This is a reproduction of a library book that was digitized by Google as part of an ongoing effort to preserve the information in books and make it universally accessible. http://books.google.com LifeandteachingsofSriRamanujacharya C.R.SreenivasaAyyangar \_ n?c i y i ( ^y ' THE LIFE AND TEACHINGS OF SRI RAMANUiACHARYA BY C. R. SRINIVASA AIYENGAR, B. A. I908. R. VENKATESHWAR & CO., iTBaOraa. Copyright Registered] \+£>CL Ptinted at the Ananda Steam Printing Works. ^«p^>fr ^ m% • ^ A MODERN PREFACE. -:--. IT was night, aud silence still reigned over the place — silence in the author's study, save for the tickings of the clock on the mantel piece, the ominous heart-beats of Father Time: silence without, save for the sighing breeze, wafting through the open window the distant hum of the busy city, as, like a wilful child, it sobbed itself to sleep. In his deu the author sat, his legs on the table before him, and his chair tilted back, in Yankee fashion, at an angle that was dangerously close to the line of equili brium. He was in a fix, the author ; before him* on the table, lay the last letter from his patient, long-sufFering publisher, calling, in no gentle tones, for the promised preface that never came. And yet, for the life of him, he could not manage to extract one from his poor over-worked brain. With closed eyes and fingers tightly clasped around his head he sat, as if he would force the unwilling one from out of its dark abode. And upon him thus wrestling with his stubborn Muse, the silent hours stole on. The table lamp flared up, as if in angry protest at being kept awake so late to no purpose ; and close upon it the clock struck the hour of midnight. The last stroke was still upon the air, when there came a knock at the study door, and roused the author from his deep reverie, back to the world and its sorrows " One more hour," cried-he, "another messenger of Time, posting from the dark realms of the Future, on to the regions of the Dead Past. The world has grown older by an hour and I no wiser. " With that, there strode into the room, all unbidden, the impatient visitor. 11 The author half turned himself in his chair to see who his midnight guest might be, and was greeted by "Hullo ! old boy, not yet abed ? How does my little busy bee ? Improving each shining hour and gathering wisdom all day long ? " With a heavy sigh, he resigned himself to the inevitable and made himself ready for a pretty long spell of boredom ; for, the man before him was no other than N&rada S&stri, whom the naughty world was not ashamed to call meddling, inquisitive, and what not. Busy men steered clear of bim, and our author, naturally of no sweet temper, was now in no mood to stand the bustling gaiety of the irrepressible Narada. But, he was in a tight corner and no mistake ; so, forcing up a rebel lious smile, he hastened to welcome the old gentleman. Author. — " Very glad to see you. It is an age since you have shown your bright and cheery face here in this gloomy den of mine. To what do I owe this welcome visit, all unexpected ? " N&rada. — " Oh, don't speak of it ; and now that I come to notice it, what have you been doing to yourself? You look clean washed out. " Author. — {aside) What kindness ! Curse it, he speaks as if his blessed visit was the best invigorator possible. (aloud) Nothing remarkable. Only a preface to my Life of Rdmdnufa that I cannot, for the life of me, manage. Narada. — What ! Life of Ramanuja !! You have written one and i' do not know it ! Poor boy ! You must have been hard pressed indeed to write it without my help. You little know what you have lost. Such valuable sources of information ! Such rare books ! Such • eye-openers for the Orientalists ! What madness possessed you to do it ? Of course you had to write your precious life out of that apology for one — The Vigishtadwaita Catechism ? Author. — I don't know. {With- a regretful look) Oh ! that you were here ! But yet, let me console myself with at least knowing what priceless treasures I have been denied to possess. Ndrada.— Would you ? Well, it would be- a lesson to you not to make such a fool of yourself another time. {He straightens himself and puts out his chest — then with a triumphant air) Now look here, your ' Life, ' is it not a bald catch-penny affair, like the accounts in Who's Who or Beeton's Biography — a dry matter-of-fact record of dates, names, places and events ? Come, don't deny it. Author.