The Chola's Persecution and the Flight North

It is written: "When the gracious eyes of a good Guru fall upon a person, his salvation is sure — be he mute or deaf, fool or wise, old or young."

Bhagavad Ramanuja was showering his grace in this way, holding splendid Vedanta discourses with an illustrious circle of disciples — Kuresa, Dasarathi, and Devarat foremost among them.

The Chola king of the day was a most bigoted Saiva. He was bent on destroying Vishnu temples and persecuting Vaishnavas. His own son (Vikrama Chola, 1113–1128 C.E.) wisely warned him that he had set himself an impossible task — he could never destroy the two strong props of the Vaishnavas, the Tiruvaymozhi of St. Nammazhvar and the Ramayana of Valmiki.

The king, then residing at Chidambaram (Gangaikonda Cholapuram), issued a proclamation declaring "There is no God greater than Siva," and commanded every learned man to sign the document. Many signed — some from fear of punishment, some from conviction, others enticed by rewards of land and money. Others fled the country and hid.

Naluran, a disciple of Kuresa, happened to be the king's minister. "Your Majesty," he said, "what is the use of collecting signatures indiscriminately? If you could obtain the signatures of the two pillars of the Vaishnava faith — Kuresa and Bhagavad Ramanuja at Srirangam — your declaration would carry unquestioned weight."

The king at once dispatched messengers to Srirangam to bring Bhagavad Ramanuja. They arrived and stood at the gate of the monastery demanding that he come with them to the king's court.

The doorkeepers whispered the news to Kuresa, who was then serving bath-water to Bhagavad Ramanuja. Foreseeing the danger, Kuresa — without telling his Guru — donned Bhagavad Ramanuja's colored robes, took up his tridanda, and walked out declaring, "I am Ramanuja. Proceed." Mahapurna, seeing this, followed Kuresa on the ominous journey.

When Bhagavad Ramanuja returned from his bath and called for his robes and staff, Dasarathi told him what Kuresa had done. In sore distress Bhagavad Ramanuja cried: "Oh, what will become of Kuresa and Mahapurna in this war of bigotry! Let me wear Kuresa's white garments!"

"Holy Sire, you must not remain on this spot," Dasarathi pleaded, "lest harm come to your precious life."

Bhagavad Ramanuja hurried to Lord Varada, supplicating Him with melting prayer in the manner of St. Bhaktanghrirenu, that the evil threatening to engulf them all might be warded off and that all the good work not be undone.

"Good God," he prayed, "the Chola king is very powerful now. I leave to You how and when You will punish him. I will leave this country."

He turned his face northward toward Melkote, and with his disciples set out from Srirangam with a heavy heart.

Meanwhile, the king's men, discovering that the Kuresa they had captured was not the real Ramanuja, set off in pursuit. They came upon Bhagavad Ramanuja crossing a broad sandy river.

"What shall we do?" he said to his disciples. "Let us take handfuls of sand, recite over it this mantra" — the fourth verse, Kudal-kadaindu, of Periyazhvar's Tirumozhi V-4-4 — "and throw the sand into their path. The rest we leave to God."

When the royal emissaries trod on the enchanted sand, their feet stuck fast. "These Brahmanas have used magic against us!" they cried, and beat a confused retreat. Bhagavad Ramanuja proceeded on his way with Sri Ranganatha for his help.

They threaded their way through trackless wilds. Before they reached the foot of the Nilagiri Hills, Bhagavad Ramanuja and his disciples lost each other in the wilderness. One wandering disciple came upon a few forest men ploughing land. They were disciples of Tirumalai Nallan Chakravarti, an old disciple of Bhagavad Ramanuja.

"Sir, where do you come from?"

"From Srirangam."

"How is our Ramanuja? Is all well with our blessed Sri Ranganatha?"

"Good folk, our Master had to desert Srirangam because of the Chola's persecutions, and we do not know where he has strayed in this wilderness."

The forest-men stopped their work. For six days they searched without food or water. On the sixth night, in the gloom, they heard voices — and sensed they were Brahmanas. They listened. Bhagavad Ramanuja's party had meanwhile sighted a fire the searchers had lit to warm themselves in the dark, rainy, chilly night.

Bhagavad Ramanuja had reached the foot of a hill where his disciples had rejoined him, all wet, hungry, and shivering. Seeing the light, he asked to be carried toward it. The search-party, hearing their voices, cried out, "Come here, sirs — we shall show you the way!"

They led the weary travelers to the blazing fire, warmed them, provided dry clothes, and rendered every service.

"Where are you coming from, sirs?"

"From Srirangam."

"What is our Ramanuja doing there?"

Bhagavad Ramanuja kept silent, but his disciples asked, "How do you, good men, know Ramanuja?"

"Sirs, our Guru is Nallan Chakravarti. The last advice he left with us was that Bhagavad Ramanuja's holy feet alone are our way to salvation. That is how we know him."

"Then here he is," the disciples said, pointing. The forest-men fell on their faces and clung to his feet, weeping for joy. They brought grain and honey, new pots to fry the grain and mix it with honey, and fed the travelers — who, exhausted from the journey, took a long-needed rest.

The next morning, one forest-man and one disciple were sent to Srirangam to carry news and learn how it fared with Kuresa. The rest — forty-five disciples in all — continued northward.

