shachi, the Mother of the World, answered, "I shall be happy if He stays here, but if He is blamed it will grieve me. This plan strikes me as a happy solution: let Him live on the Niláchal (Puri), which is as it were a next door house from Navadwip; men pass frequently between the two places, and I shall always get news of Him. You all may come and go, and He too may sometimes visit Navadwip at the Ganges bath. I count not my own joy or sorrow. What makes Him happy is happiness to me."

The faithful praised her, "Mother, thy words are like an oracle of the gods! At their report the Master rejoiced, did reverence to the people of Navadwip and other adorers, and said, "You are my greatest friends. Grant this my prayer, all of you, that you may ever in your homes sing Krishna's sankirtan,—Krishna's name, Krishna's deeds, Krishna's worship. Now give me leave to go to the Niláchal; I shall visit you between whiles." Smiling He bade them farewell with due respect. But when He wished to start, Haridas cried piteously "You are going to the Nilachal, but what will be my salvation? I have not strength enough to go there. How can this lowly one hold to his sinful life without getting sight of you?" The Master answered, "Have done with thy self-abasement. It agitates my mind. For thy sake I shall pray to Jagannáth; I shall take thee to Purushottam." Then the Acharya meekly begged Him to stay for a few days more, and the Master listened to him and did not go away. So, the Acharya, Shachi, and the faithful rejoiced. Daily did the Acharya hold the grand celebration—the sweet discourse on Krishna in the company of the devout in the day-time, and the revelry of sankirtan at night. Joyfully did Shachi cook, and merrily did the Master dine with the faithful. The service of the Master brought fulfilment to Acharya's reverence, devotion, home, and wealth, while Shachi delighted in gazing on her son, and feasting Him to her heart's content.

Thus did the faithful beguile some days in the Acharya's house in great bliss. At last the Master told them, "Go you all to your own homes; there make Krishna's sankirtan. We shall meet again; sometimes you will go to Puri, at others I shall come to you at the Bathing in the Ganges." Goswami Nityananda, Pandit Jagadananda, Pandit Damodar, and Mukunda Datta,—these four were sent by the Acharya to bear the Master company. Comforting His mother, He bowed at her feet, walked round her, and then set off. The cry of lamentation rose in the Acharya's house, but the Master quickened His pace, heedless of it. Adwaita followed Him some distance weeping, when He turned back with clasped hands, solaced him, and spoke these gentle words, "You should comfort my mother and look after the congregation, for if you give way to grief they will all die!" Embracing He turned Adwaita back, and passed on freely. To the bank of the Ganges He went with the four, and then to Puri by way of Chhatrabhog. [Madhya Lila, text, canto 3.]

Chapter II

So the Master went to the Nilachal, with His four companions, absorbed in the kirtan (singing) of Krishna. One day He entered a village and brought back a large quantity of rice by personally begging for alms. On the way the ferrymen did not refuse Him a crossing. He blessed them and came to Remuna, where He devoutly visited the charming image of Gopinath. As He bowed down at the feet of the image, the bunch of flowers on its crown dropped upon His head. At this Master rejoiced and danced and sang long with the faithful. The attendants of Gopinath marvelled at His power, ardour, beauty, and accomplishments, and served Him in many ways. There He passed the night, in desire of the kshir prasád (condensed milk) of which He had heard from Ishwar Puri before. The god was known as the Gopinath who stole the kshir, because, as the devotees told the tale, he had once stolen kshir for Madhav Puri.

