A short biography by John M Evans. Part 3

Of Shankara’s work we have many examples, much of it highly intellectual in nature. Modern scholarship, however, has resisted many of the texts of the popular kind attributed to Shankara. Hymns, songs, and slight tales do not fit the academics’ image of this uncompromising figure who sometimes takes on the mien of a dark, Protestant missionary. And yet the songs and stanzas reflect his thought despite the lilt. In India, they are the Word itself to many ordinary Vedantists.

The Bhaja Govindam is described as a manual of Advaita. It comprises thirty-one stanzas, of which Shankara is said to have composed the first twelve, the chorus and the final four. The remaining fourteen are attributed to each of his fourteen disciples.

According to tradition, the poem was provoked by an incident in the street when Shankara and his retinue were passing through Benares. He happened to hear an old pandit repeating the rules of grammar by rote. No doubt the pandit earned his living by teaching grammar and periodically picked up a few coins by reciting his knowledge in the streets.

Shankara saw nothing but futility in the exercise, especially for an old man of some accomplishment and learning.

‘Grammar rules will not help you at the time of death,’ he told the teacher. ‘While living, strive to realize the deathless state of purity and perfection.’

This was followed by the famous ‘bouquet’ of twelve stanzas, while his disciples composed one each. Finally, Shankara blessed the combined effort with four exquisite ’stanza-flowers.’

The whole work summarizes the philosophy of Advaita Vedanta and provides practical instruction for ears which are ready to hear. Swami Chinmayananda says of it, ‘Here the fundamentals of Vedanta are taught in simple, musical verses so that, even from early childhood, the children of the rishis can grow up amidst the melody of Advaita.’

The first two stanzas deal with wealth and passions, or rather the craving for both.

O Fool! Give up the thirst to possess wealth.
Create in your mind, devoid of passions,
thoughts of Reality …

Again and again in the non-dual religions there comes the injunction to concentrate on the reality of Being. It may be to meditate on consciousness as Brahman; the ‘guarding of the One’ of the Taoists; to keep awareness unwaveringly on the ‘I-thought’; or the mindfulness of the Buddha. This central concentration allows something else to act other than the grasping ego.

The other side of the coin is a deliberate surrender of the constant craving for wealth, possessions and outlets for the passions. It is impossible to give up these outward-going tendencies without finally resting in the unity of being. Conversely, it is not possible to concentrate on inner awareness and, at the same time, be buffeted by the swirling temptations of worldly forms.

Be content with the rewards of your actions.

This is a sentiment, linked with the Eastern view of karma, which has many antecedents in the spiritual literature of the world. ‘Take no heed for the morrow,’ which of course will take care of itself. And the dictum ‘As you sow, so shall you reap.’ But perhaps the closest to the meaning Shankara intends is found in the Bhagavad Gita.

Set thy heart upon thy work, but never on its
reward. Work not for a reward; but never cease to
do thy work. Do thy work in the peace of Yoga (unity of
Being) and, free from selfish desires, be not moved in
success or failure. Yoga is evenness of mind…

The Eastern perspective differs from the Western viewpoint in that it is not the possessions or objects of desire which are inherently wrong (the root of all evil), but the fact of the craving for them.

The beginning of the poem is very much concerned with the impermanence of bodily existence, one of the Buddha’s Three Signs of Being. Stanza four re-emphasizes this point.

The water-drop playing on a lotus petal has an
extremely uncertain existence; so also is life
ever unstable. Understand, the very world is consumed
by disease amd conceit, and is riddled with pangs.

Students of Tibetan lamas are sometimes asked to meditate in graveyards or over rotting corpses. Death is not shirked. It is the visible sign of corporeal instability.

Here, like the Buddha, Shankara pulls no punches. Understand impermanence, he says, and you will get to the heart of the matter. A seeker of enlightenment once heard a disciple of the Buddha explain his teachings as ‘Coming to be, ceasing to be.’ It was enough. He immediately attained the ‘Spotless Dharma Eye’ of the liberated man. The consequences of not comprehending this lesson are driven home in a later verse.

As long as there dwells breath in the body, so long
will they enquire of your welfare. Once the life
leaves, the body decays, even the wife fears that
very same body.

Gruesome, but clear. The poem continues for a while in the same vein, covering various attachments to the world and enjoining only one attachment — to Brahman, the Supreme.

Next: Shankara’s philosophy and method.

A short biography by John M Evans. Part 1

Followers of our recent series on early Zen masters (See Archives in the sidebar), may be interested in this new session of short biographies on masters of Advaita Vedanta in southern India. Advaita has many similarities with Zen.

In the dark, dissolute days of 8th Century India, the ancient religion of Hind was riven by faction and weakened through moral disintegration. Many Brahmin priests were openly corrupt. The traditional Vedic lore had degraded into superstition and was now a mere excuse for clerical power. Buddhism had spread across the sub-continent as the inheritor of Upanishadic purity and the disdainer of gods. It was time, many thought, for the healing balm of a unifying synthesis.

Shankara (c. 788-820) is perhaps the one Indian metaphysician who can claim comparison with Gautama Buddha in the influence he has had on the philosophy of his countrymen. Ostensibly, he lived for only thirty-two years. If that is so his achievement is the more remarkable. Today he is associated with the non-dual religious practices of Advaita Vedanta, which evolved from the Upanishads, a later development of the ancient Vedas hymn/scriptures.

Vedanta (meaning the end of the Vedas) is the basis for most modern Hindu thought. It has two separate, yet interlinked, offshoots, one a dualism known as Sankhya; and Advaita, meaning non-dual. Shankara was numbered in the latter camp.

Shankara is perhaps best known for his tale of the snake and the rope. This simple analogue depicts Brahman (the rope) and man’s illusory response to it (the snake).

The story begins with a man making his way through the jungle at dusk, hoping to reach home before dark. At this time there are many wild animal and insect sounds, even the the roar of a tiger and the almost-silent cheetah.

The man’s state of mind is far from tranquil. As his path approaches a large, shadowy banyan tree, he notices something dangling from one of the branches. This region is notorious for its many deadly cobras and puff adders. He freezes, hardly able to move. Behind him comes the sound of a big cat on the prowl. Caught between the two dangers he crouches beneath a nearby bush, shaking in terror, and certain that a horrible death awaits him that night.

As the dawn starts to break in the East, the first glimmers of light pick out the moist branches of the jungle canopy. The animal sounds have long since ceased and the birds are beginning to get about their business. Shivering with the cold, the man crawls out from beneath the bush scarcely knowing where he is. As he wearily raises his head, he notices a piece of rope hanging from an old banyan tree.

It seems that Shankara was fond of presenting his arguments in parable form, as had the Buddhists in the days before the Hindu revival. This particular story illustrates the Advaita view of the world — ‘God alone is real’ — which is very similar to Zen, by showing God (Brahman) as the rope, or reality, and the world as the snake, or delusion. The snake is what is technically known as a superimposition (adhyasa) caused by ignorance, which the frightened man projects onto the rope, thus veiling its true nature.

The upshot of this is that, while the snake is obviously not real, the rope certainly is. It is the true reality. The world (snake) is therefore a manifestation of the rope (Brahman), which can only be removed by a close enquiry into the existence of the snake. This enquiry reveals the absence of the snake and the presence of the rope.

Next : Part 2 — Shankara’s thought.