Wednesday, July 29, is Guru Purnima for Hindus, Buddhists and Jains. It celebrates the birthday of Vedavyasa, the birth of Buddhism and the day Bhagvan Mahavira initiated his first disciple, Gautam Swami. It occurs on the purnima or full moon of the Indian lunar month of Asadh (June-July). Called Asadh Puja in Buddhism, it commemorates Sakyamuni’s first discourse, delivered to his first five disciples at Sarnath, near Kashi, the first preaching of the Four Noble Truths and the Eightfold Path and the establishment of the Triple Gems—the Buddha, Dharma and Sangha—with the formation of Buddhism’s first monastic community. The wheel on our tricolour recalls this sermon, which came to be called the Dharma Chakra Pravartana, or setting in motion the wheel of dharma.
Every Indian who went to school knows this, but it’s delightful to recall it together. One of the Buddha’s most valuable teachings is called Maranasati or mindfulness of death. Sounds morbid? Not at all, if taken in the right spirit. An awareness of death, since anything born must die, is actually helpful in the better living of life, said the Buddha.
Practitioners aver that it makes us appreciate the simple joys of existence, frees us from worries like ‘what next’ and ‘how long will I live’, and liberates us to live a kind, happy, helpful life, instead of chasing endlessly after a better car, a better house, a better job and more and more money in the bank.
Adi Shankara said so, too, in his immortal Bhaja Govindam: ‘Mā kuru dhana jana yauvana garvaṃ, harati nimeṣātkālaḥ sarvam/ Māyāmayamidam akhilaṃ hitvā, brahmapadam tvaṃ praviśa viditvā’, meaning ‘Do not boast or take pride in your wealth (dhana), your friends/family/followers (jana) or your youth (yauvana). Because time (kālaḥ) sweeps it all away in an instant (nimeṣāt). Let go, seek the Divine.’
If you’re acquainted with the Tiruppugazh, the Tamil devotional compositions to Lord Murugan by Arunagiri Nathar from the 15th century, you’ll know the exquisite poem that goes: ‘Thamarum amarum manaiyum iniya dhanamum arasum ayalaga/ Tharukan marali murugu kayiru talaiyai valaiya eriyadhe’, meaning, ‘Relatives, companions, household life, sweet wealth and power are all temporary and will eventually leave us/ Before the rope of death (Lord Yama’s) approaches and binds us’.
Every philosopher, saint and guru in India has gone hoarse telling us this, each in their way, about ‘mindfulness of death’. But from the time we are children, we are put under enormous pressure to be productive and achieve. It is understandable because our parents and well-wishers don’t want to see us poor. Avvaiyaar, the ancient poet known as ‘Tamizh Thaai’ or ‘Tamil Mother’, says categorically that poverty is one of the worst forms of human suffering, ranking it alongside disease and dependence. In her legendary philosophical dialogue with Lord Murugan, Avvaiyar sets forth the hierarchy of hardship: Poverty is hard to bear. Poverty in youth is even harder. An incurable disease is worse than poverty. A faithless or loveless partner is worse still. Having to depend for food on someone who dislikes you is the hardest and most painful state of all.
Which parents would want their children to suffer that? And so, the pressure builds and builds. Some of us may take some very wrong turns, and tragically, some kill themselves rather than face life’s challenges. But, says every philosopher, saint and guru in one steady, consistent voice down the ages, we have a moral choice at every step in our lives. The right path or the wrong path? The wrong path may yield short-term gains, but at what cost? Every good thing we do adds to the collective virtue of society. Every bad thing we do, be it cheating, road rage or theft, adds to vice in society and spoils the overall atmosphere from which we, too, will suffer. But freedom from anxiety, if taught as a meditation practice across homes and both private and public institutions, may actually impact the rampant corruption in India that is the cause of exam paper leaks among other crimes.
Which is why the concept of Maranasati or mindfulness of death makes so much sense in daily life. Some of us might become deeply aware of the fragility of life only when attending a funeral. It’s called ‘shamshaan gyan’ or ‘cremation knowledge’. Some of us may realise this only after a near-death experience or severe illness. But why should we wait for a terminal diagnosis to change?
Attachment, say both Sanatana and Baudha dharma, is the root cause of suffering. To counter this, Maranasati meditation can be practised in our daily life through deliberate awareness. One way is by telling ourselves that mindfulness of death means living and doing as if one's life depends on the single breath being drawn right now. And checking in on our mind frequently to assess if there’s anything we wish we’d already done were we suddenly to die. That can be a great way to kill procrastination, and jog us to write that mail, make that call, clear up our bank matters, register that will and finish those big or little personal projects. It may sound like no big deal, but it’s the biggest deal of all—to check in on ourselves instead of filling our heads with endless noise from the phone, laptop and TV because we’re not used to our own company, and are scared of looking at our thoughts. But, see, a glorious company of sages is on our side to take us through it all.
Renuka Narayanan | FAITHLINE | Senior journalist
(Views are personal)
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