Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna Lecture 160 on 24-March-2026
Full Transcript (Not Corrected)
Opening Invocation
OM JANANIM SHARADAM DEVIM RAMAKRISHNAM JAGADGURUM PAHADAPADMETAYOH SRIDHVA PRANAMAMI MUHURMUHU
ओम् जननीम् शर्दाम् देवेम् रामक्रिष्णम् जगत् गुरुम् पादपत्मे तयोस्रित्वा प्रणमामि मुहुरु मुहु
The Context: Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa Among the Brahmo Devotees
Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa was talking with Brahmo devotees. There was a great devotee called Veni Mādhav, who had arranged, many times, the annual Brahmo festival. Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa used to attend. Why was he attending? Because the very purpose for which God had come down is dharma-sthāpanā — the establishment of dharma. That is the message.
The Three Meanings of Dharma
As we discussed earlier, the word dharma has three meanings.
The first meaning of dharma is your own nature. That is the most important message of every avatāra. Only if I know that I am divine does the question arise: "How come I have forgotten my divinity, and how can I gain it back?" That would then become the goal of life.
The second meaning of dharma is to find out where I am — only then can I check where I am going and how I have to move forward from wherever I am. That is the very first step. For that purpose, I have to look around: Who am I? Where am I? In which family? What are my tendencies, saṃskāras? What is the best path suited for me?
The third meaning of dharma is that according to my capacities — which I myself have developed through saṃskāras — I might be a devotee, I might be a jñānī, I might be a yogī, or I might be a karma yogī. All these divisions come from this.
Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa is going to talk about these things very soon, in this very class. So let us keep these three meanings clearly in mind.
The Symbolism of the Mahābhārata
When Kṛṣṇa Bhagavān was warning Arjuna, he said: "You have forgotten your dharma." When we study the Mahābhārata, we get marvellous insights into this.
Yudhiṣṭhira sent a message through Kṛṣṇa: "Even if you are not willing to share the kingdom with us, just give five villages — one for each of our brothers." But Duryodhana refused. Arjuna and Bhīma, however, had taken a vow: "We will drink the blood of Duḥśāsana, kill Karṇa — they insulted us." And yet that very Arjuna is saying on the battlefield: "For whose sake we are about to lose our very lives — I do not feel like fighting." The symbolical meaning is that we have forgotten: we are born to fight. Fight what? It is a saṃgrāma — a warfare between the good and the evil.
In the Bṛhadāraṇyaka Upaniṣad, at the very beginning of the third section, we saw that Prajāpati had two types of children: those who are Gods — very few — and those who are demons — plenty of them. What is the symbolism? Very few good people can be found in this world. And "evil" doesn't always mean, according to Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa's teaching, a person who is actively and thoughtlessly harming everybody — robbing, killing, stealing. That is the worst type. According to Vedānta, a person who forgets "I am coming from God and I have to go to God" — he who forgets and goes on playing like a child in this world, clinging to possessions, thinking "I and mine" — that is called evilness. That is called adharma. All our Purāṇas are full of these symbolic significances; we have to understand them.
Svāmi Vivekānanda gave three lectures on the Gītā, and in the very first lecture he says: the very first verse of the Bhagavad Gītā is an indication. "Dharmakṣetre" — this is a field where we can develop dharma and know that we are God.
The Will of God Behind All Events
So the very purpose of an avatāra is to fulfil these three needs of dharma. Coming back to the Mahābhārata: Kṛṣṇa went as a peace ambassador and addressed Duryodhana in such a way that there was absolutely no chance of peace at all. If Duryodhana was even briefly thinking, "Maybe we will yield a little bit of the kingdom" — that thought was squashed by Bhagavān by the way he addressed him. Of course Duryodhana said, "I will not give as little space as can accommodate the tip of a needle."
