Crepuscular Dreaming: Kirpal Gordon’s New York at Twilight

 

New York at Twilight is available from Amazon using the following link: https://www.amazon.com/New-York-Twilight-Selected-Gothams/dp/1958266051.

 

 

     Gordon’s marvelous book of short stories, now available in a substantially revised edition, is well-titled, as the mood of New York City pervades every narrative in the book.  It is recognizable to those who know the territory – with mentions of the Kosciusko Bridge, the 79^th Street Tunnel in Central Park, and the Orpheum Theatre at the corner of Second Avenue and St. Marks Place, but it is familiar also to readers.  Gordon’s New York City is Eliot’s London, an “Unreal city, city full of dreams,/ Where ghosts in broad daylight cling to passers-by,” and it is as well Baudelaire’s Paris, “a teeming city, full of dreams, where specters rise before the walker in broad daylight.” 

     The oneiric quality of the modern metropolis for Gordon is founded neither on the sometimes confounding apparently random mashups we might encounter in our beds at night nor on a stale and reductive notion of Freudian wish-fulfillment.  For him the liberating function of dreams is their capacity to leap beyond experience into the truer than truth of art.  This is twilight of the title, poised between the obtrusive phantasmagoria of everyday life and the nirvana of the deepest sleep.  These stories arise from artful play which through indirection and figurative language may express so much more than ordinary language.  In the African-American tradition such rhetoric is called signifying, and in the discourse of some Hindus and Buddhists it is, as Gordon tells us, “twilight language” (sāṃdhyābhāṣā).  Gordon’s characters vary in gender, ethnicity, and location within the capacious New York City hive, but all are “jonesing” (as several of them would put it) for that ancient heavenly connection that shows us with a shock that we’re really at home.

     Like earlier epiphanies in Bodh Gaya, Bethlehem, and Dublin, Gordon ‘s characters open their eyes a bit wider in the middle of their daytime dreams and see through the illusions that enable daily life: distinctions like personal and universal, local and cosmic, crowded stage and utter emptiness.  Sometimes the revelations are more-or-less explicitly metaphysical: In “Portal to the Lost City” the reader learns of the City of Karmic Completion.  The persona in “Erasing the Separation” aims at nothing less than the explosion of dualities: “I’m making it either/or, but seen together these opposites tell the fuller story.”  Or a lovely longer flight in “Petals of Pushpema”: “unfurling cosmic dance of Generate-Organize-Destroy-Silence which she felt was the universe’s benevolent, four-chambered G-O-D-S’ heart pumping blood through her veins and likewise the veins in the leaves of the tulip tree above her.” 

     Eros gets its due as an avenue to enlightenment.  In “Say the Word” a Beatles fan named Walter Rusk mutates into a walrus and becomes thereby a better lover, while Stavros from Astoria seeks his opposite in the Aryan Helga in “The Zeitgeist of Peace and Love.”  If love can be a skillful means (upaya) with the potential to bring awakening, so can art.  Thus the reader meets a new incarnation of Orpheus (in “Orpheus in Heavy Metal”) able to “kill sorrow with an awesome solo.”  Revelations won through both art and love mingle as the playing of Thelonius Monk underlies the vision of “Venus Rising over Brooklyn Bridge.”  In “Lustrum at the RKO” Colleen seeks through Hector’s physical love and the arts of soul music and B-movies to escape the bonds of her Catholic upbringing.  

     Metaphysics here, as in lived experience, occurs not in some empyrean, but in the middle of quotidian life.  One leg of Gordon’s compass is set firmly on the ephemeral data of sense impressions, urban ambulances, park benches, and cathode-ray television sets, while the other rests just beyond the horizon.  He thus reminds his readers of their own most insightful moments, moments which occur for everyone but which, like dreams, evanesce if not captured in words.  These stories are every bit as concrete as they are abstract, as locally specific as they are universal.

     All this may sound somewhat abstract and philosophical, but each story in the collection is a solid narrative with varied fully-formed characters and plot development leading to denouement, a structure not always evident in contemporary experimental fiction.  Furthermore, Gordon is a consummate artist in sound and a leading practitioner of spoken word performance who crafts every phrase so cunningly that the reader is tempted to just turn off cognition and listen to the music of his words.  The stories cry to be read aloud, a worthwhile exercise whether one is alone or among friends.  Should you try this in a public space, whoever is within earshot is likely to be beguiled and engaged and eager to hear what happens next.  What nobler quality could a narrative have?