In days gone by Madhav Puri had wandered on to Govardhan, near Brindaban, in his ecstasy heeding not whether it was day or night, and falling down to the ground without caring what sort of place it was. After making a circuit of the rock, he came to the Govinda-kunda (pool), bathed, and sat down under a tree in the evening. A Cow-boy came and held a pail of milk before him, saying with a smile, "Puri! drink this milk. Why don't you take what you have longed for? What are you musing on?" The Child's beauty charmed the heart of the Puri, and his sweet words took away his hunger and thirst. The Puri asked, "Who are you and where do you live? How did you know that I was fasting?" The Boy answered, "I am a milk-man of this village. In my village none can remain fasting. Some beg for rice, some for milk. I convey food to those who do not beg. The women who had come to draw water saw you, and sent me with this milk for you. I must be off now to milk my cows, but I shall come again for my pail." Then the Boy went away and was not seen again. Madhav Puri wondered, laid the emptied pail down, and began to pray without sleeping. Towards the end of the night he dozed off into unconsciousness, and dreamt that the Boy came and led him by the hand to a bower saying "Here I dwell, suffering much from cold and rain, wind and sun. Bring the villagers together, remove me from the bower to the hill-top and there lodge me properly in a monastery. Bathe me profusely in cold water. Long have I looked forward to the day when Madhav would come to serve me. Moved by thy love I have accepted thy service, and I shall appear in the flesh to save the world by my sight. I am Gopal, the Uplifter of Govardhan Hill. My image was installed by King Bajra, and is the guardian deity of this place. My attendant, in fear of the mis-believers, removed me from the hill to this grove for concealment and then fled. Since then I have been here. It is well that you have come. Now bring me out carefully." So saying the Boy disappeared. Madhav Puri awoke, and judging that he had seen Shri Krishna without recognizing him, he rolled on the ground in a transport of devotion. After some weeping he calmed his mind and set about to carry out the Lord's bidding. After his morning bath he went into the village, called the people together, and said, "The Lord of your village, the Uplifter of Govardhan, is in a grove. Let us seek him out. The grove is dense and hard to enter. Take hatchets and spades with yourselves to make a door." The villagers joyfully accompanied him, and cut an entrance into the grove, where they found to their joy and wonder the image lying hidden under earth and grass. Removing the covering they knew (the image). But it was very heavy, so the strongest men joined together to take it up the hill. There the idol was placed on a stone seat, with another big stone at its back as a support. The Brahmans of the village fetched water from the Govinda-kunda in fresh pots. Nine hundred pots of water were brought; many musical instruments were played; the women sang. It was a great festival with dancing and singing. All the curd milk and ghee in the village were brought there with sweets, and all other articles of offering. The image was bathed by Madhav Puri himself, worshipped and installed there. All the food available in the village was brought to the hill, offered to the god and an anna-kut (pyramid of consecrated food) was formed. In one day's preparation this grand feast was accomplished. The image was laid on a bedstead, a straw thatch built over it, with walls of straw.

The Goswami Puri ordered the Brahmans to feast all the villagers, old and young. They dined, the Brahmans and Brahmanis first, then the others in due order. The people who came from other villages looked at Gopal and got his prasád. Men wondered at the power of the Puri who had produced the pyramid of rice. He brought all the Brahmans to Vaishnavism and employed them in the various services (of the god). Again, at close of day he roused the god, offered some light refreshments as bhog. It was noised abroad that Gopal had appeared there, and people flocked from neighbouring villages to see the god. The villagers joyfully gave feasts in honour of him on different days, each building up a pyramid of rice. At night the image was laid to rest; the Puri drank a little milk.

Next morning the same kind of service began. The people of a village came with all their milk, curd, ghee and rice, and offered them to Gopal. The Brahmans cooked as before and Gopal tasted of the heap of rice. The people of Brindaban love Gopal of themselves, and he too loves them. They all came, partook of the holy prasád and forgot their sorrow and loss at the sight of him. From other provinces men arrived with presents when they heard that Gopal had appeared there. The rich men of Mathura sent costly offerings out of devotion. Gold, silver, cloth, incense and food stuffs were daily presented in vast quantities and swelled the store (of the temple). One very rich Kshatriya built the temple (at his own cost), some one else the kitchen, another the walls. The citizen of Brindaban presented a cow each, and thus Gopal got a thousand cows. Two Brahman hermits came from Bengal, and the Puri received them with attention, made them his disciples, and entrusted to them the service of the god. So he waited on the god for some two years, glad to see him served right royally.