But then what is the most important point? It is not what the Pāṇḍavas think. It is not what the Kauravas think. It is what Bhagavān had decided to do. In the 11th chapter of the Gītā, Bhagavān Kṛṣṇa is answering Arjuna's bewilderment. Arjuna says, "I cannot recognise you. Why?" Because: "I am an individual and you are universal." The moment one says "You are universal," the individual cannot exist. "I do not have any existence." We go on using words: "O God, you are infinite and I am praying to you." My dear sir, if God is infinite, who is praying to whom? Do I exist to pray to you? People rarely stop to think what they are doing.
That is why there is a hymn attributed to Vedavyāsa. It says: "O Lord, forgive me for committing three transgressions. What is the first one? Knowing you are everywhere, I went on a pilgrimage. Knowing that you are beyond thought and beyond speech, I went on hymning you, doing stotras. Knowing that you are beyond mind, I was trying to meditate upon you through my mind. For these three transgressions, please forgive me." What a beautiful Vedāntic teaching, expressed even in the most ordinary type of stotra.
And even when we are talking about Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa — Hṛdaya-kamala-madhye rājitaṃ nirvikalpaṃ, sat-asat-akhila-vedātītam ekasvarūpam, prakṛti-vikṛti-śūnyaṃ nityam ānandamūrtiṃ, vimala-paramahaṃsaṃ rāmakṛṣṇaṃ bhajāmahe — what a marvellous stotra that is.
So what is the point we have to remember? Everything that was going on, is going on, and will be going on, is the will of God. The wars that are going on now — it is not the American president, it is not the Iranian president, it is the Divine Mother's will. And everything that she does is for the good of all of us. No mother will ever knowingly harm any one of her children. An ordinary mother can harm her children because she is not all-knowing. But the Divine Mother knows everything — our past, present, and future. Whatever she does is for the good. If only we can accept it with faith and adjust our lives accordingly, we will be blessed.
The Ocean of Saṃsāra and the Jīvanmukta
So Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa is continuing from our last class. People used to say in olden days that no boat returns after having once entered the black waters of the ocean — kālapāṇī. What are these black waters? That is, once one becomes identified with Brahman. This saṃsāra is compared to an ocean. And once we go beyond this saṃsāra, what remains? Only sāra remains — there is no sam. What is that sāra? Only the Divine Mother, only Īśvara, only Brahman.
Once a person enters, his "I" will not be there. But by God's grace, if God manifests in that body and mind, we call that person Jīvanmukta. A Jīvanmukta never says, "I am a Jīvanmukta." There is no living and no dead for a Jīvanmukta. Birth and death, ignorance and illumination — these are meaningless terms for a Jīvanmukta. But he has to talk in the way that grown-ups talk to children: "There is a God and he is watching you. If you do not behave properly, you are going to be punished." Mothers in the olden times would show the moon to get a child to eat: "If you don't eat this food, uncle will get angry with you, will not allow you to play — and if you want to play, you have to eat as quickly as possible." All these words are like that.
The boat — what is the boat? This body-mind is the boat through which we are given the opportunity of crossing this ocean of saṃsāra. But once we enter the black waters — once we become completely one with the Divine, knowing there is no Brahman separate from me, knowing I am that Brahman — all trouble and botheration come to an end. When the "I" dies, that is called entering the black waters. You may indulge in thousands of reasonings, but still the "I" does not disappear.
For people like you and me — look at how Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa is saying this — for you and me, it is good to have the feeling: "I am a lover of God."
Saguṇa and Nirguṇa Brahman: Correcting the Brahmos
Not only that, Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa is illuminating these Brahmo devotees, who used to feel: "We are not like Hindus. We are worshippers of Nirākāra Brahman." And Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa is correcting that. No — Saguṇa Brahman is meant for the bhaktas, the devotees. A bhakta believes that God has attributes and reveals himself as a person assuming forms — as many names, as many forms, and with special guṇas, special qualities. And it is He who listens to our prayers.
As I said, however many times I talk, I cannot fully express how deeply Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa's words contain the meanings of the Upaniṣads. He says: "It is the Saguṇa Brahman who listens to our prayers." Some jñānīs go to the stupid length of saying, "Saguṇa Brahman himself is bound. He cannot give liberation." How these fellows are trapped in their own words! A few seconds before, the same person will say that Saguṇa Brahman — who is called Īśvara — is the lord of Māyā. So, if Īśvara is the master of Māyā, can he not say to Māyā, "You slave, do not trouble this child of mine"? These people say Saguṇa Brahman cannot give mukti. Anyway, God enjoys all these līlās — ignorance and everything else like that.
