Hello friends, hope you all fine by the grace of god.
second chapter from Karma yoga
CHAPTER II
EACH IS GREAT IN HIS OWN PLACE
According to the Sânkhya philosophy, nature is composed of three forces
called, in Sanskrit, Sattva, Rajas, and Tamas. These as manifested in the
physical world are what we may call equilibrium, activity, and inertness.
Tamas is typified as darkness or inactivity; Rajas is activity, expressed as
attraction or repulsion; and Sattva is the equilibrium of the two.
In every man there are these three forces. Sometimes Tamas prevails. We
become lazy, we cannot move, we are inactive, bound down by certain ideas or
by mere dullness. At other times activity prevails, and at still other times that
calm balancing of both. Again, in different men, one of these forces is
generally predominant. The characteristic of one man is inactivity, dullness and
laziness; that of another, activity, power, manifestation of energy; and in still
another we find the sweetness, calmness, and gentleness, which are due to the
balancing of both action and inaction. So in all creation — in animals, plants,
and men — we find the more or less typical manifestation of all these different
forces.
Karma-Yoga has specially to deal with these three factors. By teaching what
they are and how to employ them, it helps us to do our work better. Human
society is a graded organization. We all know about morality, and we all know
about duty, but at the same time we find that in different countries the
significance of morality varies greatly. What is regarded as moral in one
country may in another be considered perfectly immoral. For instance, in one
country cousins may marry; in another, it is thought to be very immoral; in one,
men may marry their sisters-in-law; in another, it is regarded as immoral; in
one country people may marry only once; in another, many times; and so forth.
Similarly, in all other departments of morality, we find the standard varies
greatly — yet we have the idea that there must be a universal standard of
morality.
So it is with duty. The idea of duty varies much among different nations. In one
country, if a man does not do certain things, people will say he has acted
wrongly; while if he does those very things in another country, people will say
that he did not act rightly — and yet we know that there must be some
universal idea of duty. In the same way, one class of society thinks that certain
things are among its duty, while another class thinks quite the opposite and
would be horrified if it had to do those things. Two ways are left open to us —
the way of the ignorant, who think that there is only one way to truth and that
all the rest are wrong, and the way of the wise, who admit that, according to
our mental constitution or the different planes of existence in which we are,
duty and morality may vary. The important thing is to know that there are
gradations of duty and of morality — that the duty of one state of life, in one
set of circumstances, will not and cannot be that of another.
To illustrate: All great teachers have taught, "Resist not evil," that nonresistance
is the highest moral ideal. We all know that, if a certain number of us
attempted to put that maxim fully into practice, the whole social fabric would
fall to pieces, the wicked would take possession of our properties and our lives,
and would do whatever they liked with us. Even if only one day of such nonresistance
were practiced, it would lead to disaster. Yet, intuitively, in our heart
of hearts we feel the truth of the teaching "Resist not evil." This seems to us to
be the highest ideal; yet to teach this doctrine only would be equivalent to
condemning a vast portion of mankind. Not only so, it would be making men
feel that they were always doing wrong, and cause in them scruples of
conscience in all their actions; it would weaken them, and that constant selfdisapproval
would breed more vice than any other weakness would. To the
man who has begun to hate himself the gate to degeneration has already
opened; and the same is true of a nation.
Our first duty is not to hate ourselves, because to advance we must have faith in
ourselves first and then in God. He who has no faith in himself can never have
faith in God. Therefore, the only alternative remaining to us is to recognise that
duty and morality vary under different circumstances; not that the man who
resists evil is doing what is always and in itself wrong, but that in the different
circumstances in which he is placed it may become even his duty to resist evil.
In reading the Bhagavad-Gita, many of you in Western countries may have felt
astonished at the second chapter, wherein Shri Krishna calls Arjuna a hypocrite
and a coward because of his refusal to fight, or offer resistance, on account of
his adversaries being his friends and relatives, making the plea that nonresistance
was the highest ideal of love. This is a great lesson for us all to learn,
that in all matters the two extremes are alike. The extreme positive and the
extreme negative are always similar. When the vibrations of light are too slow,
we do not see them, nor do we see them when they are too rapid. So with
sound; when very low in pitch, we do not hear it; when very high, we do not
hear it either. Of like nature is the difference between resistance and nonresistance.
One man does not resist because he is weak, lazy, and cannot, not
because he will not; the other man knows that he can strike an irresistible blow
if he likes; yet he not only does not strike, but blesses his enemies. The one
who from weakness resists not commits a sin, and as such cannot receive any
benefit from the non-resistance; while the other would commit a sin by offering
resistance. Buddha gave up his throne and renounced his position, that was true
renunciation; but there cannot be any question of renunciation in the case of a
beggar who has nothing to renounce. So we must always be careful about what
we really mean when we speak of this non-resistance and ideal love. We must
first take care to understand whether we have the power of resistance or not.
Then, having the power, if we renounce it and do not resist, we are doing a
grand act of love; but if we cannot resist, and yet, at the same time, try to
deceive ourselves into the belief that we are actuated by motives of the highest
love, we are doing the exact opposite. Arjuna became a coward at the sight of
the mighty array against him; his "love" made him forget his duty towards his
country and king. That is why Shri Krishna told him that he was a hypocrite:
Thou talkest like a wise man, but thy actions betray thee to be a coward;
therefore stand up and fight!
Such is the central idea of Karma-Yoga. The Karma-Yogi is the man who
understands that the highest ideal is non-resistance, and who also knows that
this non-resistance is the highest manifestation of power in actual possession,
and also what is called the resisting of evil is but a step on the way towards the
manifestation of this highest power, namely, non-resistance. Before reaching
this highest ideal, man's duty is to resist evil; let him work, let him fight, let
him strike straight from the shoulder. Then only, when he has gained the power
to resist, will non-resistance be a virtue.
