Tag Archives: Guru

The Story Of A Parrot And A Guru

There was this man, spiritually minded, going to satsang (religious/spiritual discourses) every day.

Observing him over several days, one day his parrot from its cage asked him where he was going so regularly.

He explained it to the parrot a guru had come into the town and he was conducting satsang and that’s where he was going. He further added the guru was an erudite person speaking with insight on various topics including high philosophy, not for birds and issues from mundane daily life too.

‘Will you then be kind enough to do me a favour?’

‘Certainly, tell me what would you like me to do for you?’

‘Will you ask him how long it would be before my freedom?’

‘Am so glad you too are yearning for moksha (eternal salvation). Perhaps my association? Surely the guru would have something to tell you.’

The man returned from the satsang after a couple of hours.

The parrot had kept awake beyond its usual sleep-time waiting for him:

‘So, please tell me what did guruji say? What were his precise words?’

‘You’re out of luck, boy.’

‘Why? He refused to…’

‘Oh, no…nothing of the sort. I did take you question to him.’

‘Then?’

‘He heard me and suddenly right before me he fell unconscious…don’t know what came over him…his disciples rushed to his side. In the ensuing pell-mell I came away. I didn’t want them to think I had anything to do…’

‘Oh, so it was…’ the parrot fell silent.

Next morning,

The man got up and went about his morning chores.

After a while, it occurred to him there was no sounds coming from his parrot, usually in good cheer in the mornings.

He went up to the cage and saw the bird lying motionless on the base.

OMG, dead? Had it attained moksha it yearned for? Guru’s blessings?

May be it was alive yet. He took the bird in his hands and ran his fingers gently over its back in an attempt to comfort and revive it.

After a few seconds suddenly the bird came alive, flapped its wings and flew out of his hands and away.

The man was startled.

In the evening, the satsang was held like always. The guru appeared no worse for the incident of the day before.

Once the discourse was concluded, the man went up to the guru and solicitously inquired about his well-being and also narrated the strange incident of his parrot.

The guru smiled: ‘Your bird was smarter.’

Vexed as he was, our man did not pursue the subject any further.

End

Source:  moral stories and picture from birdeden.com

Some Are More Equal Than Others

It was a working day. Even so the crowd at the camp was not thin.

Right then, a swanking new car sailed in. From it emerged a couple whose prosperity was so apparent despite their best efforts to appear ordinary and appropriate for the occasion.

The man in spotlessly white clothes and the lady carrying in her hand a small bagful of fruits and flowers, were readily ushered in to the Aacharya’s presence by a sishya.

For a moment, they were awestruck by the Aacharya’s radiance. As they bowed down, the sishya introduced him as a prominent merchant in the town operating a chain of stores selling saree’s. Now he was planning to set up hand and automatic looms to make his own branded products.

Thereupon the lady without a fuss quickly laid the fruits and flowers on a plate and the man, a thick envelope, offering it to the Aacharya. And the couple stepped back and did saashtanga namaskaram’s (prostrated in obeisance).

The sishya opened the envelope. Announcing ‘a check for Rs 50,000/ he dropped it into a sealed box kept for the purpose – the practice of making the contribution public was followed to avoid any unsavory imputation by anyone.

The Aachaarya, advanced in age, sat erect ignoring his mild indisposition and blessed them with akshathai’s (rice grains mingled in turmeric paste sprinkled on devotees). He called the man near and made solicitous inquiries at length about the family, his poorvaja’s (who were his forefathers, where did they hail from…) and his business, and wished them both well. Along with a few words of wisdom and advice, he said he would pray for their continued happiness, health and success of their business.

Finally the couple took leave much pleased with the special attention and grace bestowed on them by the Aacharya.

Thereafter there was a steady stream of devotees with humble offerings – they too received the kind Aacharya’s blessings and were offered fruits as prasadam’s. But none was spoken to like it was with the merchant couple.

At a point, the sishya could see the Aacharya had tired out. He brought the session to a close and helped the Aacharya retire to his place – a small room with a cot.

On the way, the Aacharya making an effort said to the sishya: ‘You don’t look your usual self – something on your mind?’

The sishya shook his head in polite negation.

