Chapter 1	The Faculty of Knowledge

The subject of today’s discourse is “The Faculty of Knowledge”. In the mechanical sphere, knowing, or the functional side of knowledge, occurs with the perception of special types of reflections and refractions, but in the psychic sphere, it occurs as a result of the subjectivization of objectivity or objectivities.

For example, if a particular type of vibration hits an object or plate it meets some resistance and may get reflected or refracted, as in the case of an echo; or a certain portion of the vibration may pass through the plate. In the mechanical stratum, knowledge, or the faculty of knowledge, is thus attained. But in the psychic stratum, knowledge involves the subjectivization of any external objectivity or objectivities. We take an external object inside ourselves, be it an elephant, a horse, a vocalized word, a touch, or anything else with which we come in contact in the outer world, and assimilate it in our psychic existential “I” feeling. This is the process of knowing – it is something related to the psychic sphere. So, knowledge has two aspects – first, the aspect of reflections and refractions, and secondly, the psychic aspect; that is, the process of attaining knowledge in the psychic sphere.

The word jiṋána (knowledge) is derived from the Sanskrit root verb jiṋá (to know). In very ancient Sanskrit, which is otherwise known as the Vedic language, this root verb jiṋá was not very popular. Perhaps you know – especially those of you who study philology, or deal with the science of phonetics and vocabulary – that a language in its infancy starts with a very limited vocabulary. Later, the more the community using this limited word-stock advances in different spheres of practical life, the more enriched the vocabulary becomes, but if that community lacks the will to advance, their vocabulary will not grow. The ancient Vedic language, which was originally spoken in central Russia by the Aryans, gradually developed as the Aryans moved from country to country, undergoing innumerable experiences and realizations as they went. The natural outcome was the enormous development of their vocabulary. In that ancient dialect, the root verb jiṋá was not in common use; another verb, vid, was used.

I have just said that as a community passes through various phases in different spheres of life, its collection of words simultaneously increases. The language of monkeys will serve as an example. It is a fact that monkeys have their own language. Among the different species of monkeys there are those who remain in the jungles and forests. As they hardly ever come in contact with human beings, they have little knowledge and few words in their stock, perhaps thirty to forty words. They do not need to create compound words; they manage well enough by uttering certain significant expressions using sounds such as kiun, kun, kin, kain. There is no necessity for them to formulate compound words by joining kiun and kun, for example, otherwise they would have done so, thus creating the compound word kiun-kun to give a new meaning. But there are a large number of words in the languages of those monkeys which live close to human habitation. They come in frequent contact with humans and are required to fight battles of wits (to escape death, for instance). Certain varieties of monkeys have, in fact, as many as seven hundred to eight hundred or even nine hundred words in their dialect. Of course, they do not have a codified dictionary. They acquired as many words as they needed to move in different domains. In the case of humans, very undeveloped communities such as the Zulus, the Pygmies and the Maoris have a very limited stock of words. On the other hand, there are certain languages which have enormous vocabularies of over 500,000 words, such as the Sanskrit, French, English and German languages. In Bengali there are about 125,000 words, and in Gujarati nearly 100,000. Other languages have less than 100,000 words in their vocabularies.

A community which develops in a particular environment creates an increasing number of words relating to that domain. For example, in Bengal, which is close to the sea, there is a particular type of sea-creature called timi (whale). In North India, where there is no sea nearby, the English word “whale” is more popular than the Bengali word timi. Again, another sea-creature, the lobster, has numerous synonyms such as galdá, bágdá, kuco, kádá, mocá, etc.; as so many varieties of lobster are available only in Bengal and not in North India, in North India the words are not in currency either. In the case of sharks, there are two words used in Bengali, háunar and kámat́. The one that inhabits rivers is called kámat́. In North India there is no salt water, and there is neither háunar nor kámat́. A shark that lives in the sea is called háunar, while the one living in a lake, [not] in a salt-water area, is known as kámat́. In English there is only one word to describe both, “shark”.

When the Aryans began to spread out in all directions from their original homeland, their vocabulary also began to develop and their language began to flourish. In ancient Sanskrit, even in Rgvedic Sanskrit, the vocabulary was very limited. The root verb vid became inadequate as it was discovered that there were various other ways of knowing. For example, one can gain knowledge by reading books, by listening to others, or by undergoing some kind of training, etc. Thus, knowing can be done in several ways. Long ago, when Bengal was a sovereign country, the military personnel who used to impart training to their recruits were nicknamed jáná. Even today there is a Bengali title jáná for those people whose forefathers were military officers. The verb vid, no doubt, meant knowing, but that did not carry the full import of what the speaker wanted to convey. To cite another example: previously, people would use the verb vid to describe both the farmer’s knowing when the harvest should be reaped, and the scholar’s discovery, after much research in his psychic laboratory, of a very intricate theory. The problem was, however, how to differentiate between these two types of knowledge. Hence, the root verb jiṋá was evolved in those ancient days, which meant subjectivization of objectivity in a mechanical way through reflections and refractions. The verb jiṋá invented by the ancient Aryans, was changed into keno in Old Latin language. In Sanskrit the pronunciation is jiṋá, in Bengali jiṋa, in the Rgvedic language jiṋa, in Old Latin keno, and in Modern English “know”. (As the original spelling of the word was “kenow”, we still spell the word with a “k” at the beginning without actually pronouncing it.) Those who learned the science of Tantra Yoga and Rája Yoga from Lord Shiva, cultivated the physical and psychic aspects of knowledge – the expressions and waves of vibrations. Consequently, the Shaivites became followers of the cult of knowledge (jiṋána márga) whereas the non-Shaivites became the followers of the cult of devotion (prapatti márga). You should know the difference between the two.

