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Part 1: The Authors of the Rāmāyaṇa: Maharṣi Vālmīki and Gosvāmī Tulsīdās Hari Om, good evening. Today marks the last evening of the seminar, and, as it happens, the final day of Diwali as well. The combined power of the seminar and Diwali was so great that a Diwali tree appeared here for us—we obtained it from the shop. It is a traditional Indian tree for celebrating Diwali, so we could ignite ourselves and sing, “Jyota se Jyota, ignite my heart,” to awaken a little of our inner light. If anyone wished to remind us that the little tree should be here, the saṅkalpa was so strong that we now have this tree. I will tell you something about the Rāmāyaṇa, but it will not be directly about the epic itself—that would take an exceedingly long time. Instead, it will concern the authors of the Rāmāyaṇa. Perhaps you recall that before the flights—I am not sure if it was 2001; I think it was two years ago—Swāmī Jī was here for a seminar and narrated the Rāmāyaṇa. It was something extraordinary. At the end, a fine drizzle of blessing came. That was a brief note about those authors, and now we turn to them. Puruṣa, Mahādeva, kī jai! Śrī Mādhava Kṛṣṇa, Gurudeva, kī jai! Viśvaguru, Mahāmaṇḍaleśvara, Paramahaṁsī Svāmī Maheśvarānandajī, Gurudeva, kī jai! Sat Sanātana Dharma, kī jai! The author of the Rāmāyaṇa is Maharṣi Vālmīki. We will speak of him in the third person. He composed the epic and also appears as a character within it. When Rāma went into exile, he visited sages and stayed in various ashrams. As he was leaving, the mahātmas tried to reverse his decision, to resolve the situation differently, and Rāma said that he had an excellent opportunity to visit the saints and be at satsaṅga. One of the first saints he visited was precisely Maharṣi Vālmīki. Maharṣi Vālmīki also had an answer for Sītā when she could no longer stay in Ayodhyā. Later, it was in his ashram that she gave birth to Lava and Kuśa, and the sage educated the boys. He taught them the Rāmāyaṇa, which they sang in royal courts, at various gatherings, and even at the court of King Rāma himself—neither the children nor the king knowing that they were in fact father and sons. That was discovered only later. Maharṣi Vālmīki was born a brāhmaṇa. His name was Ratnākara, but due to destiny he ended up in a family of robbers who raised him in their ways, giving him a thief’s education. When he grew up, he became a bandit. His destiny was changed by Ṛṣi Nārada, who once visited him and asked him about the bad karmas one creates. Ratnākara thought those karmas would be shared by his relatives, his children, his wife—those for whom he was doing everything. Ṛṣi Nārada told him to go and ask them if they wished to share. When Ratnākara returned, he discovered they had no interest whatsoever in his bad karma. They all replied that those were his karmas, his alone. So he returned to the sage, who instructed him to perform tapasyā and gave him a mantra: the name of God, “Rāma.” Ratnākara could not utter it, so he reversed it and said “Māra,” which is the root of the verb “to kill,” “to die.” But his determination was so strong and his intention pure that, even chanting the mantra in this utterly different way, after several years—after some time—he reached the goal of his austerity and attained self-realization. Hence the name Vālmīki, derived from the word “valmīka,” meaning anthill. While he practiced intense austerity, ants built an anthill over him, and when he finally emerged from his asceticism, he came forth from that anthill. Thus he began to live the life of a saint. Once Ṛṣi Nārada visited Maharṣi Vālmīki again. The sage asked whether there existed in the world anyone truly virtuous, the embodiment of all virtues, who strictly followed dharma and could serve as a role model for everyone. Nārada replied that it was King Rāma, son of King Daśaratha, and he narrated the story of Śrī Rāma. After Nārada departed, Maharṣi Vālmīki went to the river. There he saw a pair of krauñca birds, and at that very moment a hunter lurking behind a bush shot one of them. The surviving male began to cry out loudly. The scene affected Maharṣi Vālmīki so profoundly that a curse burst from his mouth in the form of a śloka—a verse with sixteen syllables, divided into two eight-syllable lines. From the word “śloka” comes the term “śloka,” as if taken