‘I can read it – you’re bothered by my attention to the rich merchant couple? I’ve been observing you since morning.’

The sishya looked on silently averting the eyes of his Aacharya.

Lying down slowly on his rope cot, the Aacharya continued: ‘Yes, Rs 50,000 is a generous contribution. While neither you nor I, sanyasi’s (renounced normal worldly life), are interested personally, it’s certainly a happy situation to be in – you probably saw me perking up on hearing it – gives us, as instruments of the almighty, a little more elbow-room in helping the needy. Needless to tell you money to us per se is like dew drops on a lotus leaf, ready to be rolled off any moment.’

‘Now, coming to the part of my praying for their well-being – this probably bothers you the most…’ the Aacharya paused to catch his breath: ‘He’s probably employing a hundred or more employees in his stores. And is likely to employ more in his new venture, especially the poor weavers rendered redundant by machines. His success means livelihood to so many of these people. When I pray for his success as promised, actually I pray for the well-being of a hundred and more of his employees. I’m sure you’ve no problems with that…’

Turning on his side, away from the sishya, he muffled a weak yawn: ‘Also, perhaps, you did not hear me advising him to treat his employees fairly and generally be charitable with his wealth…I could’ve done more with them, you thought…or, may be less?’

Silence…punctuated only by his labored breathing.

It was clear there wasn’t much more to be said. The sishya stepped out noiselessly closing the door behind him.

 End

Source: A snap from TheHindu.com of the venerable late 45th Azhagiyasingar of Ahobila Mutt used here as a real-life Aacharya’s and is in no other way linked to the post.

A Poser On Charity

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At the end of a discourse on charity, the guru called his sishya’s (pupils) and asked them what would they ask Mahalakshmi (Goddess of Wealth) if she were to appear before them.

The first sishya: ‘Guruji, I would ask for a lot of wealth so I can help the poor and needy.’

The second sishya had more to ask: ‘One never knows one’s mind for sure, especially after coming into possession of wealth. So I would ask for lot of wealth and along with it the will to give it away to others.’

His companion, the third sishya, thought different: ‘If we are wishing well for others, I prefer to remove myself altogether and would pray to Mahalakshmi to grace them directly with enough.’

The fourth sishya differed: ’My prayer would be for them to have enough wealth, but they would earn it by their efforts.’

The guru smiled and walked away leaving them behind to debate among themselves the wisdom of their views.

End

A Tale Of Two Guru’s

There was this Raja passing through the forest with his an entourage of loyal courtiers and bodyguards.

When they reached a clearance, they saw a small low-roofed hut. And a holy man meditating in the front, lost to the world.

The Raja decided to stop.

A sishya (disciple) rushed out of the hut on hearing the commotion outside. Seeing the Raja approaching the hut, he hurriedly brought a straw mat and laid it out a little away from the holy man for the Raja to sit.

A senior courtier saw this and signaled to someone at the back. Quickly a high seat was improvised upon which the Raja settled down comfortably.

After a period of silence, the nervous sishya ventured to say his guru had entered meditation not long before and it was quite uncertain when he would emerge from his spell.

The Raja got up and paced up and down wondering if he should go now and return later.

Just then the courtiers were startled to see ripe mangoes rain down from a small tamarind tree under which they were standing.

It was a man up in the tree who was then ordered to come down by the Raja’s men, his sack tearing at the seams.

Quite shaken, he managed to get it out he was no thief nor did he intend any mischief. He was new in these parts. And carrying some fruits with him. On seeing the holy-man, he felt the urge to make him an offering of the fruits he carried.

‘If you are not a thief, why were you hiding in the tree? Were you worried our Raja will take away your fruits? Fool, only fruits from the royal orchard enter the royal kitchen. And not any mongrel stuff.’

‘It’s not that…and I wasn’t hiding…’ he sounded a little hurt.

‘Then?’

‘I’m an illiterate man, not familiar with propriety of conduct in your land.’

The courtiers waited for him to proceed.

‘And today it left me vexed when I saw the Raja take his seat. The inversion of heights around here is new to me. Though I learnt quickly, the problem remained – that’s when I saw this lone tamarind tree where I could wait to make my offering. There was no better solution available under the circumstances.’

