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Part 1: Understanding Gaṇeśa: The Elephant-Headed God and His Practical Meaning for Yogīs Good morning, everybody. Yesterday’s discussion on the Vedas was quite intellectually demanding, so we gave you a short break. Sādhvī Pārvatī Jī will continue with that topic tomorrow. Today, I thought we might speak about something related but perhaps a bit lighter—about Hinduism. Specifically, I would like to address a question that often arises for us as yogīs: all these Hindu gods, what do they actually mean to us? This question becomes particularly acute when you receive a yoga name. When Swāmījī gives you a name like Śiva Purī, Kṛṣṇānand, or something similar, you naturally wonder, “What does this mean for me now?” It happened to me when Swāmījī gave me the name Gajānand—another name for Gaṇeśa. So I did some research on this topic, and today I would like to share with you, using Gaṇeśa, the elephant-headed god, as an example, how we can practically understand what these aspects of the divine mean for us. It is traditional that whenever we begin something auspicious—a satsaṅg, a ceremony, any important undertaking—we first invoke Gaṇeśa. You are familiar with a few bhajans we sing that reflect this. We have “Padhāro Mere” and “Gaṇapatī,” and also “Sumaro Gaṇanāmī.” There is another one, “Chalo Chalo Yesahelian,” in whose last line we sing, “Ho Gaṇanāmī Ganeśa, you are the Gaṇeśa for me.” And we have two Gaṇeśa dohās—that is, mantras in a particular poetic form. One, from Lalanandjī, begins “Gajānanda Ānandakāro…,” and Holy Gurujī composed another in 1999, which starts with “Gajānanda Ānanda Muratī….” Actually, these are more accurately four dohās. The dohā is a specific kind of mantra: “do” means two, so it is a mantra of two rhyming lines with its own rhythm. Let me recite Holy Gurujī’s dohā first: Gajānanda Ānandamūrti Kṛpākaro Mahārāj Satsaṅgame Padharajo Supakaro Supakaj. What does this mean? Gajānand, you are the mūrti of Ānand—you are the personification, the very embodiment, of divine bliss. O Mahārāj, great Lord, please be merciful to me, to us. “Satsaṅgame padhāro jī”—we invite you, please come to our satsaṅg. The word “kaj” here is related to karm, work, and “supal” contains the word “pal,” meaning fruit; so “supakaro supakaj” means “make our work fruitful, grant it success.” For Gaṇeśa is traditionally seen as the remover of obstacles. When he removes the impediments, what we do afterwards can succeed. That is why we always remember Gaṇeśa first. Gaṇeśa has many names—Gajānand is one of them, and Holy Gurujī uses it right at the beginning: Gajānand Ānandamūrtī. Then he gives two more of your names: Gaṇādhiśa and Gaṇarāja. Another dohā says: Gajānanda Sukharūp, Saba Devan Meṁ Deva Baṛā, Mahābhūpān Ke Bhūp. Here, Gajānanda, you are the very form of happiness. “Saba Devan Meṁ Deva Baṛā” means you are the greatest among all the gods. “Mahābhūpān Ke Bhūp”—in this line the word “Bhū” appears, referring to Mother Earth. It is a play on words: the lord of the earth is called Bhūpān, Bhūpāl, or Bhūpati. So you could say you are the king of kings, the highest lord. Then another one: Gajānanda Gaṇapati, Riddhi Siddhi Ke Dātā, Gyān Gathalī Padharjo. Gaṇapati is yet another name for Gaṇeśa. You are the bestower of ṛiddhis and siddhis. Let me clarify: siddhis are the spiritual perfections, the attainments of spiritual realization and inner fulfillment. ṛiddhis, on the other hand, refer more to worldly abilities and prosperities. And “Gyān Gathalī” means “cloud of wisdom”—please come and bring with you that cloud of divine wisdom, showering it down upon us as divine nectar. There is also this passage: Śrī Madhavānandakī Ānandakaro, Gaṇanāmī Gurudev, Viśvadīp Harī Apoho, Dījot Caraṇakī Sev. Holy Gurujī says here: please grant me the bliss. Gaṇanāmī Gurudev, you are the Guru-dev with many names. Viśvadīp Harī Apoho—O Lord, you are the light of the entire universe. Dījot Caraṇakī Sev—please grant that I may serve your holy lotus feet, that I may do Guru Sevā. In this bhajan, Holy Gurujī fully embraces the traditional Indian approach: it is good to first turn to Gaṇeśa. Whether you are beginning a marriage ceremony, building a house, or even looking at a wedding invitation card, Gaṇeśa will always be there at the top. You will find his image or statue at the entrance of every home. If you ask an ordinary Indian, “Why do you do this?” they will usually answer by telling you stories. These stories do not come from the Vedas—the Vedas are the high, scientific spiritual wisdom of India, which I leave to Sādhvī Pārvatī to explain later. Instead, these stories come from the Purāṇas, a vast collection