Historical fulfilment of spiritual debts
Andal Jayanti 2024 was on August 7. Ramanuja, the profoundly influential 11th-12th century Vaishnava saint, was himself influenced by the 8th century girl-saint Andal, sharing her creed of intimate personal devotion to Vishnu. It marked a popular shift from Adi Shankara’s ancient philosophy of Advaita or non-dualism, which held that ‘every living soul or jivatma is part of the supersoul, the all-pervading impersonal Paramatma’. But the human need to love a ‘face’ proved overpowering and Ramanuja modified Shankara’s Advaita to Visishtadvaita or qualified dualism—that while a devoted human soul can attain the supersoul, it is subservient to it, who is Vishnu. To know more, we must go back to a morning in 11th-century Tamil Nadu.
The temple of Srirangam rose monumentally in the early dawn on its island between the Kaveri and Kollidam. A chorus of young girls entered, singing songs composed by Andal. A group of Vaishnava ascetics listened in deep spiritual pleasure as the girls sang Andal’s vivid poems of her longing to merge her soul in Vishnu. Tears began to flow down the cheeks of their leader, Ramanuja. He had made his own bold journey of love for Vishnu. Born in the temple town of Sriperumbudur, he was taught the powerful eight-syllable mahamantra ‘Om Namo Narayanaya’ by his guru. The spell merely appeared to state, ‘I praise Lord Vishnu’. But its vibrations had an immensely empowering effect. Only a spiritually evolved guru could impart this mystic mantra, and only to a pupil who was worthy.
But what had Ramanuja done with this treasure? He had dashed up the gateway of a nearby temple, climbed perilously to the top and proclaimed the mahamantra aloud for all to hear. “It belongs to everyone. God belongs to everyone. Don’t you see, it must be shared,” he had argued afterwards and gone his way, attracting a growing band of disciples as he travelled the land speaking of Vishnu-love, inspiring men of all castes to participate in renovating old Vishnu temples and building new ones.
“It was the story of Andal that made me see the light,” said Ramanuja as the girls went by. “How can I ever repay her? She lived over 300 years before I was born. But see how her love lives on.”
Ramanuja and his disciples went to a place called Yadavadri, where they stayed in retreat for some time before returning to Srirangam, which pulled Ramanuja to it as a mother would draw her child close. On the way, he stopped at the village of Vrishabhachala to worship Vishnu at his temple there. This was the very place where Andal had prayed, “O Lord Hari, if you will accept me, I will offer you a hundred pots of sweet rice pudding and a hundred pots of pure white butter.”
Andal had been found out soon after by her saintly father, in an act of vanity. She had begun wearing the garland of flowers she wove every day for Vishnu before giving it to her father to offer in worship. Her father had spotted a long black hair caught in the flowers. But Vishnu appeared in a dream to him and absolved Andal, saying it was her love that made her wear his garland. One day, Andal had gone to Srirangam temple, touched Vishnu’s feet there, swung herself up to sit on them and disappeared.
The old priest at Vrishabhachala recalled the girl-saint’s promise to Ramanuja and it struck him that this was the perfect way to repay his spiritual debt to Andal. He would keep her promise for her. Such was Ramanuja’s stature that he had barely spoken the thought aloud when the old priest sprang up and rang the temple bell.
“The Yatiraj, king of ascetics, wishes to offer a hundred pots of sweet rice pudding and a hundred pots of butter to keep Andal’s promise made here long ago, at your own temple. What do you say?” asked the old priest of his flock. A roar of approval was his answer.
Some days later, looking at the rows of earthen pots of offerings, Ramanuja felt a great joy in his heart. Although it had happened centuries later, Andal’s wistful promise had been kept.
Ramanuja and his disciples went on to Srivilliputhur, Andal’s birthplace. He was startled that every single person encountered there called him ‘elder brother’.
It was when he went to the temple built to consecrate Andal that the mystery was solved. A band of girls escorted by their mothers accosted him, beaming, as he entered the temple. “So, you have come, elder brother, to receive the thanks of your little sister!” they exclaimed affectionately. The news had raced ahead of him from Vrishabachala to Srivilliputhur.
Ramanuja was left in communion with the idol of Andal dressed as a bride. “Welcome, elder brother,” he heard a merry, young voice say in his heart. “You may have been born years after me, but I went away when I was just a little girl. You, as a man grown, have fulfilled my promise out of loving sympathy. You may have been named after Sri Rama’s younger brother. But you are, in fact, Andal’s elder brother, the one she never had—until now.”
Ramanuja’s eyes overflowed and he sat for a long while thinking tender thoughts of God and his ‘little sister’. A sanyasi had to renounce all earthly relationships when he took the vow of renunciation. But in place of those, he seemed to find purer bonds with another family, those liberated by their shared love of God.
Ramanuja got up and bade Andal farewell. With the easy strides of a man at perfect peace with himself, he set off with his followers on the walk home to Srirangam.
(Views are personal)
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Renuka Narayanan