The first question that the jiṋána márgiis pose whenever they see an object, whether psychic or spiritual, is invariably, “What is this?” Their next question is, “What is its source or origin?” Then they proceed further along that line to another source of knowledge where both reflection and refraction end. That is, the mind of the inquirer reaches a point where it fails to comprehend that plate on which the processes of reflection and refraction operate. The point where the mind loses its capacity to analyse or compare further is the Supreme Point; and this is the Shaeva cult of knowledge. Judged in this light, Ananda Marga philosophy also supports the Shaeva cult as it strives for the further enrichment and advancement of the cult of knowledge. It encourages the development of intellect and wisdom, and thus motivates people to acquire more and more knowledge. This is a great boon for humanity, as the highest treasure of human beings, which distinguishes them from the other creatures, is their intellectual superiority. Had there been no intellect in humans to distinguish them from other creatures, there would be hardly any difference between humans and animals. Therefore, this philosophical consciousness, which can also be called “Ananda Marga consciousness”, will lead humanity to greater intellectuality. And the constant pursuit of intellectuality leads one to its furthest point, the place where intuition begins. Hence in the realm of spiritual practice, it is immensely helpful. The path of sádhaná is not devoid of intellect or intuition; rather it is based on intuition. It gives no scope for superstition or blind faith. Instead it facilitates the maximum all-round progress of humanity and the manifestation of the highest human excellence.

The other cult, the non-Shaeva cult, which I prefer to call prapatti márga, is said to have a serious defect: it hampers, at the very outset, the development of humanity. It states that whatever is happening in this universe is due to the Cosmic will, without which not even a single blade of grass can move. This doctrine is called prapattiváda. A jiṋána márgii says in refutation, “Well, it is a hundred percent true that nothing in this universe, not even a blade of grass, can move without His will. This is exactly what we wish to discover in jiṋána márga: that He desired it, and then the blade of grass moved. What is the harm if we want to find out how His desire causes everything to happen?” And here lies the difference between the two cults, and the superiority of the Shaeva cult over the non-Shaeva cult.

Chapter 2	The Faculty of Knowledge

Now a question arises: Is ordinary knowledge confined to the material level or to the abstract level, or is it partly material and partly abstract? At the same time yet another question may arise: If this ordinary knowledge is partly material and partly abstract, is there any extraordinary (superconscious) knowledge which is totally unrelated to the material body and exclusively associated with the abstract level? We shall try to answer these questions, one after the other.

The way in which one withdraws oneself from all worldly factors determines how the action of knowing takes place.

Yacchedváuṋmanasii prájiṋastadyacchejjiṋána átmani;
Jiṋánamátmani mahati niyacchettadyacchecchánta átmani.

[Wise persons first merge their indriyas into their citta, then their citta into aham, then aham into mahat, then mahat into jiivátmá, and finally their jiivátmá into Supreme Consciousness.]

A particular kind of vibration, be it of sound, touch, form, taste or smell, emitted from any material object, is carried to one of the indriyas or gateways of the organs. Suppose you have eaten tamarind, or some plums, or even a certain variety of pumpkin. All three are sour. Different parts of the tongue are sensitive to different types of taste. You feel that all three are sour, but the degree of sourness is not the same in all cases; there is a perceptible difference.

When you eat something sour, a vibration is created in the portion of the tongue which experiences taste. That vibration is then carried through the nervous system to the brain, where it leaves a kind of impression. Up to this point, the whole process is related to the material level, but in a very subtle way. The impression in the brain corresponds to a particular degree of sourness. You ate plums, tamarind and pumpkin and experienced three different types of impressions. Different impressions create different vibrations in the mind. The impression of the plum produces a particular kind of vibration, the tamarind another kind, and the pumpkin yet another. Suppose you ate a second plum, and again there was an impression in the brain – again there was a vibration in the mind. And then you remembered that you had experienced a similar vibration when you ate tamarind. The vibrations that were produced then, which are capable of being recreated later, and the impressions that were formulated in the brain, are collectively known as “memory”. After eating the second plum you also have a similar experience, and you remember eating plums, tamarind, pumpkin or hogplums. Now you experience two vibrations, two similar impressions, but yet they are not exactly alike. A distinction is made: the first plum you ate was more sour than the second one. In this way you form an idea about plums, their different varieties and varying degrees of sourness. Sometimes people recreate that vibration in their minds, drawing it from their memory, and enjoy its pleasurable effect. Greedy people recollect the tasty dishes they once relished and derive pleasure from that. Other people delight in feeding others. They offer rasagollás or sweets, and at the time of giving, imagine that their guest is enjoying the same delightful taste, the same sweet vibration from the rasagollás which they once relished when they ate them. A host feels mental satisfaction by imagining that the guest’s mind is full of those pleasing vibrations. The host wants the guest to enjoy more and more of those delightful vibrations, and therefore asks the guest to accept the offer of more rasagollás. So, one enjoys pleasure in two ways: first, by eating the delicious things; and secondly, by recollecting the pleasing vibrations enjoyed in the past while eating those very same delicacies.

The human mind has two contradictory inherent tendencies: one of acquisition, the other of sacrifice. The more one advances along the path of evolution, the more the second tendency, the spirit of sacrifice, becomes prominent. One wishes to share one’s mental pleasure with others. This is a very interesting aspect of human psychology.

Now, there are also gradations amongst sweets; all varieties of sweets are not equally sweet. There are variations in the degree of sweetness which is exactly what people relish most. While eating different sweets, people experience delightful variations from one sweet to another, and they perceive that the vibrations are somewhat similar but not identical. The sweet-maker understands this particular trait of human psychology and invents new varieties of sweets accordingly. The vibrations created in the mind are abstract, and the other vibrations are material.

