Childhood and Marriage
I got up from my reverie and, with tears in my eyes, entreated my mother once again to recite the tale of this saint and she began:
Born in
Samvat 1557 in far-off Marwar, in the village Kurkhi, this princess of Chitor,
forsaking the pomp and glory of the palaces, started IN THE QUEST OF THE
FLUTE-PLAYER barefooted, to tread the path that led to the Abode of Eternal
Bliss. In the forehead of the little child shone the signs of future greatness,
as she rose up startled by the sound of the marriage procession that passed
below the palace of her father, Rao Ratan Singh, and peeping through the barred
windows of the balcony and seeing the child-bridegroom dressed artistically,
this baby of five cried out "Mother, and where is my bridegroom?" The
mother smiled at the innocence of the child. She seemed to have read in her
broad forehead the future greatness of her simple babe and replied (pointing to
the little lovely idol of Lord Krsna that stood in the temple and was so much
loved by the child), "Giradhara Gopala is thy bridegroom." Since then
Gopala became a subject of special fascination to her. All her discourses were
about this beautiful image. All her time was spent in bathing and dressing it.
She worshipped it. She slept with it on a deerskin. She danced about it. She
sang to it lovely songs. Its joys were her joys, and, when a slight ray of
gloom was witnessed by her on its bright forehead, that would make her weep for
hours, till she again saw a clear smile on the face that would captivate her
heart. To everybody it became known that this mad girl seemed to read the
expression of this idol, and to hold conversation with the seemingly mute
Krsna.
Thus
passed some years in patiently wooing her Beloved. From her childhood,
therefore, she could know of no other love but that for her dear Ki.spa. This
could not be tolerated by the conservative, custom-ridden family, which like
others would permit no such display of fancy and would scoff at those paroxysms
of devotion, and sneer at the flow of tears. In their eyes these visionary
dreams had no place in the practical life of the household. They mocked at it,
as they saw things from a different angle. They soon thought of a way to take
the maniac out of her madness for the Lord and relieve her of the divine
intoxication. Therefore messengers were dispatched and great pains taken to
find out a husband suitable for the princess. The fateful day arrived when her
daily worship was disturbed by the music of the drum, by feastings, feedings,
and a variety of ceremonies; for, this was the bridal procession that had
arrived at Ratan Singh's palace. Mira was married to the heir of the mighty
State of Chitor the cynosure of all Rajapata eyes and a terror to the
conquering Moghuls. The husband was the valiant Bhojaraja, the eldest son of
Rana Samga, whose name is writ large for all time to come in the annals of
Rajasthan as the solitary figure that would own allegiance to nobody, but would
rather experience all the hardships of life and would walk bare-footed on the
burning sands of Rajaputana, with his hungry princes at his side and the midday
sun overhead, and would patiently watch even the last particle of loaf,
prepared from the bark of a tree, being snatched away from the hands of the
famished children. But he would not budge an inch from the traditions of the
Rajaputas, who could never recognize Muslim suzerainty. It is these people that
bore the banner of Rajaputa chivalry. It was this blood that ran in the veins
of the family into which Mira BIT was married. The son, Bhojaraja, the husband
of this little saint, had inherited all the martial qualities of his ancestors.
Any general would be proud of the physical appearance he bore, the valiant
qualities he possessed. The blood of these Rajaputas has been the pride of
India. But martial qualities have no place in the sphere of love, where
humility is the ideal, and the lowly alone can attain to the highest pedestal.
Vanity has no place there and pride is an outcast. How could this marriage then
prove to be a happy one! But blessed is Mira who left no stone unturned to
please her husband and see that his mandates were obeyed. She tried to give him
no occasion for offence. She stood out a sublime figure of a devoted wife, an
ideal that could be the boast of any Hindu lady. But in her love for Lord Krsna
she could accept no compromise.
To her
that was supreme over all duties spiritual, moral or temporal. There she stood
adamant in her virgin glory, guarding her rights with meticulous care. Beyond
what was necessary, she recognized no vagaries in life. After finishing her
household work, she would feel that all the time was the Lord's, and then she
would go to her temple where sat the joy of her heart, the little image of Lord
Krsna and start in the company of one or two devotees the nightlong ecstatic
dances before her Lord and sing songs to Him. In her ecstatic moments,
witnessing this exuberance of the heart and complete effacement of the self,
the Lord would Himself appear. The little lovely idol that sat mute would get
up, clasp His devotee to the bosom, play the melodious tunes on the flute to
her, and hold long discourses. This was Mira's joy. This was Mira's life. Mira
was born for it. This was what Mira could not give up. But this frantic display
of self-surrender and utter recklessness of form and formalities greatly
irritated the mother-in-law and other ladies of her husband's family. The
mother-in-law, after giving her the usual lectures on the code of married life,
and telling her that the discharge of domestic duties alone could lead to
domestic happiness as conceived by the worldly-minded, told the innocent bride
to bow to the family idol of Durga, the image of Gaud, the goddess of Sakti.
