If spiritual life is to become meaningful, there must be love in our heart. Love, said Vivekananda, opens the most impossible gates (CW 3. 225). Spiritual life begins in the real sense only when the heart’s gate opens to receive the Divine. The key to this gate is love. Love is Holy Mother’s second gift to the spiritual seeker. (Her “first” gift—hope—was discussed earlier.)
In spite of all the talk of love the world over, love is one thing that is least understood. Vedanta’s idea of love is radically different from what the word means to most of us. There is a passage in the Bṛhadāraṇyaka Upaniṣad (2.4.5) which gives a new perspective on the idea of love:
न वा अरे पत्यु: कामाय पति: प्रियो भवति, आत्मनस्तु कामाय पति: प्रियो भवति । न वा अरे जायायै कामाय जाया प्रिया भवति, आत्मनस्तु कामाय जाया प्रिया भवति ।... न वा अरे वित्तस्य कामाय वित्तं प्रियं भवति, आत्मनस्तु कामाय वित्तं प्रियं भवति ।... न वा अरे सर्वस्य कामाय सर्वं प्रियं भवति, आत्मनस्तु कामाय सर्वं प्रियं भवति ।
“It is not for the sake of the husband, my dear, that he is loved, but for one’s own sake that he is loved. It is not for the sake of the wife, my dear, that she is loved, but for one’s own sake that she is loved… It is not for the sake of wealth, my dear, that it is loved, but for one’s own sake that it is loved… It is not for the sake of all, my dear, that all is loved, but for one’s own sake that it is loved.”
The repetition of the phrase “for one’s own sake” is quite distressing at first sight. Is there nothing but self-interest at the back of love in this world? Is that how Vedanta looks at it? In his book Spiritualizing Everyday Life (p. 15), this is what Swami Ashokananda says:
“It sounds hard and cynical to interpret human relationship in such terms. But if you go on analyzing your motive, you will find that even though it may not be grossly selfish, it is fundamentally selfish all the same. When a wife loves her husband fully, unselfishly, we honor such love and it is to be honored. But even then, philosophically speaking, self-interest is involved. This self gets something; some artha—meaning, or significance—is derived from that love. Without this significance the relationship would be untenable. A woman would not look at a man unless some value were realized by her in that person. That is true of every relationship. It is true even of the relationship between a perceiver and the material object he is perceiving. When you are looking at a mountain, or looking at the sky, or at a piece of stone, there is some significance, some need which is being satisfied or realized in the perceiving. I would give it the simple name of self-interest. Such self-interest may be all right in a lower state, but compared with the truth it is still a deluded state. Why should you seek any significance when all significance is already within you?”
That is the Vedanta position: All significance is already within us. Every one of us is in reality the Self—free, immortal, one without-a-second. Commenting on the Upanishadic passage, Śrī Śaṅkara says:
आत्मप्रीति-साधनत्वात् गौणी अन्यत्र प्रीति: आत्मन्येव मुख्या ।
Ātmaprīti-sādhanatvāt gauṇī anyatra prītiḥ, ātmani-eva mukhyā.
“Our love for other objects is secondary, since they contribute to the pleasure of the Self (ātman) and our love for the Self alone is primary.”
That is why even our love out of self-interest is really our unconscious love for the ātman. Vivekananda’s rendering of this Upanishadic passage therefore runs as follows:
“It is not for the sake of the husband that the wife loves the husband, but for the sake of the ātman that she loves the husband, because she loves the Self. None loves the wife for the sake of the wife; but it is because one loves the Self that one loves the wife…None loves wealth on account of the wealth; but because one loves the Self, therefore one loves wealth… None loves a thing for that thing’s sake; but it is for the Self that one loves it.” (CW 2. 416-17)
The picture becomes clearer. In the lowest sense of the word, love is a product of self-interest. But this is the lower self, which is only a pale shadow of the real Self (ātman). At present we haven’t become conscious of our true nature as the ātman. The infinite love for the ātman is manifesting unconsciously through its shadow and so it appears evil. Swamiji’s explanation is simple. Those that love without knowing the ātman, their love is selfishness at its worst and enlightened self-interest at its best. By “enlightened self-interest” I mean the willingness to sacrifice for others and be unselfish only so long as it does not affect one’s own self-interest. But those who love with the knowledge of the ātman, their love is free (CW 2. 417).
