The Tyagis

My new friend Abhimanyu invited me to visit a group of Sadhus, who are Hindu ascetics. Abhimanyu told me this group, known as Tyagis, was dedicated to a life of contemplation and promoting education to villagers.

Even though I had a built-in resistance to the Sadhus, I was impressed by what I experienced. These Tyagis had renounced all worldly goods. They begged in the mornings and ate only what they could receive in the palm of their hands. They did not stay in one place. When seeking food for sustenance, they did not seek money nor accept it, if offered

The evening of my visit, the Tyagis sat in a group and chanted. How beautiful that I did not understand the words, as my brain would have started analyzing, losing the beauty. The chanters were not in unison, nor did they care; they were beyond that.

“Why this chanting?” I asked one of the Sadhus standing outside of the group.

Looking at me from head to toe, he calmly replied, “To achieve God consciousness, one does not need wealth, status, intelligence or education. The path to God consciousness is Bhakti (devotion).”

“Then, how does one acquire Bhakti?” I asked.

He told me there were nine steps, then listed them in order: (1) Keep good company; (2) Love God; (3) Learn devotedly from your teacher, with full faith; (4) Worship without any personal demands; (5) Chant the songs of worship with full faith; (6) Achieve victory over the five senses and renounce the fruits of one’s efforts; (7) See God in everything; (8) Learn from the teachings of the saints who have come before; and (9) With great humility, renounce worldly goods and depend on God, not concerning yourself with the illusionary opposites of pain and pleasure.

 “Anyone who practices even one of these steps with full faith and devotion will get closer to God consciousness,” he added. ”Through our chanting, we are participating in the fifth step.”

“What made you become a Sadhu?” I asked.

“I must have been one in my last life but must not have finished my work. A mango only grows out of a mango seed. One must have the necessary past to become a Sadhu. Even though we are all exposed to the same knowledge, like rain falling on a slope, only depressed areas collect water,” he said.

I wanted to learn more. After the chanting concluded, I asked to be taken to the leader of the group and I asked him to teach me meditation. Humble and soft spoken, the leader asked me to come back the following day. I was so touched that I returned the next evening. Again, I was told to return the following evening. The third time I returned, the group leader asked, “What is your aim for meditation?”

“To control my internal dialogue, so that I can be in tune with myself,” I answered.

“Do you meditate now?” he inquired.

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I internally chant the sound AUM.”

He then suggested that we meditate together. I immediately felt in tune with him. After a few minutes, he asked if I was getting a mental picture of the sound AUM.

“No,” I said.

“When you inhale, mentally chant AUM. When you pause between the inhale and the exhale, visualize the AUM in the center of your eyes above your nose,” he said, as he pointed at his forehead. “As you exhale, mentally repeat AUM. When you inhale and exhale, be fully conscious of your breathing and realize that THAT IS YOU.”

He asked me to practice again with him. “There is no magic in doing meditation,” he said. “Follow any method that suits you best. You can mentally hold the image of any deity, but do it consistently and with faith.”

Once our session was over, I wished I had come to Ujjain a week earlier and spent the entire time at the Tyagis camp. Despite my initial disdain for the Sadhus, I now considered this man to be my idol. I could imagine myself as a renunciant. Perhaps after ten years I could renounce all worldly goods and promote education—maybe. The Tyagis’ emphasis on education is what had drawn me to them. In that brief encounter, I left a piece of my heart and found another part of my totality.