 

The Greeks Meet the Yogis

I collect here most of the significant references to ancient Indian philosophers in Greek authors. Rather than proposing new ideas about these encounters, my goal is simply to bring these records together for the convenience of the general reader and to provide suggestions for further reading. I realize my title sounds flippant with its overgeneralized “yogis,” but I am little worse in this way than my Greek authorities.



     Knowledge of India in the West was, until the last few hundred years, fragmentary and often fabulous.  Even when a European writer did speak of the East, Asia, or the Orient it was most often with the Near East in mind.  The 1785 publication of the Bhagavad Gita by Charles Wilkins marked the first translation directly from a Sanskrit text into a European language. [1]  Still, as some find they have a wandering and a curious disposition, there have been contacts, including trade, between Europe and South Asia since ancient times.
     It is likely that Herodotus had heard something of Indian sadhus when he wrote “there are other Indians, again, who kill no living creature, nor sow, nor are wont to have houses; they eat grass, and they have a grain growing naturally from the earth in its calyx, about the size of a millet-seed, which they gather with the calyx and roast and eat.  When any one of them falls sick he goes into the desert and lies there, none regarding whether he be sick or die.” [2]
     More or less reliable accounts of meetings between ancient Greeks and Indians are recorded in historical and geographical treatises in both Greek and Sanskrit.  Some Greeks were actively curious about the new philosophies they encountered and sought out and questioned those considered wise men among the Indians.  More speculatively, Indian thought appears to have influenced some Greek philosophers, particularly Pythagoreans, Cynics, Skeptics, and Neo-Platonists.
     The practices of Indian ascetics impressed many outsiders, most of all those of a similar sensibility.   Philostratus quotes the Neopythagorean Apollonius of Tyana as saying “I saw Indian Brahmans living upon the earth and yet not on it, and fortified without fortifications, and possessing nothing, yet having the riches of all men.”  Apollonius indeed thought their wisdom surpassed that of the Greeks, saying somewhat gnomically, “I consider that your lore is profounder and much more divine than our own; and if I add nothing to my present stock of knowledge while I am with you, I shall at least have learned that I have nothing more to learn.” [3]
     Doubtless the most substantial report of India was the Indika of Megasthenes who had been an ambassador sent by Seleucus, one of Alexander’s Diadochi, to Chandragupta Maurya’s court in Pataliputra.  The book is lost, but portions are preserved by Diodorus Siculus, Strabo, Pliny, and Arrian. Megasthenes accepts fantastic tales such as mouthless people, those with their feet backward, and others with great ears extending to the ground in which they wrap themselves to sleep.  He is, however, quite clear about the distinction between brahmins and sramaṇas, or ascetics. With the casual cosmopolitanism of the Greeks, who considered that divinity was universally the same, followers of Shiva are called Dionysians and those of Vishnu followers of Zeus. [4]  The Greeks themselves were probably ignorant of Indian sects, and the thinkers they encountered may have been Buddhists, Hindus, or Jains, and all three groups might have been called Brahmins or gymnosophists.
     In his life of Alexander Plutarch relates a story of the king’s own interaction with such sages. He had been wounded by an arrow while fighting the Malli in the Punjab. Blaming religious leaders for fomenting rebellion against him, he suppressed the resistance violently, including killing numerous holy men. Plutarch’s narration takes the form of a folktale.  Alexander summons ten gymnosophists and poses them difficult questions.  He threatens to kill them if they answer poorly but appoints one of their own number as judge. [5]
     They acquit themselves well, and the general import of the anecdote is simply to establish their credentials as wise men.  Some resemble riddles with a pleasantly unexpected answer, such as the question as to which animal is the most cunning, to which the response was “that which man has not discovered.”  The Greeks likely admired the forthrightness and attachment to virtue of the man who, when asked why he had supported Sabbas’ revolt, replied “Because I wished him either to live nobly or to die nobly.” Several of the answers seemed to be common sententiae such when declaring that the most loved man would be he that is most powerful, yet does not inspire fear.
     Perhaps the most subtle answers are those that to undermine dualities.  When asked whether the earth or the sea produced larger animals, the gymnosophist answered that earth did, since the sea was but a part of the earth.  Thus the apparent opposites are folded together harmonically. Similarly, the responses seem to harmonize life and death, day and night, god and man, while making no reference to the philosophic or theological underpinnings of their attitudes.
     The story ends with three turns of a fine dialectical wit.  “The judge declared that they had answered one worse than another."  Alexander says that, for delivering such an opinion, he must be the first to die, whereupon the sage responds, “That cannot be, O King,” said the judge, “unless thou falsely saidst that thou wouldst put to death first him who answered worst.”  Pleased, Alexander then pardons the lot and sends them off laden with gifts.  Thus the gymnosophist surprises the reader by, in effect, condemning his colleagues; Alexander turns the tables once more by saying that he must be executed; and finally, the gymnosophist uses the king’s own words to provide a happy ending.