The action of knowing occurs through the medium of sound, touch, taste, smell and form. Suppose one listens to something, say a sound representing ásoyárii rága. It is imprinted in the mind. Later that person listens to the same sound and is reminded of the similar vibrations previously experienced. Comparing the one rága (musical notes) with the other, one concludes that the latter is indeed ásoyárii rága. He or she may not know anything about music, but the mind already danced to that musical wave. The musical vibrations of the notes reached the ear’s membrane, hit it, passed through the auricular nerves and, on reaching the brain, left their imprint. So far the knowing process is confined to the material level, but when that same vibration creates a ripple in the mind, it comes within the scope of mental vibrations.

There are certain notations, both in instrumental music and in vocal music, which are very rhythmic. When these sounds strike the ear’s membrane they produce similar vibrations; concordant rhythmic vibrations are experienced. You may have noticed that whenever the members of an audience listen to rhythmic notes, whether from vocal or instrumental music, they move their legs. They do this unknowingly. The cause is that the rhythmic vibration produced in the mind strikes the [efferent] nerves. The vibration that made the mind dance is thus transmitted down to the nerves of the legs. Consequently, the mind is unconsciously causing the legs to move. This happens with everyone; some do it consciously, others unconsciously. Those who do it unconsciously stop the movement of their legs the moment they are aware that others are watching them. In the case of excessive joy or enthusiasm, the mind loses its control over the nerves. For example, suppose two football teams are playing a friendly match, and one of them enjoys your special support. Let us imagine that your favourite team is about to score a goal. At that moment of tense excitement, you will also move your legs, unconsciously of course. You may have noticed that sometimes in their dreams football fans cry out, “Goal! Goal!” jerking their legs and kicking those who are sleeping beside them.

By now you should have understood that a major part of the knowing process is material, and only a small part of it is abstract.

Basically, the mind performs two functions: thinking and memorizing. What is the process of memorizing? Suppose you heard a sound: that very sound leaves an imprint on your mind, and vibrates it. Now, if at a later date you can recreate a similar vibration, a replica of the original one, that is your memory.

Anubhútaviśayásampramośah smrtih [“The re-creation of things already perceived by the mind is called memory”].

The exact mental reproduction of what has been previously perceived is called smrti or memory. For instance, you once perceived an elephant by observing a real elephant and seeing its huge body, legs, eyes, ears, nose and trunk. The physical form of the elephant struck the retina of your eyes creating a vibration in your optical fluid, and was ultimately imprinted in your mind as the image of the elephant. Now some time later when you see an animal with the same type of limbs as those of your previously-perceived elephant, you immediately conclude that this animal must also be an elephant. Your conclusion is based on your previous perception. This is memory. When the memory becomes established, unfailing and spontaneous, it is called dhruvásmrti, or constant memory. Dhruvásmrti, or constant memory, is an essential prerequisite for spiritual samádhi or bliss.

Chapter 3	The Faculty of Knowledge

The subject of my discourse is “The Faculty of Knowledge”. The other day I said that knowledge is certainly an action which is exclusively confined neither to the material world nor to the abstract world. Rather, it is a happy blending of the physical and mental strata. The faculty of knowledge stems from anubhava or perception and reaches its highest point in the state of realization.

You can acquire knowledge about an elephant in various ways: either through ocular vision, or by hearing its trumpeting, or even by hearing its footsteps. In all cases, the result is the formation of a mental image of an elephant. In the next stage almost all of your psychic body is metamorphosed into that same mental elephant; only a microscopic portion of the mind remains as the witnessing entity.

Now, how does this happen? Whenever an action of knowing takes place within the arena of the mind, a portion of it plays the subjective role and another portion the objective role. The mind is divided into two chambers: the objective chamber which is formed from almost all the ectoplasmic stuff, and the subjective chamber formed from that portion which is the knowing self.

Suppose you visualize an elephant. In such a situation, a major portion of the mental body is transformed into a mental elephant. In the wakeful state, when your conscious mind remains active, you understand that you are visualizing a mental elephant, but are not aware that your mental body has been converted into that very same elephant.

In dreams one takes the mental elephant to be a real one, because the real world is non-existent. Naturally, in dreams one fabricates a world previously experienced in the wakeful state and accordingly thinks that the things dreamt are real. But if the mind is disturbed as a result of some serious accident or disaster, the dream world is shattered. This mental disturbance may take place in the wakeful state as well as in sleep. For instance, in a dream you may visualize that you are flying high in the sky in a puśpaka rath (a mythological flying chariot). Suddenly the horse of the chariot stops flying and the chariot starts falling like lightning. Now if in a wakeful state your vehicle happened to fall in such a dangerous way, you would be frightened out of your wits. In a dream that same fear makes you jump, and as a result of the jumping, the dream chariot no longer remains intact and you wake up.

The mind takes less time to dream an action than the body does to perform it. That is, it will take you four to five days to go to Delhi, enact a scene and then return; but in a dream it can be completed in a few seconds. This is only because the mind’s speed is greater than that of the body. Perhaps you hardly dreamt for one or two minutes and yet, on completing the dream, you felt as if you had been dreaming for a long time. In fact, you dreamt for only two to three minutes.

Another thing: when a dream-object, an object of imagination, seems to be absolutely real, in such cases there is also a marked change in the personality also. Being obsessed with ghosts is a case in point. People who are obsessed with ghosts think that they have become the ghost. Being possessed by spirits is yet another case of this type: the affected persons think of themselves as a deity. Now, in order to free their minds from the thought of ghosts, one will have to induce a traumatic jolt in their bodies; one will have to create some sort of frightful circumstance that will startle them. Various methods may be used for this purpose, after which they will realize their error: that they wrongly identified themselves with their mental objects.