I once met a man in my country whom I had known before as a very stupid,
dull person, who knew nothing and had not the desire to know anything, and
was living the life of a brute. He asked me what he should do to know God,
how he was to get free. "Can you tell a lie?" I asked him. "No," he replied.
"Then you must learn to do so. It is better to tell a lie than to be a brute, or a log
of wood. You are inactive; you have not certainly reached the highest state,
which is beyond all actions, calm and serene; you are too dull even to do
something wicked." That was an extreme case, of course, and I was joking with
him; but what I meant was that a man must be active in order to pass through
activity to perfect calmness.
Inactivity should be avoided by all means. Activity always means resistance.
Resist all evils, mental and physical; and when you have succeeded in resisting,
then will calmness come. It is very easy to say, "Hate nobody, resist not evil,"
but we know what that kind of thing generally means in practice. When the
eyes of society are turned towards us, we may make a show of non-resistance,
but in our hearts it is canker all the time. We feel the utter want of the calm of
non-resistance; we feel that it would be better for us to resist. If you desire
wealth, and know at the same time that the whole world regards him who aims
at wealth as a very wicked man, you, perhaps, will not dare to plunge into the
struggle for wealth, yet your mind will be running day and night after money.
This is hypocrisy and will serve no purpose. Plunge into the world, and then,
after a time, when you have suffered and enjoyed all that is in it, will
renunciation come; then will calmness come. So fulfil your desire for power
and everything else, and after you have fulfilled the desire, will come the time
when you will know that they are all very little things; but until you have
fulfilled this desire, until you have passed through that activity, it is impossible
for you to come to the state of calmness, serenity, and self-surrender. These
ideas of serenity and renunciation have been preached for thousands of years;
everybody has heard of them from childhood, and yet we see very few in the
world who have really reached that stage. I do not know if I have seen twenty
persons in my life who are really calm and non-resisting, and I have travelled
over half the world.
Every man should take up his own ideal and endeavour to accomplish it. That
is a surer way of progress than taking up other men's ideals, which he can never
hope to accomplish. For instance, we take a child and at once give him the task
of walking twenty miles. Either the little one dies, or one in a thousand crawls
the twenty miles, to reach the end exhausted and half-dead. That is like what
we generally try to do with the world. All the men and women, in any society,
are not of the same mind, capacity, or of the same power to do things; they
must have different ideals, and we have no right to sneer at any ideal. Let every
one do the best he can for realising his own ideal. Nor is it right that I should be
judged by your standard or you by mine. The apple tree should not be judged
by the standard of the oak, nor the oak by that of the apple. To judge the apple
tree you must take the apple standard, and for the oak, its own standard.
Unity in variety is the plan of creation. However men and women may vary
individually, there is unity in the background. The different individual
characters and classes of men and women are natural variations in creation.
Hence, we ought not to judge them by the same standard or put the same ideal
before them. Such a course creates only an unnatural struggle, and the result is
that man begins to hate himself and is hindered from becoming religious and
good. Our duty is to encourage every one in his struggle to live up to his own
highest ideal, and strive at the same time to make the ideal as near as possible
to the truth.
In the Hindu system of morality we find that this fact has been recognised from
very ancient times; and in their scriptures and books on ethics different rules
are laid down for the different classes of men — the householder, the
Sannyâsin (the man who has renounced the world), and the student.
The life of every individual, according to the Hindu scriptures, has its peculiar
duties apart from what belongs in common to universal humanity. The Hindu
begins life as a student; then he marries and becomes a householder; in old age
he retires; and lastly he gives up the world and becomes a Sannyasin. To each
of these stages of life certain duties are attached. No one of these stages is
intrinsically superior to another. The life of the married man is quite as great as
that of the celibate who has devoted himself to religious work. The scavenger
in the street is quite as great and glorious as the king on his throne. Take him
off his throne, make him do the work of the scavenger, and see how he fares.
Take up the scavenger and see how he will rule. It is useless to say that the man
who lives out of the world is a greater man than he who lives in the world; it is
much more difficult to live in the world and worship God than to give it up and
live a free and easy life. The four stages of life in India have in later times been
reduced to two — that of the householder and of the monk. The householder
marries and carries on his duties as a citizen, and the duty of the other is to
devote his energies wholly to religion, to preach and to worship God. I shall
read to you a few passages from the Mahâ-Nirvâna-Tantra, which treats of this
subject, and you will see that it is a very difficult task for a man to be a
householder, and perform all his duties perfectly:
The householder should be devoted to God; the knowledge of God should be his goal of life.
Yet he must work constantly, perform all his duties; he must give up the fruits of his actions to
God.
It is the most difficult thing in this world to work and not care for the result, to
help a man and never think that he ought to be grateful, to do some good work
and at the same time never look to see whether it brings you name or fame, or
nothing at all. Even the most arrant coward becomes brave when the world
praises him. A fool can do heroic deeds when the approbation of society is
upon him, but for a man to constantly do good without caring for the
approbation of his fellow men is indeed the highest sacrifice man can perform.
The great duty of the householder is to earn a living, but he must take care that
he does not do it by telling lies, or by cheating, or by robbing others; and he
must remember that his life is for the service of God, and the poor.
Knowing that mother and father are the visible representatives of God, the householder, always
and by all means, must please them. If the mother is pleased, and the father, God is pleased
with the man. That child is really a good child who never speaks harsh words to his parents.
Before parents one must not utter jokes, must not show restlessness, must not show anger or
temper. Before mother or father, a child must bow down low, and stand up in their presence,
and must not take a seat until they order him to sit.
