SIX GURUS IN SUCCESSION
In the language of Western civilization Pullikuri Lukshmiah would have been called “a fast young man.” He decked himself with earrings, finger-rings, bangles, belts, and various jewels, all of them conspicuous for glitter—not for their value. Red turbans and bright-coloured jackets lay in the box ready for use. He frequented places where there was dancing, singing, and festivity of every kind. Sin and lust grew apace, until a sense of disgust with the whole situation began to creep into his soul. He was weary of it all, and one day, he did not know from whence, the thought came: What if I should die?
At this juncture one of the wandering disciples of the Yogi Veerabramham came into the village and attracted Lukshmiah’s attention. All his earnings were now spent on paying fees and giving gifts to this wandering Guru. He was bent on finding out something that might show him a way to salvation; he desired to secure a blissful state of the soul after death. But the days passed and he heard nothing definite, and one morning the Guru had taken his staff and wandered to the next place. But soon another came. Lukshmiah hovered around him. He did his share in giving the Guru to eat bountifully. He saw him partake of the intoxicating sarai freely, and then roll into a corner to sleep off the effects. After a few months he too went his way, and Lukshmiah found that he was none the wiser in knowledge.
Six Gurus were thus supported by Lukshmiah, wholly or in part, some for weeks, some for months. The rumour had spread in the Madiga community that he had lost interest in fine clothes and jewels, and was sitting at the feet of Rajayogi Gurus. Soon one after another of those who could claim some degree of kinship to him came to take advantage of this circumstance. They were his guests while they inquired of him concerning the hymns and mantras which he had heard, and the initiation through which he had passed. They were introduced to the Guru who happened to hold sway for the time being, and there was much inquiry and interest among them. Some of the friends came again and again. Bangarapu Thatiah, too, was sometimes among them, especially after Bandikatla Veeramah had gone away. A sense of cohesion was established among these men which lasted through many a year, for almost every member of this group became a strong force in Christian propaganda in the years that followed.
An honest search for truth is never wholly in vain. Lukshmiah and his friends had risen above the superstitions of the ordinary Madiga. They wanted something better, which shows that they had outgrown the beliefs of their childhood. Each individually tried what the abstractions of the Yogi could do to still the hunger of the soul. Friendship and a common interest had led them to meet and find out what the result on each might be. Each in his way had grown disheartened.
One after another of the friends went north to trade in hides. Lukshmiah remained behind with the Guru Balli Somiah, who had been his instructor for two years. He lived in the village proper, with the Sudras, but his chief supporter was Lukshmiah. This meant a constant drain upon his resources. He was already deeply in debt. The Komati who had lent him money at different times demanded the interest, and it was compound interest. The hospitality freely offered to his friends and co-searchers in truth had cost him far beyond his means. They were gone, and there was a rumour that they were again banded together in the north, and that now they were investigating a religion which had come from the land of the English.
Lukshmiah decided to go north, and hoped that by the lucrative trade in hides he might cancel a part of his debt. But what should he do with the Guru Somiah, who showed no intention of leaving? It might prove dangerous to tell him that he could no longer support him, or to simply go away, leaving him in the lurch; for could he not pronounce a curse over him? But the presence and the sway of the Guru Somiah grew daily more irksome, till finally a way appeared to get rid of him. Lukshmiah knew that the Guru had a brother living in that northern district. He said to him : " Your disciples are all in the north, earning much money. I must go too; for my debts are very heavy. If you will come with me, you will find support." Thus the journey was undertaken.
Disappointment awaited the Guru Somiah when he reached the little settlement of his former followers. They wanted him no more. For the sake of old relationship they gave him food, but they omitted the sarai. He complained bitterly because the customary beverage was withheld. The friends talked it over and agreed to help Lukshmiah to get rid of his burden. They put together ten rupees and sent the Guru to his brother. Bangarapu Thatiah alone stood aloof, and said : " I shall give nothing. Send him away empty-handed as he came." But Pullikuri Lukshmiah rejoiced ; for the presence of the Guru had hindered him greatly in making any progress in finding out what this new religion was.
To Lukshmiah, in the years that followed, the mere mention of his former Gurus seemed like a breath of poison. It was the worthless character of the men that had obliterated anything of truth which might have lain hidden in their teaching. He says of those days : " I took hold of the feet of the disciples of Pothuluri Veerabramham and hoped to get salvation through them, but it was all in vain. What is the use of trusting in a bundle of wind? I thought I was doing pious deeds when I drank sarai with those Pothuluri people, but there was not the smell even of piety about me. However much husk you eat will hunger go?"
