Seven
In Nanda Baba's House
The Devotional Experience in Pushti Marg Temples
Peter Bennett
Introduction
Western scholars have long been perplexed by the apparent contrasts in Indian religiosity, not least between those Hindus who attempt to subjugate feelings and emotions through the rigors of asceticism and those who follow paths to salvation that encourage exuberant emotional and sensuous experiences. Pushti Marg is one such path that has preserved an elaborate tradition of worship as a vehicle for expressing and exciting the overwhelming passions felt by intimate companions of the cowherd god, Krishna. How this is achieved—how devotion as an emotional-cum-aesthetic orientation to divinity is experienced, rendered, and evoked in the ritual life of the temple—is my primary concern in this chapter.
Pushti Marg, the path (marga) of Grace (pusti[*]), otherwise known as Vallabhacarya Sampradaya, or the tradition (sampradaya) that gave lasting expression to the teachings of the medieval preceptor Vallabha (A.D. 1479-1531), is a species of Bhakti Marg that continues to attract an enthusiastic following in western India, especially among urban business communities in parts of Uttar Pradesh, Gujarat, Rajasthan, Malwa, and Bombay. The worship performed in sect-affiliated temples is distinctive in several respects; most noticeable is its tendency to express palpably the bhakti ideal of selfless loving devotion, not by urging the renunciation of worldly goods and pleasures, but by utilizing all the things of this world considered precious or pleasing to the senses in the service of the deity. Accordingly, the worship tends to be conspicuously lavish. The sect is widely known for the choice variety of its food offerings; for the perseverance, skill, and sensitivity shown by devotees in caring for their deities; and for the highly decorative scenes that embellish the temple sanctuaries. It is unfortunate, though hardly surprising, that such
flamboyant displays have in the past incurred the disapproval of Western scholars. Mackichan (1908-1921) typified the general attitude when he translated Pushti Marg as the "way of eating, drinking, and enjoyment" and dubbed its followers the "Epicureans of India."
Also distinctive is that, unlike those Krishnaites who prefer to approach their god as a mistress approaches her lover, among them the followers of Chaitanya, devotees of Pushti Marg have placed an equal if not greater emphasis on the worship of Krishna as an adorable, mischievous, and ostensibly helpless infant. In other words, devotees strive to emulate the feelings of Mother Yashoda as she tenderly cares for her beloved foster-child or suffers anxiety and even sorrow during brief periods of separation. The day-to-day treatment of the image reveals touching instances of motherly concern: toy rattles and spinning tops are provided for the god's amusement; in winter he is swathed in warm blankets to ensure he does not catch a cold; and his meals are left to cool prior to serving lest in a fit of childish impatience he should snatch a handful, burning his mouth and fingers in the process. By cultivating a highly distinctive, elaborate, and formalized attitude of devotion, devotees are supposed to share in the emotions of divine love (prema) and joy (ananda) felt by those accomplished souls able to perceive the temple image as the living Krishna and the temple as his celestial abode in the Braj home of Father Nanda.[1]
This chapter, which explores the nature of this variant of the bhakti experience, reflects wider theoretical interests in the social construction of emotion, the cultural specificity and variability of emotional experience, and the role of emotion in ritual performance (see Geertz 1973, 1980; Kapferer 1979; Lutz 1986; Rosaldo 1980; Scheff 1977; Solomon 1984; Turner 1974, 1982). I aim to elucidate the nature of devotional experiences as construed by temple goers and as actualized in temple rituals. My essay is based on information acquired during fieldwork among Pushti Marg temple goers in and near Ujjain city, central India, and to a lesser extent in the main centers of sectarian pilgrimage at Braj in Uttar Pradesh and Nathdwara in Rajasthan.
I should clarify briefly the social constructionist approach informing my essay. In the physicalist theoretical tradition, as well as for that matter in Western commonsense understanding, emotions arc feelings originating in physiological states of being; they are experienced passively, subjectively, and universally. Accordingly one could argue that the maternal affections Krishnaites articulate with reference to the infant god are readily comprehensible to Westerners for whom loving tenderness tinged with feelings of anxiety arc considered normal maternal responses. Indeed, the notion of maternal instinct as an innate and spontaneous tendency for a mother to protect and care for her young, despite its preferred scientific application to the lower animals, remains influential in shaping Western assumptions about human behavior; "instinctive" maternal emotions are firmly located in
the physiological realm. Alternatively, a social constructionist perspective starts from different premises about the nature of emotional experience by identifying emotions as cultural things, systems of "concepts, beliefs, attitudes, and desires, virtually all of which are context-bound, historically developed, and culture-specific" (Solomon 1984:249). Located, as emotions are, in a public context, emotions are social-cultural phenomena. Their origins, meanings, and functions are not hidden away in the physique or the psyche but are visible and accessible, hence amenable to anthropological study.
Returning to the maternal theme in Pushti Marg, the emotional states identified and translated into English as loving tenderness, anxiety, and sorrow may seem immediately recognizable, tempting us to asume that they can be understood as direct equivalents of experiences in our own lives. But there is a danger: reliance on empathy leads to imputing to others our own concepts of emotions, thereby short-circuiting the questioning of emotional life itself (Lynch, this volume). Rather emotional experiences exist and are bound up in culturally specific contexts of meanings, beliefs, values, judgments, and relationships. To extricate an emotion from its distinctive context, to label it, and to seek to explain it as a variant of Western experience—these are fraught with all the pitfalls of ethnocentrism. This is not to deny the efficacy of a comparative approach; rather, it is to say that cultural systems are the proper units for comparison, not displaced cultural constructs where one is forced to equate with the putative universal status of the Other.
Motherly love for Krishna is bound up in a complex of beliefs, attitudes, relationships, and aesthetics, as well as in a conceptual sequence of increasing emotional intensity. This emotional state is defined in terms of its peculiar domain, as are all the emotions elucidated in this essay. It is cultivated, expressed, and stimulated with reference to an icon identified as the living god, itself a respository and objectification of sentiment (rasa). As a manifestation of divine love, motherly love is embodied in the articles of worship, particularly the sacred food leavings, the distribution of which provides a dynamic context for its communication, articulation, and sharing. Moreover, the emotions cultivated in devotion are defined in relation to the distinctive personality of a beautiful, prankish, and beguiling child. Yashoda's anxiety during separation is intelligible in the light of the child's helplessness, tendency to make mischief, and susceptibility to the eye of envy, and her sorrow recreates a dominant mood of Krishna's sport of manifestation and concealment whereby love for the god is intensified through experiencing the alternating states of sorrow in separation (viraha) and joy in union (samyoga[*]). I shall explain how sorrow and joy are to be understood not as discrete emotional states but as complementary; only by anticipating one can the devotee relish fully the experience of the other. Sorrow in separation is not a negative
emotion: for true devotees it is a sublime experience saturated with divine love and joy.
Thus, to suggest that this is a representative sample from a gamut of universal emotions, elaborated and stimulated by a distinctive set of beliefs, is to miss the point that the affective states themselves are meaningful inasmuch as they constitute, rather than underlie or complement, the structure of beliefs, values, and relationships of Pushti Marg; as such they are of the same order as cultural phenomena. Emotions conveniently labeled in English are nevertheless foreign to American experiences and require contextual elucidation, if Americans hope to grasp what such experiences mean to devotees.
