When an Āchārya Quietly Removes the Ego
There are some lessons that are taught through words.
There are others that are taught through the way an Āchārya lives.
And then there are a few that are taught without the Āchārya saying anything directly to us.
They simply make us look at ourselves.
This was one such story …
During an Upanyāsam at Srirangam, I heard a beautiful incident involving Swamy Nampiḷḷai and Piḷḷai Āthan.
The more I thought about it, the more I felt that the story was not really about Piḷḷai Āthan.
It was about me.
A hesitation to bow
Piḷḷai Āthan was older than Swamy Nampiḷḷai and was himself a householder.
He wanted to learn one padhikam of Tiruvāymoḻi from Nanjeeyar.
Nanjeeyar directed him to Nampiḷḷai.
But there was a difficulty.
Nampiḷḷai was younger than Piḷḷai Āthan.
And Piḷḷai Āthan found it difficult to prostrate before someone younger than himself.
How easily I could understand that feeling.
Perhaps I would like to think that I would have behaved differently.
But if I am honest with myself, how many such small calculations do I make?
Who is senior? Who is younger? Who has more knowledge?
Who has greater status? Who should bow before whom?
The ego does not always announce itself.
Sometimes it quietly sits inside us and tells us that …
we deserve to be respected.
Nanjeeyar understood what was happening.
But he did not want to hurt Piḷḷai Āthan.
He instructed Nampiḷḷai to teach him in such a way that his pride would not be wounded.
The wisdom of Nampiḷḷai
Nampiḷḷai arranged two seats.
He respectfully placed Piḷḷai Āthan on the higher seat.
And he himself sat below. Then he began teaching Tiruvāymoḻi.
I found this part particularly moving.
Nampiḷḷai did not need to establish that he was the teacher.
He did not need to demand respect. He simply taught.
And the subject he chose was devotion towards Bhāgavathas, the devotees of the Lord.
As the teaching continued, something began to happen within Piḷḷai Āthan.
The very thing that had prevented him from bowing began to disappear.
His pride slowly melted. He wanted to prostrate before Nampiḷḷai.
But Nampiḷḷai remembered Nanjeeyar’s instruction and initially did not accept it.
So Piḷḷai Āthan took Nampiḷḷai to Nanjeeyar.
And there, in the presence of Nanjeeyar, he finally fell at Nampiḷḷai’s feet.
The obstacle was gone.
The disciple had arrived.
And the teacher had never once humiliated him.
What did I learn from this?
I kept thinking about Nampiḷḷai. What extraordinary compassion.
He knew that knowledge cannot enter a heart that is busy protecting its own importance.
But he also knew that an Āchārya does not have to crush that pride.
Sometimes, the gentlest way is the most powerful way.
He simply created the right situation.
And Piḷḷai Āthan discovered the obstacle within himself.
That touched me deeply.
Because I too have so much to learn.
I may have travelled to many Divya Desams.
I may have listened to many Upanyāsams.
I may have read some of our granthas.
I may know a few stories of our Āḻvārs and Āchāryas.
But what is the use of all this if I continue to carry the thought that I am somebody?
Perhaps the real journey is not about collecting more knowledge.
Perhaps it is about allowing that knowledge to slowly remove what stands in its way.
Nammāḻvār’s words came back to me
As I thought about Piḷḷai Āthan’s transformation, one pasuram of Swamy Nammāḻvār kept coming back to my mind.
Tiruvāymoḻi 3.7.10
அடியார் அடியார் தம்
அடியார் அடியார் தமக்கு
அடியார் அடியார் தம்
அடியார் அடியோங்களே.
The thought expressed here is so humbling:
“We are the servants of the servants of the servants of the servants of the servants of the servants of the Lord.”
I have heard these words many times.
But that day, after listening to the story of Piḷḷai Āthan and Nampiḷḷai, they seemed to speak to me differently.
How far I am from this state of mind.
The first thought that came to Piḷḷai Āthan was:
“Why should I bow before someone younger than me?”
And how often do I carry the same feeling in different forms? I may not say it aloud.
But somewhere within me, I too compare.
Who is senior? Who is younger?
Who knows more? Who should respect whom?
Why should I accept a correction from him?
The ego does not always come wearing a crown.
Sometimes it hides behind age, knowledge, experience, position or even devotion.
Then I look at Nammāḻvār.
He does not stop with saying that he is the servant of the Lord.
He takes me much further down.
Adiyār. Adiyār-in adiyār.
Adiyār-in adiyār-in adiyār.
A servant of the servants of the Lord’s devotees.
What a beautiful place to be.
And perhaps that is what I am slowly beginning to understand from the
lives of our Āchāryas.
Greatness is not in being served. It is in learning to serve.
It is not in demanding respect. It is in learning to respect.
It is not in wanting to be recognised.
It is in becoming happy to remain unnoticed.
Perhaps this is the journey
Piḷḷai Āthan did not become smaller when he bowed before Nampiḷḷai.
He became greater. His knowledge did not diminish.
His dignity did not disappear.
Only the unnecessary burden of “I” disappeared.
And perhaps that is what surrender slowly asks of me.
To move from wanting to be respected… to learning to respect.
From wanting to be served… to learning to serve.
From wanting to be recognised…
to becoming happy to remain unnoticed.
And finally, perhaps, to say with Swamy Nammāḻvār:
“Adiyār adiyār tham adiyār adiyār thamakku adiyār adiyār tham adiyār adiyōṅgaḷē.”
I am only beginning to understand what these words might mean.
Perhaps this is why the lives of our Āchāryas are so precious.
They do not merely teach us what to believe.
They quietly show us what we are still holding on to.
And sometimes, without scolding us, without embarrassing us, without even
directly pointing a finger at us… they make us see our own ego.
Then, if Perumāḷ is kind, perhaps we too may one day be able to let it go.
Perhaps surrender begins where self-importance ends.
A small prayer
My saviour ,,,,, Lord Sreenivaasaaa
Please remove the pride that I do not even recognise in myself.
When an Āchārya shows me my shortcomings, let me not defend myself.
When a Bhāgavatha corrects me, let me not look at his age, position or scholarship.
Let me remember Nammāḻvār.
Let me remember Piḷḷai Āthan.
Let me remember Nampiḷḷai.
And let me remember that I am still learning to become what I was born to be.
Let me not merely call myself a Śrī Vaiṣṇava.
Let me slowly become one.
Previous Blog posts are appended below for quick references
Śrīmate Rāmānujāya Namaḥ
Adiyen Rāmānujadāsan
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