If the householder has food and drink and clothes without first seeing that his mother and his
father, his children, his wife, and the poor, are supplied, he is committing a sin. The mother and
the father are the causes of this body; so a man must undergo a thousand troubles in order to do
good to them.
Even so is his duty to his wife. No man should scold his wife, and he must always maintain her
as if she were his own mother. And even when he is in the greatest difficulties and troubles, he
must not show anger to his wife.
He who thinks of another woman besides his wife, if he touches her even with his mind — that
man goes to dark hell.
Before women he must not talk improper language, and never brag of his powers. He must not
say, “I have done this, and I have done that.”
The householder must always please his wife with money, clothes, love, faith, and words like
nectar, and never do anything to disturb her. That man who has succeeded in getting the love of
a chaste wife has succeeded in his religion and has all the virtues.
The following are duties towards children:
A son should be lovingly reared up to his fourth year; he should be educated till he is sixteen.
When he is twenty years of age he should be employed in some work; he should then be treated
affectionately by his father as his equal. Exactly in the same manner the daughter should be
brought up, and should be educated with the greatest care. And when she marries, the father
ought to give her jewels and wealth.
Then the duty of the man is towards his brothers and sisters, and towards the children of his
brothers and sisters, if they are poor, and towards his other relatives, his friends and his
servants. Then his duties are towards the people of the same village, and the poor, and any one
that comes to him for help. Having sufficient means, if the householder does not take care to
give to his relatives and to the poor, know him to be only a brute; he is not a human being.
Excessive attachment to food, clothes, and the tending of the body, and dressing of the hair
should be avoided. The householder must be pure in heart and clean in body, always active and
always ready for work.
To his enemies the householder must be a hero. Them he must resist. That is the duty of the
householder. He must not sit down in a corner and weep, and talk nonsense about nonresistance.
If he does not show himself a hero to his enemies he has not done his duty. And to
his friends and relatives he must be as gentle as a lamb.
It is the duty of the householder not to pay reverence to the wicked; because, if he reverences
the wicked people of the world, he patronizes wickedness; and it will be a great mistake if he
disregards those who are worthy of respect, the good people. He must not be gushing in his
friendship; he must not go out of the way making friends everywhere; he must watch the
actions of the men he wants to make friends with, and their dealings with other men, reason
upon them, and then make friends.
These three things he must not talk of. He must not talk in public of his own fame; he must not
preach his own name or his own powers; he must not talk of his wealth, or of anything that has
been told to him privately.
A man must not say he is poor, or that he is wealthy — he must not brag of his wealth. Let him
keep his own counsel; this is his religious duty. This is not mere worldly wisdom; if a man does
not do so, he may be held to be immoral.
The householder is the basis, the prop, of the whole society. He is the principal
earner. The poor, the weak, the children and the women who do not work — all
live upon the householder; so there must be certain duties that he has to
perform, and these duties must make him feel strong to perform them, and not
make him think that he is doing things beneath his ideal. Therefore, if he has
done something weak, or has made some mistake, he must not say so in public;
and if he is engaged in some enterprise and knows he is sure to fail in it, he
must not speak of it. Such self-exposure is not only uncalled for, but also
unnerves the man and makes him unfit for the performance of his legitimate
duties in life. At the same time, he must struggle hard to acquire these things —
firstly, knowledge, and secondly, wealth. It is his duty, and if he does not do his
duty, he is nobody. A householder who does not struggle to get wealth is
immoral. If he is lazy and content to lead an idle life, he is immoral, because
upon him depend hundreds. If he gets riches, hundreds of others will be thereby
supported.
If there were not in this city hundreds who had striven to become rich, and who
had acquired wealth, where would all this civilization, and these alms-houses
and great houses be?
Going after wealth in such a case is not bad, because that wealth is for
distribution. The householder is the centre of life and society. It is a worship for
him to acquire and spend wealth nobly, for the householder who struggles to
become rich by good means and for good purposes is doing practically the
same thing for the attainment of salvation as the anchorite does in his cell when
he is praying; for in them we see only the different aspects of the same virtue of
self-surrender and self-sacrifice prompted by the feeling of devotion to God
and to all that is His.
He must struggle to acquire a good name by all means. He must not gamble, he
must not move in the company of the wicked, he must not tell lies, and must
not be the cause of trouble to others.
Often people enter into things they have not the means to accomplish, with the
result that they cheat others to attain their own ends. Then there is in all things
the time factor to be taken into consideration; what at one time might be a
failure, would perhaps at another time be a very great success.
The householder must speak the truth, and speak gently, using words which people like, which
will do good to others; nor should he talk of the business of other men.
The householder by digging tanks, by planting trees on the roadsides, by establishing resthouses
for men and animals, by making roads and building bridges, goes towards the same goal
as the greatest Yogi.
This is one part of the doctrine of Karma-Yoga — activity, the duty of the
householder. There is a passage later on, where it says that "if the householder
dies in battle, fighting for his country or his religion, he comes to the same goal
as the Yogi by meditation," showing thereby that what is duty for one is not
duty for another. At the same time, it does not say that this duty is lowering and
the other elevating. Each duty has its own place, and according to the
circumstances in which we are placed, we must perform our duties.
One idea comes out of all this — the condemnation of all weakness. This is a
particular idea in all our teachings which I like, either in philosophy, or in
religion, or in work. If you read the Vedas, you will find this word always
repeated — fearlessness — fear nothing. Fear is a sign of weakness. A man
must go about his duties without taking notice of the sneers and the ridicule of
the world.
If a man retires from the world to worship God, he must not think that those
who live in the world and work for the good of the world are not worshipping
God: neither must those who live in the world, for wife and children, think that
those who give up the world are low vagabonds. Each is great in his own place.
This thought I will illustrate by a story.