of narrative scriptures, a veritable story box. The biggest of them is the Skanda Purāṇa; we already have half of it in the Jadan Library, and when complete it will fill many volumes. All these stories are meant to convey spiritual wisdom to ordinary people in a form they can easily understand. So, if you ask about Gaṇeśa, they will tell you a story like this one. It is a story about Śiva and Pārvatī. Once, when Śiva was away for a long time, Pārvatī reflected that while she was bathing, some stranger might enter. She needed a way to protect herself. Because she is divine, creating a guardian was no difficulty for her. She simply brought forth a son from her own being. This boy immediately recognized her as his mother and was loving and obedient. She explained to him that his duty would be to guard the door whenever she bathed and to let no one—absolutely no one—enter. The problem was that Śiva and this boy did not know each other. When Śiva returned and tried to enter, the small boy blocked him and said, “No, you are not allowed here.” Śiva became upset. An argument began and soon escalated into a fight. You must understand, this was not a fight between a man and a boy; it was a clash of divine powers—Śiva’s power against Pārvatī’s power. The struggle was inconclusive and seemed endless. At last, though, Śiva was so enraged that he resorted to an unfair means and cut off the boy’s head. The head rolled far away and could not be found. Then Śiva entered the baths and met his wife. Pārvatī had mixed feelings. On one hand, she was happy to see her husband; on the other, she was utterly amazed and wondered, “How did he manage to enter?” And she was distraught, too, knowing that her son must have been overcome. Part 2: Gaṇeśa: From Purāṇic Tale to the Guru Within So now they had some arguments. You see, even between gods, that happens. And she knew very well that, by normal means, he would not be able to kill this boy because of her Śakti. So finally, Śiva admitted his fault and apologized to her. But apologizing alone was not enough; he now had to bring the boy back to life. This is no problem for a God like Śiva—he can do that. However, the problem was that the head had rolled away, and no one knew where it was. Now they had a boy without a head. So Śiva called some servants and said, “Go out and search for the next living being you come across, and bring it here.” As it happened, that being was an elephant. He took the elephant’s head, placed it onto the boy’s body, and revived him. And that became Gaṇeśa—the boy with an elephant’s head. This is also why he is called Gajānanda: Gaja means elephant. Further, to apologize to the boy, Śiva gave him special honor, decreeing that he would always be respected in a unique way and should be invoked before all other gods. This is one example of the many stories that explain why there is a human body with an elephant head and why Gaṇeśa is always invoked first. Most Indians view Gaṇeśa through such stories, just as they view other deities through their own narratives. Hinduism is often called the most tolerant religion in the world. Everyone there chooses their own god, which is called an iṣṭadeva. Everyone selects the form of God most sympathetic to them. For a Hindu, there is no problem in accepting Buddha, Jesus, or anyone else—it is simply one more god, one more form of divinity. It is entirely up to you whom you choose. That is why a Hindu can easily embrace Buddha or Jesus: it is just another expression of the divine. In this way, many Indians now see Gaṇeśa as their iṣṭadeva, and they pray to him, they love him. This is their channel to God. “Mahāprabhujīp Karatā He Kevalam Mahāprabhujīp Karatā He Kevalam…” But ask yourself a simple question: was Mahāprabhujī a Hindu? You know the Līlā Amṛt. When Muslims and Hindus had conflicts, they went to Mahāprabhujī because they understood that he would understand both of them. He was above them and could comprehend both sides. Think of the chapter on Mauna Satsaṅg: there he teaches each and every group, each and every religion in their own way, so that they understand and receive guidance. If we look closely at our bhajans, many of which Mahāprabhujī composed, we notice that they are not Hindu bhajans—rather, they address Hindus. But we also have many bhajans that address Muslims. For example, “Mīramalā Milana Kīkā, Jajme Mastā Banūṅgarī.” Here you find Mecca, Medina, Allah. It is clearly a bhajan that addresses Muslims, not a Muslim bhajan per se. Similarly, the fakīrī bhajans we usually sing at midnight—fakīr is a Muslim word, referring to Muslim sādhus. Read the Līlā Amṛt carefully, and you will realize that you cannot place Mahāprabhujī or Holy