My further concern is to show how emotions associated with the devotional experience are articulated, actualized, and enhanced in the ritual context. Following Tambiah (1973:199, 1979:10), I understand ritual to be a culturally constructed system of symbolic communication comprising a structured sequence of words and acts directed toward a "telic" or "performative" outcome. Ritual has the capacity to shape and intensify experience by means of patterning, sequencing, repetition, and the controlled arrangement of multiple sensory media. Pushti Marg temple worship, with its elaborate combination of aesthetic forms enabling the creation of myth episodes from the life of Krishna, provides a rich field for investigating the underlying grammar and telic propensities of ritual. Yet concern for a structure whose constitutive features combine to alter experience should not lead one either to presume the passivity of performers or to ignore the relevance of their construals of an event in explaining its force and significance; they create the rite anew at each performance, indicate that they are absorbed, impressed, excited, overcome, or in some way moved by it, and thereby appreciate its distinctive aesthetic style. Understanding this dimension of ritual performance does not depend on achieving a perfect empathy with one's informants, if such a thing is possible. It relies on identifying and elucidating what Geertz (1984:126) refers to as "modes of expression" or "symbolic forms" in terms of which persons represent themselves to themselves and to one another, through "experience-near" as distinct from "experience-distant" concepts. This calls for interpreting concepts and symbols articulated by devotees with reference to their ritual activities; for them, the activities capture the essence of their most intimate mystical experiences, besides describing and lending purpose to their lives qua devotees. It is one thing to suggest that ritual induces intensified experience but quite another to determine the nature of the experience and its relevance to the ritual performed. In Pushti Marg, feelings and emotions are elaborately coded in the words, gestures, and ornaments of worship; they are crucial to understanding the semantic, communicative, and performative aspects of temple ritual.
An understanding of indigenous concepts should help to shed light on the devotional experience and its contextualization in ritual performance. The focus is not on the objective form of ritual but on ritual interpreted through the medium of the experiencing subject. The shift in focus is analytically useful, first, because it allows me to examine the nature of the experiential transformation facilitated by participation in ritual, and second, because it helps to show that the meanings informing ritual acts are not necessarily to be understood in simple instrumentalist terms. Southwold makes a similar point in a study of Sinhalese village Buddhism when he objects to the universal application of instrumentalist analysis and posits an alternative system of thought and action.
It is not taken for granted that states of experience are determined by states of outer objective reality, and can be bettered only by changing them. On the contrary, it is posited that states of experience are shaped, and their quality as gratifying attributed, by the experiencing subject, the self.... Hence in this system the strategy for ameliorating experience is by changing the self, rather than by changing the states of outer objective reality. In Buddhism it is fundamental, and quite explicit, that one's fate is detemined by one's state of mind. (Southwold 1985:36)
Similarly, in Pushti Marg great value is placed on cultivating an appropriate mental state as a precondition for, and intensification as a result of, participation in devotional worship. By caring for the deity and treating it as if it had all the sensibilities of a living child, the worshiper insists that the fruits of devotion lie firmly in the means. Devotion is undertaken for its own sake, as a means of expressing and nurturing feelings of selfless and overwhelming love for Krishna, and ultimately as a means of tasting the divine bliss normally unrealized within the soul. The symbolic acts, ornaments, and procedures of devotion arc meaningful and efficacious as vehicles for expressing, and thereby shaping, enhancing, and transforming inner experience. The goal of devotional striving is a state of consciousness construed as an emotional absorption in Krishna. The devotee attempts neither to change the world nor to enter an ethereal other world but begins to realize the world as it really is: a world to be enjoyed as a manifestation of bliss rather than to be endured miserably as a figment of ignorance.
Of particular interest is the manner in which dramatic-aesthetic terms and techniques are utilized to intensify this exceptional experience of the world by creating an impression of the changing scenes and moods of Krishna's divine play (lila). This process of "actualization by representation," to borrow Huizinga's phrase (1955:14), or the imitative and symbolic means by which the celestial realm of Krishna's play is made present in the temple, is meticulously elaborate in practice. The temple is the stage for enacting an eternal drama, while the sumptuous decorations and measured gestures of
worship are surface expressions enabling the performance of a deep play in which enlightened selves become absorbed in a round of emotional interaction and exchange. Although invisible to the spiritually ignorant, this subtle play on lila and the feelings it stirs infuses each and every act with purpose and meaning. Thus the adornment of the image, the singing of devotional songs, and above all the preparation and distribution of food offerings provide the sensory (tangible, edible, etc.) media through which devotees convey, share, and savor the rarefied sentiments of lila. In this setting material abundance, sedulousness, and artistic elegance are physical expressions of devotional intensity.
Unfortunately, I am unable to do full justice to this rich and picturesque form of worship without sacrificing interpretation entirely to ethnography.[2] I have selected principal elements of worship and examined them in accordance with the approach outlined above. They include (a) the act of observing the deity (darsana) in the inner sanctum as the culmination of the devotional experience, (b) the food offering (bhoga) as a means of establishing emotional contact with Krishna, and (c) the temple image (svarupa) as the object of devotion and repository of devotional sentiment. I begin appropriately by outlining the structure of the sect and its tradition of worship as joint preservers of a unique devotional experience.
The Vallabha Tradition: Sampradaya
The category sampradaya is conveniently rendered "sect" so long as one is mindful of the negative connotations of the occidental sect as a secessionist grouping and the positive connotations of the oriental sampradaya as a vehicle for transmitting and perpetuating a sacred tradition via a continuous succession of preceptors.[3] The life-blood of the sampradaya is the sacred formula (mantra) whispered in the disciple's ear by the guru at initiation; it can be traced back through an arterial lineage of gurus to a founder identified in some way with a particular divinity. Yet unlike those principal Vaishnava sects organized around a succession of ascetics, Pushti Marg has no renouncers; rather the preceptors, known as maharajas (maharaja) or gosvamis, invailably marry and raise families, while the succession is hereditary such that they owe their spiritual status entirely to their patrilineal descent from Vallabhacarya and as such partake of the divinity of one revered as an incarnation (avatara) of Lord Krishna.[4]
When questioned about current devotional practices, devotees usually referred me to the early years of the sect. In doing so they were neither merely relating a history of how things came to be as they are, nor were they simply justifying present devotional customs. There is no abrupt divide between the sect past and present. Worship now is an actualization, not a replication, of worship performed by Vallabha, his son Vitthalnatha, and their disciples,
which is in turn an actualization of the Braj lila vividly evoked in the Bhagavata Purana[*], sharing directly in the thrill and sanctity of the original.[5] Krishna continues to manifest his lila in the tradition perpetuated by the sampradaya. Thus of profound significance for latter-day disciples is Vallabhacarya's inauguration of the system of devotional worship (seva) in 1494 following his identification of an icon of Krishna as the Lord of Govardhan, Sri Govardhannathji (usually abbreviated to Sri Nathji), that had miraculously emerged from the summit of Mount Govardhan in Braj. The image, which depicts a standing figure of black stone with the left arm raised above the head, is well known to Vaishnavas as that of the child Krishna holding aloft the mountain in order to shelter the people of Braj from a violent rainstorm sent by the god Indra as a punishment for their neglect of his worship. By withholding Indra's tribute and seeking Krishna's refuge the cowherds and cowherdesses of Braj received Krishna's full protection, while the mighty Indra was subdued.
