Breakfast with Bwana

Breakfast with Bwana

January 17, 2005

DON'T MONKEY WITH GRAVITY:



Don't ask me how it came about, but in the course of doing a search on the web, I found a link to a page detailing the departure of Shri Ramakrishna Paramhansa (also spelled "Paramahansa").

Now, I don't necessarily want to appear insensitive about an account of the burial of a "swami" but this narrative was far from a run of the mill obituary type of piece.

I have no idea who this guy Paramhansa was ... or . . . is. See, there is this little detail about reincarnation we have to take into account. As former President Bill Clinton said in a different context, "it depends on what the meaning of 'is' is." Anway, it seems that he went to the Great Beyond ... well, actually, into a pit lined with cowdung.

Not to worry, the pit was also filled with camphor and salt and sandalwood and all kinds of other deodorant stuff and then, topped off with soil. All this happened on a rainy day which makes you wonder why they washed the body first, if they were going to cover it with mud anyway. I'll have to ask someone about that one of these days.

Let me set the stage for you. In 1974, this Swami, in anticipation of his impending death, had arranged for a grave to be dug outside his own house. You see, unlike almost every other Hindu making a leap into the Great Beyond, this guy wanted to be entombed, not cremated. To that end, he had obtained necessary governmental permits, and also ordered a 1.5 ton stone that would eventually cover the grave, brought from a hillside quarry.

It turns out that this Swami had been living in someone else's house for forty years. As the narrative goes, we are told: "Swami was a person from a different plane. Still he was very much down to earth. For the last forty years he was living in Mr. Desai's house. He was aware that his end was to come in the same house. But in order to avoid inconvenience and the embarrassment for Mr. Desai's family, he had expressed his wish to be entombed opposite his house only."

Sort of a modern day Spruce Goose, I suppose, not capable of flight, but grounded. It seems to me a tad out of touch with reality to suddenly decide that you don't want to cause "inconvenience and embarrassment" to the family in whose house you've been squatting for 40 years as if it were your personal helipad. "Oh well, I don't want to inconvenience you by being buried in your front yard but I hope you don't mind if, after fory years, I lie myself down to sleep for the next two and a half weeks while I die in your front hall."

There is also the mystery of the monkey. But first, let me give you a link to the original so you won't think that I'm making all this up. http://www.datapointgroup.com/pawas/chapter18a.htm

For those who are not inclined to click on links or paste URLs into browsers I have pasted the entire article as a separate blog entry (better than pasting cow dung into a pit) under its original title "Swami Started For Final Abode." And, as necessary for this tale, I've quoted a fair portion of this in the discussion below.

On 28th July, the Swami announced that the end was nigh when he proclaimed: "My next journey has just begun.'' For about seven days, he appeared to go in and out of a trance as he lay on his bed. Well, sure, it probably was Mr. Desai's bed but let's not quibble about fine points at the threshold of a great exit.

During one of his moments of being in the present, rather than in a trance, the Swami spoke with a fellow identified as the "renunciant Satyadevanand." After a session during which the two stared into each other's eyes for a while, the renunciant "returned from the room and sat stiff in the Verandah in the front. He was seen to go into a trance that lasted four hours. Seeing this hitherto unseen kind of affair, people around were nonplussed."

I can relate. I remember as a kid when I saw hitherto unseen kinds of affairs, I would react in wonderment, yea, some would have said I was, from time to time nonplussed. I think being "nonplussed" is when you add 2 and 2 and get something other than 4.

After having the "vision thing" bonding experience with the renunciant, "Swami performed the incantational initiation for the people who were around. Initiatees included a barber and a postman; none was left out not even the children." I don't quite understand how the poor barber got into this close shave situation, but I suppose one does have to give the postman a forwarding address, doesn't one?

The monkey shows up:

"On the morning of 13th, a monkey came from somewhere and sat on the top of the tree in front of Swami's room. The monkey was sitting still and cold unmonkeylike. The domestic servant of the house tried to drive him away but he did not budge. He would jump to another branch and come back again to the original branch after sometime. For 3 days continuously, he was seen seated there. He was gone only after Swami's heart stopped on the 15th."

Hmmm.... this doesn't sound good. It's one thing to have a monkey hanging around waiting for your heart to stop, but why does he have to look "unmonkeylike" while doing so. Someone should tell the monkey: "Go on, be monkeylike, it's fun." But the domestic servant probably just spat out only the first part: "Go on!" At any rate, I am nonplussed as to what would cause a monkey to suddenly become unmonkeylike.

The Swami does his swan song:

Come to think of it, "Paramhansa" is probably German for "Swan Song" (compare Lufthansa as in "flying swan" for the German airline).

Now, some two and one-half weeks later, the fateful moment arrives.

"His soul went into an eternal trance leaving behind the body as it should be left. The time was something like half past eight. Dr. Deodhar was sent for. The Doctor certified him dead. With the permission of the Sanyasin Satyadevanand, the terrestrial body of Swami was taken out."

