Indukamala

Indu means “moon”; Indu means “the moon’s amákalá [sixteenth digit or crescent]”. In some people’s opinion, indu means the entire moon. The light of the moon used to be considered as a symbol of sentient whiteness. Shubhrajyotśnapulakitayáminii [“The radiant moonlit night”].

The word kamala can be derived in two ways: (1) kam + ac + lá + d́a = kamala, meaning etymologically, “that which holds beauty”, or (2) kam + alac = kamala, which means “that which is an embodiment of beauty”. In both cases the colloquial meaning of kamala is “lotus flower”. In the first case the verbal root lá is derived with ádi la⁽¹⁾ and in the second case ádi la is also used in the suffix alac; thus, in both cases, ádi la is used in the construction of kamala. Similarly, ádi la is also used in the construction of kamalá because this word is derived by adding the suffix t́á to the word kamala.

Thus indukamala means “white lotus”. The word indiibara, which is used for “blue lotus”, is clearly a graceful combination, but when indukamala is used to mean “moon”, or “the crescent of the moon”, its meaning comes from the word indu. The etymological difference between the two deserves careful consideration.

Synonyms for kamala are padma, abja, saroja, sarasija, kubalaya, kokanada, nalinii, naliniipuśpa, mrńálamańiká, etc. In Bengal it is padma, in north India kamala, in Kashmir pampośa.

Indubilá

Indu + bil + ac = indubila. By adding t́á it becomes indubilá. Indu means “moon” or “the crescent of the moon”. The meaning of the verbal root bil is “to bore” or “to make a hole”. By adding the suffix van (in some people’s opinion, vun) to the verbal root bil we get the word bilva whose etymological meaning is “that which makes a hole”; its colloquial meaning is “bel fruit” [wood-apple]. In ancient times people held the view that eating burnt, unripe bel or wood-apple would alleviate ulcers and other kinds of stomach problems, while eating ripe bel would create stomach ulcers. Thus they named the fruit bilva.

According to a story from the Puranas, the etymological meaning of indubilá is “that woman who made a hole in the moon, or the crescent of the moon, in order to extract its nectar”, that is, that woman who was inspired by the belief that if she made a hole in the moon its accumulated nectar would come out. Colloquially, indubilá refers to the mother of the god of wealth, Kuvera.

Indhana

The word indhana is derived by adding the suffix lyut́ to the verbal root indh or idhi. That wood which is used as fuel for cooking is indhana. By the same reasoning, in the modern era we can also call the coal or electricity that we use for cooking indhana.

In southern Bengal, indhana is called jválánii kát́h, in the central and western regions it is called lákŕi, and in the north it is called khaŕi. Wood which is used as cooking fuel is also called arańi. Not all kinds of wood are suitable as cooking fuel. Many kinds of wood do not catch fire easily, others do not stay lit. Due to insufficient combustibility, some woods become scorched but do not burn strongly. Those woods which burn strongly are usable as cooking fuel and they are known as arańi.

Those forested areas which contain large amounts of arańi are called arańya. In ancient times the sages generally used to live in these arańyas, although this did not hold true for those who used to live off forest-grown fruits and roots. Those who used to cook their food needed cooking fuel, so they used to live in the arańya. They did not live in the ordinary forest areas which were bereft of arańi.

You must all be aware of the fact that the Vedas have two main branches: karmakáńd́a and jiṋánakáńd́a.⁽²⁾ The karmakáńd́a is further subdivided into two: mantra and bráhmańa. The jiṋánakáńd́a is also subdivided into two: árańyaka and upaniśada. The etymological meaning of árańyaka is “that which pertains to the forest [arańya]”, or “forest-born”. Colloquially it refers to all those philosophical portions of the Vedas which concern the objective world.

Those areas which contained large amounts of less-combustible or less-flammable trees were called ban in the common language. For example, I will point out that the Bankura jungle has an abundance of high quality wood while in the Sundarbans there is a lack of high quality wood – the greater part is wood for fuel. By this analysis, we can call the Sundarbans arańya, while the Bankura jungle we would call ban in the common language, not arańya.