At first Vallabha had a small shelter erected over the spot where Sri Nathji had appeared and instituted a simple procedure for bathing, adorning, and feeding the deity. By 1520 a more substantial structure had been erected. Vallabha's second son, Vitthalnatha, who assumed leadership of the sect in 1550, is chiefly responsible for the seva as it exists today. He devised a more beautiful and elaborate system of services by increasing the amount and variety of the food offerings and enhancing the magnificence of the deity's adornment. Following the accession of the Mughal emperor Aurangzeb a century later, and fearful of his iconoclasm, devotees transported the image to Rajasthan and settled in a remote village in the mountains near Udaipur, since known as Nathdwara. The temple at Nathdwara is today the richest and most popular center of sectarian pilgrimage, whereas the original temple on Mount Govardhan has long since fallen into ruins.[6]
Vitthalnatha also made arrangements that were to shape the future organization of the sect by handing full spiritual and secular authority to his seven sons. Each son received the exclusive right to initiate disciples, and each received a special icon of Krishna; the prestigious image of Sri Nathji went to the eldest, and other sons established their respective deities in temples in different areas of nothern India. The seven sons founded seven houses or seats (sat ghar, gaddi); the leadership of each house and the rights to the worship of its original image were inherited by a principle of primogeniture.[7] Over the centuries numerous temples have been dedicated to the dynastic houses and hence are under the jurisdiction of Maharajas who appoint priests and managers to maintain them in their absence. In Ujjain, for example, four temples are affiliated to sublineages of the first and second houses, while a fifth is privately managed by descendants of one of Vallabhacarya's closest disciples.
Entry into the sampradaya and access to its esoteric tradition is acquired by a rite of initiation in the presence of a member of the Vallabha Dynasty
(Vallabha-kula). Initiation is conceived as the commencement of a relationship of communion with Krishna effected when Krishna, through the intermediary of the guru, bestows grace on his devotee by means of the Brahma-sambandha mantra, meaning a state of union (sambandha) with the Supreme Lord, Brahman. In terms of Vallabha's pure nondualistic philosophy (suddhadvaita), the soul (jiva), having been infused with divine grace (anugrabs, pusti[*]), begins thereafter to realize the true nature of its identity as a fragment (amsa) of Brahman and hence of its innate capacity to experience divine bliss (ananda), an essential prerequisite for participation in lila. The experience is conceived as a kind of spiritual awakening. Lord Krishna removes ignorance (avidya) by manifesting his own bliss which formerly lay dormant within the soul. The enlightened soul subsequently burns with an intense love for Krishna and fervently performs his seva.[8]
The essence of the initiation mantra is complete self-sacrifice (atmanivedana). By uttering its Sanskrit syllables the initiate dedicates himself or herself utterly and irrevocably to Lord Krishna and promises to dedicate all future actions and acquisitions before using them for self. In this way, wrote Vallabhacarya in his Siddhantarahasyam, everything dedicated to Krishna becomes divine in nature just as the pure and impure waters that enter the River Ganges share in its divine essence (see Barz 1976:18). Particularly significant, the mantra embraces all those qualities considered to make up the "self" (atma), that is, everything the devotee can call "mine," including body (deha) and physical actions, life-soul-mind (pran[*]) and faculty of thought, organs of sense (indriya), together with house, material possessions, wife and children, or as abbreviated in a familiar threefold classification—body, mind, and wealth (tan, man, dhan). The devotee acknowledges that he or she has no independent identity apart from Brahman. But this does not lead to a negation of the idea of self: the devotee dedicates and thereafter retains the faculties of self, consecrated through the act of dedication, and uses them in devotional service. There is no merging or permanent union between the soul and Krishna; such a state is put off indefinitely so that the Supreme Lord and the soul can experience the indescribable joy of desiring union.
Devotional Worship: Seva
Having received initiation the devotee is considered fit to participate in the customary forms of devotional worship prescribed by the sect, all of which are regarded as expressions of self-dedication. Devotees stress that seva is disinterested service, while the person who offers disinterested service is a sevaka. He does seva not as a means to an end but as both a means (sadhana) and an end, or "fruit" (phala), in itself. Hence, seva is both an expression of selfless love for Krishna and the delightful experience of loving Krishna. Its real efficacy, however, lies not in performance but in the mental attitude of
the performer. All acts of seva should reflect the sevaka's innermost feelings of selfless loving concern for Krishna; as such, they are distinguished from other forms of Hindu worship (puja) allegedly bound by formal rules inhibiting spontaneity and performed primarily for selfish ends. One Maharaja explained:
In puja method [vidhi] and self-happiness [svasukha] are considered to be the most important, but in seva love [Sneha] and Bhagavan's happiness come first. Bhagavan's happiness is our happiness and this is divine [alaukika].
Moreover, seva should be accomplished entirely through one's own efforts:
We should dedicate our entire lives to doing seva. The more seva we accomplish by our own efforts, the greater our happiness. We should never allow others to do seva in our place.
But the devotee who follows the prescribed procedures of worship while harboring selfish intentions of acquiring rewards or a virtuous reputation for those efforts, or who is not wholly engrossed in Krishna, is not a true sevaka; those efforts are no more than sham. Sevakas should not seek to draw attention to themselves by extravagant displays of piety, particularly those prosperous members of the business community who make cash donations for temple services. One shopkeeper explained:
A real Vaishnava is a man who does seva without showing others that he is doing so. He is a real Vaishnava because he has feelings of love [premabhava] for Thakurji. If something is needed in the temple, he gives quietly and expects nothing in return.[9]
The mental states accompanying seva are further elaborated. The sevaka can choose to cultivate a particular emotional orientation (bhava) to Krishna. The bhava are culturally specified feeling-states lodged in certain intimate relationships believed to epitomize the true spirit of love and affection felt by the devotee for Krishna. Thus, in the early stages of devotional awakening the devotee might cultivate dasya bhava by assuming an attitude of loyalty, humility, and respect toward Krishna like that of a servant (dasa) toward a master. But sooner or later other more intimate devotional attitudes begin to take precedence. In sakhya bhava the devotee considers himself or herself to be a close cowherd companion (samba) and playmate of Krishna and imagines accompanying him to the pastures. In madhurya bhava or gopi bhava the devotee emulates the feelings of the cowherdesses (gopi) who cavorted with the handsome flutist of Brindaban. And in vatsalya bhava or Yasoda bhava the devotee experiences the tender loving concern felt by Krishna's foster-parents, particularly Yashoda. For most Pushti Marg temple goers all four bhava are invoked to a greater or lesser degree in worship. Yet many regard Yashoda's feelings as the most poignant. Vatsalya bhava would appear to represent the
quintessence of disinterested loving devotion. The Supreme Lord of the Universe, Sri Krsna[*] Parabrahman, who inspires awe and fear in people's hearts, is thereby concealed in the form of a helpless child who inspires the tenderest care and affection.