Nirākāra Brahman cannot listen — why? Because He doesn't have ears, doesn't have eyes, doesn't have nostrils, doesn't have a tongue, doesn't have skin. Who is going to listen? But that is not the meaning. The meaning is: who is there to listen to whom? Nirguṇa Brahman knows: "I am everything. Satyam, Jñānam — and there is nobody besides me." These are all descriptions from the human understanding point of view. When you are in deep sleep, do you say, "I am so happy because I am deeply asleep"? When do you say it? Only after you wake up.
But Rāmakṛṣṇa is not only encouraging, but also instructing: "Correct your understanding about God. The prayers that you utter are directed to Him alone." What prayers? Listen to the Brahmo prayers: "You are Nirguṇa, you are Nirākāra, you are Nirviśeṣa, you are beyond description." So you are saying God is beyond description and going on describing how He is beyond description. How far can this go? So Rāmakṛṣṇa is cautioning them: "The prayers that you utter are directed to Him alone. You are bhaktas — not jñānīs or Vedāntins."
Rāmakṛṣṇa is very emphatic: "Your devotees — why are they not jñānīs?" Suppose a Brahmo devotee is listening to Rāmakṛṣṇa, and suddenly turns his back and starts talking with somebody else. Is that not an insult? When somebody is looking at you and talking to you, and you turn your back — any person who reacts to that with hurt emotion, is he a jñānī or is he a person of attachment?
The Weeping Child: Longing for God
"The prayers that you utter are directed to Him alone. You are bhaktas." Bhakta means bhakti. Bhakti means emotion. Emotion means your feelings. "You are not jñānīs."
There was an incident: once somebody came and reported to Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa, "Such and such a person is criticising you." Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa was highly delighted. "What? He is thinking of me? That is called Vedānta — pure Vedānta."
"It doesn't matter whether you accept God with form or not." Remember, on the very first meeting with M, Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa asks: "Do you like God with form or without form?" And immediately M, influenced by Brahmo ideas, says: "I like God without form." Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa corrects him very gently and says, "Can you meditate on God without form?" Later on, M hangs his head and says: "No sir, I am not able to meditate." "Then is it not easier for you to meditate upon God with form?" "Yes." "That is why I am telling you — first practise concentration. When you are capable of concentrating on smaller things, you will acquire more capacity to concentrate on deeper, more abstract things. From the concrete to the abstract."
But really speaking, what we call Nirākāra Nirguṇa Brahman is only a thought in the mind. The real Nirguṇa Brahman is beyond all thought.
"It doesn't matter whether we accept God with form or not. It is enough to feel that God is a person who listens to our prayers, who creates, preserves and destroys the universe, and who is endowed with infinite power. This is a wonderful idea." God is there. He knows everything. He is bestowing His grace upon me. If I pray to Him, I can get relief. That is enough.
Can We See God?
A Brahmo devotee asks: "Sir, is it possible for me to see God? If so, why can't we see Him?" What a wonderful question. Recall the Bhagavad Gītā, 11th chapter: Arjuna says, "You have described your glories in the 10th chapter. I have full faith — whatever came out of your mouth is absolute truth. Now can I see You?" Immediately Bhagavān Kṛṣṇa answers: "You cannot see me with these human eyes. I will give you a spiritual eye." What is the spiritual eye? The capacity to understand higher things — that is called Divya Cakṣu. Only a spiritual person can understand spiritual matters. A scientist can understand scientific matters. A musician can understand matters of music.
So, can one see God? Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa says: "Yes, He can surely be seen. One can see His forms and His formless aspect as well."
How can one explain that? How is one going to explain how the formless aspect really looks like? Once, M himself asks Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa: "Sir, can you not describe to me the formless aspect of God?" — and we do not find the answer in the Gospel. Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa talks about something else, and the reader wonders why he did not answer. But we have to understand — Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa cannot talk of that in that way. He must have given the answer to M at some other time, privately and alone, not in public.
