Commentary on the Panchadasi

by Swami Krishnananda

Tādṛśenāpi bodhena saṁsāro hi nivartate, yaksā nurūpo hi balir ityāhur laukikā janāḥ (17). We do not require an absolutely real cause to remove an ignorance which is not ultimately real. If our ignorance is also an eternal substance, then nobody could remove that ignorance by any effort, because eternity cannot be destroyed. Since it is not eternal, it is subject to badha, or destruction. It is not to be considered as real because that which is subject to destruction, that which has an end, cannot be regarded as real. Since it is not ultimately real, we do not have to bring in a real treatment for it, and the comparatively unreal treatments such as study of scriptures, Guru seva, etc., are sufficient.

Yaksā nurūpo hi balir ityāhur laukikā janāḥ. If we worship a demon, we have to offer that particular sacrament which is to the liking of the demon. If we worship a goat, we have to give only green leaves to it. If we worship a cow, we may give it only grass. If we worship an elephant, we will give it tender trees. And if we worship a human being, we give a good meal.

Now, what is the meaning of worship? It is the offering of that which is necessary under a given condition in respect of the nature of that thing which we are adoring. The offering is to be in accordance with the nature of that which is going to receive our offering. Here, the offering is made to the ignorance that obscures our knowledge of the Supreme Being – and it is like a demon sitting in front of us. Inasmuch as it is not a god, its power is very little.

Therefore, relatively valid treatments of knowledge through the scripture and Guru’s instruction may be valid. We cannot make a sudden statement as to what kind of world it is in which we are living. Nobody can say whether it is real; nobody can say whether it is unreal. If it is true that we are really bound, there is no hope of salvation or freedom. If our bondage is real, how can it be removed, because already we have accepted that it is real. Real things cannot be destroyed. And an unreal thing need not be destroyed. What are we destroying then? Here is an enigma before us.

Tasmā dābhāsa puruṣaḥ sakūṭastho vivicya tam, kūṭastho’smīti vijñātum arhatī tyabhyadhāt śrutiḥ (18). It is the abhasa purusha, chidabhasa, reflection of the Kutastha chaitanya in the intellect, which pretends to be independent by itself, notwithstanding the fact that it cannot exist for a moment without the reflection being there from the Kutastha. That jiva, which is an upstart that has suddenly erupted between the five sheaths on the one hand and the Kutastha on the other hand, is that which is aspiring for liberation, and is that which has the feeling that it is bound.

Asandigdhā viparyasa bodho dehātamanī kṣyate, tadva datreti nirṇetum ayamitya bhidhī yate (19). As is the intensity of the feeling of identity of oneself with this body, so is it that we are trying to achieve in the realisation of Brahman. This point has been touched upon earlier. We have no doubt whatsoever that we are this body. We do not require proof to establish the truth of our identity with this body; it is so obvious.
Our feeling and experience of our identity with Brahman should be as obvious. One need not have to rack one’s head and scratch one’s body again and again and try to find out how to get identity with Brahman. We have to do meditation, we have to do japa, we have to pray, we have to do so many things to convince ourselves that there is such a thing called the Absolute Brahman – and even more difficult is the experience of identity. The nature of the identity that we feel with our body will also explain the nature of the difficulty in realising Brahman. How hard is this body consciousness! So hard is this path to Brahman.

Dehātma jñāna vajjñānaṁ dehātma jñāna bādhakam, ātmanyeva bhave dyasya sa necchaṇapi mucyate (20). If the intensity that one feels in terms of identity of consciousness with this body is also felt in relation to Brahman, mukti, moksha is in our hand. It will be ours even if we do not want it. When we wake up, the sunlight is on our face whether we want it or not. Necchaṇapi mucyate: Even if we don't want it, it will come to us.

Ayamitya parokṣa tvam ucyate cetta ducyatām, svayaṁ prakāśa caitanyam aparokṣaṁ sadā yataḥ (21). This is a commentary on the verse from the Brihadaranyaka Upanishad that was quoted in the beginning; and that has to be kept in mind always. "I am." When this Atman realises itself as "I am", or this purusha realises this Atman as "I am", why should anyone desire anything in this world, and why should anyone wish to enter into this body once again, as if one would like to have fever again and again?