Gurujī into any category. Divine knowledge is beyond religious boundaries. Their category is the category of God, and everything is beyond that. We are now going to sing one of our main Gaṇeśa bhajans, “Padhāro Mere.” Then we will inquire a little: what is really the point here in this bhajan? It is one of the bhajans we usually sing at the beginning of a satsaṅg to invoke Gaṇeśa, so that he may come. But whom do we actually invoke? At least, I cannot see any boy here with an elephant head around. Let us look at the text. “Padhāro Mere Gaṇapati Padhāro.” Padhāro is a very polite way in India to invite someone. When someone comes, you say “Padhāro”; to make him sit down, you say “Padhāro”; and when he wants to go, you say “Padhāro.” It is a most practical word! Now the bhajan says: “Padhāro Merā Gaṅgā Paṭṭī, Dev Guraṅg Sa”—you just have to put it the other way round. “Dev Guraṅg Sa” is actually Guru, Dev, Sa, and Sa is Jī, so it means Guru, Dev, Jī. “Pallaka, pallaka, merī yehī ārādhahe rākho caranamedhasā.” Pallaka means every moment, with every blink of my eye. This is my request to you: give me the chance to do Guru Seva. “Kripākāro Gurudev Gajānand.” Gurudev Gajānand, please be merciful. “Gurudevo Gajānando, prosím, smiluj se. Gurudev Gajānand, légy kegyelmes hozzám.” “Hṛdaya Kāro Nivāsa.” Please, I offer you the temple of my heart. Please come into my heart. “Anubhav Vāṇī prakaṭekīdzo.” Vāṇī is the voice, and anubhava means real experience, that you actually hear a voice. Please awaken this inner divine voice in me. Speak to me from inside, from my heart. This is the inner guidance of our Antaryāmī, our inner guru. When God is in our heart, this voice comes automatically. It is like bhāna prakāśa: if there is the sun, there is automatically light, the rays. “Śaraṇāya Āyako Saddā Sukhadeśu”—those who come to your shelter, please always make them happy. “Ki jo sarva duḥkha nāśa”—and remove all troubles, all suffering. “Kāla Jāla, Sabhā, Kubuddhi, Tāla, Jo.” Kāla Jāla is the net of death. This physical world, including our physical body, is governed by the Lord of Death; we cannot escape from it. Please, destroy this net of death. And also destroy kubuddhi—you know the word buddhi, intellect, and ku, as in kusaṅga, meaning the negative intellect. “Maitā Yam Kī Trāsā”—remove all my fear of death. “Charachara me āpa birajo.” Chara and achara mean what is living and non-living, animate and inanimate. I see you in everything, the whole universe, animate and inanimate. “Vyāprakā Jéza Akhāṛā”—you are pervading everything, like space. “Aṣṭa Gaṇapati Dhyāve Saddhasu Kapāve Pura Maṅkī Asā.” My whole-hearted hope is that those who always meditate on you will find happiness. “Śrī Pūjit Dīpā Dāyālu, Śrī Gāṇānāthī.” You, my beloved Gurudev Mahāprabhujī—you are the Gāṇānāthī. You are for me the one named Gaṇeśa Gajānanda. You are the Gaṇeśa for me. “Śvāsa U Śvāsa.” Śvāsa u śvāsa means inhalation, exhalation—with every breath. And “Simaru” is the same as Sumaraṇa, a continuous repetition. So I repeat your name with every breath. “Śrī Mādhavānanda, Nitya Ārādhyaka Karata He.” I, Madhavānanda, have this request to you all the time. “Ya Mādhāvānanda, mám neustále k tobě tuto prosbu. In Mādhāvānanda foyamatosan es kerem türed.” I am thirsty for your darśana, for your presence. Some years ago, I had the opportunity to have his darśana. So here we have a very clear statement: for Holy Gurujī, he does not sing about the stories from the Purāṇas when he sings of Gaṇeśa. For him, the remover of obstacles is not a god with an elephant head—it is his Gurudev, Mahāprabhujī. This is the understanding in our bhajans. We address Gaṇeśa not so much as iṣṭadeva, but as Gurudeva. Whatever we need in our life, we know that the Guru is the one; he will remove the obstacles. Now, looking at the watch, I have covered perhaps half of what I intended. Maybe we will continue in the evening satsaṅg. We have another beautiful bhajan that will explain much more, but it is long and cannot be fully translated now; it will take more time. So I guess we will continue this topic in the evening. We have to find two aspects of Gaṇeśa: Gaṇeśa whom you can worship as your iṣṭadeva, praying to him; or you see the qualities of Gaṇeśa in your Gurudev and invoke him. And that is, I think, in reality, our attitude toward Swāmījī. When we have trouble, we say, “Swamijī, can I have a consultation?” And Swamijī will say, “But I have taught you everything—yoga in daily life—just practice.” So, I guess on this level we find ourselves already, but this is what really lives in our bhajans. Look carefully at the bhajans. Our bhajans are not Hindu bhajans; these are yoga bhajans. Pūrījī, Pūrījī...