— -No. What on earth made you think that /, of all men would go in for such trash ? You have heard of Edwin Arnold's Light of Asia; you have read %it, eh ! good. Arnold wrote the life of Lord Buddha as a devout Buddhist would have done it, who loved the Master for his love of men. Well, my work is a similar attempt, however humble, in that direction ; and I opine that a ' Life ' written on any other lines is not worth the rag on which it is scribbled. I love Ramanuja for his love of us. I write not for the Orientalists, or their pale imitators in India ; but I aim to bring home to the hearts of all good men and true, the priceless Doctrine of Devotion en shrined in his teachings ; the grand Personality that was the living exponent thereof ; the broad love that em braced all Humanity and knew no distinction of caste or creed, race or color, rank or sex ; and the spirit of perfect self-sacrifice that made him dare his Teacher's curse and the horrors of eternal damnation, that mankind may drink of the Waters of Life. Ndrada.— Stop, stop. What ! No scientific treatment ! No historical criticism ! How did you fix the date of Ramanuja and his works ? IV Author. — (with rising anger) Enough ! What care I about your coins and inscriptions, your pillars and mounds, the dry bones of History. To me it is of far more im portance how a man lived and worked among his fellows, than when and where he was born and died ; where he was at a particular date ; when he wrote such and such a book; whether he was tall or short, dark or fair, single or married, a flesh-eater or a vegetarian, a teetotaller or no ; what particular dress he affected, and so on. And yet, more important still it is to me what a man thought and wrote, than how he lived and died. Your Orientalists ! Heaven save me from the brood. Mischief enough they have done, those human ghouls that haunt the charnel-houses of Antiquity, where rot the bones of men and events of the Dead Past. They have played sad havoc with the. fair traditions of our fore fathers, that placed ideas before facts and theories, and the development of a nation's heart before ' historical finds ' or ' valuable discoveries.' Many a young man of promise they have turned away to paths uncongenial, where his bray betrays the animal within the skin. You will find no such antiquarian twaddle in my book. But yet, when I come to think of it, I too have thrown a sop to the Orientalist Cerberus ; I too have burnt incense to strange gods and lit a candle at the altar of the Prince of Darkness— I mean my notes and the comparative references therein. • Narada. — (taken aback) But the sources of informa tion — Author. — (impatiently) Come now ; have done with your blessed sources. Trot them out, I say. N&rada. — (brightening up) Of course the Vigishj&d- waita Catechism is your sheet-anchor. Author. — Hold there ! Who said so? In fact, I have made very little use of it. Narada. — Well. Have you ever heard of the Guru Parampara ? The Tengalai, fuller and more circum stantial, and the Vadagalai, differing from it upon many an important point. Author. — (with a pitying smile) Unfortunately that is my sheet-anchor, the Tengalai Parampara ; and my 'Life' is based upon it. And as for the other, I refer you to my notes to see if I have omitted any material point where they differ from or supplement one another. N&rada. — Ah ! Is it so ? What about the Pala Nadai Vilakkam ? (Aside) I am sure he has never heard of it. Author. — Very much indebted am I to that valuable compilation for the clear light it throws on many a dark point. Narada. — (aside) Curse my luck ! (Aloud) May be you have had access to another rare book, Peria Tirumudi Adaivu ? Author. — Ivook here. Have done with your pin pricks. I cannot offord to be fooling with you thus, at this unearthly hour of the night. Here is the list of the books I have used in my work. See if you can add anything to it. But mind, this excludes priceless oral information derived from traditional teachings that will never be soiled by printer's ink. N&rada. — {with a look of blank despair) reads : — 1. The Guru Parampara, Tengalai (1880) 2. Do. Vadagalai. 3. Pala Nadai Vilakkam. 4. Peria Tirumudi Adaivu. 5. R&m&nuj&ch&ry a Divya Charitai. 6. Vartta- Malai- VI 7. Alvar Charitram. * 8- Hari Satnaya Dlpam.