straight from the essence. In this verse he spoke the curse, and then he returned to his āśrama. Lord Brahmā appeared to him and instructed him to write the story of Śrī Rāma entirely in this metre. Thus, in that very first śloka, the entire Rāmāyaṇa is, in a sense, encapsulated. Maharṣi Vālmīki seated himself in meditation, and in that meditation he beheld the entire life of Rāma—even what Nārada had not told him. And so he composed the Rāmāyaṇa. The Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa is highly esteemed; it possesses great poetic quality and has served as a model for literature throughout thousands of years. The Rāmāyaṇa comprises seven books and twenty-four thousand verses, making it the second greatest epic in the world; the greatest is the Mahābhārata. What has been made available, for instance in Czech or other languages, is usually only a small fragment or a summary. I believe the Rāmāyaṇa has not been fully translated into any Western language. It is unknown when exactly Maharṣi Vālmīki lived or when the Rāmāyaṇa was written. Some sources place it in the fourth or second centuries BCE, but they usually admit that it cannot be determined with certainty. In the book Dating the Era of Lord Rama, the author attempted to pinpoint the date based on the stellar constellations mentioned in the Rāmāyaṇa. Maharṣi Vālmīki precisely describes the constellations present at Rāma’s birth, at his proposed coronation, and when he went into exile, as well as a solar eclipse during his return. Using computer programs to calculate these configurations, Mr. Puṣkara Bathnagar found that such constellations actually existed, indicating that Lord Rāma’s birth occurred around 5114 BCE—quite a long time ago. Maharṣi Vālmīki composed the Rāmāyaṇa in Sanskrit, the language of scholars, which was not easily understood by ordinary people. Therefore, later the Rāmāyaṇa was translated into vernacular languages. The most well-known and significant translation is Tulsīdās jī’s Rāmacaritamānasa—the “Lake of the Deeds of Rāma.” It is very likely that it was according to this book that Swāmī Jī narrated the Rāmāyaṇa to us. Gosvāmī Tulsīdās jī lived in the sixteenth century, a turbulent time of raids, subjugation, and violence. It was not an easy era. Tulsīdās is considered an incarnation of Vālmīki in the Kali Yuga. According to legend, he was not born by chance; from birth he repeatedly chanted the name of Rāma, so he was given the name Rāmbolā—because “bolnā” means “to speak,” thus it means “one who says Rāma.” The name Rāma means “the one who gives light,” bringing joy, happiness, and peace. Tulsīdās did not have an easy childhood. His mother passed away shortly after birth, and his horoscope held some unfavourable configurations, mainly regarding his father. The father became frightened and abandoned the child. A servant woman then took him in, but when he was still young, she too passed away. So he became homeless. However, the sādhu Narharidās took him under his care. Tulsīdās was given the task of looking after the sacred plant tulasī, and from this he received the name Tulsīdās. Sādhu Narharidās also took charge of his education. Tulsīdās mentions that he studied at Ayodhyā, the city where Śrī Rāma was born and where he later became king. Afterwards, he studied for another sixteen years in Kāśī, learning Sanskrit, the Vedas, the auxiliary sciences of the Vedas, and the six Indian philosophies; thus he was highly learned. After completing his studies, he married, probably to Ratnāvalī, with whom he had fallen deeply in love. Once, when Ratnāvalī visited her parents, Tulsīdās could not bear to be without her even for a moment and set out to follow her. A storm had made the river unfordable, but he solved this by swimming across. He then reached his father-in-law’s house by climbing up a rope. Seeing the lengths to which he had gone, Ratnāvalī said to him, “If only the love you have for me were directed, even a little, towards God, you would already be realized.” These words struck Tulsīdās profoundly. He renounced the world and became a sādhu. He visited many pilgrimage sites, living in Kāśī and Prayāga (today’s Allahābād, where the Kumbha Melā takes place), and wandered in other places as well. He also journeyed to Mānasarovara near Mount Kailāsa. Later, during meditation, he received instruction from Lord Śiva to translate the Rāmāyaṇa