Bhava is a state of mind, an emotional orientation, a mode of feeling and perceiving divinity that is articulated and intensified in conventional acts of devotion. By cultivating one or another form of emotional attachment to Krishna the devotee is able to participate as a lover, parent, or playmate of the god in a materialization of lila and to witness first-hand the pervasive and very real presence of the object of devotion. Thus, through bhava the temple becomes the setting for a real-life drama that only those souls favored by Lord Krishna have the capacity to enjoy.
In the Presence of Lord Krishna: Darsana
Many devotees worship small metal images or framed pictures of Lord Krishna in their homes. But they also value regular attendance at sect-affiliated temples in their belief that the lovesick soul cannot bear the heartache of prolonged separation from the deity. Nor for that matter does the deity readily endure being parted from his beloved admirers. Conceived in this way, temple attendance is caught up in a vital undercurrent of lila, for just as the soul, in its longing for Krishna, experiences the contrasting states of parting and reconciliation, so also the temple goer in coming and going is drawn into the cosmic process, succumbing to the alternating moods of sorrow in separation (viraha) and joy in union (samyoga[*]). At this level of divine consciousness sorrow and joy are not discrete emotional states; rather each complements, anticipates, and arises as a consequence of the other.
The temple is the realm of divine play. Devotees are keen to point out that strictly speaking the word mandir, normally used in northern India to denote a temple, is inappropriate when applied to their own places of worship. Instead the word haveli is preferred, meaning a large house or mansion. More specifically, the temple is Nandalaya, the abode of Nanda, foster-father to Krishna and chief of the cowherds of Braj. Temple rooms, kitchens, and courtyards are identified with Nanda's home. At the same time the temple is believed to contain within its precincts the celestial Braj (Braj-bhumi, Brajmandala[*]) such that various rooms correspond to its sacred landmarks. In one temple in Ujjain, though most conform to a similar pattern, devotees observe the deity from an enclosed courtyard known as Kamala Cauka in the center of which is an inlaid design representing a twenty-four petaled lotus (kamala) symbolizing Braj and its twenty-four sacred groves (vana). The courtyard also symbolizes the sacred Jamuna River. Every year during the festival of Nava Lila it is completely flooded and decorated with lotus blossoms and overhanging branches; a priest, wading knee-deep in water, pushes a model
boat containing an image of Krishna. Kamala Cauka is surrounded by triple-arched galleries (tivari), at one side of which is Dol[*] Tivari, so-called because here the deity is pushed in a swing (dol[*]) on the day following the Holi festival. Beyond is the inner sanctum (nijmandir) identified with Brindaban, the scene of Krishna's carefree childhood, and adjoining it is a private sleeping compartment (Saiya Ghar) identified with Nikunja, the sacred grove in Brindaban where Krishna sported with his favorite gopi (Svaminiji). Another open courtyard is known as Govardhan Cauka, after the mountain where Sri Nathji was first discovered; and nearby a room contains a small shrine dedicated to Giriraja, King among Mountains, an essential form of Lord Krishna.[10] Even the temple well is said to contain the holy waters of the Jamuna.
The temple marks a threshold between two contrasting worlds or two ways of perceiving the same world. The contrast is succinctly expressed in the opposition between the laukika and the alaukika, terms that have no precise equivalents in English (see Barz 1976:10ff.) but that are frequently used in conversation as well as in sectarian literature. They refer essentially to two contrasting states of mind, indicating the transformation experienced by the soul as it passes from a condition of ignorance, misery, and defilement (the laukika state) to one of knowledge, grace, bliss, and acceptance by Krishna in his eternal lila (the alaukika state). Thus, the consecrated food, the image, the devotional literature, the worship, the sect, the temple, and bhava itself arc described as being alaukika. For enlightened souls capable of seeing through alaukika eyes, these things are sacred, supramundane, celestial, the furnishings of lila, as opposed to the profane, worldly, and mundane. In a laukika sense one enters the temple, observes a statue of the god, and eats a portion of the consecrated food. But in an alaukika sense one enters the heavenly Braj, meets Lord Krishna face-to-face, and tastes of his infinite bliss.
Devotees visit the temple to have "sight of" (darsana) Lord Krishna. At intervals during the morning and late afternoon an audience gathers in Kamala Cauka from which vantage point the darsana is eagerly awaited. Meanwhile, one, two, or even three devotional singers (kirtaniya) sit just outside the doors of the sanctum singing stanzas (pada) whose melodies and lyrics are specially selected to convey the mood of the scene to come. The darsana begins when the chief priest (mukhiya) or one of his assistants opens the doors from within to reveal the enthroned deity. The occasion is greeted with much excitement as individuals jostle for position in their efforts to gain a clear view into the chamber. Initial agitation soon gives way to an atmosphere of relatively calm contemplation. Devotees, seemingly enthralled by the scene within, simply stand with their attention fixed on the sanctum.
Merely to observe the image does not amount to real darsana. Devotees stress that ideally the observer must feel that he or she is "in the deity's immediate presence" (saksat-darsana[*]). This feeling was typically described as a sudden and brief change of consciousness: at some stage of the darsana the
devotee momentarily forgets mundane surroundings, the mind becoming completely engrossed in Krishna. Darsana as such is a subjective experience implying a heightened sense of awareness.[11] For devotees blessed with the faculty of subtle sight the image is a sentient being, but for those with the limited faculty of gross sight it remains a lifeless statue.
The darsanas follow a chronological sequence corresponding to episodes in the daily and festival life of the god. In this way they afford occasional views of a continuous drama in which temple priests are constantly occupied behind the scenes in ministering to the substantial needs of the deity.[12] The daily routine is normally organized around eight darsanas, beginning early in the morning at Mangala[*] when the priest assumes the identity of Yashoda, gently wakes the child and offers him a light snack consisting of milk, curds, butter, and dried fruits. At Srngara[*] the child is bathed, applied with sweet smelling perfumes, dressed, and given another snack before being presented to his admirers.[13]Gvala follows one or two hours later when Krishna as the cowherd Gopala is represented as taking the cows to the pastures with his cowherd companions (gvala). Between 10:00 and 11:00 A.M., at Rajbhoga, he is offered a royal feast of pulses, curry, wheat-cakes, pickles, boiled rice, sweets, and fresh fruits, after which he takes a midday siesta. Between 3:30 and 4:30 P.M., at Utthapana, the deity is gently roused from sleep and offered light refreshments, followed about one hour later at Bhoga by another snack as the cows begin to gather in their readiness to leave the pastures. At Sandhya-arati the deity has returned home, and a lighted lamp is waved before him (arati). Finally, at Sayana, the second full meal of the day having been served, the deity is undressed and put to bed.