But the young consort was too imbued with love for her dear Krsna to think of
any other love. With tears in her eyes, in abject humility she fell at the feet
of the lady and through sobs broke out.
"Mother,
this head has already been dedicated to the lotus-feet of Giradhara Gopala. Forgive, mother, it can bow
before no other god or goddess now. Mother, do not press me anymore. Your
threats and coaxings leave me unmoved." The mother found the
daughter-in-law adamantine in her resolve. Though in her heart of hearts she
blessed the girl for her pious determination and fearless love for the Lord,
yet, to keep up appearances and follow the trodden track of social rules she
admonished the bride. This had no salutary effect on Mira. Then came the turn
of Uda, the sister of Bhojaraja, to come and plead with her sister-in-law to
give up her obstinacy and yield. Yield this is a horrible term to the devotees
of the Lord. The strong reply that the little Mirã gave to her sister's
scurrilous and offensive remarks soon aroused the wrath of Uda. She and her
companions started a regular conspiracy against her to take her to task for her
obstinacy and began to defame her. They went to Bhojaraja and told him that his
wife held discourses with her paramours at dead of night in the temple. That
they had themselves witnessed this tete-a-tete going on every night. That the
Prince could convince himself by watching it for himself. That it was a matter
for shame for the family and brought a great slur upon the fair name of Chitor
that the wife of the heir-apparent should carry on such liaisons. The anger of
the Prince knew no bounds, blood rushed to his cheeks, and, with a sword in his
hand, he hurried into the apartments of his newly wedded wife to kill her and
stop all these scandals. Mira fortunately was not in the room. The Prince was
rushing like a maniac when some kinder soul came and pacified him, told him not
to lose himself so soon, but should first satisfy himself of the truth of it,
lest he may have cause to repent later on. He accepted the advice. He abandoned
the idea for the time being and anxiously waited for the fateful hour of the
night when he was to be called in to witness the love-scene.
At dead of night the girls came to call the
Prince, and provoked him by saying, "Shame on the family whose ladies
carry on such love-intrigues. Go now and satisfy yourself of the daily
nocturnal movements of your wife, who pretends to be a great lover of the Lord
and who, in spite of the repeated requests of mother, would not bow to the
goddess Sakti." The Prince rushed to the temple unable to control his
passion any longer and there he found Mira fully absorbed in making her
confessions of love to her Divine Beloved and making complete surrenders.
Before Mira could finish her sentences he broke open the door and rushed
towards her; but he was completely stunned when he saw no one else but Mira
seated in an ecstatic mood, completely unperturbed by the entrance of the
intruder and absorbed in conversing with the little idol that stood before her.
But the eyes of the Prince could not discern the Lord behind the mask that He
wore, screened as they were by the veil of Maya. He saw nothing else but the
Idol. He caught hold of Mira and asked her with whom she was conversing. Mira,
strong in the strength of her Beloved smiled, looked up to him and said,
"See for yourself." He cried, "Show me thy lover. I am athirst
for his blood." Pointing to the little image in the front, she said,
"There He sits; shatter Him to pieces, if you can; there is the Eternal
One who has always been stealing the butter of the Gopis in Vraja, sometimes
stealing their clothes as they went down to bathe. But more than all He has
stolen my heart and gives it not back. But I do not complain of it; for,
therein lies my solace. See how He smiles at His mischief! No, He again assumes
the old grim face. Beloved! smile once more as You smiled of yore ! Ah no, He
feels I have given myself up to the Prince. No dear, no. Wait. Oh wait. Why are
You parting so early? Pray, wait … (and Mira fainted away)." This was a
queer experience for the prince, who hurried away. The other girls who had
followed him stood aghast, and began to see things in a different light
altogether. It was an unusual experience to them. Uda ran to kiss her
sister-in-law the fainted Mira; but she was deterred from within; for, it was
she who was partly responsible for the accusations against this goddess of
piety in human form. The girls could not read the mind of the Prince as he left
the place.
Henceforward
the Prince felt that his wife had gone mad, and so he did not for some time
trouble himself with the affair. But the world saw this through the eyes of
scandal, and rumour went round that Mira had started mixing freely with the
Sadhus, and various were the motives assigned to the act by dame rumour. But
Mira was careless of these ignoble talks that were the topic of the day;
unaffected she would go on singing her old song:—
"Now none else
but Him can I claim
as my own.
I forsook my father and my mother and
all those that were dear to me.
In the company of the
Sadhus I
sacrificed my world
and my modesty.