     Arrian paraphrasing Megasthenes, tells that the Indians indicate no sign of respect but only stamped their feet when he appeared.  When asked the meaning of their action, they did not hesitate to chasten the conqueror’s ambition.  “King Alexander, every man can possess only so much of the earth’ surface as this we are standing on.  You are but human like the rest of us, save that you are always busy and up to no good, traveling so many miles from your home, a nuisance to yourself and to others.  Ah well! You will soon be dead, and then you will own just as much of this earth as will suffice to bury you.” [6]
     It was not the end, apparently, of Alexander’s inquiries.  Having heard that the very wisest remain in their hermitages, he sends Onesicritus, a Cynic and follower of Diogenes, [7] to interview these wisest if the wise. The one reputed wisest of all, Dandamis would have nothing to do with the Greeks, asking only “Why did Alexander make such a long journey hither?”  Onesicritus sought then to interview another of the gymnosophists, Calanus, only to find him unwilling to speak until the Greek removed his clothes to match the Indian’s state of undress.  Calanus did accompany the Greeks for some time, though he took ill and, realizing his death was approaching asked that a funeral pyre be built whereupon he calmly reclined to be burnt. [8]
     The Indian philosophers impressed not only pagans, but Jews and Christians as well.  Philo Judaeus, the Jewish neoplatonist, who sought to harmonize Jewish and Hellenistic thought by interpreting both symbolically, observes with admirable cosmopolitanism, “And among the Indians there is the class of the gymnosophists, who . . .make their whole existence a sort of lesson in virtue.” [9]
     According to Eusebius an Indian asked Socrates about his philosophy and when he answered that he studied human life, “the Indian laughed at him, and said that no one could comprehend things human, if he were ignorant of things divine.” He does not record Socrates’ response, but he does treat Socrates as a righteous if non-Christian theist, superior to the materialist Greek thinkers.  He approvingly notes that Plato sought to make “the divine” the basis for his thought.” [10]
     Clement of Alexandria, with more understanding than many an orthodox Christian divine since, said with regard to pagan philosophers “all [peoples], in my opinion, are illuminated by the dawn of Light.”  His ethnocentrism destabilized by attachment to Christianity, he argues that much of Greek philosophy was derived from “barbarians,” including Jews, Egyptians, and others. He mentions Buddhists as well. [11]
     Indians clearly had acquired a reputation for asceticism, non-materialism, and utter devotion to philosophy.  It is less evident that the specific tenets of Indian religio-philosophic thought influenced Greek writers, though Indian influence has been traced by some scholars as early as pre-Socratics. [12]   With evidence varying from the highly speculative to the highly likely, scholars have discerned South Asian concepts in a number of schools of later Greek thought.
     Pythagoreanism with its teaching of reincarnation and vegetarianism seems obviously reminiscent of similar Hindu and Buddhist doctrines.  Apollonius thought that the philosophers of the East has a Pythagorean air about them. [13]  According to Philostratus’ account the Indians specifically claimed to have influenced Pythagoreanism.
     Plotinus, according to Porphyry’s biography, wished to study with the Persian magi and the Indian gymnosophists.  The neoplatonic monad Nous has seemed to many to resemble the Atman of Advaita thought. [14] Plotinus had set out to study he teaching of the Persian and Indian sages, but the military expedition of Gordian III with whom he traveled, proved a failure and he did not reach India proper, though he may have met with Indian philosophers.
     Some see Indian influence in Diogenes whose ascetic practices were rare in pre-Christian Greece [15], though Pythagoreans and others had advocated simple, if not ascetic, life. Diogenes famously met Alexander – the encounter is one of the most well-known anecdotes of antiquity – and Diogenes’ disciple Onesicritus was selected to by the king to investigate the gymnosophists, perhaps due to a similarity of thought.
     Probably the best case for Indian influence is that of Pyrrho of Elis’s Skepticism.  Not only is Pyrrho known to have traveled to the East and conferred with philosophers there; he is also reported to have had a sort of conversion experience. “This led him to adopt a most noble philosophy, to quote Ascanius of Abdera, taking the form of agnosticism and suspension of judgement. He denied that anything was honourable or dishonourable, just or unjust. And so, universally, he held that there is nothing really existent, but custom and convention govern human action; for no single thing is in itself any more this than that.” Upon his return to Greece his radically skeptical teachings included a virtual duplication of the quadrilemma that had been used for centuries by Sanskrit thinkers. [16] The Buddhist concept of avyakrta or insoluble problems according to Buddha is comparable as well, though Pyrrho’s skepticism is more thorough.
     By the third century of the Christian era Hippolytus of Rome included the Brahmins in his Refutation of All Heresies. [17]  He says, oddly, perhaps referring to mantras, that “to them the Deity is Discourse.”  Yet he also more or less accurately describes the austerities of the “Brachmans.”  Though Westerners only gained access to reliable texts of the Sanskrit masterpieces in the nineteenth century, many hundreds of years earlier Europeans had caught sight of glints and shadows of philosophical and spiritual systems from the other side of the world. In spite of imperfect transmission such news from other cultures exercised an outsize influence even in ancient times, suggesting a broader sense of what it is to be human, opening the possibility of new directions and fertilizing European thought.