In order to understand more fully the significance of this ritual cycle one must be aware of the principles of traditional Indian dramaturgy and aesthetics with which it has affinities and which in Pushti Marg, as in other North Indian bhakti cults, have provided a particularly congenial mode for expressing the relationship between the deity and Krishna (Kinsley 1979:153). The subtleties of Sanskrit aesthetics need not delay one unduly; suffice it to mention that according to classical theory a work of art, let me say a dance drama, should serve to arouse in each actor and member of the audience a certain "dominant emotion" (sthayi bhava), of which there arc normally eight, and to raise it to the level of a corresponding sentiment (rasa, literally flavor, relish). Hence the bhava of love is complemented by the erotic rasa, mirth by the comic, sorrow by the pathetic, anger by the furious, and so on. The chief purpose of the drama is to excite a basic feeling in the minds of the actors and members of the audience and to refine it so that it becomes fully attuned to the universal sentiment conveyed by the performance. An enraptured state of self-forgetfulness results in which actors and audience relish the thrill of pure aesthetic appreciation. They taste rasa.
This trancelike state has been likened to a spiritual experience, a compari-
son not unduly strained in the Indian context given the "imperceptible shading off from the spiritual to the aesthetic, and vice versa" (Raghavan 1967: 258). Rasa is described as resembling the thrill of ananda and even ultimate release (De 1963:69). Followers of Pushti Mars have deliberately conceived the relationship with Krishna in aesthetic terms. Bhava and rasa are not part of an obscure vocabulary of aesthetic elitism; many temple goers use them freely when describing mystical experiences. As the very form of divine bliss (anandarupa) the Krishna image also embodies rasa (rasarupa). Rasa, the concept of aesthetic appreciation, is transformed into the spiritual bhaktirasa, and the dominant emotions are replaced by the principal devotional attitudes experienced by Krishna's parents, friends, and lovers.
In Bengal Vaishnavism madhurya bhava or gopi-love is the dominant emotion with the devotional song (kirtan) its chief form of expression. But in Pushti Mars the kirtan is just one of a wide range of media utilized for enhancing bhaktibhava. Devotees are encouraged to employ everything pleasing to the mind and senses in the worship of the deity. Consistent with aesthetic theory the decorative, culinary, and musical techniques of worship are stimuli blended in ways conducive to exciting bhava, eventually elevating it to the experiential level of bhaktirasa. Hence, the ornaments, acts, and procedures of seva are arranged so as to be in perfect harmony with each other, with the time of day, the season, and the mood of the lila being enacted. Devotional lyrics are sung in melodies (ragas, "emotions") which match the moods visually portrayed in the sanctum. During their performance the kirtaniya and his audience are supposed to share in the rapturous emotions felt by the Eight Poet Disciples of Vallabha and Vitthalnatha, who sat and performed by the doors of Sri Nathji's temple and who were themselves privileged participants in the Braj lilas.[14]
If the devotee is to experience the love felt by Yashoda or a gopi, then his or her involvement must be total and heartfelt. The element of realism that accompanies the service of the deity makes the drama more literal and the feelings more poignant. Experiences related by one temple priest give some idea of the scrupulous care taken for the deity's comfort and happiness. During the first darsana of the morning he is careful to clap his hands softly as he approaches the sleeping child because, if he suddenly touched him, the child would be startled. In winter he always lights a stove and warms the deity's clothes before wrapping them round the body of the image. During the afternoon siesta he leaves some sweets and a board game nearby in case Krishna should wake and desire some refreshment or amusement. At Utthapana he always serves a snack in leaf cups because metal containers are not available in the jungle. He also makes sure that there is no delay in serving the snack because "when a baby rises after sleeping he is bound to feel very hungry." At Sandhya he does arati as soon as Krishna returns from the jungle because "Yashoda has been waiting since early in the morning and longs to embrace
her little boy."[15] At Sayana he does arati one last time while ringing a hand-bell very softly so as not to disturb the drowsy child.
Similarly, during the summer months every effort is made to see that the god does not suffer from the intense heat. A water fountain is placed just outside the doors of the nijmandir, screens are sprayed with water and fitted over the windows, and a large fan is hung above the throne. The image is clothed in light-colored, loose-fitting garments. Because they give rise to heat in the body, diamond and gold ornaments are unsuitable. Cooling pearls and silver are worn instead. Various kinds of cooling foods (sitala bhoga) are prepared: Lord Krishna is very fond of the sweetened juice of ripe mangos (pana). Occasionally, special darsanas are arranged with the intention of alleviating any discomfort caused by the oppressive heat. At Candan Coli sandalwood paste, valued for its cooling properties, is deftly applied to the stone image in such a way that it appears to be wearing knee-length breeches (janghiya[*], pardhani) or a loincloth (pichaura) matched with a short-sleeved bodice (coli).[16] At Phulmandali[*] the adornment consists of clothes, ornaments, and jewels exquisitely wrought from the buds of pale-colored summer flowers, while the image is seated in a bower of equally attractive floral construction. Devotees spend many hours threading flower buds onto strings according to precise patterns of size, shape, and color. One cannot but admire the consummate skill and patience displayed by the priests and lay devotees who practice such a transient art.
Also consistent with aesthetic theory is the belief that nothing should disturb the blissful harmony of the scene lest it affect adversely the onlooker's mood. Hence anything likely either to strike discord in the performance or to induce an inappropriate emotional response is to be avoided. For example, in some temples it is customary to celebrate the birthdays of living Maharajas by dressing the image in a kind of head garland (sehara) and cap (tipara[*]); but in one Ujjain temple the practice had been discontinued after a well-loved Maharaja had passed away on his birthday. I was told that if the tradition had continued, this particular form of headdress might have incited bad feelings in the minds of worshipers, thereby tainting their normal devotional response of sheer joy on celebrating the birth of an incarnation of Lord Krishna. Moreover, if during worship a priest or devotee allows the mind to wander from the task in hand, or becomes angry (krodha), or is bothered by mundane concerns (laukika klesa), then his or her efforts will be in vain, causing unnecessary distress (kasta[*]) to a god who shares in the feelings of his worshipers. The priest or devotee should leave his devotions immediately, taking another ritual bath before returning; on entering the inner rooms of the temple the mind should be free of all worldly thoughts and feelings. The priest should only touch the image while experiencing feelings of pure alaukika bhava. Because the image embodies rasa, only on the highest spiritual plane can communion between the priest and the image be realized.[17]
Every article of adornment is consecrated as a result of its use in divine service; each article is also regarded as the embodiment of a particular emotion (bhavana), contributing in part to the overall mood conjured up by the darsana. Hence the ornaments of worship can in themselves stimulate one or another dominant emotion. Examples abound; some are conventional, and others are the inventions of fertile imaginations. The deity's throne (simhasana[*]) might remind the devotee of Yashoda's lap. The buds in the flower garland worn by the image at Rajbhoga are the hearts of the gopis; the betel chewed after meals is the lip-nectar (adharamrta[*]) of Yashoda or of Krishna's favorite gopi, Svaminiji; the spout of the water pot (jhari) is Yashoda's nipple, and the red cloth covering it is her sari; his perfume (sugandha) is the sweet aroma of Svaminiji; his winter blanket is her warm embrace; his pyjamas (suthana) are her long-sleeved blouse (coli); and his shawl (uparna[*]) is also her sari. One elaborate costume consisting of a bejeweled crown (mukuta[*]) and flared skirt (kachani) is reminiscent of the full moon and its beams, putting devotees in mind of the Rasa Lila dance when Lord Krishna made himself many and partnered each gopi in the great round dance beneath the autumnal moon.[18]
The Food Offering: Bhoga
Perhaps the most effective way of establishing emotional contact with Krishna is through food lovingly prepared and subsequently relished as consecrated leavings (prasada). Anthropologists have not fully grasped the affective and spiritual significance of the food offering in Hinduism. Harper (1964) argued that relations among gods and between gods and people extend hierarchical relations between castes based on an idiom of relative impurity. Babb (1970, 1975) has elaborated on this theory by suggesting that the food offering expresses the superiority of gods over humans. By taking prasada, worshipers consume the leftovers (jutha[*]) of the gods and thereby demonstrate their inferior hierarchical status while muting status differences among themselves. The offering itself is described as a form of payment to the gods for past or future favors acknowledged by the return of prasada, the counter-prestation.