A certain king used to inquire of all the Sannyasins that came to his country,
"Which is the greater man — he who gives up the world and becomes a
Sannyasin, or he who lives in the world and performs his duties as a house
holder?" Many wise men sought to solve the problem. Some asserted that the
Sannyasin was the greater, upon which the king demanded that they should
prove their assertion. When they could not, he ordered them to marry and
become householders. Then others came and said, "The householder who
performs his duties is the greater man." Of them, too, the king demanded
proofs. When they could not give them, he made them also settle down as
householders.
At last there came a young Sannyasin, and the king similarly inquired of him
also. He answered, "Each, O king, is equally great in his place." "Prove this to
me," asked the king. "I will prove it to you," said the Sannyasin, "but you must
first come and live as I do for a few days, that I may be able to prove to you
what I say." The king consented and followed the Sannyasin out of his own
territory and passed through many other countries until they came to a great
kingdom. In the capital of that kingdom a great ceremony was going on. The
king and the Sannyasin heard the noise of drums and music, and heard also the
criers; the people were assembled in the streets in gala dress, and a great
proclamation was being made. The king and the Sannyasin stood there to see
what was going on. The crier was proclaiming loudly that the princess,
daughter of the king of that country, was about to choose a husband from
among those assembled before her.
It was an old custom in India for princesses to choose husbands in this way.
Each princess had certain ideas of the sort of man she wanted for a husband.
Some would have the handsomest man, others would have only the most
learned, others again the richest, and so on. All the princes of the
neighbourhood put on their bravest attire and presented themselves before her.
Sometimes they too had their own criers to enumerate their advantages and the
reasons why they hoped the princess would choose them. The princess was
taken round on a throne, in the most splendid array, and looked at and heard
about them. If she was not pleased with what she saw and heard, she said to
her bearers, "Move on," and no more notice was taken of the rejected suitors.
If, however, the princess was pleased with any one of them, she threw a
garland of flowers over him and he became her husband.
The princess of the country to which our king and the Sannyasin had come was
having one of these interesting ceremonies. She was the most beautiful princess
in the world, and the husband of the princess would be ruler of the kingdom
after her father's death. The idea of this princess was to marry the handsomest
man, but she could not find the right one to please her. Several times these
meetings had taken place, but the princess could not select a husband. This
meeting was the most splendid of all; more people than ever had come to it.
The princess came in on a throne, and the bearers carried her from place to
place. She did not seem to care for any one, and every one became
disappointed that this meeting also was going to be a failure. Just then came a
young man, a Sannyasin, handsome as if the sun had come down to the earth,
and stood in one corner of the assembly, watching what was going on. The
throne with the princess came near him, and as soon as she saw the beautiful
Sannyasin, she stopped and threw the garland over him. The young Sannyasin
seized the garland and threw it off, exclaiming, "What nonsense is this? I am a
Sannyasin. What is marriage to me?" The king of that country thought that
perhaps this man was poor and so dared not marry the princess, and said to
him, "With my daughter goes half my kingdom now, and the whole kingdom
after my death!" and put the garland again on the Sannyasin. The young man
threw it off once more, saying, "Nonsense! I do not want to marry," and walked
quickly away from the assembly.
Now the princess had fallen so much in love with this young man that she said,
"I must marry this man or I shall die"; and she went after him to bring him
back. Then our other Sannyasin, who had brought the king there, said to him,
"King, let us follow this pair"; so they walked after them, but at a good distance
behind. The young Sannyasin who had refused to marry the princess walked
out into the country for several miles. When he came to a forest and entered
into it, the princess followed him, and the other two followed them. Now this
young Sannyasin was well acquainted with that forest and knew all the intricate
paths in it. He suddenly passed into one of these and disappeared, and the
princess could not discover him. After trying for a long time to find him she sat
down under a tree and began to weep, for she did not know the way out. Then
our king and the other Sannyasin came up to her and said, "Do not weep; we
will show you the way out of this forest, but it is too dark for us to find it now.
Here is a big tree; let us rest under it, and in the morning we will go early and
show you the road."
Now a little bird and his wife and their three little ones lived on that tree, in a
nest. This little bird looked down and saw the three people under the tree and
said to his wife, "My dear, what shall we do? Here are some guests in the
house, and it is winter, and we have no fire." So he flew away and got a bit of
burning firewood in his beak and dropped it before the guests, to which they
added fuel and made a blazing fire. But the little bird was not satisfied. He said
again to his wife, "My dear, what shall we do? There is nothing to give these
people to eat, and they are hungry. We are householders; it is our duty to feed
any one who comes to the house. I must do what I can, I will give them my
body." So he plunged into the midst of the fire and perished. The guests saw
him falling and tried to save him, but he was too quick for them.
The little bird's wife saw what her husband did, and she said, "Here are three
persons and only one little bird for them to eat. It is not enough; it is my duty as
a wife not to let my husband's effort go in vain; let them have my body also."
Then she fell into the fire and was burned to death.
Then the three baby-birds, when they saw what was done and that there was
still not enough food for the three guests, said, "Our parents have done what
they could and still it is not enough. It is our duty to carry on the work of our
parents; let our bodies go too." And they all dashed down into the fire also.
Amazed at what they saw, the three people could not of course eat these birds.
They passed the night without food, and in the morning the king and the
Sannyasin showed the princess the way, and she went back to her father.
Then the Sannyasin said to the king, "King, you have seen that each is great in
his own place. If you want to live in the world, live like those birds, ready at
any moment to sacrifice yourself for others. If you want to renounce the world,
be like that young man to whom the most beautiful woman and a kingdom
were as nothing. If you want to be a householder, hold your life a sacrifice for
the welfare of others; and if you choose the life of renunciation, do not even
look at beauty and money and power. Each is great in his own place, but the
duty of the one is not the duty of the other.
second chapter from Karma yoga
CHAPTER II
EACH IS GREAT IN HIS OWN PLACE
According to the Sânkhya philosophy, nature is composed of three forces
called, in Sanskrit, Sattva, Rajas, and Tamas. These as manifested in the
physical world are what we may call equilibrium, activity, and inertness.