All those woods which were not used for cooking, that is, which were not indhana, but which were used for yajiṋa [Vedic ritual sacrifice], such as shál (indra), bilva (bel or wood-apple), yajiṋad́umbara (ud́umbara) [Indian blackberry], are called samidha rather than arańi or indhana. In ancient times, yajiṋad́umbara was usually used as samidha; for this reason, those who were engaged in the performance of sacrifices would not use yajiṋad́umbar wood as indhana; due to superstition they would not even consume its fruit. In subsequent times, most likely after their arrival in India, they began to use indrakáśt́ha (shál wood) and bilvakáśt́ha (bel wood) in their sacrifices. I have sometimes seen samidha called yajiṋa indhana in old Prákrta literature. This usage is defective. Indhana is not used for sacrifices; it is used for cooking.

Irá

The verbal root ir means “that which flows” or “that which does not remain static”. One colloquial meaning of the word ira or irá is “water”. Iravat or Irávat means “sea”. According to a story from the Puranas, the name of the huge elephant that emerged from the churning of the sea was Eravata/Erávata or Aeravata/Aerávata (mammoth).

Another colloquial meaning of ira or irá is “air”. Sweet-scented ira means “fragrant air”.

Yet another meaning of ira or irá is “money”. In this sense, the value of money lies in its mobility. If money stops circulating then it loses its value. The wealth of the individual or the state accrues through ceaseless circulation; thus money should not be kept in a pot buried in the ground. Its greatest value lies in its circulation. Iravána or irávána means “wealthy”. Another meaning of iravatii or irávatii is “rich” [in feminine form].

Still another meaning of ira or irá is “knowledge” or “erudition”. In the case of the physical world, ira or irá is a name for wealth due to its mobility. For the same reason, another name for erudition is ira or irá. Calamity results in individual, social and political life if wealth remains confined – the water in a clay pitcher leaks out if it is not used. Such is also the case with erudition. Its real worth depends on its circulating and spreading, otherwise it becomes a burden. Pustakántaragatá vidyá parahastagataḿ dhanam [“Knowledge confined to books is like wealth belonging to others”]. Knowledge is spread through distribution, by doing service. Herein lies the significance of its name irá.

For the same reason, another meaning of the word irá is “articulation” or “vocality”. Those who have the capacity to speak and make others understand should speak and explain good things to others. The faculty of speaking should not be confined to a mute vocal cavity. As speaking and knowledge is irá, thus knowledge and the presiding deity of knowledge used to be called Vágdevii (vák + devii)⁽³⁾ in ancient times. The word irá used to be especially revered by the learned.

Ilábilá

The meaning of the word i is “desirous of obtaining”. The word lá (lá + d́a + t́á) means “one who holds”. Colloquially, ilá means “a collection of wealth” (a collection of money or learning). The etymological meaning of the word ilábilá is “he or she who goes around everywhere searching for holes or poking around in hopes of obtaining riches”. The colloquial meaning of the word ilábilá is Kuvera’s [god of wealth] wife.

In one Puranic tale, the name of Kuvera’s wife is Ilá (Ikśváku’s daughter). According to a Puranic story, the male Mercury was physically transformed into a woman. After becoming a woman, his name became Ilá. Through surgery he was again changed back into a man. Ikśváku’s daughter’s real name was Irá. After Mercury was changed back into a man, Irá was given the name Ilá. This Puranic tale offers evidence that there were sex changes in the past similar to the great number that we see today in modern times.

Iliisha

Il + iisha = iliisha. Il means “to go down into water”. Iisha means “ruler”… “king”. The etymological meaning of iliisha is “the king of water”. Colloquially, it refers to a certain kind of fish. Since those iliisha which unwittingly get caught in ponds, swamps, or stagnant water have their taste spoiled, they are called viliisha (vi + iliisha = viliisha). In Bengal, different people spell iliisha in different ways. This is not desirable. The correct spelling is iliisha because it is according to its derivation.

Iśt́a

The word iśt́a is derived by adding the suffix kta to the verbal root iś. Iśta would be correct but the cerebral letter śa cannot be joined to the dental letter ta; thus here ta is changed into t́a yielding iśt́a. The meaning of the verbal root iś is “the desire to obtain”. That which a person nurtures in the innermost recesses of his or her mind in the hope of obtaining it is that person’s Iśt́a.

