Sri Ramakrishna Math : The Vedanta Kesari, June 2002

Swami Kritarthananda of Ramakrishna Mission, Mumbai, is a regular contributor to The Vedanta Kesari.

A Memorable Debate: A little boy of just twelve years was doing the daily chores in his guru's hermitage. His guru had gone out on an errand leaving him in charge of the ashrama. The guru was Sri Bhashyacharya, a sage much renowned for his erudition, knowledge, and devotion. The boy was seated alone, lost in his own thoughts. Suddenly the peace of the ashrama seemed to be rent asunder by the cry of a messenger from the Pandya king's court. What was the matter? The boy became curious and looked out. The messenger had come to collect the arrears of tax from Bhashyacharya, who was a taxpayer. Poor Brahmin that he was, he too had to pay the tax every year, not to the king, but to his court scholar, Vidvajjana-kolahala. By nature a shrewd and crooked scholar, the pundit had occupied a coveted seat in the royal court by challenging all other dignified scholars of that court to argue with him on abstruse matters. The condition imposed was that the defeated candidate should pay a regular tax to him. None could stand his arguments devised to put the opponent in confusion, and even great scholars like Bhashyacharya were losers in debates with him.

The tax payment being in arrears for two or three years, the messenger came to threaten Bhashyacharya but not finding the scholar at home, he gave vent to his anger upon the boy. This was too much for the young boy to bear. It is said in the scriptures that one should either behead the detractor of one's guru, or leave the place. He did none of these but gave a fitting rebuttal to the messenger and boldly challenged the royal scholar to defeat him in debate. 'Tell your master,' roared he, 'I am the most insignificant disciple of my master Sri Bhashyacharya, and if only your master can beat me in debate should he dare talk so insolently about my venerable guru.' On hearing these audacious remarks from a young boy the court pundit felt amused. At his bidding the Pandya king summoned the boy. But the boy said, 'I am going to engage in a debate with the royal scholar and hence must be accorded a royal honour.' The king had but to agree to this shrewd logic.

When the teacher, Bhashyacharya, returned to the ashrama and learnt about the whole episode, he was aghast and alarmed. His beloved disciple had to go for a debate with that renowned pundit! It would cost him dearly. But the disciple was undaunted. The boy set off in the royal palanquin before the fearful gaze of his master and other people.

It was really an unprecedented event. A young boy of twelve years going to the royal court to have a debate over scriptural matters with the most renowned and boastful scholar of that time! The boy who became indignant at the insult shown to his master was none other than the pillar of Sri Vaishnavism, known as Sri Yamunacharya. The boy became the focus of discussion, even between the king and the queen in the palace. The king took him to be just a street urchin daring to challenge his court scholar out of childish prank. The queen, however, had the opposite view. She was so sure of the boy's success in the debate that she said she would fain become the slave of the king's bond-slave if the boy were defeated. Amused at the folly of his queen, the king also promised half his kingdom to the boy in case he won, being sure that it was an impossible feat.

Amid all this commotion, Yamunacharya stepped into the royal court, bowed down before his majesty, the queen, and the courtiers. Then he calmly took the seat meant for him and got ready for the debate. The court pundit also arrived and, seeing the cute little boy, asked the queen in derision, 'Al Vandara?' (meaning, has the fellow come?). The queen also replied with full confidence, 'Ala Vandar' (meaning, yes, he has come to conquer). The debate turned out to be a fight for prestige, not only of Yamunacharya but also of the king and the queen. In the beginning Pundit Kolahala took the boy lightly and started asking easy questions on grammar and other preliminary books. But to his amazement the boy correctly answered them all. Then came the turn of the boy. He got up and calmly said, 'You have slighted me by asking such silly questions and thereby have underestimated my knowledge. Well, then, I would like to put before you just three simple propositions. Please refute them if you can or admit your defeat.' His first proposition was this: 'Your mother is not a barren woman.' The second proposition was: 'His majesty the Pandya king is supremely righteous.' And then came the third proposition: 'The great queen seated in the throne is as chaste as Savitri.'