‘What was your problem?’

‘Don’t you understand? If the Raja of all this land is humble enough to place himself on a high seat before the venerable guruji, how am I as an ordinary man of no accomplishment, going to find a seat elevated enough for my station in life?’

To the consternation of his courtiers, the Raja stopped pacing and unhurriedly settled himself on the mat waiting on the guruji.

End

Man Is Unique…On Grounds Of Compassion

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It was one of those times when the sishya (disciple) felt free to air his doubts.

‘Guruji, if god created man why has man not inherited traits of god just as I’ve taken after my father? Why is he not like god? God is omnipotent, omnipresent, omniscient…while man is not…’

‘Let me tell you a short story. Hope you’ll find your answer.’

“  

One evening there was this man, a poor beggar, going about the streets of Kashi. Perhaps someone who came in search of peace and enlightenment and did not wish to return – Kashi, a city with a hoary past, did that to many.

As he footed the affluent section of the city where the rich merchants trading in silk resided, seeking food, doors were slammed on his face with a look of annoyance.

On the streets housing the workmen and artisans, and also those engaged in religious activities serving the steady inflow of pilgrims – here too he drew a blank.

Now with nowhere else to go, he headed towards the ghats of the river Ganges.

On the way past a garbage dump there was an old leper with visibly advanced affliction readying his dinner spread. Whatever he had managed to collect as alms, he made equal portions for his dog and himself. Just when he was on his first morsel of food, the leper froze seeing the haggard face.

The leper beckoned him to his side: ‘Stranger, come here. Have this – you look bad. Well, it’s not much…might help in refreshing yourself a little.’

The man took a little bit from the outstretched misshapen hand.

‘Know me?’

The leper shrugged: ’How does it matter who you’re? First eat and then talk.’

‘Do you know who I’m?’ the voice was raised a notch.

A certain firmness perceived in the voice made him look up. Was he from the local constabulary in mufti sent to evict him?

Taking a while, ‘You must be Vishwanatha.’ (the presiding deity in Kashi who, it was believed, took rounds of the city from time to time)

He gasped: ‘What makes you say that?’

‘Who else would readily take food without a hint of aversion from a disfigured discard?’

‘It’ll be a sin to deprive you of your food, my friend. Pray, do not worry about me. I’ll find mine.’

The man walked away quietly without looking back.

‘Have you got your answer now?’

‘Yes, Guruji. Seeing his compassion, the leper likened the man to god. So it must be compassion that man has inherited from his creator.’

‘Let me finish – there’s a little more to the story:’

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When he woke up next morning the leper realized he was right about Vishwanatha (Lord Shiva); mercifully, he was cured.’

‘Now what do you make of it?’

‘mmm’

‘My guru provided me an added perspective: God when he is god is just and severe – he lets the laws of Karma prevail remorselessly, to each according to his deeds. His compassion shows only when he manifests as human or, most likely, when he works through one. Could we then say compassion is a trait unique to man?’

It set the sishya thinking.

The guru smiled – he had done his job for the day.

 

End

Seeded from: Heard on MegaTV in a patti-manram program reported by TR Sathya at facebook.com/tr.sathya.3

The Guru Has A Question

The Sishya (disciple) thought aloud: ‘The world is being torn apart by geography, race, gender, culture, religion, language, economic disparity, etc. etc. Strangely these forces unite people at one level and pit them against one another on a larger canvas. Of these religion intended to uplift the mankind seems to be most perniciously divisive.’

‘You’re right,’ concurred the Guru. ‘Religion – every one of them – claims god of its own. And the gods seem to be fighting a proxy war for supremacy through their overzealous faithful on this earth!’

‘That’s an awful thing to say about the gods…er…I mean about the god.’

‘You know what I think? It could well be that the gods already have a truce up there and for fun kept it from them down here.’

‘Watch what you say – you may get hauled up for profanity.’

I’ve just this to ask of the believers:  If you’re the children of a god, omnipotent, omniscient and omnipresent, and just and loving, what about them? I mean the others, the multitude, whom you fiercely despise, coerce or even coax. A defective production batch off your god’s factory, to be mended?’

End