This "I am" sabda, this purusha – the demonstrative pronoun ‘this’ –   indicates the Self-luminous Atman. It is a directly experienced something. This Atman that is within us is sometimes felt to be directly experienced, sometimes indirectly felt. For all practical purposes, it is not directly felt at all. We feel only the body directly – the world, and the body, and all its relations. But if enquiry is conducted into the nature of the consciousness, which is what is actually operating through us in all the three states of waking, dreaming and sleep, we will realise on an analysis of these three states that consciousness could exist as a Self-luminous independent something in the state of deep sleep, with no relation whatsoever with the three states or relation with the five koshas.

Parokṣa maparokṣaṁ ca jñāna majñāna mityadaḥ, nityā parokṣa rūpe’pi davayaṁ syād daśame yathā (22). Knowledge is direct and indirect, as the case may be. There can be knowledge, and also absence of knowledge. Even if there is something which is directly observable, one can be oblivious of that fact. One can be oblivious of even a directly observable something, as in the case of the tenth man – daśame yathā.

The story of the tenth man is well known. Ten very wise men crossed a river, wading through the waters with some difficulty. Their wisdom was so much that after crossing they began to doubt whether or not all of them had crossed or whether some of them had gone into the water, so one of them started counting. They stood in line while one began counting. He counted the men before him: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine. Nine? Only nine. Again he counted, several times. There was no tenth person; only nine were there. Then another man said, “Let me count,” so this gentleman went and stood in the line; and the other man also found only nine.

They started crying, beating their breasts, thinking that one of them must have gone into the water. Now here, avarana and vikshepa acted on them. Avarana is the unconsciousness of the fact of their being such a thing called a tenth man. The tenth man was not visible because the tenth man was not one of the objects being counted.  The tenth man was not the counted thing, but the counter himself and, therefore, it was not possible for them to know that the tenth man existed.

The unconsciousness of the existence of the tenth man is called veil, or avarana. The crying and the weeping and the hitting of the head against the wall and the bleeding caused thereby is the vikshepa. This unreal unconsciousness of the presence of the tenth man caused a real bleeding of the head. Here again is an illustration of a peculiar situation where an unreal cause produces a real effect. The point is that the cause was relatively real, as is the case with the perception of a snake in the rope; and the wound may continue for some days, as the prarabdha karma may continue for some days.

Continuing our earlier story, another man, who was walking past, saw them crying and beating their breasts. Going up to them he said, "What is the matter with you all? Why are you are crying?" "No, a very sorry state of affairs. One of us has been drowned in the river."

"I see. How many were you?" "Ten." "Ten? But you are ten now. I am seeing you." "No, we are only nine." "Ten. You are ten." Then one of them said, "No, please see." They again counted, and said there are only nine. "You foolish man! You are the tenth man. You stand there. I will count." And all the ten were there. Then the sorrow vanished immediately.

They had been so grief-stricken, and the sorrow was real; the sorrow was not unreal. The real sorrow vanished in one second by the admonition that they got from a good Samaritan Guru. The Guru is the passer-by who sees the crying of the people and then points out that the Atman is not somewhere else, and we need not run from the Himalayas to Rome or from San Francisco to Rishikesh to find this Atman. It is right there where we are sitting. We are carrying it wherever we go, and we are searching for ourself – like a musk deer which is supposed to be running in all directions to find the source of the fragrance of the musk, while actually the musk is from its own body; or like a person searching for the necklace which she is wearing, thinking it to be lost.  Many times I myself have searched for spectacles that were on my eyes! Some kind of delusion took place because I was wearing them yet I was searching for where I had put them. It took some time to realise that I was wearing them.

Such is the dramatic experience we are passing through. This world is a mystery indeed. These stories, these analogies, these comparisons, these humorous stories that I told you are all to point out that we need not be so much worried about this world as we are wont to, because one day or the other it is going to vanish. Nobody can be eternally sick. One day the sickness has to go – and if God exists, everything shall be well.