Now, in this connection — I am repeating what I have spoken many times — you cannot describe God. You cannot describe anything in this world to anybody who has not experienced it. Suppose you have eaten bitter gourd, and there are people who do not know what bitter gourd is, who have never tasted bitter. Try to describe what bitter gourd is to that person. It is impossible. The nearest you can say is: "It doesn't produce any liking. You don't feel like eating it a second time." Is that a description? No. It is only to say that the experience is there.
The same thing Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa gives in different ways and under different contexts. A small girl — her eldest sister had got married, and the youngest girl asked, "Didi, what type of pleasure do you enjoy with your husband?" Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa himself gives this description: "When you grow up and get married and experience it personally, then you will understand. Until that time, there is no way." When you eat a nice piece of jaggery — how it tastes — it is like that. The nearest we can say is: when you eat a first-class sweet, do you feel happy? One feels very happy at this experience. That is not making you understand what the thing itself is — it is only a hint. You will have to think in this way. That is all.
So, God can be seen. How is Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa so sure? Because he is talking from his own experience. And then the question is: why can't we see Him?
Weeping for God: The Child and the Mother
"Do you want to see?" That is the counter-question. "Do you really want to see?"
Here, Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa gives the answer. A Brahmo devotee puts a question: "What are the means by which one can see God? Sir, you are saying God can be seen — now tell me what is the way."
Master: "Can you weep for Him with intense longing of heart? Men shed a jugful of tears for the sake of their children, for their wives, or for money. But who weeps for God? So long as the child remains engrossed with its toys, the mother looks after her cooking and other household duties. But when the child no longer relishes the toys, it throws them aside and yells for its mother. Then the mother takes the rice pot down from the hearth, runs in haste, and takes the child in her arms."
Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa was born in a village, a rural atmosphere — he must have seen all these things. The mother is cooking, the child is playing nearby. And then a time comes — the child feels very hungry and is no longer interested in its toys. It starts crying. It knows only crying. And what does the mother do? The mother understands: "My child is hungry from playing — I will have to feed him immediately." Whatever she is doing, she sets it down and runs.
A marvellous description of how the gopīs were longing to meet Bhagavān Kṛṣṇa is graphically presented to us in the tenth chapter of the Bhāgavatam — the Rāsa-pañcādhyāyī, five chapters. The gopīs were longing to meet Kṛṣṇa alone. Most significant words: they were seeing Kṛṣṇa all the time, but they wanted to be with him alone — that is, as near as possible. This is called Upāsanā — Contemplation — becoming one with God. And that is what happens in the end. It is not a silly rock-and-roll dance. It is Nirvikalpa Samādhi, where each one becomes completely absorbed. There is no gopī and Kṛṣṇa — they become merged. That is the inner significance.
So they prayed to Mother Kātyāyanī. The symbolism is too deep. If you want to have bhakti, you have to pray to the Divine Mother: "O Mother, reduce my attachment to duties. Make my mind understand that everything is temporary and only God is real and permanent. Unless you graciously grant that understanding, we cannot really understand it by our own efforts."
So these people prayed to the Divine Mother in the form of Mother Kātyāyanī. And Bhagavān Kṛṣṇa — who is none other than Kātyāyanī — says: "Through whichever path a man approaches me, I also receive him. You are joyous thinking of me as Kṛṣṇa — I will come to you as Kṛṣṇa. You want to think of me as Rāma — I will come to you as Rāma. As Jesus — I will come to you as Jesus. Whichever form, the most beloved form."
There was a very revealing incident. Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa was staying at Balarāma Basu's house and the joy of the devotees was not containable. Then Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa looked here and there and hinted: "There is a devotee called Gopāl's mother — she will enjoy it very much. You invite her." Immediately Balarāma Basu sent a carriage to Kāmārhāṭi, three miles away from Dakṣiṇeśvar. Because Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa's words are divine commandments — kariṣye vacanaṃ tava — "I will do whatever you command me to do."