1. Translations into French and German followed, and the book proved an influence on Romanticism. Blake celebrated its publication with a picture The Bramins, unfortunately now lost, which showed Wilkins and his Indian collaborators.

2. III, 100.

3. Philostratus 3.13 and 3.16. An early example, perhaps, of a late antique trend that persists today, the Westerner infatuated with “the wisdom of the East.”

4. See the account in Strabo XV, I, 39 ff.. Chandragupta himself married a Greek, daughter of Suluva. Bhavisya Purana edited by P. 18 According to the Pratisarga Parva , he “mixed the Buddhists and Yavanas [Greeks].” Other Greek embassies to India were led by Deimachus, ambassador to Bindusara, and Dionysius, ambassador to Ashoka. Ctesias was also the author of an Indika, but he relied on second-hand information, having himself gone no further than Persia.

5. Plutarch 65 ff. Curiously, the story finds its way into the Mishnah transformed into Alexander questioning the elders of the Negev. See Luitpold Wallach, “Alexander the Great and the Indian Gymnosophists in Hebrew Tradition,” Proceedings of the American Academy for Jewish Research Vol. 11 (1941), pp. 47-83. He notes as well that a number of ancient Greek sources claim that Jews were descended from Indian philosophers. Plutarch had earlier noted (59) that Alexander did have many gymnosophists killed for their part in fomenting rebellion.

6. Arrian, Anabasis, VII.1.5 ff.

7. Though Onesicritus’ volume How Alexander was Educated (Πῶς Ἀλέξανδρος Ἤχθη) is lost, it was known to many ancient authors and seems to have combined much factual information with a measure of myth, legend, and good story.

8. Plutarch reports (69) that the same self-sacrifice was performed by “another Indian who was in the following of Caesar at Athens; and the ‘Indian's Tomb’ is shown there to this day.”

9. Quod omnis probus liber sit (Every Good Man is Free), 74. Philo specifically praises the judgement of Calanus in sections 92-93.

