Who am I
Bhakta [devotee]: Swami! Last month, You said You will explain to me who ‘I’ am. If I understand that also, I can be rid of the little delusion that I have and, without the slightest trace of doubt, meditate on You and be blissful. What greater fortune can I have?
Swami: Well, my boy! To speak about the real nature of ‘I’ is very easy; but until it is experienced, full contentment is impossible. For me to tell you to my satisfaction and for you to grasp its full meaning, it needs some time. This month, even the allotted hours of the day are not enough for me! Though it is like this, I am using all the time for the ananda [joy] of bhaktas only; I have nothing of my own. Being useful for my bhaktas, that is my selfish purpose. Throughout last month, I went to Nellore, Gudur, Venkatagiri, and the villages around. Afterward, I went to Bangalore and returned. What little time was available I used for Premavahini! This month, I visited Hyderabad, Rajahmundry, Samalkot, Chebrolu, Nuzvid etc. So there is no spare time.
Next month, I shall tell you about who ‘you’ are to your full satisfaction. For the present, try to grasp the meaning of this song in folk dance style; you will understand who this ‘you’ is, to a large extent. It is possible you will get vairagya [detachment] to a large extent through this. Later, you will understand the meaning of what I have to say more clearly and with greater ease. Do not merely read this song but think well on the meaning of each word. The song will certainly turn your brain!
Bhakta: All right. Give me at least that. I shall satisfy my desire; I shall drink the nectar and digest it.
Swami: Listen carefully:
Thai! Thai! Thai! Thai! Thai! Dummy
See the tamasha play of this puppet doll.
O jiva, listen to the long long tale
Of its past, its future, behind, and front!
It rolled at first in mushy mire
Of mother’s womb, its prison dark.
It came with a whimper, but all around
They smiled in joy and feasts galore,
‘O tragedy! I am born again’,
It knew and wept, both loud and long.
But all the while, they caressed it
And laughed to raise a laugh!
In its own dirt it wallowed day,
Without a sense of shame;
It rose and fell, at every step,
Acting daily a childish play.
It runs and skips with gangs of chums
And learns a hundred tricks and trades;
It grows so tall and thick and broad;
From year to year, very fast and fair.
It moves in pairs, and bills and coos
In rosy rainbow style;
It sings in tunes unheard before,
And quaffs the cup, unique and strange.
Its Brahma who makes these dolls in pairs
And dolls and dolls in millions,
But this our puppet does not know
When it plays with dollies:
Thim! Thim! Thim!
This maya [illusion] doll like the holy bull
Has the tamas [ignorance] rope in nostril hole;
Lust and anger are the scorpion whips
Which whack the back of the slave.
It gloats with glee, when others stop
Before it shuddering low;
It doles them pain; but cannot near
A microscopic share!
It swears and shouts and waves its arms
And frets and fumes with blood-red eyes;
It is indeed a wondrous sight—
Possessed by devil ire!
It scans and spells, it scribbles and swots,
It does not know the reason why,
It runs in panic trying to glean
Fodder for belly, willy or nilly.
Ah, did you see this queer little dummy,
With so many books in its tummy,
Turning and twisting in jealousy green
When a learned doll encounters it?
And, you should hear its secret cluck
When a shameful sensual urge,
A wicked lurking greed
Is satisfied in sin!
It proudly pats; its own back!
For beauty, brawn, vitality.
While all the time and step by step
It moves toward senility.
Totters and blinks through wrinkles and folds;
and when the children cry.
‘Old Ape’ ‘Old Ape’
It gapes and grins a toothless grin—
Its bones do clatter so!
Unto the last, it is lost in fear,
Wear and tear and many a tearsome fray!
Of what avail, O dummy doll,
your gasp and groan.
You needs must meet the doom.
Aha! The bird it shakes its wings!
It files out, brrrr, from the cage of skin.
Empty, it tightens; vacant, it straightens;
O, drag it out of sight; it bloats and stinks.
The elements join their parents five;
The doll’s desires are dust and ash;
Why weep, you fools, when one of you
Falls on the crowded stage?
Uncles, cousins, aunts, and friends
March in gloom until door of room!
The maya doll, alas, forgot its kin,
The Divine name, redeemer true!
O jiva, do not lean upon this slender reed;
Just a sneeze! This frail skin boat
Endowed with thrice three leaks
Will plunge you, middle stream!
This puppet weeps, it sleeps and wakes,
When the string is pulled by unseen hand
The Lord it is, who stands behind,
But the dummy swears, it is I, I, I.
Dharma, karma are the hardy strings
He tightens or He loosens.
Unaware, the puppet swaggers
Criss-cross, on the planks.
It takes the world as stable, —
This silly strutting dummy!
A twinkle! He winds up the show!
Exit the pomp and pride!
O jiva, you have waded
Through ant and snake and bird;
Seek and find without delay,
The road to lasting bliss!
Bless your luck! You now can see
Sai Krishna, He has come!
Be kin with Him and you will know:
Your what and why and how.
A million words so clever and nice,
Can they appease your hunger’s maw?
Light the lamp of the soul instead,
And, freed from bondage, run out and play.
This song that tells of dummy doll
Makes jiva sad and wise! I know;
But, jiva! see the leela [play] grand of
Sathya Sai Nath
And…………Know thyself!
Bhakta: Ah! I have understood! I have clearly understood that ‘I’ am not the body, the buddhi [intelligence], the manas [mind], or the chittam [consciousness]. When I am not any of these ‘I’ must be only the atma, and if ‘I’ am the atma, then ‘I’ the Paramatma and so everything is Paramatma! All this I have understood! Believing out of ignorance that ‘I’ am this body and this intellect, this deha and this buddhi, we are experiencing all these miseries true, true. We are passing through all that you said now, one after the other, as beads in a string. Oh! What a truth? What a truth! Listening to this one song is enough; the brain, as you said, turns into vairagya…
Swami! I felt very disappointed when You said first that You had no time to spare. But that was due to my ignorance. Though I knew that our Swami will never disappoint any one or cause trouble, I felt as if You have conferred even more ananda now, than what I thought I would get. How is Your kindness to be described! They sing of you, “For a single drop of tear, Sayi will melt;” and they say you can never bear to see us suffer—this is proof of the truth of these. Shall I take leave?
Swami: Very good. Go and come again. I too have no time to spare. I have to see and send those who are going to their places.
Source: Sandeh Nivarini
