death beyond death. 81
for a long time yet. And if some sadhuteaches the children the three Rs and the
adults how to make their lives a little happier and wider, is that not worth some food?
Would a schoolteacher, who knows so much less and has so much less inspiration,
and hardly any enthusiasm, teach in village after village for no more than some rice
and dal? No, BrahmacariRamachandra, don’t be perturbed by secularism; our work
is more secular than that of paid teachers. Even if it were not, even if we did just sit
and meditate, we should do no wrong—and if people don’t feed us, well, we shall
not survive as an order, nor perhaps as individuals. A day may well come when there
will be no ochre robes in this land. There are many great people in this country who
would welcome such a day. But what does that bother us? Each one must go his way.
You cannot prescribe interests, and you cannot forbid interests. If you do, you are a
tyrant.”
The Swami taught me the etiquette of the mendicant: the poise he must develop
in his dealings with other monks and with the laity, the kind of virtues he must build
up to make a success of renunciation—patience, forbearance, and a sense of humor
in the face of physical hardship. The instructions were numerous. At one point I felt
I should take a few notes, but Vifvananda waved the idea away: “Don’t write these
things down; that wouldn’t help you. They will come back to your mind as you
need them. You don’t need all these instructions at once; you need them for partic-
ular situations. Why, at times you will have to put up a show of anger, though calm-
ness is a permanent discipline for the monk. There are no hard-and-fast rules that
apply to all situations, and there are none for critical hours: then your own wisdom
must decide.”
It must have been around six in the evening, and Swami Vifvananda was about
to dismiss me, but as I got ready to retire, he said in a somewhat casual tone, “There
is one thing which you will do well to remember. I shall take you as a full sannyasi
after midnight tonight; others, similarly inclined, will too. But there will be very
many who will not take your sannyasa seriously. There will be the orthodox, whom
your learning and your renunciation will not impress in the least. You are not enti-
tled to sannyasa; you are no Brahmin by birth. You have known this story for some
time, and you have spent the last two days experiencing it in your own body. Maybe
you will grow in spiritual stature to such an extent that some who will not accept you
now will accept you later. But very many will never accept you, even if you were
the adiguru incarnate. Do not mind this too much, even when it hurts. Set up a cri-
terion for yourself: the minimum criterion of the Scripture. What is the minimum
criterion? ‘Having renounced the desire for wealth, for sons, the fear of social op-
probrium and the love of social approval, they sally forth, begging their food.’ This