Tamas is typified as darkness or inactivity; Rajas is activity, expressed as
attraction or repulsion; and Sattva is the equilibrium of the two.
In every man there are these three forces. Sometimes Tamas prevails. We
become lazy, we cannot move, we are inactive, bound down by certain ideas or
by mere dullness. At other times activity prevails, and at still other times that
calm balancing of both. Again, in different men, one of these forces is
generally predominant. The characteristic of one man is inactivity, dullness and
laziness; that of another, activity, power, manifestation of energy; and in still
another we find the sweetness, calmness, and gentleness, which are due to the
balancing of both action and inaction. So in all creation — in animals, plants,
and men — we find the more or less typical manifestation of all these different
forces.
Karma-Yoga has specially to deal with these three factors. By teaching what
they are and how to employ them, it helps us to do our work better. Human
society is a graded organization. We all know about morality, and we all know
about duty, but at the same time we find that in different countries the
significance of morality varies greatly. What is regarded as moral in one
country may in another be considered perfectly immoral. For instance, in one
country cousins may marry; in another, it is thought to be very immoral; in one,
men may marry their sisters-in-law; in another, it is regarded as immoral; in
one country people may marry only once; in another, many times; and so forth.
Similarly, in all other departments of morality, we find the standard varies
greatly — yet we have the idea that there must be a universal standard of
morality.
So it is with duty. The idea of duty varies much among different nations. In one
country, if a man does not do certain things, people will say he has acted
wrongly; while if he does those very things in another country, people will say
that he did not act rightly — and yet we know that there must be some
universal idea of duty. In the same way, one class of society thinks that certain
things are among its duty, while another class thinks quite the opposite and
would be horrified if it had to do those things. Two ways are left open to us —
the way of the ignorant, who think that there is only one way to truth and that
all the rest are wrong, and the way of the wise, who admit that, according to
our mental constitution or the different planes of existence in which we are,
duty and morality may vary. The important thing is to know that there are
gradations of duty and of morality — that the duty of one state of life, in one
set of circumstances, will not and cannot be that of another.
To illustrate: All great teachers have taught, "Resist not evil," that nonresistance
is the highest moral ideal. We all know that, if a certain number of us
attempted to put that maxim fully into practice, the whole social fabric would
fall to pieces, the wicked would take possession of our properties and our lives,
and would do whatever they liked with us. Even if only one day of such nonresistance
were practiced, it would lead to disaster. Yet, intuitively, in our heart
of hearts we feel the truth of the teaching "Resist not evil." This seems to us to
be the highest ideal; yet to teach this doctrine only would be equivalent to
condemning a vast portion of mankind. Not only so, it would be making men
feel that they were always doing wrong, and cause in them scruples of
conscience in all their actions; it would weaken them, and that constant selfdisapproval
would breed more vice than any other weakness would. To the
man who has begun to hate himself the gate to degeneration has already
opened; and the same is true of a nation.
Our first duty is not to hate ourselves, because to advance we must have faith in
ourselves first and then in God. He who has no faith in himself can never have
faith in God. Therefore, the only alternative remaining to us is to recognise that
duty and morality vary under different circumstances; not that the man who
resists evil is doing what is always and in itself wrong, but that in the different
circumstances in which he is placed it may become even his duty to resist evil.
In reading the Bhagavad-Gita, many of you in Western countries may have felt
astonished at the second chapter, wherein Shri Krishna calls Arjuna a hypocrite
and a coward because of his refusal to fight, or offer resistance, on account of
his adversaries being his friends and relatives, making the plea that nonresistance
was the highest ideal of love. This is a great lesson for us all to learn,
that in all matters the two extremes are alike. The extreme positive and the
extreme negative are always similar. When the vibrations of light are too slow,
we do not see them, nor do we see them when they are too rapid. So with
sound; when very low in pitch, we do not hear it; when very high, we do not
hear it either. Of like nature is the difference between resistance and nonresistance.
One man does not resist because he is weak, lazy, and cannot, not
because he will not; the other man knows that he can strike an irresistible blow
if he likes; yet he not only does not strike, but blesses his enemies. The one
who from weakness resists not commits a sin, and as such cannot receive any
benefit from the non-resistance; while the other would commit a sin by offering
resistance. Buddha gave up his throne and renounced his position, that was true
renunciation; but there cannot be any question of renunciation in the case of a
beggar who has nothing to renounce. So we must always be careful about what
we really mean when we speak of this non-resistance and ideal love. We must
first take care to understand whether we have the power of resistance or not.
Then, having the power, if we renounce it and do not resist, we are doing a
grand act of love; but if we cannot resist, and yet, at the same time, try to
deceive ourselves into the belief that we are actuated by motives of the highest
love, we are doing the exact opposite. Arjuna became a coward at the sight of
the mighty array against him; his "love" made him forget his duty towards his
country and king. That is why Shri Krishna told him that he was a hypocrite:
Thou talkest like a wise man, but thy actions betray thee to be a coward;
therefore stand up and fight!
Such is the central idea of Karma-Yoga. The Karma-Yogi is the man who
understands that the highest ideal is non-resistance, and who also knows that
this non-resistance is the highest manifestation of power in actual possession,
and also what is called the resisting of evil is but a step on the way towards the
manifestation of this highest power, namely, non-resistance. Before reaching
this highest ideal, man's duty is to resist evil; let him work, let him fight, let
him strike straight from the shoulder. Then only, when he has gained the power
to resist, will non-resistance be a virtue.