One night the Puri had a dream, in which Gopal spoke to him, "I burn, I burn! Rub me with sandal wood from the Blue Mountain, and from nowhere else, and then shall I be cooled. Go there quickly." The Puri, inspired by devotion, travelled to the eastern country to do the Lord's behest, appointing others to carry on the service. At Shantipur he visited Adwaita Acharya, who was moved by his devotion to get himself initiated by him and became his disciple. Thence the Puri proceeded south [i.e., to Orissa], and at Remuna saw the Gopinath, whose beauty threw him into ecstasy. After singing and dancing he sat down in the vestibule and asked the (attendant) Brahman about the different dishes served to the god. The splendour of the service made him infer that the bhog was excellent. So he resolved to inquire into the character of the bhog and appoint it for his Gopal too. The Brahman described to him how twelve earthen pots full of kshir, called amrita-keli (the cream of nectar) famous and unmatched in the world, were offered to the god every evening. Just then that bhog was presented. The Puri inly thought, "If I can get a little of the kshir prasad unasked, I may learn its taste for the purpose of establishing it as my Gopal's bhog." But the longing shamed him and he prayed to Vishnu.

Then the bhog was removed and the árati was celebrated. The Puri bowed and went out without saying a word. He was passionless, indifferent to the world, vowed not to ask for anything. If he got anything unasked he ate it, otherwise he fasted; the nectar of love was enough for him, he felt not hunger or thirst. That he had coveted the kshir struck him as a sin. So he sat down in the deserted square of the village-market singing hymns.

In the meantime the priest laid the image to sleep, finished his duties, and went to bed, where he had a dream. The god came and told him, "Up, priest, and open my door. I have kept a pot of kshir for the hermit. You will find it concealed under the skirt of my lower garment. You all did not notice it under my illusion. Take the kshir quickly to Madhav Puri who is sitting in the market place." The priest arose, bathed, opened the shrine, and found the kshir under the lappet of the god's dhoti. He washed the spot and went into the village with the pot of kshir and walked through the market crying, "Take this kshir, whosoever is named Madhav Puri! For your sake Gopinath had concealed this kshir. Take it and eat it, Puri, thou luckiest man in the three worlds."

At this the Puri disclosed himself. The priest gave him the kshir, bowed, and told the whole story, to the rapture of the Puri. The attendant priest marvelled at his devotion and said, "It is only fitting that Krishna should be obedient to him."

Lovingly did the Puri drink the kshir, then he washed the pot, broke it, and tied the sherds in a corner of his sheet, eating one of the broken pieces every day, at which he grew wonderfully enraptured. At the close of the night he set off for Puri (Jagannath), bowing to Gopinath then and there, in fear that a crowd would gather round him next morning, when they heard that the Lord had sent him kshir.

So he fared on, till he came to Puri in the Blue Mountain; the sight of Jagannath threw him into an ecstasy, he rose up and fell down, he laughed, danced, and sang, in intense delight. It was noised abroad that Madhav Puri had come to the holy place: men flocked to do him reverence. Such is the nature of fame, it comes God-sent to those who seek it not. In fear of public notice the Puri had fled thither, but fame clung to this devotee of Krishna all the way. Eager as he was to escape from the place, the need of sandal for his god held him back. He told the story of Gopal to the attendants of Jagannath and the mohants, and begged sandal wood for him. The faithful exerted themselves for it. Those who knew the Rajah's minister (pátra) begged him and thus collected the camphor and sandal. A Brahman and a servant for carrying the sandal were sent with the Puri, and given their travelling expenses. Royal passports were given to the Puri by the minister, addressed to the officers of the frontier outposts and the ferries.