The bewildered pundit was at his wits' end at these three tricky questions. Full of vanity as he was, he flew into a rage at these clever questions from the upstart sitting before him with a smiling face. Unable to digest the piercing insult implied in the three questions, he could only shout at the boy, 'Can you refute your propositions yourself?' The boy in a joyful mood said, 'Of course; otherwise I have no right to make those propositions.' Then, citing quotations from the scriptures, he showed that (according to the commentary of Medhatithi on Manu-Samhita 9:61) the woman who has only one child is said to be barren. In the second proposition, Dharma is said to be filling only a quarter of the Kali-Yuga. According to Manu-Samhita (8:304), a king who protects his subjects in every way gets a sixth part of their religious merits as also their demerits. Since in the Kali-Yuga irreligion dominates three quarters, the subjects are prone to commit sin frequently and, as a result, the king also incurs sin. Hence the king has to bear the burden of unrighteousness. To refute the third proposition, he quoted form the same Manu-Samhita (7:7) saying that a king is the veritable manifestation of the gods of fire, air, sun, moon, death, Kubera, Varuna, and Indra. Therefore the queen is said to be the spouse of those eight regents also. Hence her majesty cannot be called chaste.

This silenced the boastful scholar. The answers came as bolts from the blue.The queen was beside herself with joy. Both the king and the queen were astonished at the sharp acumen of the precocious boy. The king kept his promise and gave the boy half his kingdom. From that day Yamunacharya came to be commonly known as Alavandar, by which name the triumphant queen had called him.

Birth and Ancestry: In a devout Brahmin family of Veeranarayanapuram in South India, Sri Nathamuni was born towards the end of the ninth century AD. He gave the cult of Sri Vaishnavism (as it is known now) a highly magnified dimension through his deep devotion. He had a son, Ishvaramuni who died prematurely, leaving behind his bereaved wife and a son. This son was Yamunacharya, born with special attributes of head and heart. He was born in about 953 AD in Madurai, the then capital of the Pandya kingdom. He was so named because he was born on the bank of the holy river Yamuna near Vrindavan when his parents and grandparents were on a pilgrimage.

After his son passed away prematurely, Nathamuni also renounced the world and led a pure ascetic life. Yamunacharya was born with the inherent spiritual tendencies accumulated in his lineage by the contribution of his deceased father and ascetic grandfather. By virtue of his sharp intellect he won the grace of the goddess of fortune even at the tender age of twelve, as we have seen.

Spiritual Awakening: Mysteriously, having won half a kingdom, Yamunacharya got stuck in the mire of the world. He dived deep into worldly pleasures and drank deep the wine of delusion of worldly charms. Strange are the ways of the Lord! Yamunacharya even gave up his spiritual practices. His grandfather, Nathamuni, still a recluse, kept himself informed of his grandson's changes. At last, before leaving his body, he called aside his chief disciple Nambi and asked him to remind Yamunacharya not to forget the duty of perpetuating the spiritual lineage.

When Alavandar had reached his thirty-fifth year, Nambi deemed it the right time to remind him of his spiritual destiny. So he set out for Alavandar's kingdom with the divine mission. But on reaching there he found it almost impossible to have access to the king. So Nambi had to find out some other tricky device to enter the royal palace. He collected some rare species of greens called 'tuduvalai', said to help develop the quality of Sattva, and approached the royal chef from the backdoor. Hiding his real antecedents he posed as a well-wisher of the king and offered those leaves desiring long life of the king. The chef was a man experienced in herbs and recognized them as very useful at the first sight. So he accepted the proposal and prepared a dish for the king. The king relished it very much. Nambi was delighted to know that his plan had worked. He went on supplying the leaves for two months continuously. Thereafter, one day he suddenly stopped going to the royal kitchen. That day the king missed the dish very much and enquired the reason for it. As he came to know that an ascetic was offering the greens for him all through, the king became curious and wanted to meet the ascetic. Nambi's long wait was over. He did not let this opportunity go in vain. He was ushered into the inner apartment of Alavandar by the chef. He confided to the king in privacy that his grandfather Nathamuni had long passed away bequeathing a great fortune to his beloved grandson Alavandar. The king was delighted to hear it as he was badly in need of money at that time. So he agreed to do whatever he was asked to. Nambi mystically said to him, 'Please follow me alone; the treasure lies hidden within seven walls between two rivers, a great serpent has been guarding it, and at the end of every twelfth year a demon from the south sea goes over there to inspect it. It has been kept shrouded by the power of a Mantra. If you repeat that Mantra, all the treasure will be yours.'