10. Praeparatio evangelico 11.8. The story in Aristocles is thought an attack on a materialist or at any rate humanistic Socrates perhaps from Pythagorean critics. Many early Christian regarded Socrates as something of a proto-Christian, for instance, Justin Martyr’s First Apology 46. Augustine says he was taught by the Platonists to seek spiritual truth. Confessions 7. 20.

11. Stromata 1.15 and 1.13. Eusebius likewise Preparatio evangelico 10.5 says that the Greeks owed their philosophy to barbarians.

12. See George P. Conger’s “Did India Influence Early Greek Philosophies?” in Philosophy East and West Vol. 2, No. 2 (Jul., 1952), pp. 102-12 and Thomas C. McEvilley’s The Shape of Ancient Thought: Comparative Studies in Greek and Indian Philosophies. General treatments include K. Karttunen, India in Early Greek Literature.

13. Philostratus 3.13 and 3.19.

14. See Ananda Coomaraswamy Vedanta and Western Tradition, Bréhier’ La Philosophie de Plotin (1928), P.M. Gregorios (ed.), Neoplatonism and Indian Philosophy, R.B. Harris (ed.), Neoplatonism and Indian Philosophy. For an up-to-date survey, see Joachim Lacrosse’s “Plotinus, Porphyry, and India: A Re-Examination,” Le philosophoire 2014/1, No 41, and J.F. Staal, Advaita and Neoplatonism: a Critical Study in Comparative Philosophy. Coomaraswamy (see, for instance,) and others have noted the similarities between Plotinus' teachings to the Hindu school of Advaita Vedanta,. Though some have denied or downplayed Indian influence. See A. H. Armstrong’s The Architecture of the Intelligible Universe in the Philosophy of Plotinus: An Analytical and Historical Study.

15. See J. Romm, Dog Heads and Noble Savages: Cynicism before the Cynics.

16. Diogenes Laertius IX.61. See Christopher I. Beckwith Greek Buddha: Pyrrho's Encounter with Early Buddhism in Central Asia and E. Flintoff, “Pyrrho and India,” Phronesis 25 (1980), 88-108. The story of the gymnosophists’ answers to riddle-like questions was thought to be Skeptic by Philip R. Bosman in “The Gymnosophist Riddle Context (Berol. P. 13044): A Cynic Text?” in Richard Kalmin Migrating Tales: The Talmud's Narratives and Their Historical Context which also discusses various retellings of the story.

17. Ch. 21. Jean Filliozat with Jean Renou in L’Inde Classique argues that Hippolytus was familiar with the teachings of the Maitreya Upanishad. See "La doctrine brahmanique à Rome au IIIè siècle" in Les relations extérieures de l’Inde, vol. 2.

The Heart of Hinduism

Having early cast off the Midwest Protestantism in which I was baptized and confirmed, I, like others of my generation, I found much to admire and accept in philosophical Daoism and Ch’an Buddhism. I marveled at the marvelous symbolic webs of Hindu mythology but could, at the time, accept them no more than the metaphoric figures of the ancient Greeks or the Bible. Through neo-Vedanta, Isherwood and Huxley, then Watts and Ginsberg, but even more through reading the Upanishads, I believe I have glimpsed some significant peaks of Hindu thought. I am aware of the criticism by some of the tradition descending from Ramakrishna as Westernized. Perhaps it is, and perhaps that need not be a criticism.

I quote from Robert Ernest Hume’s The Thirteen Principal Upanishads (Oxford: Oxford Press, 1921).