into the local Avadhī dialect. Tulsīdās also set the Rāmāyaṇa to music and is considered the author of the Hanumāna Cālīsā—the glorious hymn in praise of Hanumāna. Tulsīdās spent his entire life spreading the story of Rāma and speaking about the power of his name. He established something akin to a physical training programme for the youth, so that they would be strong both morally and physically, and he built many temples dedicated to Hanumāna. The Rāmāyaṇa of Tulsīdās jī is a teaching of experiential knowledge, accessible to people at every level of spiritual development. Tulsīdās also records in his works that he met Hanumāna and Śrī Rāma themselves. According to the Rāmāyaṇa, Hanumāna still lives here on earth with us. When Śrī Rāma prepared to depart from this world, everyone wished to accompany him, Hanumāna of course included. But Lord Rāma told him to remain and to look after bhakti until the end of Kali Yuga. So Hanumāna does not have an easy task. Part 2: Tulsīdās and the Rāmājñā Praśna When the young Tulsīdās was staying in Kāśī, every morning he would go outside the city to wash, carrying a vessel for water. On his way back, he would pour the remaining water at the foot of a tree. Once the spirit of that tree appeared to him, thanked him, and said it would gladly fulfill a wish of his. Tulsīdās replied that he wished to see Śrī Rāma. The spirit, however, said that fulfilling this was beyond its capacity, but it advised him to seek out Hanumān, who could grant the boon. It told Tulsīdās that when he recited the Rāmāyaṇa, the first to arrive would always be a leprous man who sat at the back and left last; this, the spirit said, was Hanumān. Tulsīdās waited, and indeed that very evening an old, sick man came first and was the last to leave. Tulsīdās followed him and, after some time, fell at his feet, asking him to reveal his true form. The man at first acted as though nothing had happened, but later appeared as Hanumān and blessed him. Tulsīdās then asked if he could have darśana of Lord Rāma. Hanumān sent him to Chitrakūṭa, where he said Rāma would be met. Tulsīdās jī set out and lived there for some time. One day while performing parikrama, circumambulating the mountain, he saw two princes on horseback—one dark, the other fair. They attracted and enchanted him, but after a while his attention was interrupted and he focused on something else. Later, Hanumān asked him if he had seen Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa on horseback. Tulsīdās recalls this incident in one of his songs, where he says his own vision became his enemy and he was unable to recognize Rāma. Hanumān comforted him, however, and assured him that he would meet Rāma the next morning. The following day, Rāma appeared again, this time as a child. Tulsīdās was making sandalwood paste when a child came and asked for tilak as well. Once more, Tulsīdās did not recognize him. Fortunately, Hanumān was present—or somehow made his presence felt—and hinted that this child was indeed Śrī Rāma. Then Tulsīdās had a full vision of Śrī Rāma, and the joy was overwhelming. As he entertained the thought of applying tilak to Rāma, Rāma applied the tilak himself and then also applied it to Tulsīdās. Tulsīdās later wrote a book called Rāmājñā Praśna, based on the Rāmāyaṇa, which is essentially a kind of prophecy or oracle drawn from the Rāmāyaṇa. It is said to have been composed for his friend Gangārāma. Once Gangārāma, who was a minister (though, it seems, without any particular ministry or official function), came home dejected. The king’s son had gone hunting and did not return, and the king summoned Gangārāma and ordered him to tell him by the next day whether the prince was alive or not—warning that if he failed to speak the truth, he would lose his head. The situation was dire. Tulsīdās jī comforted him and told him not to fear, that Śrī Rāma would answer him. He invited Gangārāma to worship Śrī Rāma together. Throughout the whole night, Tulsīdās jī remained awake, composing the oracle. The next morning, he gave Gangārāma the instructions, and Gangārāma received his answer—a favorable one: the prince was safe. After this, Tulsīdās began to use the oracle for various people in need of help, because in the story of Rāma he saw the law of karma and transformed it into that oracle. The oracle spread throughout all of India and is still used there today. Regarding