No Air-Ticket for a Jain Monk

There was a monk who was also a great thinker, scholar and authority on Jain School of Philosophy. He lived in Gujarat, named Muni Jambuvijayshree. I was privileged to address him affectionately just ‘Jambu’ – a dark-small-sweet sour fruit – Jamun.

Jambu had written an authentic commentary on an ancient logical text belonging to Jain Philosophy of the Uncertainty Principle (Syat-vad) where he expounded on the theory of multi-valued logic. He described a seven-valued syllogism to explain away uncertainty in truth-value of any proposition. I found his explanation of syad-vad logic almost close to Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle in the modern theory of quantum physics.

I was then teaching at Michigan State University with good research funds available to me. I invited Jambu Muni to America. He declined but “I would be delighted if you visited me in Bhuj” (Gujarat) – simply wrote the Muni.

Bhuj – was a sleepy town in Gujarat, on the shore of Arabian Sea – en route to earlier Arabian traders who came from the west to the ancient land of philosophers.

As I landed at a small airport of Bhuj, was escorted to a huge mansion of a rich businessman who was away on his multinational dealings. But I was offered excellent hospitality by very cultured Gujarati ladies – dressed in elegant attire, extremely gracious and attractive. But in the mansion there was then no running water and the lovely leading lady politely offered me water to wash and showed me to the well-laid out bedroom. That was really a princely affairs but devoid of drinks and dancing girls.

In the afternoon I was taken to a nearby abode of the monk. Jambu received me at his simple room – without any ostentatious tapestry , where he sat crossed-leg – on a white cotton sheet. There was, however, a wide open window behind him. In front of him were a half-dozen devotees also crossed legs listening to his sermon.

The monk stood up and received me with affection – as a long-lost friend, but that was our first meeting. I protested that he was to uphold his high position and in his Ashram, before his congregation, I must bow – not him – to a lay visitor. But the Jambu would allow no protocol between us and instantly dismissed the darbar.

Now, only two of us were left in the room– on the floor. “But Muniji, I wrote to you that I wanted to spend a few days in your Ashram, not in that rich man’s mansion”, I protested opening the conversation.

“Professor, Ashram is no place for a person like you, spoiled by living in America. So I arranged that good house for you. Everything comfortable? The grand old lady there is my devotee,” and he confirmed that he had never asked for any favour from that rich woman in exchange for his “Spiritual Services.”
The next day, I was granted an early morning session with the scholarly monk. Both of us sitting crossed-leg, engrossed in serious discussion on the Uncertainty Principle when an intruder politely placed a handwritten note to his feet.

“Oh, yes, so he wants to see me now?” and asked my permission if he could see a Cabinet Minister who had just dropped-in while passing this way.

A well-dressed middle-aged man was shown-in who prostrated before my friendly monk and the muni simply raised his right palm in benediction. The Minister received the blessings and made some effort to speak up, but the monk was in no mood to entertain the visitor. With his left hand, the saint gave the sign “withdraw”. The minister profusely bowing in obeisance – quietly back-stepped and left.

I witness this demonstration of the holy power and got engrossed again in the discussion about the nature of Time and Space in the Jain philosophy.

The third day was my parting day. I had never felt so deep affinity towards a person before. Here was a Master bereft of worldly possessions, living in poverty and offering solace to community without accepting/receiving any service-charge. I was privileged to address him without any adjunct. For me he was simply a Jambu

“Jambu, you are constructing a huge temple in this town. But there is no hospital here.” I criticized the waste of money – where there are thousands of temples in the country.

The muni was unfazed. “Oh, that, Dhirendra, I am a doctor of “spiritual illness”. You may call me escapist.”
“Jambu, I am organizing a seminar at the Institute of Advanced Studies, Shimla, and want to invite you there.”
“No, impossible, I can’t go that far, that would take months to walk.”
“I’ll send you air ticket,” insisted me.
“I don’t take man-made transport, only my feet. Besides, you saw that Cabinet Minister bowing before me, and I dismissed him with my flat-palm. Once you corrupt me with air-ticket, I’ll taste comfort, enjoy flying and then, I’ll be holding my begging-palm before the Minister, before you, before the rich world of your’s.
Today I am a Mukta –I am a Free Man.
Dhirendra, my friend! Go –“Shivas-te-Pantha.” (May enjoy safe journey).