Sometimes it also happens that when the thought of an object from the natural world comes within the objective chamber of the mind, one’s ectoplasmic stuff becomes so concentrated that it can be utilized in various ways. There are some people who, employing certain methods, misuse their ectoplasmic strength. For instance, they might, with their ectoplasmic strength, cause bones or sticks to fall to the ground, while sitting in a corner some distance away. Common people wrongly take these actions to be those of a ghost. The fact is quite different. If you can locate the persons who are doing this, you should give them a good shaking to completely destroy their ectoplasmic strength. Then they will be forced to stop their roguery. This science of the application of ectoplasmic strength through the objective mind upon external events or objects is known as rákśasii vidyá in Sanskrit.

There is a story in the Rámáyańa to illustrate this point. Once Angada, the son of Bali, went to King Ravana’s court to present his credentials to him. Seated there at the time were King Ravana, his son Meghanatha (otherwise called Indrajit), and his nineteen ministers. When Angada appeared in court, Ravana was there in his usual form, but those nineteen ministers, in order to misguide Angada, began to ideate mentally that they were also Ravana. Angada was very confused since those ministers appeared to him as the exact replicas of Ravana, even though they were actually in their own forms. They were merely ideating inwardly that they looked like Ravana. The impact of such ideating and their collective ectoplasmic strength had its effect on Angada’s mind. Angada started seeing as many as twenty Ravanas sitting in the court. How many Ravanas were there, he wondered in great confusion. (Meghanatha did not think in the same way as the ministers, and hence his form remained unaffected. For how could he think himself to be a replica of Ravana, his own father? So he appeared to be sitting as usual). In this case the nineteen ministers were fully utilizing the ectoplasmic strength of the objective chambers of their respective minds. Their physical bodies were still motionless, just as in spiritual practice when one is required to direct one’s mind towards Parama Puruśa, one is not expected to move, walk, practise sit-ups or push-ups, etc. Angada contrived a plan to create some disturbance in the minds of those assumed personalities, otherwise, how could he distinguish the actual Ravana from the others, and to whom should he submit his credentials? So he decided to anger the ministers in order to make them lose their mental concentration and thus remove their assumed personalities. Addressing Indrajit, Angada said: “Indrajit, my dear friend. I see twenty Ravanas! Is every one of them your father?” This angered all the ministers, and immediately the concentration of the objective chambers of their minds was disturbed and they resumed their original forms.

Something more must be said about the objective mind. The faculty of knowledge, as we know, is the subjectivization of external objectivity. Now, the subjectivization of anything external is the first step towards the supreme subjectivization. When the objective mind first subjectivizes an external elephant, the first phase is the objectivization of mind, and to know that external fact is objective knowledge. Now, is there any other aspect to the faculty of knowledge? Yes, indeed there is.

Various psychic diseases may arise if there is any defect in the process of the objectivization of mind. Remember that psychic disease and brain disease are not the same thing; they are quite different. Brain disease occurs due to some disorder in a part of the brain, or due to a congenital defect, or perhaps due to hereditary causes which hamper the proper formation of the brain. Mental disease is different. It arises due to a disorder in the objectivated mind, in the first stage in the process of subjectivization. Many people who, while creating thoughts in their objectivated minds, repeatedly form the same image out of weakness or fear, suffer from a mental disease called phobia.

Kansa, one week before his death, repeatedly thought of nothing but Krśńa. Whether he liked it or not, his objectivated mind created the image of Krśńa, and he thought that Krśńa would kill him. In whichever direction he looked, be it towards water, land or sky, his objectivated mind created forms of Krśńa, and in this his objectivated mind became stronger than his subjective mind. This meant his mental death, and mental death leads to physical death.

Another case in point is hydrophobia. Suppose a dog has bitten a person and the person has become terribly frightened. His or her objectivated mind sees only the images of dogs, dogs on all sides. This is called hydrophobia.⁽¹⁾ Therefore, humans should have full control over their objectivated minds to avert serious psychic problems.

It often happens that, not due to fear, but because of weakness, the same image repeatedly arises in the mind. This is called mania. Among women in certain countries one such mania occurs: touch-mania. They tell the so-called low caste people, or even their own people, not to touch them, to keep away. While walking they take particular care not to touch or be touched by things considered unholy according to their prejudiced judgement. In these cases, their objectivated minds are full of so-called contaminated objects. As their minds constantly entertain those unclean things, externally they condemn them. They judge people in terms of casteism and thus their minds become dens of impure and mean thoughts. Once I saw a so-called low-caste woman come to show her grandchild to another woman. The latter woman, who was a chronic victim of touch-mania, would not touch the child, but rather bestowed her affection on it keeping a safe distance, and thus maintaining her so-called purity. This is a case of mania.

There was another person I knew who was quite healthy and carried out his daily activities with ease, and yet he was under the impression, for no particular reason, that there was some trouble in his stomach. Actually there was no disease; he was in good health. Yet occasionally he used to come to me and complain that there was some disorder in his stomach. This was his mania.

Moreover, because of problems in the objectivated mind, people suffer from various psychic complexes. For example, there are those who are inclined to think that no one, neither their friends and relatives nor even their domestic animals, cares to think of them. They unnecessarily think that everyone deliberately avoids them, dislikes them, or ignores them, and therefore they become disappointed, dejected, and dispirited. Life loses all its charm and attraction for them, and they may even commit suicide. This type of mania is called melancholia.