In the spiritual world a person can only have one Iśt́a, one desideratum. In that world there can never be two goals, there can never be “desiderata”. In the psychic world, or within the jurisdiction of the mind, a person may have more than one object of desire, that is, there may be multiple iśt́as. Desideratum and desiderata – a person can run after both kinds of ideation.

Within the confines of the physical world, a person can run after or follow more than one object. The collective or combined name of all the various iśt́as that a person may have in the physical and psychic spheres is abhiiśt́a (abhi + iśt́a = abhiiśt́a). For example, we can say “he has come to Calcutta⁽⁴⁾ to fulfil his desires [abhiiśt́a].”

I just finished saying that in the spiritual world a person has only one Iśt́a. Here there is no scope for duality. In that world plurality is not accepted – giving it internal support is harmful as well. In that world the “many” can be illumined through the riches of the profound knowledge of the “One”. Getting overenthused with the “many”, this “One” cannot be found.

It is said that someone once asked Hanuman: “Well then, Hanuman, why is it, if you admit that Rama and Náráyańa are one, that you take Rama’s name so often, and never once, not even by mistake, do you take Náráyańa’s name? In reality, the two are one.” Hanuman replied:

Shriináthe Jánakiináthe cábhedah paramátmani;
Tathápi mama sarvasvah Rámah kamalalocanah.

That is, “I know that Shriinátha (Lakśmiinátha), that is, Náráyańa, and Jánakiinátha, that is, Rama, are one and the same in the supreme sense, but Rama is everything to me. I don’t know or accept any Náráyańa.”

I hope that you have all understood now the importance of the word iśt́a in the spiritual realm.

Iśva

Iś + van (vun) = iśva. Iśva means “that which is wanted” or “that through which one obtains what one wants”. Iśva means Iśt́a or the Dharmaguru [spiritual preceptor]. One who shows a particular community the true path in the collective or social spheres can also be called iśva.

Iha

Iha means “in this world”. One should keep in mind that atra and iha are not the same. Atra means “here”, “in this place”, and iha is used in a more expansive sense – “in this world”, “in this realm”.

By adding the suffix t́hak to iha we get the word aehika [mundane]. Its antonym is paratra [the other world], from páratrika [supermundane]. Ihalaokik [of this world] – its antonym is páralaokik [of the next world]. Ihaloka [this world] – its antonym is paraloka [the next world]. It is more correct to say atra tiśt́ha than iha tiśt́ha. Iha tiśt́ha means “stay in this world” and atra tiśt́ha means “stay here”. The word iha has been used since ancient times as an indeclinable.

From beginninglessness to endlessness there remains a subtle dividing line between this world [ihaloka] and the next world [paraloka].

It happened a long time ago. At that time I didn’t have my own house in Delhi; sometimes I used to stay in hotels and sometimes in a rented house. This time I was staying in a hotel. I returned to the hotel around 8:00 p.m. after finishing my evening walk and went into the bathroom to wash my hands and face in the basin. Suddenly, from behind me, I heard a well-known and welcome voice from the past: “How are you?”

“What is this?” I thought. “It is the voice of Dulu Palit that I know so well from my childhood.” Dulu was both a close friend and a distant relative. He was the son of an aristocratic family near Magra. Dulu Palit, Vrajagopal Sannyal, and myself had had an intimate friendship. Both of them were quite handsome, but their inner beauty was even greater. It was their inborn nature to do good to others. But where was Dulu’s voice coming from in this hotel bathroom? How did he get here? This was not a dream. I was standing in front of the washbasin in full possession of my senses, washing my hands and face – it simply couldn’t have been a figment of my imagination or a trick my ears were playing on me!

Dulu spoke again in a hurt voice: “Are you angry with me? Why are you not looking at me?”

I remembered how much Dulu used to love me. While we were young he used to say that our relationship was just like that of Sudámá and Krśńa in the Krśńaliilá. Sudámá used to love Krśńa tremendously; Krśńa also loved Sudámá enormously. Dulu used to tell me: “We will love each other so much that Krśńa and Sudámá’s love will pale by comparison.”

I used to tell him: “I will be able to but will you be able to?” And he used to reply: “Of course I will. Just you wait and see!” Now, today, I was hearing Dulu’s voice again, sounding offended and asking: “Why won’t you look at me?”