So he returned to Remuna after some time, made many bows to Gopinath, and danced and sang long in rapture. The servitors of the temple did him reverence and fed him on the kshir prasád. While sleeping in the temple, he had a dream at the close of night: Gopal came and told him, "Hark thee, Madhav! I have got all the camphor and sandal. Rub this sandal with camphor and anoint Gopinath with it daily. Gopinath's body is one with mine! Lay the sandal on him and I shall feel the cooling effect. Doubt not, hesitate not, believe and give up the sandal as I bid you." So saying, Gopal vanished; the Goswami awoke, called together the servitors of Gopinath, and told them, "The Lord bids you rub all this sandal and camphor on Gopinath's person; for thus will Gopal be cooled. He is the Supreme Lord and his order is mighty. In summer Gopinath should be anointed with sandal paste." The servitors rejoiced at it. The Puri set the two men to rub the sandal into paste and hired two other men also [for the work]. So he daily rubbed the sandal and the attending priests laid it on gleefully. He stayed there doing this till the sandal was all gone. At the end of summer he again went to the Nilachal and passed there four months.

The Master told His disciples of the sweet life of Madhav Puri and remarked, "Think of it, Nityananda; happiest of men is the Puri. Krishna appeared to him on the pretext of giving him milk. Thrice did he appear to him in dream to lay his commands. His love so influenced the god that he revealed himself, accepted the Puri's service, and saved the world. For his sake Gopinath stole the kshir and got the surname of "kshir-stealer." On the god's body did he lay camphor and sandal, and his love overflowed at it. Hard it is to carry camphor and sandal through a Muslim country (Bengal and Upper India). Gopal knew that the Puri would be put in distress in doing this task. So, the gracious god, ever tender to his devotees, himself took the sandal (at Remuna) in order that the Puri's task might be done. Think of the Puri's extreme devotion! It transcends nature, it amazes the mind! He is silent, passionless, indifferent to every earthly thing. He keeps with himself no companion, lest he should have to speak on any ungodly material subject. That such a man, on receiving Gopal's command, travelled two thousand miles to beg for sandal! He lay fasting and yet did not ask for food! Such a man carried the sandal—one maund of sandal and 20 tolas of camphor, rejoicing that he would lay them on Gopal! The frontier custom-officer of Orissa stopped him but he showed the royal pass and was set free. He never reflected how he would carry the sandal through the Muslim land, long distance, and countless hindrances. He had not a shell (kowri) with him to pay duty at the custom barrier, and yet in his enthusiasm he set forth to carry the sandal. Such is the natural effect of true love,—not to think of one's own sufferings and troubles! Gopal had bidden him brinp the sandal, only to show to the world the Puri's deep devotion. And he brought it joyfully through all hardships to Remuna. Gopal had meant by it only to try him, and when the trial was over the god grew gracious. We are powerless to understand the depth of his love for Krishna and Krishna's graciousness to his devotee."

So saying the Master recited a stanza of the Puri's composition, which has lighted the world like the moon. Discourse on the stanza only revealed its full beauty, just as the odour of sandal wood spreads with rubbing. I deem this stanza the rarest gem in poetry. Radha speaks it through the mouth of Madhavendra. How did Chaitanya relish it! None besides these three can know its full flavour. The Puri finally attained to the supreme realization [i.e., death], reciting this stanza:

The stanza [Radhika speaks]:—

"O Lord! Gracious to the lowly! thou art now in Mathura. When wilt thou come to me? Darling mine! my heart runs about in pain of longing to see thee. What shall I do?"

On reciting the stanza the Master fell down on the ground in a trance, senseless with the intensity of love. Nityananda hurriedly took Him up in his arms. Chaitanya rose weeping, and ran hither and thither in a transport of devotion, shouting, laughing, dancing, and singing. Oft did He repeat the first word of the stanza, His voice choked with emotion and tears running down His cheeks. He trembled, perspired, wept with joy, stood still, changed colour,—now showing remorse, now grief, now stupor, now pride or meekness. The stanza opened the gate of His love. The servitors of Gopinath gazed on the Master's outpouring of love. But He came back to Himself on seeing a crowd gathering. The bhog was performed, then the árati. The priest laid the god to rest, came out of the shrine and placed the twelve pots of kshir before the Master, who joyfully took five pots for Himself and His disciples and returned the other seven to the priest. True, the sight of Gopinath had been food enough for Him; but He now drank the kshir as a mark of reverence. The night was passed in singing the Name. In the morning He attended the mangal árati and then departed. [Text, canto 4.]