A defect in the objectivated mind may also cause inferiority complex or superiority complex. When the objectivated mind becomes large enough to pamper one’s ego, one develops a superiority complex. One starts considering oneself to be superior to others in points of knowledge, the capacity to act, organizational calibre and other qualities of leadership, and unnecessarily slights others. Such a person expects preferential treatment, VIP status, and unquestioning obedience. If by accident their ego is hurt even slightly, they become violently angry. This is another kind of mania.

Conversely, there are those who exert too much control over their objectivated minds, which results in the mind’s constriction. In such a state their minds fail to grasp noble ideas, and such people start considering themselves to be inferior to others in all respects – education, social position, etc. Normally such people become unnecessarily nervous and begin to falter or fumble before their elders and seniors: they lack self-confidence and faith in themselves. This is inferiority complex. The best way to cure such people is to generate self-confidence in them by frequently advising them not to feel inferior to anyone. Slowly, gradually, they will free themselves from their inferiority complex and the feeling of superiority will increase. But one must be careful that, after a certain stage, a superiority complex is not allowed to develop.

Most psychic diseases, if not all, grow out of the defective control over the objectivated mind. If one is alert, any trouble can be avoided. Those who regularly practise Iishvara prańidhána or dhyána (meditation) can remain free from these diseases, as their minds will remain in a balanced state. One of the numerous benefits of sádhaná is that it keeps the mind free from psychic disease and encourages the natural growth of the mind. This is of tremendous importance since such problems may arise not only in individual life, but in collective life as well. Individual human beings as well as large communities often suffer from some sort of psychic disease. A subjugated people suffer from an inferiority complex towards the sovereign elite, the ruling class. When India was a dependent colony, many Indians used to describe the members of the ruling community as God’s children, obviously due to their deep-rooted inferiority complex. Most of them wondered: “Will India ever see the light of freedom? When will we ever win the struggle against the ruling class?” This shows that the entire indigenous community was a victim of inferiority complex, the removal of which would require a group of leaders endowed with enormous mental strength and noble character – a group of mighty personalities. India at that time was not fortunate enough to have such great people, and that is why the struggle for Indian freedom had to be prolonged. Otherwise, India could have gained freedom in a much shorter time.

I say all this because psychic diseases, as I have just pointed out, affect not only individuals but collective bodies as well. You must remain vigilant so that in your individual life you do not become the victim of a psychic disease, and so that if there is any such psychic disease in collective life, you see that it is eliminated.

Footnotes

(1) Hydro means “water”. Patients see the objects of their fears especially if they happen to look in water. –Eds.

Chapter 4	The Faculty of Knowledge

For some time we have been discussing the topic “The Faculty of Knowledge.”

A great deal has been said about the objectivated mind. Many things may be created in both the objectivated and subjectivated minds which do not belong to the external world; they are exclusively confined to the internal domain. They are created within the mind, and there they remain as mental objects. They become objectivated in the mind independent of any external influence. Imagine we see an elephant in the external world. When it is created in the mind, that elephant becomes an object of the objectivated mind. The subjective counterpart of the mind visualizes it, and compares it with the elephant which it had previously seen in the external world, until the mind is satisfied that it is indeed the same elephant. We are convinced that the elephant we observed ten days ago and the one we see today are the same in appearance. While comparing the two elephants in our mind we conclude that the elephant which has just now been formed in our objectivated mind is the exact replica of the one formed in our objectivated mind on a previous occasion; thus we conclude that we are visualizing the same elephant.

It may also happen that an elephant is recreated in the mind without its even being visible in the external world. From where is the image created? From an external source, of course. The elephant previously perceived can be recreated in the mind. We use various words for this action – such as “conception”. We can use anubhava for this kind of thing, but in Sanskrit we usually say anubhúti. Anu means “after” and bhúti means “becoming”. If anu is spelt as ańu it means “molecule”. The root verb sr means “to go”, or “to move”, and therefore the meaning of anusarańa is “going after”, or “following”. The place where we walk, along which we move, is called saraka, which many people misspell as saŕaka. Sarańii means a narrow road. When it is broad it is known as saraka. In Sanskrit the prefix upa means “near”. So upasaraka means “that way which is nearly the same size as a road.” Similarly, there are the words nagarii (city), upanagarii (small town), devatá (god), and upadevatá (demigod). The last word, upadevatá, does not exactly mean “god”. We only say it does, through fear. The actual meaning of the word is “ghost” or “spirit”. Similarly we say upakańt́há. Kańt́há means “throat”, and upakańt́há means “a point or place near the throat.” Upasarańii means “lane” which in Persian is called gali. In Bengali the word gali is widely used. Suppose someone is walking along, and you are following him. This may be described as anusarańa.

In the present case, when you see an elephant, its umbra is reflected in your objectivated mind, and you visualize that image. Later, maybe after ten or twenty days or one year, or even after twenty years, you recreate a similar image of the elephant in your mind. This means that you had an anubhava of the elephant. Anu means “afterwards”, and bhava means “becoming”. Anubhútaviśayásampramośah smrtih – “Memory is the reproduction of things already perceived,” the re-creation of the same mental formation that was once created in the objectivated mind. Imagine that you listened to a particular rága. That same rága can be sung in various styles, just as a ráginii can be sung in different styles. The same rága or ráginii may be sung in various styles in different towns and localities. That particular style of music prevalent in a particular place is called a particular gharáńá or school of music.

Suppose you have listened to a particular melody, a rága. When the notes are systematized, they become a rága. Different tunes derived from special rágas are called ráginiis. Because of the differences in rágas and ráginiis, Indian music has been classified into two schools: Hindustani and Karnataka. But this is not our topic of discussion here.