Yamunacharya took the words seriously and gladly agreed to follow the poor man whom he did not recognize. They proceeded northward. On the way Nambi started chanting the Bhagavad Gita in a sweet voice. This aroused the long-faded memory and spiritual fervour in Yamunacharya. In a trice the whole outlook changed. He got back his divine kingdom. Leaving aside all his worldly thoughts the king became restless for a vision of God. Nambi then took him to the south where stood the magnificent seven-walled temple of Sri Ranganatha in the island of Srirangam. They crossed all the six gates, one after the other. At the entrance of the seventh gate, Nambi addressed Alavandar, pointing to the Lord Narayana lying on the serpent bed, and said, 'There, O pure soul! There lies the treasure of your grandfather. Being his capable grandson, please inherit this greatest treasure.' Alavandar at last understood everything. He rushed to the Lord and prostrated himself before the deity like a possessed man. Thereafter his life underwent a complete conversion. Nambi initiated him into the Mantra of eight syllables. Thus began a new chapter in the life of Sri Yamunacharya.

Taking up the Onerous Responsibility: The great king Alavandar gave up his throne and kingdom once for all, accepted the discipleship of Nambi, and started living the life of a mendicant. His extraordinary renunciation, dispassion, erudition, humility and steadfastness in devotion made him the leader of the entire Sri Vaishnava community after the passing away of Nambi. The sweet and attractive devotional hymns in his book Stotraratna attracted many sincere souls. He wrote three more books in Sanskrit--Siddhitraya, Agamapramanya, and Gitartha-sangraha. These books lucidly explain the doctrines of Vishishta-dvaita.

Meanwhile Sri Ramanujacharya was born to Keshavacharya and Kantimati in Sriperumbudur in the year 1017 AD. He grew up gradually into a devout young man with deep scriptural knowledge, became the disciple of Sri Yadavaprakasha, one of the staunchest upholders of the Advaita doctrine of Sri Shankaracharya in those days. The preceptor was astonished to discover the disciple's sharp acumen, power of retention, and capacity to refute the opponent's arguments with great modesty. Soon Ramanuja became the foremost of the disciples of Yadavaprakasha. The news of his erudition coupled with the rare quality of humility spread far and wide, and Yamunacharya also came to know of it all. By then he had grown pretty old. As if induced by a divine ordinance he once happened to meet young Ramanuja, who was escorting his old master along with the other disciples. The first glance led Alavandar to the firm conviction that Ramanuja was the divinely commissioned person to take up the torch of Sri Vaishnavism. So, even though Ramanuja took the discipleship of an Advaita teacher, Yamuna bided his time, surrendering everything to the will of the Providence.

Meanwhile, Ramanuja's eventful life had isolated him from his preceptor. Alavandar also was ready for the final departure following oldage ailments. He kept enquiring about Ramanuja and was extremely glad to hear of the developments in the latter's religious life. He sent a disciple to bring Ramanuja to him. But soon after the disciple set out on that special mission, Alavandar sat up in lotus posture, withdrew his mind from the world, placed the eyes between the brows, and amid devotional chanting by the disciples, consciously gave up his mortal body.

The Three Great Vows: Even great souls are often seen to cherish some holy desires at the time of leaving their bodies. Alavandar, too, was no exception. His only desire was to perpetuate the tradition of Sri Vaishnavism. And he communicated it miraculously to his able successor Ramanuja even after death.

On learning from the messenger of the illness of Yamunacharya, Ramanuja felt a deep pull in his heart to see the great soul. He at once set out for Srirangam with the messenger. But alas! It was not ordained by destiny that the two would meet any more. On the way they met the crowd carrying the dead body of Alavandar. After controlling the initial emotions Ramanuja silently observed the flower-bedecked body. On careful scrutiny he found three fingers in the right hand of the dead body folded and clenched. No one present there could give a satisfactory answer to such a strange phenomenon. At that moment Ramanuja, out of a divine inspiration, made three resolves loudly, one after the other. They were, 1) to protect the people deluded by ignorance by making them take refuge in Narayana, while himself remaining in the fold of Vaishnavism; 2) to write Sri Bhashya on the Brahma-Sutras; and 3) to name one highly learned Vaishnava as Parasara, the author of the Vishnupurana and the father of Vyasa.

As Ramanuja solemnly declared his vows, legend has it that the folded fingers of the dead body got straightened of their own. Needless to say, Ramanuja kept his promise and dedicated the rest of his life in serving Sri Vaishnavism according to the desire of the departed soul of Alavandar.