how to use it, it is not a matter of wanting to prophesy or present something, but of approaching it with a sense of gift, humility, reverence, and gentleness. If we wish to consult the oracle, we first consider whether we truly need it—whether the answer cannot come from somewhere else or be found within ourselves. If we still feel the need for guidance, we choose an auspicious day. The evening before that day, we invoke the book. Auspicious days are determined according to the planets, each day ruled by a different planet that imparts its energy. These correspondences coincide completely in Indian and European astrology. A brief detour: according to Indian astrology, Monday is ruled by the moon—Soma-vāra (Soma is the moon; vāra is the day). It is connected with Śiva, who bears the crescent moon; in English it is Monday, the moon’s day, as also in Chinese, Korean, Japanese, and other cultures. Tuesday is Maṅgala-vāra, Mars’s day, also Hanumān’s day, for Hanumān embodies bhakti yet is a model of a great warrior—fitting the energy of Mars. Wednesday is Budha-vāra, Mercury’s day; it is the day of Gaṇeśa, remover of obstacles and symbol of wisdom, Mercury representing the intellect. Thursday is Bṛhaspati-vāra, the day of Guru; Bṛhaspati is Jupiter, associated with the divine teacher. Friday is Śukra-vāra; Śukra is Venus, and it is the day of the divine mother. Saturday is Śani-vāra, Saturn’s day, reflected in the word “Saturday” from shabbat; Saturn supports study and sādhanā, so it is recommended to devote oneself to study rather than outer work. Sunday is Ravi-vāra, the day of the sun. This is all exactly the same in Western astrology, showing the immeasurable spread of that culture. Thus, for the oracle the best day is Thursday, when Jupiter offers the greatest benefit and embodies the Guru—both external and internal guidance. If we choose Thursday, we invoke the book on Wednesday. We must also select the day according to the phase of the moon: we choose a day when the moon is bright or waxing, and avoid the five days before the new moon and the new moon itself. After selecting the day, we place the book on the altar or in a sacred place and celebrate God and the Guru. Then we can speak to the oracle, saying: “Tomorrow morning, I will ask you for the answer to an important question.” We state what the question concerns and, if it is for someone else, the name of the person behind the veil, and we ask for a favorable response. On the second day, after bathing and morning sādhanā, we again honor the book with flowers and incense sticks. Then, with faith and devotion, we meditate on the Lord—Rāma, or our own form of God. It is recommended to chant Oṃ Rāmo seven times, or 108 times if the question is about spiritual matters. We reflect again on whether our question is truly that important and whether we have the courage to accept the answer even if we do not like it. A guide then explains how to select chapters and verses using seed stones. It is emphasized that this oracle should not be misused. It is to be consulted when the axle truly needs repair; we should ask no more than two or three questions per week. The oracle is about understanding one’s destiny, finding oneself in the divine will and svadharma, and attuning ourselves to our dharma and the divine will. The oracle answers in a way that is beneficial for our spiritual growth. Just a little more about the Rāmāyaṇa: you have probably seen clips from the Indian Rāmāyaṇa television series. This series is so popular in India that when it was broadcast, shops closed, trains did not run, and officials stopped working because everyone was watching. The actors, especially those in the main roles, were required to abstain from meat, smoking, and alcohol for some time before and during filming. The Rāmāyaṇa is the most popular story throughout South Asia. In Thailand, when kings ascend the throne, they receive the title Rāma. In many Indian languages, the name Rāma is still used today to refer to God. In ancient Persian literature, the name Rāma appears as the name of God. The Rāmāyaṇa is not merely a matter but a spiritual story. There are English translations as well; here are Czech ones—Dušan Zbavitel’s Rāmāyaṇa following the Vālmīki Sanskrit text, Oldřich Frisch’s poetic rendering in the same meter as Vālmīki, and Rāma’s oracle in English. Perhaps we will sing another bhajan.