Take the case of kiirtana. Kiirtana was popular in Bengal even before the birth of Mahaprabhu. People in certain areas of Bengal are used to doing kiirtana in a distinct local style. In one style, the first portion of the kiirtana may be pleasing to the ear, and the latter portion somewhat monotonous. In another style, the beginning may be ordinary, the middle excellent, and the end similar to the beginning. In yet another style, the concluding portion may be exceedingly charming; its melody, even after the music is over, continues to ring in the listeners’ ears. What does this ringing signify? That is part of the faculty of knowledge.

In Bengal, there are different schools of kiirtana such as Manoharshahii Gharáńá, Reneti Gharáńá, Garanaháta Gharáńá, and Mandárań Gharáńá. Bengali kiirtana has been classified into four schools. According to some, Manoharshahii Gharáńá belongs to Birbhum; according to others, it belong to Orissa. Haráńhátá is a locality of Calcutta. Reneti is a distortion of “Ranihati”, a developed village of Howrah District. Kiirtana was very popular there. Mandárań refers to the place known as Garhmandárań situated in Arambag Subdivision of Hooghly District. This place is mentioned in Bankim Chandra’s novel, Durgesh Naninii.

Suppose you are listening to someone doing kiirtana according to the Mandárań style. The vibration of that particular kiirtana creates a sympathetic vibration in your ears, and a sensation is produced in your auricular nerves. Those vibrations are carried to the brain where they produce a corresponding vibration, which is also finally reproduced in the mind. You then ask someone: “What is this school of kiirtana?” He or she replies, “This is the Mandárań school”, and you associate that kiirtana with the Mandárań school in your mind. You decide inwardly that whenever this type of vibration is produced, it will be Mandárań Gharáńá. And perhaps some time later, when that very same style of kiirtana is sung, the brain and mind vibrate with that very same vibration, and you say to yourself, “Well, it seems to be Mandárań Gharáńá. Someone told me this when I listened to this style of kiirtana some time ago.” So many things happened in quick succession in such a short span of time that you were not even aware of yourself having analysed and compared things in order to reach such a conclusion.

How does this happen? On the first hearing, the mind becomes transformed into the kiirtana, the mind itself becomes the kiirtana. At the second hearing, the mind again takes the form of the Mandárań Gharáńá style of kiirtana. When your mind can associate the second transformed state with the first, it is called “memory”. If someone asks you to sing a kiirtana in the style of Mandárań Gharáńá you will transform your mind into the Mandárań Gharáńá kiirtana in the same way as before, and accordingly you will sing the kiirtana. Those who are not well-versed in music would not be able, at the time of the second rendering of the Mandárań Gharáńá, to express it themselves because that mode of expression is either unknown to them, or simply beyond their capacity.

A similar thing happens when you taste or smell something. Suppose you have just eaten a mango. Afterwards you will say, “To which variety of mango does this one belong? Lyáḿŕá, Bombay, kiśáńbhog, kapát́bháḿgá or Bhutu Bombay? Ah yes, I’ve tasted mangoes of this variety before. And its name… It’s in my mind but I can’t say now.” And so, you cannot continue the conversation properly. Almost all of us have had this experience before. “I have seen this man before… I have even heard his name… It is in my mind, but unfortunately I’m having trouble finding it and expressing it.” In this situation you would like your mind, your brain, to vibrate so that you can recapture the vibration you originally experienced. You cannot shake your brain with your own hands. It is humanly impossible. While attempting to cause a vibration in your brain, you vigorously shake your head – this is the reason why you do so. I will explain it in more detail at some later time.

When you reconvert your mind into sound, touch, form, taste or smell, it is called smrti or memory. Whenever you smell kanakcánpa, your mind is transformed into that very same smell. And so, when you encounter kanakcánpa for the second time, your mind again takes its form; the smell also returns. You compare the two vibrations and conclude that this is indeed kanakcánpa. This is memory.

Mental creations are those objects evoked by the subjective mind and retained within the objectivated mind.

Suppose you listen to a poem: your mind is transformed into the idea of the poem – the mind flows along with both the idea and the rhythm of the poem. Now, in the second phase, the mind, while flowing along with the idea and the rhythm, will be transformed into that very same idea and rhythm, and it will be easier to hold the poem in the mind. Another example is a student who is reading during the examination period: his eyes are locating the words and becoming the words. Suppose the boy is reading the sentence: “I once met a lame man close to my farm.” If he understands the meaning then the pictures of an old man, a farm, etc., will occur in his mind. So, he is experiencing the second phase. Then again, if that boy reads aloud, he hears the sound with his own ears. The sympathetic vibration reaches the brain through the ears and then through the acoustic nerves. The mind is then converted into that sound once again. It gets converted twice, once through the eyes, and once through the ears. The result will be more effective memorization. So it is better for examination candidates to read aloud so that they can hear the sound of their own reading; but novels and fiction can be read silently.

As I have already mentioned, when anyone says something, the eyes are engaged in seeing, the ears in hearing; and the mind dances in rhythm. In the absence of rhythm it is difficult to memorize. That is why since ancient times, for fifteen thousand years, the common practice has been to bring every valuable branch of knowledge within the scope of rhythm. Human beings do not easily forget rhythm. One may forget the contents of knowledge, but not the rhythm. That is why all Vedic rks were composed in 7 metres: Gáyattrii, Uśńik, Triśt́up, Anuśt́up, Brhati, Jagati and Paunkti. All literary compositions were brought within the gamut of these seven Vedic metres. And different figures of speech, particularly alliteration and punctuation, are all highly important, because they are valuable for the memory. If we say, “He shall be punished,” it is easy to remember for there is assonance of the “s”. “On Saturday, a goldsmith saw a snake near Satyasarai, and on Sunday a shoemaker severely assaulted a saintly person with a shoe.” There is assonance on the sound, or wave, “s”. “I came to Patna junction, and I came to the conclusion that the matriculation examination is a botheration.” There is consonance and assonance of the sound “tion”. Consider the Bengali poem:

Áji utarol uttar báye
Utalá hayeche tat́inii
Sonár álok paŕiyáche jale
Pulaki uchali d́heu chalachale
Lakśa máńik jhalasi áncale
Nece cale yena nat́inii.⁽¹⁾

Such poems are easy to remember for they quickly become imprinted in our memory. The science of figures of speech was invented in the past mainly for this purpose, not only to make the words sweet-sounding, but also to help us grasp them quickly.