“Every time we particularize an object [Swamiji explains], we differentiate it from the Self. I am trying to love a woman; as soon as that woman is particularized, she is separated from the ātman, and my love for her will not be eternal, but will end in grief. But as soon as I see that woman as the ātman, that love becomes perfect and will never suffer. So with everything; as soon as you are attached to anything in the universe, detaching it from the universe as a whole, from the ātman, there comes a reaction. With everything that we love outside the Self, grief and misery will be the result. If we enjoy everything in the Self, and as the Self, no misery or reaction will come. This is perfect bliss.” (CW 2. 418)
Now we are in a position to understand to some extent Vedanta’s idea of love. Love is not emotion, it is power. It takes the form of emotion only when it is projected through an unawakened, imperfect and impure mind. Love as emotion binds. It takes away our freedom, and sooner or later produces grief and misery all around.
In itself love is simply power. When this power is projected through an awakened and pure mind, it leads to unity, freedom and unalloyed joy. The ātman is the source of all power and hence of love too. In the ignorant, the ātman is, as it were, sleeping. It needs to be “roused to self-conscious activity” (CW 3. 193). When it becomes “awakened,” love emerges from it spontaneously and fills the mind with ineffable bliss. We remain immersed in the bliss of the Self. We becomes, in the language of Vedanta, ātmārāma. Swami Vivekananda used to call Sri Ramakrishna’s reliquary “Ātmārāma’s Kauṭa.” Kauṭa in Bengali means “casket.”
The Muṇḍaka Upaniṣad (3.1.4) describes those who have attained this state as “reveling in the Self” (ātmakrīḍah) or “delighting in the Self” (ātmaratiḥ). The lotus of their life blooms and they become centers of tremendous power and attraction. Everyone loves them because they love the ātman, their true Self. How paradoxical—we may think—that those immersed in their own Self should command the love of all! But this is not a paradoxical situation at all. Those who are enlightened know that the Self is one, and in loving one’s own true Self, we are really loving all. Even when we are apparently loving “others,” we do so because we see in them nothing but our own Self. This is a wonderful state indeed. Vedanta teachers say that real love is possible only in this state.
What is the nature of this love? First, it is universal. It recognizes no distinctions. Second, it is fearless. Third, it seeks no return of any kind. It takes the form of unconditional giving. Fourth, it produces no misery or anxiety or jealousy. Fifth, it is grounded in purity. Sixth, it is an irresistible power which transforms the one who is loved.
It is in Holy Mother’s life that all these characteristics of true love are manifested fully and abundantly. The reason is obvious. Holy Mother was ātmārāma. She lived on a plane where everything was a play of the Divine. She loved everyone, no matter whether the recipient of her love was Swami Saradananda, a disciple of Sri Ramakrishna and her attendant, or it was Amjad, a Muslim cultivator who was also a part-time thief. She loved the young revolutionaries who were engaged in the freedom struggle of India, but that did not stop her from admitting that the British were also her children.
Her love was fearless too. She blessed many young freedom-fighters with spiritual initiation (mantra-dīkṣā) and protected them often from the ruthless hands of the law which was bent on crushing all quest for political freedom. She loved the dacoit couple who blocked her way at night in the fields of Telo-bhelo. She addressed them as her “father” and “mother,” and they could not but respond by looking after her as their daughter. It was not as a part of strategy to save herself that young Sarada became their daughter. It was the inexhaustible store of love in her being that simply could not be stopped from flooding every heart that came before her. It was not her fear of the dacoits that made her love them. It was her fearlessness that did it. Fear can never produce love. True love sprouts only when fear vanishes. Even to love God, fear of God must vanish. In the beginning such fear may be tolerable, even lauded, but one must transcend it as early as possible. The test of holiness is not that we are God-fearing but that we become God-loving.
At Dakshineswar, Mother befriended and loved a woman who had led an indisciplined life in her youth, notwithstanding the danger of such association Sri Ramakrishna had brought to her attention. Mother was fearless. She knew her powers, her strength—and there was no question of restraining the great Mother-heart which wanted to envelop the whole world by its all-encompassing love.
