Thoughts on permanence and loss

 

Texts belonging to the terminal section of the Veda, the Upanishads classify Vidya - knowledge - into two categories - apara, of temporal nature and para, of transcendent nature. This in turn reflects the character of Sankya, the oldest of the six orthodox schools of Indian thought which speaks of the dualities of Prakriti, the ever-changing force and Purusha, the ever-constant spirit. Jnana or knowledge - the result of learning - enlightens the learner as to the ways of the world, but is itself inert without a learner. But what of the learner themselves? Are they not ever changing - with knowledge gained from experience? Yet, it makes sense to admit continuity - that I was the one who saw and learned yesterday.

Now arises the question ‘Does learning take place as a reaction to external stimuli or as an awakening of the inner force?’. On this, two divergent schools are found in Western Philosophy - the empiricists argue that knowledge is deduced from the external world through sensory experience. The rationalists argue that sensory experience only unveils the intrinsic knowledge contained within the soul. Kant, the great unifier, says that external experience through intrinsic capacity of the mind produces knowledge. Swami Vivekananda takes this a step forward – ‘Education is a manifestation of the perfection already in man’.

There are two catalysts for such transformative education. The first is the guru - the figure of the learned master found in Eastern and even some Western traditions. In many Indian traditions, Ishwara or God appears as the adiguru, the master of masters, and establishes a line of learning. While some have the direct grace of the master, most derive connection through the traditions established by the master. The most important of which is the second catalyst - literature in its myriad forms - written, sung and dramatized.

While all cultures have the concept of divine and revered literature, the Indian Civilization has literally divinized books. In the North, one can find the Guru Granth Sahib, the inheritor of Sikh literary and didactic tradition being worshipped. In the South, the Thirumurai - Saivite literature from times past - is worshipped in temples.

Still, there is a variety to the literature we consume, and perhaps even a hierarchy. The most popular literature in any age, arguably, enforces the popular culture and biases of that age. While it is said that man turns to the arts in an attempt to transcend the sufferings of the world (perhaps by capturing it!), the popular art of an era does not often seem to do that. In an attempt to go beyond this, one may discover ideological and introspective literature, much of which, having understood the transitory nature of the world and the vastness of life, has a nihilistic flair. Going forward, one searches for the purpose, and discovers literature of one’s own higher nature - ethics, poetry and philosophical reminiscences. In the process, which is essentially one of resonance - with the authors own thought the reader discovers microcosmic transformations (the internal world) in the macrocosm (the external world) as well. The call of birds becomes the trumpet of nature, and the rising sun, the dawn of knowledge. Thus, literary study essentially constitutes an unbroken chain of transmission – from the master to the student, and from the outer to the inner.

These manifestations of the microcosm in the macrocosm are best exemplified in the concept of the inner eye. The Romantic poets of England and the Bhakti poets of India raised themselves to sublime states of reflection, that even the slightest drop of rain signified the fulfillment of a debt to the sincere men and women from the skies. Even today, rural India is dotted with the sites of meditation of these poets. And while the dwellings of these places are simple, the people revel in company of the highest order - for many a pilgrim to the hills of Himachal or the fields of the Kaveri says - even a glance of these places, raises the mind to places Supreme. The continuity is stunning, that what was sung about by poets of yore what is in front of one.

But if the answer has already been discovered, why must we continue to learn and read? A study of times past will reveal that our understanding of the world has been fragmentary and transitory, just as the world itself has been. The oft cited examples of the shape of the Earth and the evolution of species reveal that we must forever change along with our understanding of the world. But that does not mean that all that is past is inferior and all that is new is better. Just as the ship of Thesus from the famous Greek metaphor keeps changing with damages and repairs but remains a ship at each individual moment, we find a constancy in change. Hence, the Sankhya dualities of change and constancy are unified as the organic whole.