Footnotes

(1) This is a poem written by Rabindranath Tagore in rhythmic resonance. –Eds.

Chapter 5	The Faculty of Knowledge

The third chamber or factor of knowledge is the subjective mind (the second being the objective mind). But the fundamental entity behind this faculty of knowledge is the Supreme Subject. This entity is the noumenal factor behind each and every action, but it does nothing by itself. Everything takes place because of His presence. His presence is an obligatory prerequisite for everything. It can be compared to the catalyst in a scientific experiment. Though the catalytic agent itself has no direct role, its presence makes the whole process work very smoothly, and thus it is a great help. While preparing makaradhvaja (a special Indian áyurvaedik medicine) gold is added. Gold is not mixed directly with the makaradhvaja, but its presence in the process is essential. Similarly, behind the faculty of knowledge, behind the action of knowing, behind the function of the objective mind and the subjective mind, there is invariably the presence of the Supreme Subjectivity which makes all things work smoothly, and without which nothing can happen. This Entity can neither be called the subjectivated mind, nor the objectivated mind; He is only a presence, a distinguishing presence. He may be likened, as it were, to the head of a family celebrating marriage. He does not do anything specific, he neither cooks, nor distributes the food, nor busies himself in any particular work, and yet he is still the central figure, the supreme guide of the whole celebration, overseeing, supervising and directing everyone and everything everywhere, sitting silently on a chair in one corner of the house. Apparently he is inactive, but it is his commanding presence alone which keeps all the participants in the celebration alert. Those people who are allotted specific duties carry them out properly to the satisfaction of the head of the house. Likewise, the Supreme Entity is also the Supreme Subject.

The subjectivated mind is the witnessing counterpart of the objectivated mind, and may take its object both from the external physical world and the internal psychic world. It may create an object within itself; it can convert its own subject into an object. For example, you see an elephant in the outside world; your objective mind takes its form, and your subjective mind witnesses it. This is one aspect. Later, though there is no elephant in the external world, you may engage a portion of your mind in taking the form of an elephant. You can visualize that imaginary elephant of your mind and argue within yourself: “Well, the trunk is all right but one of the tusks seems to be a little small, I’ll make them the same length.” And so you make the smaller one a little larger. All this is done within the mind.

“The other day Rambabu said so many unpleasant things to me. I should have spoken back, but instead I kept silent, swallowing the insults. In future, if I meet him again, and the same unpleasant thing happens, I’ll give him a piece of my mind.” Here, one becomes as one perceives.

Suppose you went to visit your aunt, and at the time of departure she did not request you to visit her again. In your mind you utter the following words to the mental image of your aunt: “I shall not visit you any more.” If she asks why, I shall say, “Oh no, I shall not go to your place.” These words are said mentally to the aunt of your mental creation. But the real aunt remains far away, completely ignorant of what you are thinking.

Now the question is: can the unit subjective mind ever know or think of the Supreme Subjectivity? In the world of humans we notice that those people participating in a celebration, or in-charges having specific duties, never sit idly looking towards the Supreme, the Supreme Subjectivity. If those to whom special roles have been allotted do not act properly, the Supreme Head will be displeased. He will be all the more displeased if you sit idly, looking towards Him with a vacant expression. Moreover, if you tell Him, flatteringly, “How kind you are, how merciful! How fine you look in your gorgeous apparels and ornaments!” He will say in reply, “What audacity! Stop this silly nonsense.” It is most improper to treat the Supreme Subjectivity in this way.

Now, let us discuss this from the psychological point of view. The subjective mind is the objective mind’s subjective counterpart; that is to say, the objective mind is the “known” and the subjective mind the “knower”. Similarly, in the case of the relationship between the unit subjectivity and the Supreme Subjectivity, the former is the known and the latter the knower. The snake looks at the frog. The snake is the subject, and the frog the object. The frog watches the mosquito. The frog is the subject, the mosquito the object. The mosquito looks at the dew-drop. The mosquito is the subject, the dew-drop the object. But the snake itself is not aware that it is being watched by the peacock; and the peacock is not aware that it is being watched by the fowler. The fowler is the subject, the peacock the object. Nobody looks at the subject. This is the usual practice in the world. Had people chosen to look at the subject, everything would be in proper order.

It has been said earlier that everything takes place within the mental arena of the Supreme Subjectivity. The objective counterpart, too, is within the Cosmic Mind. In other words, all the objectivities of the world together are the object of the Supreme Subjectivity.

A boy is studying. While doing so the thought may pass through his mind that if he does not pass his examination he will have to face much criticism, and he will have to repeat the same class, along with boys younger in age who may then no longer respect him for his seniority as they did in the past. These mental thoughts may help his concentration of mind; that is, such thoughts keep the objective and subjective minds engaged, no doubt, but they create a bifurcation in the mind. One mental flow is engaged in memorizing the subjects being studied, while another mental flow entertains various other thoughts such as: “What will my parents and seniors say if I fail in the examination? The juniors in my locality will cease to respect me, they will say all kinds of unpleasant things…” and so on. Obviously that boy’s mental power has become bifurcated. What should a wise person do in such circumstances? He should think nothing else except: “I will memorize whatever I’m reading now, without bothering about my gains if I succeed or my losses if I fail in the task. I will not allow any portion of my mind to flow in an undesirable direction, and thus I will keep my mind exclusively engrossed in the task of learning.”

