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Śrī Rām Jaya Rām Jaya Jaya Rām. Śrī Rāma, Candra Bhagavān, Kīcaya Guru Caraṇome Praṇām. Respected Mahāmaṇḍaleśvara Svāmījī Saraj Purī Jī, respected Premānājī, welcome back. We are very happy that you came back. Dear Guru brothers and sisters, perhaps when hearing this beautiful kīrtan of Lord Rāma, we could remember those beautiful moments in Strelka Āśram during the summer seminars when Swamijī was giving lectures on the Rāmāyaṇa. Often during the morning lectures, he would sit in the garden or in the park with a large book—Swamijī’s copy of the Rāmcaritmānas. He would open it, read just one or two ślokas, and then his jñāna amṛta would start to flow, uplifting all of us to higher lokas. A few days ago, we had a Skype satsaṅg with Svāmījī. He gave us many instructions regarding webcasting from Jadam and preparing new programs, which we may see soon. He also mentioned that Niranjan Purī should speak on the Rāmāyaṇa. Oh God, in that first moment I was shocked and nearly scared. I remembered that big, rich book which I do not know well, and of course, I recalled those beautiful satsaṅgs given by Swamiji in Strelka. I was sure I could not attempt this topic. But then, based on many times repeated experience—that when we follow the Master’s Guruvākya, the way opens by itself—the moment I accepted, I realized something. About three years ago, we went through the entire Rāmāyaṇa in our Hindi lessons. You may wonder how this happened. I had to remember that three years ago I studied the Rāmāyaṇa, but the Master knew, for he knows his disciples better than they know themselves. Three years ago, our Hindi lectures were conducted by Miss Vimla Purīdhī, Pani Vimlaji. At that time, she was an English teacher in our secondary school; nowadays, she teaches English in the college. We were a group of a few students with different levels of Hindi knowledge. We had classes once per week after the evening satsaṅg for two hours. She would first teach some grammar common to everyone, then give each person a practical exercise according to their level. Often, it was translating stories from Hindi to English. Some were quite funny, which is good for learning because a light atmosphere makes the mind more receptive. Once I asked if we could have something spiritual to translate. She said, "Yeah, of course, I will be most happy," and she brought this: a condensed Rāmāyaṇa. It was a xerox copy of her personal book, which is actually the Rāmāyaṇa textbook for the sixth class of elementary school. From that time onward, I started to prepare homework from this Rāmāyaṇa for every lesson. We read chapter by chapter and, over about six to seven months before the summer holidays, went through it. It was a beautiful time to study, write homework, and prepare for the lessons. One might think that reducing such a big book into a school textbook—this is only the first volume—would cause its essence to be lost. But not at all. The stories in the Rāmāyaṇa, no matter how much you simplify them, are always so uplifting, so full of positivity, love, and wisdom. Many times I had tears in my eyes while writing the homework. I thought, may every country and every language have such a textbook. While learning the national language, the soul actually gets elevated, and spiritual teaching is involved. The truth written in the Rāmāyaṇa is eternal; it was valid thousands of years ago and is valid now. The stories are written so simply that they are understandable for everybody. Everyone can find there the solution to their own life problems. It shows what the ideal of human dharma is: how to be an ideal husband, son, brother, king, servant, citizen, or even enemy. Simply, everyone can identify with the positive reflection of themselves in the book. Because of this combination of wisdom, beauty, and simplicity, it became the pillar of Indian culture and history. For thousands of years and hundreds of generations, in nearly every house and family, the Rāmāyaṇa used to be read and listened to. This practice started to decline somewhat in the modern period with the advent of television and computers. However, in the 1990s, the film producer Ramanand Sagar made a TV series called Ramayana with approximately 80 episodes. Originally a low-cost project, it was broadcast on Sundays at 9:30 in the morning, a