     For me the heart of Hinduism is expressed in the Upanishads. I recognize that very likely most Indians would prefer the passionate devotion, magnificent poetry, and ethical authority of the Bhagavad Gita, but for those seeking philosophy the Upanishads must be preeminent. I am innocent of Sanskrit and no expert on even European philosophy, but to me the essential insights of the forest sages are sublime.
     The definition of Hinduism can be elusive. Its own self-images tend to suggest a very accommodating tent. Buddha is commonly considered an incarnation of Vishnu . Much to their chagrin, Sikhs are treated as a subgroup of Hindus by the Indian constitution. Even tribal groups whose traditions have nothing in common with Hinduism are labeled “scheduled castes” and enrolled in the Hindu world order, albeit at the very bottom.
     Hinduism’s extraordinary breadth of inclusiveness is suggested by a survey of its accepted theological schools. Among the six orthodox traditions that generally accept the authority of the Vedas are reckoned [1] the Mimāṃsās who continue to focus on the ancient Vedic rituals dedicated to a range of deities and the generally monist Vedantists. There are also the dualist Samkhyas with little interest in gods, and the Nyayas whose central focus was the refinement of logic and who were originally atheist, though some of their later authors were theists. The Vaiśeṣikas engaged in atomist and scientific speculation with little reference to the supernatural. Finally, there are practitioners of the various forms of yoga. Thus among these lineages alone only the first could be considered really fundamentalist. Some may use religious rhetoric because that vocabulary was the only one available for intellectual speculation. One may be a Hindu while believing in no god, one god, many gods, or some more nuanced formulation between these options; one may accept or reject the divine revelation and hence the infallibility of certain ancient texts. One may practice puja daily in any of a bewildering variety of forms or use none at all.
     Hinduism, however, is willing to go further yet and to embrace even those who reject the ancient scriptures: the essentially godless Buddhists and Jains as well as the uncompromisingly atheist and materialist Cārvākas, the deterministic atheists associated with the Ājīvika school, and the utterly skeptical and hence agnostic Ajñana philosophers.
     The observer may also sort the countless “denominations” of Hinduism according the favored deity: most commonly Vishnu or Shiva, while the Bhakti practitioners generally honor some form of the goddess Devi such as Kali or Durga. Smartas avoid the choice by declaring that all the deities are in the end alike. Add to these factors the immense land area and varied historical experiences of different parts of India, and it will be no surprise that Hinduism is so resistant to definition.
     Surely one reason for the elasticity of the term Hindu is that the word was originally not an ideological but a geographical or ethnic term, indicating the people of the Indus area. Though it is possible for foreigners to convert to Hinduism, in the eyes of many Indians, a true Hindu must be an Indian. [2] Those from other countries are necessarily outcaste.
     It is no surprise that the Upanishads which provide the philosophic theory to accompany the ritual practice laid out in the earlier Vedas are the portion more accessible to Western readers. Though Indian philosophy is capable of exceeding subtlety and Sanskrit has an immense and erudite tradition of scholarship and hermeneutics, for me the heart of Hinduism is adequately suggested by what are perhaps the best known phrases from these two and a half millennia old texts.
     The author of the Brihad-Aranyaka Upanishad allows himself a lyric flight before declaring his apophatic intuition of the divine Brahma. “The form of this Person is like a saffron-colored robe, like white wool, like the [red] Indrapropa beetle, like a flame of fire, like the [white] lotus-flower, like a sudden flash of lightning . . . Hence, now, there is the teaching ‘Not thus! Not so!’ (neti, neti), for there is nothing higher than this, that he is thus.” [3] This is a cautionary corrective, warning against idolatrous error, reminding the listener in the oral tradition or the reader of the written word that perhaps the most adequate definition if deity is “that which one does not know.” The same insight is recorded in traditions around the world and through the centuries, particularly by mystical poets, but it is dramatic here paired as it is in Hindu tradition with the Vedic texts with their plethora of supernatural beings, their advocacy of the psychedelic soma, and their obsession with ritual. [4]
     Simply reading, or even being convinced by the principle of neti, neti is insufficient. For liberation the truth of the formula must be experienced. The system of guru/disciple relationships serves this necessarily experiential enlightenment. The use of entheogens, practice of sacrifice, and visualizations of a world of symbolic deities may, however, be considered as aids to the critical alteration of consciousness that alone can free the individual from suffering.
     There is a dialectic counterpart to this via negativa, though it, too, may be elusive, though omnipresent. Most people seek Ultimate Reality in cultivating a relationship with specific deities, but in the Brihad-Aranyaka Upanishad when questioned about the number of the gods, Yajnavalkya provides first a scriptural response “As many as are mentioned in the Nivid of the Hymn to All the Gods, namely, three hundred and three, and three thousand and three.” Upon repeated questioning, he eventually declares there to be a single god, Brahma. [5]
     The monad, variably named Atman, Brahma, or Ishvara, may be too immense to wrap the mind around. Beginning, as Descartes did (following Aristotle and others) with the self-evident certainty of their own consciousnesses, the ancient forest sages made the bold leap from subjectivity to a plenum. [6] To them one’s own perceived reality, partial and even distorted as it might be, is identified with Reality in the formula “tat tvam asi” (often translated “that art thou”). Recognized as one of the Mahavakyas or great sayings of the Upanishad in the Advaita tradition [7], this simple intuitive assertion, rests on neither ratiocination nor revelation. Further, the experience of the whole is identified with pleasure. [8] These claims arise not from authority but through experience, the practice, already ancient, of meditation and ascetic practices that produced a myriad ecstatic philosophers.
     In the Katha Upanishad which specifically addresses mortality in Naciketas’ questioning of Yama “tat tvam asi” occurs thirteen times, each a hammer blow to ignorance and fear. [9] When the ego dissolves, where is unease to be found?
     These visionary insights are repeated in many different ways in the Upanishads and are then affirmed by later authors -- Adi Shankara, Dattatreya, and others. For the apprentice sannyasi it may have been at the thousandth iteration that the realization arrived.
     Hinduism will remain multifarious with as many faces as a Khajuraho temple. One can only wish the best to people placing hibiscus petals before Kali or Mallomars for Ganesh. Those performing works of dana (caritas) are surely meritworthy as well. All humanity can sympathize with those who swoon with devotional love (bhakti). For those of an intellectual or mystical sensibility, though, the paradoxical insights of the Upanishads can provide a route to liberation from suffering and a whiff of the exhilaration of the sublime. Realizing in one’s back-brain that the divine cannot be described and yet that it is everything allows the very certainty of one’s own existence that might inspire anxiety or despair to be transformed into a consciousness of the holy.
     These concepts are simple and clear, yet it remains true that the path to their full realization is “a sharpened edge of a razor, hard to traverse,/ A difficult path is this – poets declare!”