I once met a man in my country whom I had known before as a very stupid,
dull person, who knew nothing and had not the desire to know anything, and
was living the life of a brute. He asked me what he should do to know God,
how he was to get free. "Can you tell a lie?" I asked him. "No," he replied.
"Then you must learn to do so. It is better to tell a lie than to be a brute, or a log
of wood. You are inactive; you have not certainly reached the highest state,
which is beyond all actions, calm and serene; you are too dull even to do
something wicked." That was an extreme case, of course, and I was joking with
him; but what I meant was that a man must be active in order to pass through
activity to perfect calmness.
Inactivity should be avoided by all means. Activity always means resistance.
Resist all evils, mental and physical; and when you have succeeded in resisting,
then will calmness come. It is very easy to say, "Hate nobody, resist not evil,"
but we know what that kind of thing generally means in practice. When the
eyes of society are turned towards us, we may make a show of non-resistance,
but in our hearts it is canker all the time. We feel the utter want of the calm of
non-resistance; we feel that it would be better for us to resist. If you desire
wealth, and know at the same time that the whole world regards him who aims
at wealth as a very wicked man, you, perhaps, will not dare to plunge into the
struggle for wealth, yet your mind will be running day and night after money.
This is hypocrisy and will serve no purpose. Plunge into the world, and then,
after a time, when you have suffered and enjoyed all that is in it, will
renunciation come; then will calmness come. So fulfil your desire for power
and everything else, and after you have fulfilled the desire, will come the time
when you will know that they are all very little things; but until you have
fulfilled this desire, until you have passed through that activity, it is impossible
for you to come to the state of calmness, serenity, and self-surrender. These
ideas of serenity and renunciation have been preached for thousands of years;
everybody has heard of them from childhood, and yet we see very few in the
world who have really reached that stage. I do not know if I have seen twenty
persons in my life who are really calm and non-resisting, and I have travelled
over half the world.
Every man should take up his own ideal and endeavour to accomplish it. That
is a surer way of progress than taking up other men's ideals, which he can never
hope to accomplish. For instance, we take a child and at once give him the task
of walking twenty miles. Either the little one dies, or one in a thousand crawls
the twenty miles, to reach the end exhausted and half-dead. That is like what
we generally try to do with the world. All the men and women, in any society,
are not of the same mind, capacity, or of the same power to do things; they
must have different ideals, and we have no right to sneer at any ideal. Let every
one do the best he can for realising his own ideal. Nor is it right that I should be
judged by your standard or you by mine. The apple tree should not be judged
by the standard of the oak, nor the oak by that of the apple. To judge the apple
tree you must take the apple standard, and for the oak, its own standard.
Unity in variety is the plan of creation. However men and women may vary
individually, there is unity in the background. The different individual
characters and classes of men and women are natural variations in creation.
Hence, we ought not to judge them by the same standard or put the same ideal
before them. Such a course creates only an unnatural struggle, and the result is
that man begins to hate himself and is hindered from becoming religious and
good. Our duty is to encourage every one in his struggle to live up to his own
highest ideal, and strive at the same time to make the ideal as near as possible
to the truth.
In the Hindu system of morality we find that this fact has been recognised from
very ancient times; and in their scriptures and books on ethics different rules
are laid down for the different classes of men — the householder, the
Sannyâsin (the man who has renounced the world), and the student.
The life of every individual, according to the Hindu scriptures, has its peculiar
duties apart from what belongs in common to universal humanity. The Hindu
begins life as a student; then he marries and becomes a householder; in old age
he retires; and lastly he gives up the world and becomes a Sannyasin. To each
of these stages of life certain duties are attached. No one of these stages is
intrinsically superior to another. The life of the married man is quite as great as
that of the celibate who has devoted himself to religious work. The scavenger
in the street is quite as great and glorious as the king on his throne. Take him
off his throne, make him do the work of the scavenger, and see how he fares.
Take up the scavenger and see how he will rule. It is useless to say that the man
who lives out of the world is a greater man than he who lives in the world; it is
much more difficult to live in the world and worship God than to give it up and
live a free and easy life. The four stages of life in India have in later times been
reduced to two — that of the householder and of the monk. The householder
marries and carries on his duties as a citizen, and the duty of the other is to
devote his energies wholly to religion, to preach and to worship God. I shall
read to you a few passages from the Mahâ-Nirvâna-Tantra, which treats of this
subject, and you will see that it is a very difficult task for a man to be a
householder, and perform all his duties perfectly:
The householder should be devoted to God; the knowledge of God should be his goal of life.
Yet he must work constantly, perform all his duties; he must give up the fruits of his actions to
God.
It is the most difficult thing in this world to work and not care for the result, to
help a man and never think that he ought to be grateful, to do some good work
and at the same time never look to see whether it brings you name or fame, or
nothing at all. Even the most arrant coward becomes brave when the world
praises him. A fool can do heroic deeds when the approbation of society is
upon him, but for a man to constantly do good without caring for the
approbation of his fellow men is indeed the highest sacrifice man can perform.
The great duty of the householder is to earn a living, but he must take care that
he does not do it by telling lies, or by cheating, or by robbing others; and he
must remember that his life is for the service of God, and the poor.
Knowing that mother and father are the visible representatives of God, the householder, always
and by all means, must please them. If the mother is pleased, and the father, God is pleased
with the man. That child is really a good child who never speaks harsh words to his parents.
Before parents one must not utter jokes, must not show restlessness, must not show anger or
temper. Before mother or father, a child must bow down low, and stand up in their presence,
and must not take a seat until they order him to sit.
