Who
are the spectators for
this huge film called Life? Who is the Director who so ably directs
the actors that they forget themselves and merge so seamlessly into
the skin of their characters?
I
suppose every character is
dear to a dedicated director; every single one of them, not only the
Lead, is precious to the director; and, at the end of their part when
the actors shed their costume and resume their real selves, the
Director and Her peers, perhaps give a standing ovation.
Shrish
Maharaj has left the stage; his merry mannerisms with hints of
boisterousness and his hearty accents are still ringing in my memory.
It
seems that our extravagant Director does not care to keep copies of
films. It is a pity that we do not have good copies of such priceless
acting but it seems the capricious Boss does not like our lives' sloppy, loopy, spools of reels rolling round and round forever and
ever. She lets the scenes play out in the minds of people and allows
them to fade away as She sets up fresh characters at a fast and
furious pace.
But
oh, not yet; let me
reflect on this Character a little more while;
He
was fifty plus and I was twenty plus when I first met him. I had
heard of his reputation as a good artist (painting) and I think I had
already seen some of his paintings. Two of the well-known
pictures of his are his portraits of the Holy Mother, one in the
dining hall of Belur Math and the other at the entrance of Aroghya
Bhavan. He must have done more than one hundred paintings. He
confined himself to delineating the forms of the Holy Trio only and
even in that, he took a conscious decision to portray only the
standard photographs of Sri Ramakrishna, Mother and Swami
Vivekananda.
In
the Ramakrishna Mission, fortunately
or unfortunately, in general, a monk is allowed to ride his
hobbyhorse only if he does some standard routine work in a
satisfactory manner. He was working under Swami Madhavananda and he
went on to work under his successor Swami Vireshwarananda, who was
perhaps midway in the process of getting into the skin of an
unflappable strong boss Character. Once when Shrish Maharaj pointed out
some minor mistake in a statement made by Swami Vireshwarananda, it irked the later. Shrish Maharaj told me that he had made the
correction in a rater peremptory manner and that tone had annoyed
Vireshwarananda. Though Shrish Maharaj must have tried later to
be duly deferential in his ways, I think his ‘on your face’ style
never fully left him; and why should it, we may ask; when the
script-writer and the Director have given him his Character, let him
stick to it, we would say and, yes, he basically stuck to it and they
seemed to have accepted him as he was and also provided some ample
space for his hobbyhorse to amble on; with great reluctance and at a
very late age did he dismount his horse; he was attempting at
painting even at a very advanced age, when he was limping and
dragging his picture stands behind him. He has left quite a few
unfinished pictures. I hope they are in proper care and custody. His
finished paintings too would be preserved well, I hope.
He
would try to get people to do little errands for him, like clearing
up a corner of his cluttered room, or move a picture from here to
there, etc. I was one of such occasional
errand boys. When I was not in a position or mood to do anything for
him I used to give a wide berth to his room and even that part of the
Aroghya Bhavan where his room was, for he would be lying in lay to
catch a potential passer-by.
Once
a good doctor
prescribed cycle riding for him, a sort of special cycle meant for
some particular physiotherapy; for many minutes this old monk drove
around fast and furious all over the campus in glee. He joked about
the possibility of plunging, zing, into the Ganga and about how
lovely it would be; I think I was reminded about the monk about whom
Nivedita heard Swamiji talk of, one who was so overwhelmed when he
beheld a sublime, picture-perfect scenery at a Himalayan top that he
just plunged down into it. Shrish Maharaj must have talked this way
to a few more people and the next day he was divested of his cycle
and was back to his picturesque limping style of walk. That walk
needs a mention, by the way. He used to walk with two sticks and drag
his feet slowly and would have made a good talking companion to any
adventurous tortoise willing to listen. He straddled around the Math
campus in this regal fashion for quite some years. Then when he
entered into Aroghya Bhavan, he mostly conducted his forays confined
within his wheel chair, except for that brief flash of cycling
therapy.
But
he did keep walking, as often as he could, to
one place very near Aroghya Bhavan. There is a mango tree before
entering the Karmi Bhavan; it has a platform, now in broken condition
(well, that was how it was the last time I saw it about a year back).
There is a step to climb onto it. One evening as he emerged out from
the Aroghya Bhavan he called out to me and when I went near him, he
put his arm on me and limped towards the tree using my shoulders as
his prop. When he was about to climb atop the platform, I protested a
bit, asking why he should trouble himself in this way. He asked me to
climb up and see for myself and I saw a sight, which later I have
shown to many scores of sightseers. It was a sight to behold. I started
calling this place the Door Darshan Point. You needed to be at this
point either before sunrise or anytime after sunset but before the
temple closes. (Unfortunately, about two years back I found a rude
and abrupt boundary wall entirely blocking out the sight; I hope
something is done about it)
He
showed me the Holiest of Holies. It was my great pleasure while I was
residing at Belur Math to show it to many more – monks and some
devotees – and get pleased beholding their joy at the sight they beheld.
Hari
Om Ramakrishna
Swami Umanathananda ji (Shrish Maharaj) passed away on 2 January 2014 at 3.45 am at Seva Pratishthan. He was 88. Cremation was at Belur Math in the afternoon of 2 January 2014 starting at 12.15 pm.