Meanwhile Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa was enjoying the gathering. The carriage went, it took some time, then it brought Gopāl's mother. Now, what is the chosen deity of Gopāl's mother? A crawling Kṛṣṇa — baby Kṛṣṇa. Meanwhile, sensing her nearness, Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa had gone into a very peculiar state — thinking that might please Gopāl's mother. But as soon as she came, she said: "What is this? I see your body has become very stiff like a wooden image. I don't like this form." Every devotee likes to see God in their own chosen form — what is called Iṣṭa Devatā.
That is what Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa is going to tell us. God can assume any form — as if you have made your mind into a mould and God enters that mould. Kṛṣṇa is a mould. Rāma is a mould. Nārāyaṇa is a mould. Durgā is a mould. Jesus Christ is a mould. And sometimes some devotees, through intense meditation, even have their physical body transformed. It is said that Saint Francis had developed stigmata by meditating on the cross.
So that is called real weeping for God. Men shed a jugful of tears for the sake of families, for money — things which have nothing to do with the soul. But who weeps for God?
As soon as the child reaches that state of mind — "I don't want anything in this world, I want only my mother to take me up in her arms and feed me, that is all" — then the mother runs, takes the rice pot down from the hearth, and takes the child in her arms.
Rāmakṛṣṇa is telling: "Can you weep like that child for the vision of God?" No, we cannot. And then Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa is also teaching indirectly: the child only knows how to cry. The child cannot run to the mother — the mother has to run to the child.
God Runs to the Devotee: The Story of Gajendra
That is why, when we study the story of Gajendra in the Bhāgavatam — an elephant king who was caught by the crocodile of Māyā — he says: "O Nārāyaṇa, I have battled for a long time. Now I am sinking. I have no strength left. You will have to come and rescue me." And immediately God came rushing down. He who was invisible now became visible because of the longing of the devotee.
In the Purāṇic story, Garuḍa is the vāhana — the vehicle. What is the duty of Garuḍa? He carries God whenever a devotee prays longingly. And that is why Garuḍa is not merely a bird — Garuḍa is called Guru. The Guru is one who carries God in his heart. We cannot go to God, but the Guru — like Hanumān — can cross the ocean and also come back. So he went and gave the message to Mother Sītā: "Do not worry. Happy days are going to come very soon. Rāma knows everything. You are absolutely fearless. Do not worry." Rāma's grace comes to you in the form of the Guru, which is Hanumān.
And after receiving the Guru's assurance, one knows: God is looking after me. If somebody can convince us — "God is looking after me" — how can we worry after that? He knows where I am. He knows how I am. And very soon He is going to cross the ocean — the ocean of Māyā. He can cross it and come back. I cannot cross it. So He will come and He will take me along with Him. That is why Hanumān built the bridge. He who builds the bridge between the Jīvātmā and the Paramātmā is called a Guru.
We cannot go to God — why? From the Vedāntic point of view, you can go to God only if God is separate from you and sitting somewhere. But when God is everywhere, where is the question of our going to God or God coming to us? Kabīr Dās had composed a beautiful song: "Moko kahāṃ ḍhūṃḍhhere bande, maiṃ to tere pās meṃ hūṃ" — "O fool, where are you searching for me? I am all the time with you." And what he did not say — because the listener would not have understood — is: "I am not with you. I am you. You think you are separate from me. I know you do not exist. Only I exist." So He has to come running to us.
The Question of God's Many Forms and Faiths
So the Brahmo devotee is putting beautiful questions on our behalf: "Sir, why are there so many different opinions about the nature of God? Some say God has form, while others say He is formless. Again, those who speak of God with forms tell us about His different forms. Why all this controversy?"
Really, in those days, Vaiṣṇavas, Śāktas, Śaivas, then Christians wanting to convert, and earlier the Muslims — all were saying to one another: "Your religion is bad. Your temples are all idol worship. Look at us — we do not worship any idol." So they replaced Allāh with the Mullāh — whatever the Mullāh says becomes the word of God. That is what is going on in the wars.
So Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa explains all this to the devotee: "If the devotee only realises Him somehow..." But you have not set your foot even in that direction — how can you expect to know all about God? Rāmakṛṣṇa is chiding the devotee: "Your question looks like a marvellous question. But first of all, you are not honest. Secondly, you do not have even the basic desire: 'I want to go to God.'"
The Story of the Chameleon
So Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa, in his inimitable way — which surpasses even Kavi Kālidāsa in the power of illustration — starts telling this story.
Once a man entered a wood and saw a small animal on a tree. He came back and told another man: "I have seen a creature of a beautiful red colour on a certain tree." The second man replied: "When I went to the wood, I also saw that animal. But why do you call it red? It is green." Another man who was present contradicted them both and insisted that the animal was yellow. Presently others arrived and contended that it was grey, violet, blue, and so on. At last, they started quarrelling among themselves.
That is the present state everywhere. Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa had come to reconcile this — to declare that God is one, and people call Him by various names. He gave the beautiful analogy of a lake. People require water, and some call it pāni, some call it water, some call it jal, some call it aqua — but everybody wants only one thing: to quench their thirst. And we are all thirsty people — thirsty for life, thirsty for knowledge, thirsty for happiness. God can fulfil all three.
So, to settle the dispute in the story, they all went to the tree. There they saw a man sitting under it. Who is this man? A man who is always sitting there — like the Kalpavṛkṣa, the wish-fulfilling tree — he is a man of God. On being asked, he replied: "Yes, I live under this tree and I know the animal very well. All your descriptions are true." Yāvati matī, tāvatī gati — as many faiths, so many paths. "All your descriptions are true. Sometimes it appears red, sometimes yellow, and at other times blue, violet, grey, and so forth. It is a chameleon. And sometimes — this is important — it has no colour at all. Now it has colour, now it has none." So Īśvara is Sākāra and Nirākāra.
"In like manner, one who constantly dwells on God can know His real nature. He alone knows that God reveals Himself to seekers in various forms and aspects." As quoted earlier: "He who adores me and contemplates on me according to his liking — he is also coming to me, and I also, to please him, assume that particular form and bless him. But everybody is coming to me, and I receive everybody who is sincere."
"Only the man who lives under the tree knows that the chameleon can appear in various colours — and he knows further that the animal at times has no colour at all — Nirākāra. It is the others who suffer from the agony of futile argument."
Kabīr Dās and the Iṣṭa Devatā
Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa was familiar with Kabīr Dās. How was he familiar? When Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa was very young, many followers of Kabīr Dās — some of them called Udāsīs — used to stay at the dharmśālā, the pilgrim rest house at Kāmārpukur. The villagers were very loving and generous and used to supply food for them. Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa used to discern who was a real sannyāsī and who was a fake sannyāsī. He used to avoid the fake ones and mix with the real ones — and these people adored Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa. They used to experience an indescribable joy in his presence — like the 64,000 Ṛṣis who experienced an indescribable joy when Śrī Rāma entered into the Daṇḍakāraṇya. Until that time, they had never experienced it. If you are meditating on Nirākāra, you may experience nothing. If you meditate on Sākāra, you will get joy. So those wandering saints taught him many Hindi songs — a sort of Hindi, not chaste Hindi; even Tulasīdāsa's Hindi is not chaste Hindi, but the Avadhī language they used.
Kabīr Dās was a jñānī, but he was a great bhakta also. How do we know? He was an abandoned child found by a childless Muslim couple, who brought him up thinking Allāh had granted them a boon. But he was born with those saṃskāras. When he grew up, he found out there was one Svāmī Rāmānanda — a great saint. Kabīr Dās chose him: "This Rāmānanda Svāmī will be my Guru." He approached Rāmānanda Svāmī. Rāmānanda refused to initiate him — not because he was from a Muslim family, but because in those days, Muslims were powerful. They wanted to convert everybody into Islam. Nobody could convert from Islam to another religion — the punishment for apostasy was death. So, not wanting to provoke communal quarrels, Rāmānanda Svāmī avoided.