The approach has not gone unquestioned (Fuller 1979; Hayley 1980; Cantlie 1984). With reference to devotional practice among Assamese Vaishnavas, Hayley explains how the offering is conceived as the embodiment of an emotional attitude—devotion—offered to Krishna and later consumed by the devotee who reexperiences the self transformed through the act of giving. Nor does the present material lend itself to interpretation within a rigid hierarchical-instrumental frame. An understanding of the nature of the offering in Pushti Marg lies in its cultural meaning as an expression of pure emotion (suddha bhava).
I am not suggesting here that the pure-impure idiom as it is normally understood in relation to food preparation and commensality is unimportant. Devotees and priests involved in processing offerings have a reputation for scrupulousness in their efforts to preserve purity. Only Brahman priests, having first assumed an enhanced state of ritual purity known as aparasa, may cross the boundary leading to the inner rooms of the temple.[19] Every temple has at least three separate kitchens for the preparation of foodstuffs differentiated according to their relative susceptibility to pollution. Movement between kitchens is subject to restrictions which, if overlooked, might lead to the irreparable defilement of meals.[20] I argue that an exclusive emphasis on the pure-impure idiom as it relates to social hierarchy or to physical-organic processes would lead to seriously misrepresenting the significance of the offering. I have already shown that in Pushti Marg, as in many other bhakti cults, hierarchical distance becomes irrelevant when one considers the warmth and intimacy characteristic of the man-divine relationship. Even though unequal status occasionally finds expression in dasya bhava, the cultivation of this servile feeling-state is primarily conceived in subjective, moral, and affective terms, that is, as a means of removing selfishness, overcoming pride, and demonstrating one's dependence on Krishna, rather than affirming the latter's hierarchical superiority. Although the menial approach is suitable in the early stages of the devotional career, it is much too inhibitory for most devotees who prefer to love Krishna as an adorable child or handsome cowherd.[21] Moreover, a pragmatic interpretation of the offering as a "payment" for past or future favors fails to account for the disinterested spirit of worship. The offering is ideally conceived as expressing pure love made entirely for its own sake and with no thought of reward.
The problem of the meaning of the offering arises out of a limited understanding of the wider affective-spiritual implications of the pure-impure opposition. Because the preparation of food opens it in varying degrees to impurity, the offering must be insulated against polluting agents in order to preserve its purity. Should a devotee who is not in aparasa touch, see, or smell the offering, then it would be "touched" (chu gaya) and hence rendered unsuitable for the deity.[22] But more important, in a devotional context the offering is marginal because it is intended for Krishna but yet to be enjoyed by him. Should a devotee whose mind is not completely engrossed in Krishna touch, see, smell, or enjoy the offering-to-be, then he or she would savor its qualities prematurely and hence in contravention of the fundamental precept that everything should be offered to Krishna before enjoying it oneself. Krishna does not accept food that has already been partly enjoyed by his devotees. To consume unoffered or rejected food is to partake of sin (pap): the eater digests his own selfish intentions. Purity in this sense refers to the offering prepared lovingly, selflessly, and solely for Krishna's enjoyment.[23]
Clearly, there is a need for a more comprehensive understanding of the
ritual connotations of purity and impurity. The notions do not relate exclusively to objective properties of the external world but are used in a much wider sense to describe subjective states of mind. Thus the virtuous Vaishnava must endeavor by all means to keep his conduct (acar) and thoughts (vicar) pure (suddha). Mental purity, expressed in pure thoughts and feelings, and physical purity, expressed in pure actions, are regarded as complementary merits. Both are required for the sincere performance of worship. On the one hand, purity of the body is conducive to purity of mind: thoughts become pure by following strict rules of conduct. On the other hand, devotees also insist that if a man is not pure in thought he will not be pure in body and hence unworthy of seva. We have already noted that the enhanced condition of purity assumed by priests not only purifies the physical body but also leads to a pure state of mind, devoid of all worldly concerns. A Maharaja explained: "Whenever we approach Bhagavan it is not good for us to have contact with outside things. During seva we must remove all laukika thoughts from our minds so that we become completely absorbed in Bhagavan."
Right actions help to induce the right mental state. Alternatively, the mental attitude of the priest is crucial. Just as it is believed that certain kinds of food affect the moral and emotional disposition of the eater, so food can be imbued with the moral and emotional qualities of those devotees involved in its preparation.[24] By preparing offerings the priest invests them with his own feelings. Indeed, purity of mind is essential if the offerings are to be acceptable to Krishna. As one informant said:
In seva we must have feelings of love [premabhava]. Without them seva cannot be performed. Bhoga is a thing of pure emotion [suddha bhava]. Bhagavan does not eat anything in a laukika form. In order to control the senses Vallabhacarya Sampradaya teaches that the purest eatables should be prepared and offered to God and only then may we take them. In this way physical and mental impurities are removed. We must not take food without first offering it to God. Purity of mind is the objective of Vallabha Sampradaya.
Purity of mind is fundamental. It is quite conceivable for Krishna to accept an offering that would normally be regarded as highly polluting but that remains pure inasmuch as it embodies the pure intentions of the giver. This point was explained to me with reference to several scriptural examples of which one is particularly explicit. It tells of a prostitute who had such profound love for her personal deity (thakurji[*]) that she could not endure a moment's separation from him. She even performed seva during the four days of her menses. Vitthalnatha fully understood her spiritual needs and allowed her to continue, warning other Vaishnava women not to do likewise.[25] She cherished such intense feelings of love for her thakurji that mundane concerns for conventions of purity would have impeded her devotions. Moreover, although it is considered necessary for the devotee to take appropriate pre-
cautions while preparing offerings, the devotee should not allow the mind to become obsessed with the finicking observance of ritual minutiae, for this would stall the effortless flow of love-filled devotion to Krishna. Another well-known story describes one of Vallabha's disciples who was preoccupied with the idea that the deity's clothing might pollute the offerings by coming into contact with the plate. Because he entertained such profane thoughts, the deity showed his displeasure by kicking the plate to the floor and refusing the meal.[26]
In seva, then, there is an idea that the offering is impregnated with the devotional feelings of those involved in its preparation, while the feeling that Krishna enjoys the offering is acknowledged in the consecrated leavings. One devotee obligingly explained in English: "There is bhava, that is feeling, that we offer food to God and we make it sacred. What is important is the feeling that God accepts our offering. The fact is that he graces and acknowledges our feelings." Bhoga, meaning literally "the experience of pleasure," is enjoyed by Krishna, and the remains are converted into prasada, a word which devotees variously equate with pleasure (prasannala), grace, and bliss. Bhoga, prepared with the utmost dedication and given in generous amounts is the medium by which the devotee conveys overflowing love to Krishna.[27]Prasada, a token of Krishna's pleasure and happiness on receiving the love of his devotee, is also an edible manifestation of his grace and bliss which the devotee tastes, digests, and inwardly experiences. The process of consecration would appear to parallel that of aesthetic appreciation: bhoga as an expression of bhava is complemented by prasada as an embodiment of rasa. The giving and receiving of food provides a medium for enhancing and transforming experience. Initially, the pleasure is in the giving. But this pleasure is fully realized when the devotee retrieves the sacred leftovers. Exceptional mystical powers are attributed to prasada. By taking prasada the devotee is nourished by Krishna's grace and made aware of his innate capacity to experience the ecstasy of lila.