The voice seemed to be coming from behind me. I turned around and there standing against the wall behind me was the luminous figure of Dulu looking at me and smiling happily. When I looked at him he said, bursting with happiness: “How are you? I’ve been feeling anxious about you for so long. Now that I am near you again I am okay.”

“I am fine,” I said. “When I go to Calcutta this time I will meet you.”

“Of course, of course,” he replied. Then after a few moments he said: “Give me some work to do, whatever you feel best. The advantage for me will be that I’ll be able to remain near you all the time. And if I’m not near you, that is, if the work takes me away somewhere, then I’ll have the satisfaction that I’m going there for your work.”

“So be it,” I said. “I’ll return to Calcutta within a few days.” Then the telephone rang and I went into the bedroom and picked it up. On the other end I heard a voice saying: “This is Vrajagopal Sannyal calling from Calcutta.”

Vrajagopal was my childhood friend. He knew very well that Dulu Palit could not remain apart from me, anymore than “q” from “u”.

“What do you want?” I asked Vraja.

“Our childhood friend, Dulu Palit, has been very sick these past few days,” he replied. “I am phoning from his house.”

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

“I’m not really sure,” he replied. “His pulse is normal, he’s not suffering from any disease, and he doesn’t have a fever. The doctor insists that he hasn’t caught any disease.”

“What is it then?”

“All he does is lie down, tossing and turning and talking about you. He keeps saying that it has been so long since he has met you and who knows how long it will be before he sees you again. When he sees anyone he knows he asks about you and wonders aloud when he will see you again.”

I informed Vrajagopal that I would return to Calcutta from Delhi by plane as soon as I had finished my work there and go straight to his house from the airport when I arrived.

Vraja was consoled and hung up the phone. I went back into the bathroom to talk further with the Dulu on the wall, that luminous Dulu in his coat and pants. “Now tell me how you are,” I said. “Are you fine now?”

“Quite well, as good as can be,” he replied. “How can I tell you how good it feels to be near you? Good enough to die, it seems to me. Didn’t the poet say: ‘If I die in such moonlight it is good; such a death is as good as heaven’.”

“Don’t talk about death,” I said, “or else I will get very angry. I shall have to rebuke you. You are well aware of my temper.”

“I won’t make you angry,” he replied. “I won’t talk anymore of death.”

I went back to washing my hands and face in the bathroom. From the clock I heard the sound of the nine o’clock chime. Looking in Dulu’s direction I saw that his apparition had merged into the white wall. Perhaps he had noticed that it was time for my meal and had left.

I returned to the bedroom. A few minutes later there was a phone call from Calcutta. Again I heard the voice of Vrajagopal. “I have very painful news to tell you,” he said. “Just now, at exactly nine o’clock, our friend Dulu left us for the next world.”

You know, I am completely confused. I can’t understand which is this world and which is the next.

Ikśa

The meaning of the word ikśa is “that which is handled” or “which cherishes the desire to masticate”. Bear in mind that ikśańa and iikśańa are not the same. Ikśańa means “to cherish the desire to handle or to masticate” while iikśańa means “to scrutinize”. Pari – ava – iikśańa = paryavekśańa [observation], pari – iikśańa = pariikśańa [testing], sam - iikśá = samiikśá [careful observation], apa – iikśá = apekśá [waiting], upa – iikśá = upekśá [disregard].

Id́á

The left nád́ii [psychic nerve or channel]. The name of the right nád́ii is piuṋgalá. The literal meaning of id́á is “very pale black or pale blue”. Its antonym is piuṋgalá whose literal meaning is a muddy or pale yellow. In the yogic treatises the left nád́ii is called id́á, the right nád́ii is called piuṋgalá, and the one between them is called suśumná. The id́á is also called candra nád́ii [moon channel], the piuṋgalá súrya nád́ii [sun channel] and the suśumná ákásha márga [sky channel]. The words lalaná, rasaná, and avadhútiká are also used for them in that order. The words gauṋgá, yamuná, and sarasvatii are also used. During the Buddhist era, the word avadhútiká changed into viyátii in Bengali due to distorted pronunciation.

Aḿgana gharapana shuńo bho viyátii;
Káńet́ chore nila adharátii.