He had taken the lead among the friends in trying to get salvation in the Rajayogi sect. It had all come to nothing. He had wasted his substance on Gurus. In the investigations concerning the new religion he found the others in advance, and he must follow. One after another of the little colony of Madiga traders up in the Godavery district started on his homeward journey. He and his kinsman, Ragaviah, remained behind, intent on speculations that would bring financial gain.
Rumours had been brought to them that a missionary had come to Ongole, that everybody was talking about the new religion, and that some had said they would join this Christian sect. They longed for certain news, and were glad indeed when one day a friend and neighbour came from the old home on business, and visited them to tell them what had happened. The Ongole Missionary had come to Tallakondapaud and baptized twenty-eight, among them Lukshmiah’s brother and his son, Ragaviah’s son, and others of their friends and relatives.
After the visitor had left, the two men sat down together, sad at heart; they could hardly keep back the tears. Lukshmiah said: “The brother born after me and my own son are on the way to heaven before me. I cannot stay here longer.” The next day they proceeded to hire sixteen bandies, to load one hundred hides on each, and to start for home. Eight bandy-loads were sold on the way, and with the remaining eight they arrived at home. Their sons, they found, were in Ongole in school, and they were glad that that which had been denied to them was being granted to their children. The Missionary had been informed of their return home, and a preacher was sent to tell them much about the religion of Christ that was new to them.
Lukshmiah was heavily in debt when he bade farewell to the last of the six Gurus of the Rajayogi sect on whom he had spent his substance. His former associates in the search for truth had become preachers, and were enduring the toil and enjoying the honours of their position. Lukshmiah held aloof. When questioned, he pointed to his debt. The fact was that the debt was an excuse, for as the years passed all was paid, with the exception, perhaps, of some of the compound interest. Lukshmiah was a man who preferred to be his own master. He did not want to become a link in the chain of organized preachers’ work, but wanted to go about on his trade, make money, preach when and where he liked, and be answerable to no one.
Six years thus passed. The Missionary asked him, whenever he came to Ongole to the monthly meeting, whether the time had not come for him to cease going about on trade and to stay and do God’s work in earnest. He always replied he would come, but never came. Finally the scales were turned. It was a word from the Missionary that compelled him. Lukshmiah’s son was leaving school and returning home for vacation. The Missionary told the young man to say to his father that the Dora sent salaams to him. He added: “When I call your father to work, he does not come; he runs about the country like a masterless dog.” This word travelled over the country. Lukshmiah laughed at the time, and laughs to-day as he tells the story. The preachers all laughed; for they saw that Lukshmiah’s undetermined position was well characterized by the Dora’s words. But Lukshmiah’s son said, “You must go”; and the father, still laughing, agreed that he must, but not just at present. What pleased Lukshmiah was that he had measured his strength with that of the Missionary, and in honest combat had been outdone. He was strong in holding aloof, but the Missionary was stronger in wheeling him right about and making him face his real position.
Soon after this the Missionary made an extensive tour through the Kanigiri Taluk. He saw that Lukshmiah, who joined the other preachers in accompanying him, was in fact the spiritual leader and pastor of a number of Christians in all the region round about his own village. Before they separated he had a talk with Lukshmiah and his wife. He said, “What would you like to do, Lukshmiah?” He replied, “I would like to engage in the Lord’s service, but have a debt.” The Missionary knew that this was all by way of excuse. He took a piece of paper that was lying on the table, tore it into small shreds, threw the handful of them over Lukshmiah, so that they flew to every corner of the tent, and said, “That is how your debt is gone.” He gave him a friendly tap on the shoulder and sent him home.
On his way to his own village, Lukshmiah was stung in the face by a poisonous insect. Soon there was a painful swelling, and people said, “He will surely die; a Komati was thus stung and died.” Lukshmiah was very anxious about this, and on the second day took the Bible to see whether he could not find something to comfort him at the prospect of a speedy death. He happened to turn to the chapters on the prophet Jonah’s experience, and thought to himself that he too had fallen into trouble for refusing to preach as he was sent. He dictated a letter to the Dora: “I am coming, and will go to work.” Two days later the swelling disappeared. He arose, visited a number of villages, preaching everywhere, and arrived in Ongole at the time of the monthly meeting.
The Dora saw him among the other preachers and smiled knowingly. “Have you come, Lukshmiah?”
“I have come.”