The implications of this spiritual chemistry can best be explained by refering briefly to the principal sectarian festival of Annakuta[*], the Mountain (kuta[*]) of Food (anna), held on the second day of Divali in the month of Kartika (October/November). The festival celebrates the supposed historic episode when the people of Braj ceased making sacrifices to Indra and began worshiping Mount Govardhan instead. Offerings of food were duly piled one on top of another until they reached as high as the mountain's summit. Lord Krishna, delighted by this generous display of devotion assumed the form of the mountain and consumed all the offerings.[28] The festival celebrated in sect-affiliated temples begins in the morning when an image of Govardhan is made from cowdung and worshiped with libations of milk. Later in the day a large crowd gathers again for darsana of a magnificent feast set before the temple deity consisting of baskets and buckets piled high with many varieties
of sweetmeats and savories. One's gaze is inevitably drawn to the center foreground where a large mound of boiled rice dominates the entire spread, an outstanding representation of the mountain of food offered to Krishna.
Annakuta is a festival of abundance, lavish giving, and inordinate consumption. It is essentially a community-based festival celebrated by and on behalf of the Vaishnava collectivity. Ideally, and to a large extent in practice, all temple goers contribute toward the feast in cash, goods, or services, and all are entitled to shares in its sacred remains. The entire feast, having been financed, organized, and prepared by numerous volunteers, becomes an accumulation of their combined loving devotion. When devotees assemble to take darsana of the splendid feast, they contemplate their combined bhava made lavishly and materially manifest. The large mound piled high with choice foods forms a vigorous impression of love in abundance. The bathing of the mountain and its cowdung effigies in liberal quantities of milk likewise expresses overflowing love. The mountainous feast betokens mountainous devotion. The mountain itself, an essential form (svarupa) of Lord Krishna, gives emphatic testimony to the god's benevolence in dispensing grace.
By receiving shares of the feast devotees share in the joy of one another's devotion augmented by grace and made sacred with reference to Krishna, the focus and fount of love. To love Krishna is to love one's fellow worshipers. One informant explained that Krishna is partial to those offerings prepared with the intention that other Vaishnavas will enjoy the consecrated remains. Thus, on a spiritual level, Annakuta involves the pooling and intensification of bhava and the subsequent dissemination of ananda. The deity is both receiver and redistributor, the repository of an overflowing store of devotion and the source of boundless grace. In this sense the festival is wholly consistent with the meaning of pusti as divine grace and spiritual nourishment.[29] On the one hand, the mountain of food bears witness to the lofty devotion of those who nurture and care for the divine child. On the other hand, Mount Govardhan bears imposing witness to the role of Lord Krishna as the nourisher and protector of souls.
Krishna's Own Form: Svarupa
It remains finally for me to make some observations on the nature of the divine image as the object of devotion. I mentioned earlier that darsana is a state of mind in which the worshiper feels himself or herself in the immediate presence of Krishna. For those able to experience darsana, the image is perceived as an actual manifestation of the god: Krishna's own (sva) form (rupa). The relationship between devotee and image is personalized and concretized to the extent that if there is a delay in preparing the offerings, Krishna goes hungry, or, if the food is too hot, he might burn his mouth. The exquisite care and tenderness displayed in worship are meaningful inasmuch as the image
is regarded as a sentient being with whom devotees can establish a warm loving relationship. I will now explore this element of personality attributed to the image.
Western notions concerning the conceptual status of God, gods, and holy objects have confused the understanding of image worship in India. Sacred images have been conceived as symbolic intermediaries providing a conceptual bridge between gods and humans and enabling communication between them, in which case they are "affected by the aura of sanctity which initially belongs to the metaphysical concept in the mind" (Leach 1976:38). Or, as Tillich puts it, "The symbol participates in the reality of that for which it stands" (1968:265). The ambiguity of images often makes them a focus for speculation and disputation, as evidenced by the controversies surrounding the worship of idols and the interpretation of the eucharist in the Christian traditions, controversies that for Tillich reflect an "inescapable inner tension" in the idea of gods and holy objects "from primitive prayer to the most elaborate theological system" with the result that holy objects are transformed into idols—"holiness provokes idolatry" (1968: 234, 240).
One should be extremely wary about transferring the principles of this debate to the Indian context. First, the problem of idolatry reflects a fundamental preoccupation of the Occidental religions, one that has encouraged the facile polarization of different elements in Hindu thought and practice: "higher Hinduism" with its abstract philosophical speculation and its so-called "monotheistic" character, and "popular Hinduism" with its "grotesque veneration" of images, stones, mountains, trees, and snakes. Second, the conceptualization of a fundamental duality comprising the human and the divine as two separate and mutually exclusive categories is inappropriate in the Indian context, particularly in Pushti Marg where an apparent dualism is ultimately reducible to a pure monism in which the soul, the material world, and inanimate entities living therein are all conceived as manifestations of Brahman and hence of the subtle essence of Brahman. Finally, I would argue that the svarupa, be it Mount Govardhan or a temple or domestic image, is intrinsically sacred; as such, it is a symbol that stands entirely for itself.
The installation of an image in a Hindu temple is erected by a ritual whereby life (pran[*]) is invoked into the image by a Brahman priest through reciting Sanskrit mantras and performing a complicated procedure of invocation, bathing, dressing, offering flowers and so on. Thereafter, the image becomes an object of veneration. In Pushti Marg an image is transformed into a svarupa by a Maharaja, who bathes it in the five sacred substances (pancamrta[*]) and offers it consecrated food from an established image. In this way the Maharaja vitalizes the image by "making it pusti[*]." The consecration of the image and the initiation of a disciple are conceptually similar. In the same way that the Maharaja as an incarnation of Krishna bestows grace on
the individual soul at the time of initiation, so he also transfers grace to the image such that, in the words of Purusottama (seventh in descent from Vallabha), it is infused with grace as fire penetrates an iron ball (Shah 1969:184). The divine identities of the soul and the image are both realized by a process of invigoration through grace. Once the image has been consecrated it becomes a living being and therefore requires constant care and attention. Worship should never lapse even if the image is broken by accident. But, as devotees are quick to point out, if a nonsectarian image suffers the same fate it becomes useless for worship; the deity departs from the image. For this reason those intending to install a personal image in their own homes should consider the move very seriously. The deity becomes a new member of the family and should be nursed continuously as a young child; otherwise he should be returned to the guru who will ensure that another disciple takes care of him.