Well, it was thoughtful of Swanee ... er Swami ... to leave the body behind rather than taking it with him. That would have been very messy, calling, at a minimum, for an Inspector Clouseau to look into it. Okay, since the time was "something like half past eight" perhaps they would leave the body alone and let everyone get some sleep. After all, since Swanee's soul had gone off, there was little danger that the body would suddenly elope. But not these devoted followers:

"It was made to sit in the Yogic posture of Sahajasan. The body was smeared with fragrant materials and was given a bath. The body was then conveniently seated in a frame of banana-stem for the public to take a glance. The neck was adorned with a flower garland and a garland made of Tulsi stem cuttings. The forehead carried a smearing of sandal paste. On that was placed a Tilak of Bukka [a black powder composed of a fragrant substance]. The monkey-cap that Swami used to wear very often was of course in it's place. The room became fragrant by the heap of camphor placed on his camphor-complexioned body."

Aha! So, that explains the monkey ... he wanted his cap back. After all, that's probably why he was sitting on the tree branch for three days. I don't know if they got the banana stem from the same tree.

I pause to complain they did get the sequencing a bit messed up. Here we have a guy lying on the bed, going to the Great Beyond, and then getting a bath for the body. Somehow, Bed, Beyond, and Bath just doesn't have the same ring to it.

From banana leaf to chair:

"It was a great departure of a great being. Volunteers were trying hard to bring gravity, dignity and holiness in the atmosphere fitting to the great occasion. It took quite an effort to see that the people's sorrow is kept in check through restraint. Swami's body was then transferred to a chair bedecked with flowers. The procession was to begin."

Yeah, it is tough to bring dignity, gravity and holiness when you've got a guy smeared with all that stuff being shuttled from banana leaves to chairs and made to sit up, sit down, and then processed er... put in a procession ... all after the guy has been dead since about half past eight, and with a monkey sitting cold and unmonkeylike, ready to grab his cap at a moment's notice. Most of all, the gravity of the situation is that you are not letting gravity do its work as you contort his body into various positions, rigor mortis notwithstanding.

The weather was not cooperating either. The narrative first recounts that "the sun and the rain played see-saw." Now you see the sun, now you saw the rain, I suppose.

"As the people were walking through the narrow village-mud-road of the rainy season, rain did not forget to greet them from above. A rivulet was to be crossed too."

I hate crossing rivulets in the rain. Bing Crosby was good at that sort of thing, but the rest of us could use a stair. On the other hand, we've got to get this guy way down upon the swami river.

Okay, the race is over. It's time for the Pit Stop:

"As the procession was approaching, the volunteers preparing the pit hastened the work. The sides and bottom of the pit was given a wash of cow dung, the powerful disinfectant. Suwasinees [women who lead their lives in the service of their husbands] were busy drawing sacred artistic figures on the floor called Rangoli, to welcome the great soul to his new home."

This doesn't sound very efficient. After all, they've had 17 days or so to finish this pit stop as a final stop pit. I don't think that cow plop wash notwithstanding, this will measure up to six-feet-deep-sigma benchmarking. And, wait a minute, cow plops is a powerful disinfectant? I've got to send that in to Hints From Heloise, er Bossie. And pray tell me, where does one find a Suwasinee? We've received a whole lot of catalogs in the mail for Christmas and the sales for the New Year ... I'm going to look and see if anyone has a special on a Suwasinee ... maybe Bed Bath & Beyond carries them.

Benedictus Qui Venit In Cow Plops:

Friends, Romans (that applies only to Sonia in India), Swami Lovers, lend me your ears, I come to bury Swanee, not to praise him. The evil that men do, lives after them. Their good books are oft interred with their bones.

The procession arrived at the grave site and after assorted chanting, the body was lowered into the grave.

"Bit by bit the body of Swami was disappearing from sight. Bag after bag was being emptied in the pit. Level of salt and camphor was building up. When the level reached the chest, the two volumes of "Abhang Dnyaneshwari' of his personal use were placed in front. Then the remaining space was filled with layers of sandal dust, camphor, salt, Ashtagandh, Bukka, Kasturi. At the top came another layer of salt, some two-three inches thick. The entire body was thus covered. Then shawls sanctified by placing respectively at the tombs of Sant Dnyaneshwar and Sant Ramdas were placed on the top. A thick layer of soil was spread and flowers were offered. Then one more layer of soil was put."

You've heard the expression "everything but the kitchen sink." Well, take it from me, there is no way that they left any room for the kitchen sink.

Gravitas:

Ah, but there is still the aforementioned problem of gravity which I quote once more, in case you missed it: "Volunteers were trying hard to bring gravity, dignity and holiness in the atmosphere fitting to the great occasion."

Not to worry ... gravity still works!

"The 1.5 ton stone was then soundly placed on top of it. There was a shower of flowers again. And the remaining gaps were filled tightly with soil."

You now understand why the monkey was anxious. I mean, you're not going to retrieve your cap from under a 1.5 ton stone if you just hang around being monkeylike.

I hope all our funerals are this much fun ... I could pass on the cow plops though.

Moo!

Cheerz....Bwana