It is the duty of the mother to give and it is the duty of a child to receive. Therein lies the test of true motherhood. A true mother always gives with no thought of return. Holy Mother demonstrated through her life the true mother’s love. She did everything for her devotee-children, but not once did she ask anything of them or expect them to do anything for her. After Sri Ramakrishna’s mahāsamādhi, Mother had to spend the days in dire poverty at Kamarpukur. The devotees in Calcutta knew nothing about the difficulties she was passing through. If Mother had sent just a word to them, they would have rushed to the place and made all arrangements for her comfortable stay. But Holy Mother was born to give, not to receive and beg. She didn’t seek anyone’s help. But without her knowledge a maidservant who used to keep her company at night spoke to the villagers about Mother’s plight, the word spread and the Calcutta devotees came to know the real state of affairs and they brought her over to Calcutta.
Because Mother’s love was unconditional and undemanding, she was absolutely free from misery, anxiety, jealousy, envy—familiar traits in all ordinary varieties of love we see around us. Mother lived and moved about with “a pitcher of overflowing bliss”permanently installed in her heart. Her awakened Mother-heart was grounded in purity, and that was the secret why her love was inexhaustible, unparalleled and tremendously powerful. It was impossible to be in her presence and not be won over by her love. Entire lives were changed for the better through her love.
Mother’s Temple (facing the Ganga) in Belur Math
Love, then, is the second gift of Holy Mother to her children. She gave this love unstintingly during her lifetime, and she is continuing to give it to everyone even today through her inspiring life and teachings. After her mahāsamādhi, and cremation at Belur Math (where her temple now stands), the atmosphere had become sad and gloomy. Swami Shivananda then told the assembled monks and novices:
“Where will Mother go leaving her children? She has not gone anywhere. She is now all-pervading. Previously, when she was in one place, we had to take the trouble to go and see her. Now we need not go anywhere. Wherever we may be, if we pray to her with devotion, we will receive her grace and see her.”
Mother’s grace enters into our lives in the form of hope and love. Life ceases to be an adventure with an uncertain end. We become hopeful of achieving the goal of life. With the onset of hope, love sprouts. Seeing Holy Mother’s life and her love, we become charged with love ourselves—love for the ideal, love for Sri Ramakrishna, Mother, Swamiji, love for our “neighbor”—and our neighbor is not only the one who stays next-door but also the one who is next to next-door, and the one next to that, ad infinitum. Love recognizes no boundaries. It envelopes all and everyone into one infinite whole. Just as an iron piece gets magnetized whenever it enters a powerful magnetic field, whoever enters the powerful, charismatic spiritual field of Holy Mother gets charged with hope and love.
The Christian triad of Theological Virtues — Faith, Hope, and Love — find a striking parallel here. Mother is the embodiment of Faith. The Devī-māhātmyam (5.50) points this out very clearly:
या देवी सर्वभूतेषु श्रद्धारूपेण संस्थिता ।
Yā devī sarva-bhūteṣu śraddhā-rūpeṇa saṁsthitā.
“The Devī dwells in all beings in the form of faith.”
From Mother as faith personified, emerges hope which matures into love. The highest expression of love is unification (CW 7. 30). We become united with the Supreme Being for ever.
When faith dawns in the heart, it is only a question of time before hope and then love make their appearance. This is almost a universal pattern observed in the life of every pilgrim on the spiritual path. What Holy Mother does is to speed up the process.
The journey is long, difficult—like “walking on a razor’s edge” (Kaṭha Upaniṣad 1.3.14). Mother shows us that we are not lonely. Everytime we feel tired or discouraged, or whenever we tumble down a little, there’s someone we can call upon—someone called Mother. She is there near us always. All we need to do is to remember that. All wounds get healed up, all weariness disappears, all discouraging thoughts vanish by just one loving, tender glance from Mother’s eyes. When she sees our earnestness, zeal and enthusiasm for truth, she plants hope in our hearts, which grows up in time into a mighty banyan of love, under whose shade anyone may come and find peace.
We don’t have to wait passively for Mother’s gifts. We must force our will upon her. That’s what children do. They weep and wail, plead and pester their mother to give them what they need. Mother wants us to do it. There’s no fun in giving children what they’re not interested in. Nor will Mother give it to us if she sees that our interest is just half-hearted. If we haven’t become sufficiently hungry for her gifts yet, she’ll wait until we do. She loves to see her children surrounding her and demanding—yes, demanding, not begging—their heritage. Let us not give up until she relents—and relent she will, no doubt about it.