Of all the sectarian images, the nine that Vitthalnatha passed on to his seven sons are accorded a preeminent status in the sampradaya. Their distinctive characteristics are apparent in the terms used to describe them. First, they are self-manifested (svayambhu); second, they are generally known as the sevya-svarupa of Vallabha and Vitthalnatha, meaning they were personally worshiped by them; and third, they are known as nidhi-svarupa, a term that has interesting implications. Monier-Williams (1899) translates nidhi as "a place for deposits or storing up, a receptacle;...a store, hoard, treasure."
Although these terms are used to indicate the exceptional status of the nine svarupa, they are also frequently applied to other temple deities. Indeed, the prestige of many images is often enhanced in the estimation of worshipers if their biographies reveal that they were at some time in the past worshiped by the great preceptors or their eminent disciples, or if they appeared in miraculous circumstances, or if they are subsidiary manifestations of one of the original nine. It is often said that deities, having been discovered on river banks, in wells or while excavating foundations, are self-manifested rather than man-made. One version of the discovery of Sri Nathji in Ujjain, a duplicate of the more famous Nathdwara image, satisfies several of these criteria. A devotee explained:
A Brahman and his wife had so much bhava for Sri Nathji that they used to travel regularly from Ujjain to Nathdwara for darsana. One night the Brahman had a dream in which Sri Nathji said to him, "you have traveled all this way to visit me many times, so now I will come to live with you in Ujjain." A few days later the Brahman was digging a well when he discovered a svarupa. He and his wife were overjoyed and installed it in a temple. In this way they received Sri Nathji's grace.
Another svarupa in Ujjain, Sri Madan Mohanji, was originally worshiped by the daughter of one of Akbar's chief ministers. One devotee recalled the story:
Thakurji loved her very much and used to grant her the darsana of his physical presence. They often used to play chess together. When she had grown older they used to dance Rasa Lila. Later her father, Alikhan, also became a disciple of Vitthalnathji. Soon the time came for his daughter to be married. But she didn't want to be married because she only had time for her Thakurji. Eventually she was married to a Muslim boy in Ujjain. She brought her Thakurji with her, and her husband built this temple for them. Sri Madan Mohanji was her Thakurji. It is a nidhi svarupa because Vitthalnathji gave it to her.
Both accounts reveal something of the intimate and personal nature of the relationship believed to exist between the accomplished devotee and the image. When Alikhan's daughter was a child, the deity was her playmate; later she became his paramour. The Brahman couple loved and treated Sri Nathji as their own son.
The svarupa is perceived through the emotions. Svarupa seva is a means of cultivating bhava, of exulting in the experience of loving and caring for Krishna. For the devotee to question the svarupa's apparent frailties—such as, How can Thakurji catch a cold?—is contrary to pure devotional feeling, for, although it is understood that Lord Krishna is above worldly discomforts, it is also important that the worshiper experiences concern for his well-being, a concern intensified by regarding Krishna as a helpless child in need of constant loving care. Even if many temple goers are less than erudite in expounding theories on the abstract nature of Brahman, bhava as a simple emotional experience renders all such abstract contemplation superfluous.
The capacity to feel perfect bhava and to experience rasa is seldom acquired suddenly. Most devotees say that it gradually increases in intensity. And as it grows, the image, being the object of bhava, also gradually assumes an independent personality in the eyes of the devotee until it eventually appears as a complete manifestation of Krishna. The devotee can talk and play games with it. In this way the image is consecrated through the combined efforts of guru and devotee, for although the guru is required to initiate the process, the full identity of the image is only revealed through the efforts of the devotee. Hence the devotee is also instrumental in vitalizing the image by nourishing and sustaining it with loving care and thereby investing it with loving devotion: "Shri Vallabhacarya says, 'Those very sentiments and feelings which arc present in the devotee himself are established in the Deity in worship'" (Bhatt 1979:90). Devotion is externalized in acts of worship and established in the image as the object of worship. The image responds to this nourishment by developing a lively personality. It is believed that in time a profound empathy evolves between the devotee and the personal deity. One kirtaniya remarked that every time he took darsana of the Sri Nathji image in Ujjain the deity seemed to reflect his own mood. When he felt happy Thakurji would smile back at him; when he felt sad Thakurji would appear very downhearted.
But why are some images described as preeminent (mukhya)? What of the nine nidhis? I mentioned above that the word nidhi means a depository, store, hoard, or treasure. The nidhis are valued inasmuch as, like Mount Govardhan, they are rich repositories of devotion, replete with Krishna's grace and bliss. Generally, it would appear that svarupa are attributed with more or less spiritual eminence according to the spiritual accomplishments of their former worshipers. The nine nidhis were the personal deities of Vallabhacarya and Vitthalnatha and have since been worshiped continuously by their descendants. It is as if devotees who approach them with pure bhava are able to reexperience the divine passions stirred up by their eminent predecessors. In this sense the svarupa are depositories for preserving the precious devotional experiences of the sampradaya from generation to generation.
Conclusion
Similarly the sampradaya by preserving a distinctive tradition of worship also perpetuates a unique religious experience. And yet one all too readily assumes that the survival of a longstanding tradition indicates an inevitable slide into ritualism. The influential notions of institutionalization and the routinization of charisma generally reinforce this view. Rituals that originate as genuine expressions of emotion gradually degenerate into sheer formalism; thus, participation loses much of its pristine spontaneity and sincerity. The dutiful observance of rules becomes divorced from the real attitudes and feelings of participants.
Conceived in this way, little that is positive about the relevance of emotion to ritual performance remains to discuss. But, having considered the devotional experience among Pushti Marg temple goers, the reverse would appear to hold true. By dutifully following the rules and customs laid down by tradition, the devotee gradually begins to identify with the personalities of Krishna's eternal play, experiencing what he believes to be the spontaneous and universal emotions of love and bliss. Participation in temple ritual is not simply a matter of learning lines and following directions, for there is supposed to come a point when the divine drama is not rehearsed but lived, when emotions are not imitated but attuned to the sublime, when identities are not assumed but real.
Devotional experience in Pushti Marg is based on cultivating particular emotional relationships between the devotee and Krishna. At the outset I explained that the emotions identified by devotees are not to be seen as representative of an innate and finite range of physiological states existing in all societies, albeit variously expressed, elaborated, stimulated, or constrained, but as culturally defined phenomena; hence, they are intelligible within the specific cultural contexts of meaning that define them and of which they are constitutive. I have attempted to interpret the constructs that define
emotional experience in Pushti Marg in order to ascertain what devotion means to participants in temple ritual. I have shown how devotional experience is actualized in worship and how participation provides a means for shaping and enhancing experience. I have also explained how emotional experiences are made concrete in the articles of ritual, the food offering, and the icon, which are considered actual embodiments of divine love and bliss. Finally, I have tried to convey something of the flavor of this experience though many devotees would suggest that a full appreciation of its nature remains an exclusive privilege of pusti souls.
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