This verse is in twilight language.⁽⁵⁾ On the surface there is one meaning and underneath another. The surface meaning is: “The courtyard went into the inner room – O honoured lady, do you understand? As a result of the courtyard going inside the room, the thief that was hiding in the courtyard also went inside and stole your earrings.” The hidden meaning is: “By reaching the higher stages of spiritual practice the outer world is swallowed up within you. Then you also become all-knowing. That thief of minds has stolen away your worldly bondages.”

On the practical level, what happens is that the unconscious mind is all-pervading, integral and immeasurably vast. Through spiritual practices the riches of the unconscious mind are brought down into the subconscious mind. The spiritual aspirant then understands everything; he discovers the secret signs of knowledge. Then, according to his or her needs, he or she is able to bring this acquired wealth of the subconscious mind into the conscious mind and use it in the external world.

How much can book knowledge help a person! It goes in one ear and out the other. If, by means of sádhaná [spiritual practices], a person can bring into the subconscious mind the boundless knowledge that resides in the unconscious mind, then that becomes transformed into lasting riches which then are, or can be, employed extensively for the welfare of humanity. The remedies for illnesses or answers to questions that a person receives at the shrine of different gods and goddesses is not due to the greatness of those gods and goddesses. As a result of sincere longing a state of one-pointedness arises in the mind and if, at that time, that person falls into deep sleep because of physical tiredness then the answers to his or her questions may descend from the unconscious mind into the subconscious mind. There the person receives the answers to his or her questions about illness or other questions according to his or her mental conceptions and beliefs. The person thinks that he or she has perhaps received these answers due to the grace of such-and-such god or goddess. Actually, thanks to the grace of the Supreme Consciousness, his or her unconscious mind is the hidden repository of infinite knowledge. Due to one-pointedness, the person has been able to temporarily submerge part of his mind within the boundaries of that profound knowledge.

Now have you understood the meaning of aḿgana gharapana? Understanding this, one can attain that profound knowledge by doing proper sádhaná through the medium of this avadhútiká or suśumná channel. The subject of the suśumná arose by way of discussing the id́á nád́ii.

In old Sanskrit, id́á was also spelled with antahstha lra, that is, it was also spelled ilrá. You can still spell it ilrá if you so wish. The only problem with this is that it can cause some confusion between the words ilrá and irá. But between ilrá and id́á there is no possibility of confusion.

Iyattá

Iyat means “this much” just as kiyat means “how much”. If we want to say “this amount” (ei parimáń) we can say iyat parimáń, just as we can say kiyat parimáń for “some amount”. Iyat is an adjective. If we want to make it into a noun we add tva or tá to it. Iyat + tva = iyatva. Iyat + tá = iyattá. For example, sat + tva = sattva (ánbsattva [dried mango juice], kánt́álsattva [dried jackfruit juice]). Sat + tá = sattá meaning “existence”. But when it means “ownership” or “possession” then it is spelled svatva. Here sva means “one’s own” and the suffix tva has been added to make it a noun.

Footnotes

(1) La at the beginning of a word is called ádi [first] la while la in the middle of a word is called antahstha [within] la. –Trans.

(2) The karmakáńd́a is the portion of the Vedas dealing with rituals and ceremonies. The jiṋánakáńd́a is the philosophical portion. –Trans.

(3) Vák means “speaking” in Sanskrit. –Trans.

(4) That place where the quicklime and coir-rope trades flourished was given the Bengali name Kalikata. It is a proper noun. Proper names are not subject to change when used in another language. A person whose Bengali name is Arun Kumar will still be Arun Kumar if his name is written in English; it will not be “son of crimson red”. Hence the name Kalikata should be written Kalikata no matter what language or script of the world it is written in. Writing “Calcutta” is not even worthy of consideration. It betrays intellectual poverty or split-thinking. In English one should write Kalikata.

(5) Ghar kaenu báhir báhir kaenu ghar; par kaenu ápan ápan kaenu par. Today, that which I thought of as my own in the worldly sense has become other, and that Supreme Being I have made my own. Today I have thrown outside that little house which I thought of as my residence by tearing the net of illusion and attachment, and the outside, that is, the entire universe, I have made into my house.