1. These are called astika (“there is,” “there exists”) in distinction to the five nastika (“there is not”) schools.

2. I am reminded of how well-meaning people have long insisted “Judaism is a religion, not a race” yet many atheists identify themselves as Jews, and, of course, to the orthodox, the child of a Jewish mother is Jewish willy-nilly.

3. See Brihad-Arayaka Upanishad 2.3.6. The phrase is repeated at 3.9.26, 4.2.2, and 4.5.15.

4. In the Kena Upanishad even the great Vedic gods such as Agni, Vayu, and Indra are said to be ignorant of Brahma (14 ff.).

5. 3.9.1-3.9.9.

6. After his convincing demonstration of skepticism, Descartes made a far feebler attempt to rebuild the intellectual universe familiar to him including Catholic orthodoxy, though he was insufficiently orthodox still for the Roman Church which banned his books in 1663.

7. The other three Mahavakyas are similar in meaning. They are prajñānam brahma ("Prajñāna is Brahman" from the Aitareya Upanishad 3.3, ayam ātmā brahma ("This Self is Brahman" from the Mandukya Upanishad 1.2, and aham brahmāsmi ("I am Brahman", Brihad-Aranyaka Upanishad 1.4.10.

8. Chandogya Upanishad 7.23-4.

9. From 4.3 through 5.8. The author is not averse to figurative half-truths as well, though, describing the soul as a chariot with the intellect as driver (3.3 ff.) and the executive in the mind as a homunculus “the measure of a thumb” (4.13).