If the householder has food and drink and clothes without first seeing that his mother and his
father, his children, his wife, and the poor, are supplied, he is committing a sin. The mother and
the father are the causes of this body; so a man must undergo a thousand troubles in order to do
good to them.
Even so is his duty to his wife. No man should scold his wife, and he must always maintain her
as if she were his own mother. And even when he is in the greatest difficulties and troubles, he
must not show anger to his wife.
He who thinks of another woman besides his wife, if he touches her even with his mind — that
man goes to dark hell.
Before women he must not talk improper language, and never brag of his powers. He must not
say, “I have done this, and I have done that.”
The householder must always please his wife with money, clothes, love, faith, and words like
nectar, and never do anything to disturb her. That man who has succeeded in getting the love of
a chaste wife has succeeded in his religion and has all the virtues.
The following are duties towards children:
A son should be lovingly reared up to his fourth year; he should be educated till he is sixteen.
When he is twenty years of age he should be employed in some work; he should then be treated
affectionately by his father as his equal. Exactly in the same manner the daughter should be
brought up, and should be educated with the greatest care. And when she marries, the father
ought to give her jewels and wealth.
Then the duty of the man is towards his brothers and sisters, and towards the children of his
brothers and sisters, if they are poor, and towards his other relatives, his friends and his
servants. Then his duties are towards the people of the same village, and the poor, and any one
that comes to him for help. Having sufficient means, if the householder does not take care to
give to his relatives and to the poor, know him to be only a brute; he is not a human being.
Excessive attachment to food, clothes, and the tending of the body, and dressing of the hair
should be avoided. The householder must be pure in heart and clean in body, always active and
always ready for work.
To his enemies the householder must be a hero. Them he must resist. That is the duty of the
householder. He must not sit down in a corner and weep, and talk nonsense about nonresistance.
If he does not show himself a hero to his enemies he has not done his duty. And to
his friends and relatives he must be as gentle as a lamb.
It is the duty of the householder not to pay reverence to the wicked; because, if he reverences
the wicked people of the world, he patronizes wickedness; and it will be a great mistake if he
disregards those who are worthy of respect, the good people. He must not be gushing in his
friendship; he must not go out of the way making friends everywhere; he must watch the
actions of the men he wants to make friends with, and their dealings with other men, reason
upon them, and then make friends.
These three things he must not talk of. He must not talk in public of his own fame; he must not
preach his own name or his own powers; he must not talk of his wealth, or of anything that has
been told to him privately.
A man must not say he is poor, or that he is wealthy — he must not brag of his wealth. Let him
keep his own counsel; this is his religious duty. This is not mere worldly wisdom; if a man does
not do so, he may be held to be immoral.
The householder is the basis, the prop, of the whole society. He is the principal
earner. The poor, the weak, the children and the women who do not work — all
live upon the householder; so there must be certain duties that he has to
perform, and these duties must make him feel strong to perform them, and not
make him think that he is doing things beneath his ideal. Therefore, if he has
done something weak, or has made some mistake, he must not say so in public;
and if he is engaged in some enterprise and knows he is sure to fail in it, he
must not speak of it. Such self-exposure is not only uncalled for, but also
unnerves the man and makes him unfit for the performance of his legitimate
duties in life. At the same time, he must struggle hard to acquire these things —
firstly, knowledge, and secondly, wealth. It is his duty, and if he does not do his
duty, he is nobody. A householder who does not struggle to get wealth is
immoral. If he is lazy and content to lead an idle life, he is immoral, because
upon him depend hundreds. If he gets riches, hundreds of others will be thereby
supported.
If there were not in this city hundreds who had striven to become rich, and who
had acquired wealth, where would all this civilization, and these alms-houses
and great houses be?
Going after wealth in such a case is not bad, because that wealth is for
distribution. The householder is the centre of life and society. It is a worship for
him to acquire and spend wealth nobly, for the householder who struggles to
become rich by good means and for good purposes is doing practically the
same thing for the attainment of salvation as the anchorite does in his cell when
he is praying; for in them we see only the different aspects of the same virtue of
self-surrender and self-sacrifice prompted by the feeling of devotion to God
and to all that is His.
He must struggle to acquire a good name by all means. He must not gamble, he
must not move in the company of the wicked, he must not tell lies, and must
not be the cause of trouble to others.
Often people enter into things they have not the means to accomplish, with the
result that they cheat others to attain their own ends. Then there is in all things
the time factor to be taken into consideration; what at one time might be a
failure, would perhaps at another time be a very great success.
The householder must speak the truth, and speak gently, using words which people like, which
will do good to others; nor should he talk of the business of other men.
The householder by digging tanks, by planting trees on the roadsides, by establishing resthouses
for men and animals, by making roads and building bridges, goes towards the same goal
as the greatest Yogi.
This is one part of the doctrine of Karma-Yoga — activity, the duty of the
householder. There is a passage later on, where it says that "if the householder
dies in battle, fighting for his country or his religion, he comes to the same goal
as the Yogi by meditation," showing thereby that what is duty for one is not
duty for another. At the same time, it does not say that this duty is lowering and
the other elevating. Each duty has its own place, and according to the
circumstances in which we are placed, we must perform our duties.
One idea comes out of all this — the condemnation of all weakness. This is a
particular idea in all our teachings which I like, either in philosophy, or in
religion, or in work. If you read the Vedas, you will find this word always
repeated — fearlessness — fear nothing. Fear is a sign of weakness. A man
must go about his duties without taking notice of the sneers and the ridicule of
the world.
If a man retires from the world to worship God, he must not think that those
who live in the world and work for the good of the world are not worshipping
God: neither must those who live in the world, for wife and children, think that
those who give up the world are low vagabonds. Each is great in his own place.
This thought I will illustrate by a story.