time when more or less nobody watches television. But what happened was unexpected: it became a national revolution. After a few episodes aired, the whole of India stopped. Public transport in the cities stopped; buses and trains between cities stopped. In villages, hundreds of people gathered around a single TV set to watch it. The series lasted for one and a half years and set an absolute world record in viewer ratings. Even Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi commented on this several times, saying it came at the very right moment when Indian culture was starting to decline. It showed how strong the Rāmāyaṇa Saṃskāra is in the Indian nation. It became known abroad as well; for example, the London Sunday Times wrote that in the fifty years since the independence movement, it was the biggest integration of the nation. This is the greatness of the Rāmāyaṇa, which is truly in the blood of the Indian nation, yet its message is for the whole world. Over the past many centuries, numerous language versions of the Rāmāyaṇa have been written. The two most well-known are the Rāmcaritmānas by Tulsīdāsjī, written in the 16th century in Awadhī (a dialect of Hindi), and the original source, Vālmīki’s Rāmāyaṇa in Sanskrit. Our school textbook is derived from this Sanskrit version of the Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa. Straight in the introduction, we learn how Vālmīki wrote the Rāmāyaṇa. Ṛṣi Vālmīki was living in the era of Lord Rāma. He had his ashram in the forest with a few disciples. One day, he was going to take a bath in the holy Gaṅgā, accompanied by his disciple Bharadvāja. On the way, they were walking on the bank of the river Tamasā. Vālmīki was suddenly overwhelmed by the extreme beauty of nature. He looked at the clear water with shining (chamaknā) fish, the dense jungle with beautiful greenery, and birds singing in beautiful melodies. Suddenly, his gaze fell on a couple of crane birds performing their wedding dance. Both were full of love, radiating love. Vālmīki felt very uplifted by this scenery. Out of a sudden, an arrow from a hunter came and pierced the body of the male bird, killing him on the spot. The female bird started to groan in terrible pain and deep sadness. That profound sadness overwhelmed Vālmīki; he was nearly unconscious from the depth of this emotion. He looked around, saw the hunter, and, feeling both sad and upset, his lips automatically opened and he spoke. This was the first śloka of the Rāmāyaṇa. It was specific in its structure, rhyme, and rhythm. The disciple Bharadvāja immediately learned it by heart. As they walked back to the ashram, Bharadvāja repeated the śloka to the master. Suddenly, Vālmīkījī stopped and said, "Bharadvāja, I have a feeling this śloka will one day be very famous." They continued, and then Vālmīki began to meditate on this śloka. He then realized, "Why did I give such a curse to the hunter?" I forgot to translate it. It means he said, "Oh, hunter, throughout eternity you will not find peace, because you killed a crane bird when he was in love and unsuspecting." Vālmīkījī repented giving such a strong curse. Troubled, he mentally searched for a solution and remembered meeting Ṛṣi Nārada. Vālmīkījī had asked him, "Tell me, is there any human who never makes mistakes? Who is the strongest, most clever, and most wise? Who always follows dharma and always helps others? Who is the most beautiful and not tainted by any sin?" Nāradjī answered, "Yes, I know him. This is Lord Rāma." Recalling this meeting, Vālmīkījī’s conscience lightened a bit. Once, while meditating on this śloka, Lord Brahmā himself appeared before him and said, "It was I who gave that śloka on your lips, in that particular structure, so you will receive a boon enabling you to see the whole story of the Rāmāyaṇa before your inner eyes. It is your task to write it down as your message for the future of humankind." Vālmīkījī did not lose a minute and immediately began to write. He wrote the entire Rāmāyaṇa in 24,000 verses, or ślokas. That story is traditionally divided into six parts, each linked to a certain period of Lord Rāma’s life. I think perhaps we should open this topic next time, if Gurudev agrees to a continuation. For now, let us celebrate the name of Lord Rāma by chanting his name again. Jaya Jaya Rām Śrī Rām Jaya Rām Jaya Jaya Rām. Jaya Jaya Rām.