After six days' journey they reached a fastness in the heart of the Nilagiri range, where the chief of the forest-men lived. The chief was out hunting. His guides led them to his wife, their mistress: "Madam, these holy men are our Gurus. Please attend to all their wants — charge everything against our wages."

When the chief returned and was told all, he said, "How can we eat while these good men are hungry?" He dispatched his men to conduct the travelers to a neighbouring village, to the house of a Brahmana named Kattalai-vari, with abundant provisions.

The wife of Kattalai-vari was the well-known Kongil Piratti, or Chelanchalamba. She prostrated before them and asked if she might cook for them. They declined.

"To whose feet, sirs, do you belong?" she asked.

"Ramanuja."

"Doubt not, sirs — I also belong to him."

"Strange — pray tell us how."

She began: "Once the rains failed and famine fell on the land. My husband and I left our country and went to Srirangam, where we rented a house, living on its second floor. Daily I watched Bhagavad Ramanuja emerge from the temple after his morning duties, to enter seven houses collecting alms. Like a very god on earth he walked the streets, and many fell at his feet — among them Akalankanatt-azhvan, the husband of Tripuradevi.

"One day he entered my poor house. I ran down and stood behind a door, shy and attentive. 'Good dame, what is on your mind?' he asked. I humbly said, 'Holy sir, you come begging to poor houses, while I see kings fall at your feet in the streets. Please solve this mystery for me.'

"He said, 'Dear daughter, I tell these men bits of news about God, and they become attached to me. It is my duty to go to poor houses — anywhere where there may be people who wish to hear good tidings of God.'

"'Then, Holy Father,' I said, 'may I not receive a little of it?' He gladly taught me what was good for me and departed.

"Later, when the rains returned and we prepared to go home, I realized I had forgotten his precious teaching. I sat troubled. Then suddenly he dropped into our house again. I ran down, excused myself for my bad memory, and begged him to teach me once more. Looking upon me graciously, he impressed upon me the Dvaya-mantra and the holy names of all the apostles of our faith — from God downwards, ending with himself.

"As he was leaving, I entreated him to give me something to carry in remembrance, that I might worship as my saviour. He was kind enough to grant me his holy sandals. My husband and I returned home with this blessed gift. It has been many years since, and I have never had the joy of seeing Bhagavad Ramanuja again."

Bhagavad Ramanuja heard all this, but he was half incognito — still wearing Kuresa's white garments — and so many years had passed that Kongil did not recognize him.

Having heard her account, he gave her permission to cook and commanded a disciple to observe her preparations. She sprinkled herself with water while repeating, "Blessed be Ramanuja." She washed the house with cow-dung water, took fresh pots, wore a clean washed cloth, cooked the meal while continuously chanting the holy Prabandha, placed the vessels in clean baskets, and carried them into her puja room. There, she set Bhagavad Ramanuja's sandals on a raised dais, repeating, "Ramanuja's holy feet are my sole refuge," and offered the food. Only then did she invite the guests to eat.

Bhagavad Ramanuja called the watching disciple aside. The disciple recounted everything exactly, but added, "It was dark in the puja room. There were two long black objects that she worshipped and offered food to."

"Daughter," Bhagavad Ramanuja called, "please let us see what you worshipped in the dark."

She brought the sandals. "Holy sire, these are the sandals of my Ramanuja, which he gave me at Srirangam. Every day I worship them and eat only after offering food to them. That is what I did today — nothing more."

Bhagavad Ramanuja measured them against his feet. "Curious — they suit me. But come here, daughter." He whispered, "These disciples of mine are very strict. The sandals fit my feet, but that does not quite satisfy them. Let me hear what Ramanuja taught you."

Kongil repeated the mantra.

"Good. Now — do you recognize Ramanuja among this band?"

Kongil brought a lamp and examined his feet. "Sir, your feet are indeed like Ramanuja's. But you wear white robes, which he did not and could not as a Sannyasin. I am confused, Father."

Moved by her anxiety and no longer wishing to hide from her, Bhagavad Ramanuja said gently, "Dear daughter, I am Ramanuja."

Her confusion turned to joy and wonder. She fell at his feet, weeping.

"Disciples," he said, turning to them, "there need be no more hesitation. Sri Krishna ate Vidura's food, for it was pure and good. Such is Kongil's food. Go and eat." They did so. But Bhagavad Ramanuja himself did not, which troubled Kongil.

"But what about you, Father? I shall bring milk and fruits — offer them to your God and eat." He did so, and all rested, steeped in bliss.

The devout Kongil took the remnants of their food, along with the water that had washed Bhagavad Ramanuja's feet, up to her sleeping husband, woke him, and made him partake. She herself was fasting.

"Why do you not eat, dear?" he asked.

"Lord, Bhagavad Ramanuja and his disciples have come from Srirangam, and they have gone to sleep without taking food."

"What can I do, lady?"

"Cannot you, lord, become Bhagavad Ramanuja's disciple?"

"If you wish."

On obtaining this promise, she ate and rested after her loving day's labour. The next morning she approached Bhagavad Ramanuja and begged him to remain a while and initiate her husband into the Vaishnava fold. He gladly consented, administered the necessary sacraments, taught them many lessons for their future welfare, stayed some days, and then — blessing the good pair — resumed his journey.