In the case of unit beings, what should the subjective mind do when it sees something in the external world? It should see it, and know it perfectly. When you convert a portion of your subjective mind into an object, it can be done perfectly. So, at the time of learning something, you should empty your mind of all other thoughts, giving full importance to what is being learned. Then, in the future, when you attempt to convert your subjective mind into objective mind, you will do it well because, when you received the objectivities of the external world, you were fully concentrated. As a result, you will develop your thinking capacity.

Now, along with thinking comes the question of retention. For example, after reading 200 pages of a book you will surely forget 199 of them. You cannot remember even one complete page, not even one full sentence. You are likely to confuse this word with that. What is the cause? The cause is that you did not pay full attention. Then how can you become more attentive? Usually you acquire academic knowledge by studying with the help of the eyes. To aid the process of memorization, however, you may also use your tongue. That is, while reading loudly, two sense organs are used, the eyes and the tongue, and thus you will derive a double benefit. Moreover, if you read aloud, your ears will also hear those sounds, and thus this method of reading is more beneficial for students. In the case of fiction and plays, however, it is better to read silently. And moreover, there is a special advantage with silent reading: the parents are unaware of what their children are reading.

As I said before, retention is facilitated by reading aloud: one can have great control over the objective mind, the objectivated subjective mind, and all that the objective mind receives as its object from the objective or objectivated subjective world. Often part of the incoming message is lost due to a defective vibration of the nerve cells. This is purely a physical defect of the human body, and to rectify it, one will have to adopt physical means to make the brain function properly; and for this there are certain physical processes. If you are interested in those, I can help you.

Moreover, when psychic vibrations are carried through different nerves – optical, auricular, the nerves of the tongue, etc. – they often need proper adjustment. For example, some people may be able to see things distinctly and read with ease and yet not be able to hear very well. In such a case, the vibrational wave that comes through the ears has trouble adjusting with the optical nerves. A particular man may have a bit of a stammer: he does not pronounce words as distinctly as he sees them with his eyes. There is a maladjustment which can be rectified if a psychic approach is adopted. Here the physical approach would not be appropriate. Physical waves cannot bring a mutual adjustment amongst themselves; for that psychic pressure is required. By exerting this psychic pressure the maladjustment can be rectified. For this there are two approaches: (1) pure psychic approach and (2) psycho-spiritual approach.

[The following section was also printed separately as “Saḿgiita – Excerpt B” in Saḿgiita: Song, Dance and Instrumental Music. This is the Saḿgiita: Song, Dance and Instrumental Music, 1st edition, version.]

What is the pure psychic approach? When you receive an object or an idea through either the ocular or auricular nerves you should bring it into a certain rhythm: your object of vision or ideation should dance rhythmically. Such a rhythmic vibration can rectify the defects in the eyes, ears and tongue. For this very purpose the rágas and rágińiis were created: whatever the mind receives through rhythm and melody brings about this proper adjustment. There is no scope for any deviation this way or that. On this basis, Sadáshiva developed the science of musical notes, svara shástra or svarodaya, or shabda shástra. Due to the strict rules as outlined in svara shástra, there is no room for any deviation at the time of singing. If any deviation is attempted, one will have to break the established rules.

While attempting to go beyond the set rules, kheyál was invented and in adjustment with tál (metre), gazal was composed. Indo-Aryan music is based on a system, a rhythm; there is no room for any mistake, no scope for deviation.

When kiirtana first began to develop, it did not have any hard and fast rules, just as folk songs do not conform to hard and fast rules. [[Kiirtana adopted hard and fast rules later on.]] Just as the different schools (gharáńá) of rága and ráginii evolved out of various rhythmic expressions, similarly, as soon as kiirtana was brought within the framework of fixed rules, it came to be elevated from folk music to classical music.

[end of section that was printed separately as “Saḿgiita – Excerpt B”]

Another aspect of the psychic approach is that when you want to memorize something, you should subdivide the matter into meaningful parts or components. Suppose a boy wants to memorize the spelling of the word “assassination”. He may have some difficulty because the word is lengthy and difficult to remember; there is a good chance of omitting one of the letters. Therefore, the word can be split into four parts: ass-ass-i-nation. Now, as the boy already knows the meaning of all four words, he will easily memorize its spelling. This is another aspect of the pure psychic approach.

Next is the psycho-spiritual approach which strengthens the memory, and makes the intellect omniscient. A good way to stabilize the memory is to meditate on someone you have seen or heard about who possesses a unique photographic memory. This will increase your own memory.

Now the question arises: how can we know the Supreme Subjectivity? If we simply look towards that Subject who remains the witnessing entity and goads us all into action, He will be displeased. He will say: “Go and do some work.” It is enough if we only think that the Subject is watching each action we are doing. By ideating that the Supreme Subjectivity is watching everything, we are thinking of Him as well, and this idea itself becomes objectivated. The Supreme Subject does not become objectivated, but the thought of the Supreme Subjectivity does. Ultimately, the best way to meditate on Parama Puruśa, or remember Him, is to bear in mind that, in actions big or small, significant or insignificant, in wakeful state or in sleep, in dream or in reality, the Supreme Subjectivity is maintaining a constant and close watch on me. Thereby the subjectivity as such does not come within your objectivated mind, but the ideation of the Supreme Subjectivity becomes objectivated. When this ideation becomes clear, stable and permanent, then one fine morning you will see that you have become one with the Supreme Subjectivity. And this is the final stage of the faculty of knowledge.