10. Katha Upanishad, 3.14.

On the Ganges' Shore

     With even the most detailed directions, we could never have found our guesthouse on the Ganges’ shore by ourselves. A young worker from the Sita Guesthouse on the Chausadi Ghat where we had booked a room met us on the nearest street large enough to accommodate traffic other than on foot or hoof. (Plenty of motorbikes zoom through the narrow lanes, but they don’t really belong there.) We moved rapidly through one turning after another, passing a variety of little shrines, many Shaivite, with fresh offerings around the lingams. In a short time I gave up trying to set mnemonic markers so I could find my way back and simply followed my guide to the banks of the slow, dark, impassive Ganges.
     When we met the proprietor of the Sita, he proudly informed us that his late father had been a distinguished astrologer who boasted among his clients the actress Goldie Hawn. He ran off to fetch a scrapbook with photos confirming this connection to celebrity before showing us to our room. When we pointed out a few small insects in the bedding, he enthusiastically declared, “No problem, no problem at all!” and shouted orders at one of his workers who presently appeared with a spray can of insecticide which he applied liberally enough to create a noxious poisonous cloud. “There! Okay, now, no?” he confidently asked.
     Whether wisely or not, we accepted the room. It had a balcony over the river and a side view facing a dormitory for some faction of holy men. We were to see them at all hours doing domestic chores like washing clothes and cooking. It mattered little that our modern sink simply drained onto the floor, thus teaching the hand-washer to lean well forward in an effort to avoid splashing one’s trousers.
     Varanasi is without doubt a spiritual center of Hinduism, but I learned that does not necessarily lend to its appeal as a holiday destination. “Why would you go there?” an Indian-American friend had asked, “You go to Varanasi when it’s time to die.” The fact is that the burning ghats where cremations are performed leave most visitors surprised not to be more disturbed. Perhaps even the visiting skeptic is influenced by the general spectacle of religiosity, played out at all hours on every side. The constant crowds of saddhus, devotees bathing in and drinking the murky water, masseurs, yogis, both for hire and self-absorbed, diviners of various stripes (some sheltered in permanent little shaded seats to receive hopeful customers), pilgrims, musicians and chanters, apes and cattle, all create an otherworldly atmosphere in which any manifestation of mortality short of a ravening Kali with a girdle of skulls is likely to seem digestible, even one’s own poor vulnerability. Then there are the touts and beggars. Now and then a haunting flute melody would rise from the path along the river’s side. There was no telling whether the tune arose from an enlightened ascetic who had trekked down from the mountains or a hustler hoping to gather a few coins by selling cheap pipes.
     Even apart from the constant scene along the river’s edge, there was no lack of action. The rhesus macaques whom I had previously associated primarily with their beneficent role in the polio research of my childhood leaped from building to building seeking freshly offered edibles at the many shrines or a bit of tasty trash. On the rooftop restaurant of the Sita one worker stood by at all times with a stick to prevent the animals from snatching the dinners from in front of guests. After dark, we heard them thrashing around on our balcony.
     The tourist and the devotee alike can experience an epitome of the Ganges’ symbolic potential every evening at the Dasaswamedh Ghat where an elaborate ceremony is held, lasting perhaps an hour and a half, and featuring fire, incense, bells, juggling, chanting, a row of seven simultaneous officiants, and music in various tempos. In this spot Brahma himself is said to have performed the archaic ten horse sacrifice detailed in the Vedas and described in the Mahabharata and the Ramayana. The present-day ceremony, called the Ganga Aarti (Ganges Perfect Love) is a full-blown spectacle. As mendicants and holy men circulate, congregants clap their hands with the music; they pray; at times they raise their hands, fingers wide, and wave, looking like nothing so much as a Pentecostal service. People place votive candles in small boats of folded paper and set them floating in the river, so that, after a time, a veritable flood of luminous desire illuminates the water’s path downstream. Praise of Agni, the god of fire and twin of Indra, opens the first hymn of the Rig Veda. His transformative flames were considered to transmit sacrifices to the divine world, and the use of fire as a route to god flourishes here nightly.
     After a time the casual visitor to Varanasi may find the powerful odors of the city -- incense, cremation, excrement, cooking, sharp chemical scents and soft floral ones, charcoal and rot – to be too much, particularly in concert with the incessant cries, shouts, songs, and chants. Our own remedy was to catch a pedicab to Sarnath, on the city’s outskirts, the Deer Park which was the site of Buddha’s first sermon to the five bhikkhus. The pandaemonium of Varanasi vanishes in this airy and quiet area frequented only by monks and pilgrims. The visitor notices, though, that the hovels of the destitute still line the approaches to the temples, monasteries, and colleges, most of which are walled off and set back from the road, surrounded by green lawns and gardens. The fabulous mythology of the Hindu pantheon, the phantasmagoric sights of the holy city, the most potent of sights, sounds, and smells, all can seem in memory a lurid dream, though a dream dreamt only yesterday.