A certain king used to inquire of all the Sannyasins that came to his country,
"Which is the greater man — he who gives up the world and becomes a
Sannyasin, or he who lives in the world and performs his duties as a house
holder?" Many wise men sought to solve the problem. Some asserted that the
Sannyasin was the greater, upon which the king demanded that they should
prove their assertion. When they could not, he ordered them to marry and
become householders. Then others came and said, "The householder who
performs his duties is the greater man." Of them, too, the king demanded
proofs. When they could not give them, he made them also settle down as
householders.
At last there came a young Sannyasin, and the king similarly inquired of him
also. He answered, "Each, O king, is equally great in his place." "Prove this to
me," asked the king. "I will prove it to you," said the Sannyasin, "but you must
first come and live as I do for a few days, that I may be able to prove to you
what I say." The king consented and followed the Sannyasin out of his own
territory and passed through many other countries until they came to a great
kingdom. In the capital of that kingdom a great ceremony was going on. The
king and the Sannyasin heard the noise of drums and music, and heard also the
criers; the people were assembled in the streets in gala dress, and a great
proclamation was being made. The king and the Sannyasin stood there to see
what was going on. The crier was proclaiming loudly that the princess,
daughter of the king of that country, was about to choose a husband from
among those assembled before her.
It was an old custom in India for princesses to choose husbands in this way.
Each princess had certain ideas of the sort of man she wanted for a husband.
Some would have the handsomest man, others would have only the most
learned, others again the richest, and so on. All the princes of the
neighbourhood put on their bravest attire and presented themselves before her.
Sometimes they too had their own criers to enumerate their advantages and the
reasons why they hoped the princess would choose them. The princess was
taken round on a throne, in the most splendid array, and looked at and heard
about them. If she was not pleased with what she saw and heard, she said to
her bearers, "Move on," and no more notice was taken of the rejected suitors.
If, however, the princess was pleased with any one of them, she threw a
garland of flowers over him and he became her husband.
The princess of the country to which our king and the Sannyasin had come was
having one of these interesting ceremonies. She was the most beautiful princess
in the world, and the husband of the princess would be ruler of the kingdom
after her father's death. The idea of this princess was to marry the handsomest
man, but she could not find the right one to please her. Several times these
meetings had taken place, but the princess could not select a husband. This
meeting was the most splendid of all; more people than ever had come to it.
The princess came in on a throne, and the bearers carried her from place to
place. She did not seem to care for any one, and every one became
disappointed that this meeting also was going to be a failure. Just then came a
young man, a Sannyasin, handsome as if the sun had come down to the earth,
and stood in one corner of the assembly, watching what was going on. The
throne with the princess came near him, and as soon as she saw the beautiful
Sannyasin, she stopped and threw the garland over him. The young Sannyasin
seized the garland and threw it off, exclaiming, "What nonsense is this? I am a
Sannyasin. What is marriage to me?" The king of that country thought that
perhaps this man was poor and so dared not marry the princess, and said to
him, "With my daughter goes half my kingdom now, and the whole kingdom
after my death!" and put the garland again on the Sannyasin. The young man
threw it off once more, saying, "Nonsense! I do not want to marry," and walked
quickly away from the assembly.
Now the princess had fallen so much in love with this young man that she said,
"I must marry this man or I shall die"; and she went after him to bring him
back. Then our other Sannyasin, who had brought the king there, said to him,
"King, let us follow this pair"; so they walked after them, but at a good distance
behind. The young Sannyasin who had refused to marry the princess walked
out into the country for several miles. When he came to a forest and entered
into it, the princess followed him, and the other two followed them. Now this
young Sannyasin was well acquainted with that forest and knew all the intricate
paths in it. He suddenly passed into one of these and disappeared, and the
princess could not discover him. After trying for a long time to find him she sat
down under a tree and began to weep, for she did not know the way out. Then
our king and the other Sannyasin came up to her and said, "Do not weep; we
will show you the way out of this forest, but it is too dark for us to find it now.
Here is a big tree; let us rest under it, and in the morning we will go early and
show you the road."
Now a little bird and his wife and their three little ones lived on that tree, in a
nest. This little bird looked down and saw the three people under the tree and
said to his wife, "My dear, what shall we do? Here are some guests in the
house, and it is winter, and we have no fire." So he flew away and got a bit of
burning firewood in his beak and dropped it before the guests, to which they
added fuel and made a blazing fire. But the little bird was not satisfied. He said
again to his wife, "My dear, what shall we do? There is nothing to give these
people to eat, and they are hungry. We are householders; it is our duty to feed
any one who comes to the house. I must do what I can, I will give them my
body." So he plunged into the midst of the fire and perished. The guests saw
him falling and tried to save him, but he was too quick for them.
The little bird's wife saw what her husband did, and she said, "Here are three
persons and only one little bird for them to eat. It is not enough; it is my duty as
a wife not to let my husband's effort go in vain; let them have my body also."
Then she fell into the fire and was burned to death.
Then the three baby-birds, when they saw what was done and that there was
still not enough food for the three guests, said, "Our parents have done what
they could and still it is not enough. It is our duty to carry on the work of our
parents; let our bodies go too." And they all dashed down into the fire also.
Amazed at what they saw, the three people could not of course eat these birds.
They passed the night without food, and in the morning the king and the
Sannyasin showed the princess the way, and she went back to her father.
Then the Sannyasin said to the king, "King, you have seen that each is great in
his own place. If you want to live in the world, live like those birds, ready at
any moment to sacrifice yourself for others. If you want to renounce the world,
be like that young man to whom the most beautiful woman and a kingdom
were as nothing. If you want to be a householder, hold your life a sacrifice for
the welfare of others; and if you choose the life of renunciation, do not even
look at beauty and money and power. Each is great in his own place, but the
duty of the one is not the duty of the other.
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