I rushed to meet a
saint when one
Crossed
my path
With tears I nourished the everlasting,
Creeper
of love.
In my search I met the deliverers-
The Saint and the Holy name.
Thenceforward the
Name within and the
Saint overhead have lighted my path
To the Lord, the servant Mirã has
Consigned herself.
What cares she for the rumours that be
Current all round.!”
She
continued to mix freely with the Sadhus. The Prince, seeing her resolve as
adamantine as ever, gave up his militant attitude, and got a temple especially
constructed for her to carry on her devotional practices.
The
news of the devotion of Mira for Krsna spread far and wide, so much so that the
Emperor Akabara and his chief musician Tanasena were seized with the desire of
seeing the wife of the heir-apparent of Mewar, whose songs, it was rumoured,
were so full of genuine devotion for the Lord that He Himself appeared. They
strongly yearned to hear the songs sung by Mira herself. But, fearing their
lives were not secure in case they went in state, they disguised themselves as
mendicants, and started incognito for Chitor. After a long journey, at last,
they came to the temple of Mira, where her Idol sat mute and glorious, and
bowed before the seat where Mira sat in devotion before her Lord. The new
arrivals were transfixed at seeing the delicate, innocent and smiling face of
the child of God, which seemed to welcome the new entrants and to shower her
blessings upon them. Akabara would have rushed to prostrate himself at the feet
of the devotee and disclosed his disguise; but he was kept back by Tanasena,
who told him it would mean death to them if strict secrecy was not maintained
about their identity. The Emperor then sat silently. As the devotees sat round
Mira, she started singing her songs. When the moment arrived, she jumped up and
started her ecstatic dances. The scene was so much enlivened that for the time
being everyone forgot himself and saw divine shafts of light shooting forth
from the idol and encircling Mira in a halo. Fragrance spread throughout. Some
lost their consciousness, seeing Mira at the height of her emotions fall flat
on the ground, absorbed in divine consciousness. When Mira recovered and wanted
to go away after the day's prayers were over, Akabara rose from his seat and,
with folded hands, approached Mira and entreated her to accept a little present
of a necklace. Mira refused, saying that a servant of the Lord needs nothing
and asks from nobody except the Lord Himself. But the Emperor humbly insisted,
saying that it was an offering made at the lotus feet of the Lord Krsna, whose
image stood before him, and that she should not refuse it. The name of Krsna
this was the strongest and the weakest point in Mira made her thoughtful. When
the thing came in the name of the Lord, she could say nothing but accept it.
The necklace therefore lay at the feet of the idol. The Emperor, however, left
the place with a heavy heart, steeped in reverence and love for the Lord. It
was a great experience for the Emperor, and such occurrences were responsible
for the tolerant nature and liberal views of the great Moghul. He was a great
success in uniting the various factions; but, whatever the theologians may say,
he failed in the domain of religion and spirituality. The reason is clear. He
sought to reap by the sickle of knowledge the fruits of Devotion and wanted to
experience with his intellect the divine thrills which are the very life of a
lover of God. No such experiences and interpretations could lighten his path.
He remained the Emperor, no doubt, of the green fertile fields of India that
yielded fodder to the animals and nurtured the drosser element in man, the
body. He could not reign over the human heart; for its king sits on a subtler
seat and obtains that position as the result of a different kind of training, which
is the outcome of years of penance, not the penance of body but that of
desires. When humility becomes enthroned in the heart, then alone the goal is
reached.
When
the news spread that the strangers of yesterday were the Emperor Akabara and
his musician, Tanasena, and that the Emperor touched the feet of the blessed
Mira, Prince Bhojaraja could not restrain himself any longer. Burning with
anger, the words shot forth from his mouth like fire : "Could a Muslim
dare approach a Rajaputa lady, even to make an offering and leave the soil of
Rajaputana safe ! Fie on Rajaputas, who heard the news and did not take
revenge!" The Rana could not thenceforth tolerate her living in a separate
temple. He was determined to remove her from the world. He therefore went to
Mira and severely reprimanded her for having permitted a Muslim to enter the
temple. "Drown thyself in some river", he exclaimed, "and
henceforth never show thy face to the world. Thou hast brought the greatest
blot on the fair name of Rajaputana by allowing a Moghul to touch thy feet.
Thou canst not deny the truth of it; for lo! there is the proof of it the
necklace."
Sufficient
for the day was the tragedy thereof. The mischief was done. Rajasthan was to
lose her glory forever. The only divine being in it started on her pilgrimage
of Love to the distant regions where diviner elements reigned, and for which
holy mission the Creator had sent her a messenger. With the mandate of her lord
she started, like a pilgrim bound on the errand of Love, which needed the
sacrifice of her life.
Writer - Bankey Behari
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