But Kabīr Dās said: "Don't worry. I have chosen you. I will get the mantra from you — squeeze the mantra from you." Now, Svāmī Rāmānanda had a wonderful habit: every morning at 3 o'clock, he would go to the Gaṅgā at Vārāṇasī for bathing. Kabīr Dās, observing this for a few days — noting exactly which steps Rāmānanda used and where he placed his feet — one early morning laid himself down on one of those steps. Rāmānanda Svāmī, perhaps old and not with the sharpest eyesight in the pre-dawn darkness, stepped squarely on the body of Kabīr Dās. Immediately understanding it was a human body, he exclaimed: "Rāma Rāma!" Kabīr Dās said: "Thank you very much for initiating me into the Rāma mantra."
What you have to appreciate is how much faith he had: "From your mouth I heard Rāma Rāma, and specifically you addressed me — so you are my Guru." This created a lot of controversy even in those days.
The Principle of Iṣṭa Devatā
So Rāmakṛṣṇa is explaining that God reveals Himself in the form which His devotee loves most. The Iṣṭa Devatā Siddhānta — the principle of the chosen deity — is very important.
Rāmakṛṣṇa himself quotes: when Śrī Rāma remembered Garuḍa, Garuḍa came. But Garuḍa's Iṣṭa Devatā is Nārāyaṇa — the four-armed Catur-bhuji Nārāyaṇa. So to please Garuḍa, Rāma assumed the form of Nārāyaṇa, talked for some time, blessed him, and sent him away — and then resumed the form of Rāma. Meanwhile Hanumān was fidgeting — look at Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa's powers of description — he was not happy. Then Śrī Rāma smilingly asked: "Hanumān, you know that I am Rāma, I am Kṛṣṇa — why are you fidgeting?" Then Hanumān replies in the most marvellous verse — this is Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa's teaching expressed in the form of a śloka:
"Śrī-nātha" means the form of Nārāyaṇa. "Janakī-nātha" is Rāma's form. "I know very well they are the same reality. Even then, I cherish only Rāmaḥ kamala-locanaḥ — the lotus-eyed Rāma alone I want to behold."
But Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa doesn't stop there. He says: once Śrī Rāma asked Hanumān, "How do you look upon me?" Then comes that famous verse which resolves all problems:
"When I think I am the body, You are the Master, I am Your servant. When I happen to think that I am a Jīvātmā — a part of You, separate from You — You are my Lord and I am a part of You: I am the part, You are the whole. But when I know from the viewpoint of Ātman — I am Ātman, You are Ātman — there is no difference at all. You are me and I am You. There is no doubt about it."
Through this verse, Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa is trying to teach that everybody is only adoring the Infinite. Since it is Infinite, infinite are the paths. Whichever direction you turn, it is only God — there is nothing else.
God's Love Knows No Bounds
And then Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa says something wonderful: God's love for the devotee knows no bounds. It is written in the Purāṇa that God assumed the form of Rāma for His heroic devotee Hanumān.
The forms and aspects of God disappear when one discriminates in accordance with the Vedānta philosophy — neti neti. But with this, a final admonition: we have to understand that spiritual progress does not work by jumping from the first floor to the seventh floor. You will have to painfully climb from the lowest staircase, reach the first floor, then climb to the second, then the third. Every step, every struggling step, is a terrible war between my love for God and Māyā, which is trying to pull me down.
But what we have discussed is that everything reflects God's love, which knows no bounds. Why? The children may quarrel with the mother, but the mother cannot quarrel — because the children think "I am different, my brothers and sisters are different," but the mother knows: "They are all my children, and they are ignorant." And if an ordinary mother can behave like that, what about the Divine Mother who has assumed all these forms?
Closing Prayer
Om Jānānāṃ Śāradāṃ Devīṃ Rāmakṛṣṇaṃ Jagadgurum
Pada Padme Tayo Śṛtvā Praṇamāmi Muhur Muhuh
May Sri Ramakrishna, Holy Mother, and Swami Vivekananda bless us all with bhakti.
Jai Ramakrishna!