THE YOGA SYSTEM
By Sri Swami Krishnananda
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A DIVINE LIFE SOCIETY PUBLICATION
Sixth Edition: 1997
(2,000 Copies)
World Wide Web (WWW) Edition : 1999
WWW site: HTTP://WWW.SHIVANANDADLSHQ.ORG/
This WWW reprint is for free distribution
© The Divine Life Trust Society
Published By
THE DIVINE LIFE SOCIETY
P.O. Shivanandanagar—249 192
Distt. Tehri-Garhwal, Uttar Pradesh,
Himalayas, India.
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CONTENTS
- PSYCHOLOGICAL PRESUPPOSITIONSTHE
- THE AIM OF OBJECTIVE ANALYSIS
- THE SPIRITUAL REALITY
- DEPTH PSYCHOLOGY
- THE MORAL RESTRAINTS
- THE OBSERVANCES
- ASANA OR POSTURE
- PRANAYAMA OR REGULATION OF THE VITAL ENERGY
- PRATYAHARA OR ABSTRACTION
- PEACE OF MIND AND SELF-CONTROL
- DHARANA OR CONCENTRATION
- DHYANA OR MEDITATION
- SAMADHI OR SUPER-CONSCIOUSNESS
- APPENDIX
PRACTICAL TECHINQUES
- A. Concentration on External Points:
- B. Concentration on Internal Points
- C. Concentration on the Universal
- Day-to-Day Practice
PUBLISHERS’ PREFACE
The present small book consists of lectures delivered by the author several years ago on
the essentials of the Yoga system as propounded by the Sage Patanjali. These lessons were
intended particularly for students who required a special clarity of this intricate subject, and the
approach has been streamlined accordingly on a form and style commensurate with the receptive
capacities of the students.
The section on Pratyahara is especially noteworthy and students of Yoga would do well to
go through it again and again as a help in internal training.
20th February, 1981 THE DIVINE LIFE SOCIETY
Dedicated To The Seekers of Truth
It is necessary, at the outset, to clear certain misconceptions in regard to Yoga, prevalent
especially among some sections in the West. Yoga is not magic or a feat of any kind, physical or
mental. Yoga is based on a sound philosophy and deep psychology. It is an educational process
by which the human mind is trained to become more and more natural and weaned from the
unnatural conditions of life. Yoga has particular concern with psychology, and, as a study of the
‘self’, it transcends both general and abnormal psychology, and leads one to the supernormal
level of life. In Yoga we study ourselves, while in our colleges we are told to study objects. Not
the study of things but a study of the very structure of the student is required by the system of
Yoga, for the known is not totally independent of the knower.
How do we know things at all? There is a mysterious process by which we come to know
the world, and life is an activity of such knowledge. A study of the mind is a study of its
relations to things. The instruction, ‘Know Thyself’, implies that when we know ourselves, we
know all things connected with ourselves, i.e., we know the universe. In this study we have to
proceed always from the lower to the higher, without making haste or working up the emotions.
The first thing we are aware of in experience is the world. There are certain processes
which take place in the mind, by which we come to know the existence of the world. There are
sensations, perceptions and cognitions, which fall under what is known as ‘direct perception’ or
‘direct knowledge’ (Pratyaksha) through which the world is known, valued and judged for
purpose of establishing relations. These relations constitute our social life.
A stimulation of the senses takes place by a vibration that proceeds from the object
outside. This happens in two ways: (1) by the very presence of the object and (2) by the light
rays, sound, etc., that emanate from the object, which affect the retina of the eyes, the drums of
the ears, or the other senses. We have five senses of knowledge and through them we receive all
the information concerning the world. If the five senses are not to act, we cannot know if there is
a world at all. We, thus, live in a sense-world. When sensory stimulation is produced by
vibrations received from outside, we become active. Sensory activity stimulates the mind
through the nervous system which connects the senses with the mind by means of the Prana or
vital energy. We may compare these nerve-channels to electric wires, through which the power
of the Prana flows. The Pranas are not the nerves, even as electricity is not the wires. The Prana
is an internal vibration which links the senses with the mind. Sensations, therefore, make the
mind active and the mind begins to feel that there is something outside. This may be called
indeterminate perception, where the mind has a featureless awareness of the object. When the
perception becomes clearer, it becomes determinate. This mental perception is usually called
cognition.
Beyond the mind there is another faculty, called the intellect. It judges whether a thing is
good or bad, necessary or unnecessary, of this kind or that, etc. It decides upon the value of an
object, whether this judgment is positive or negative, moral, aesthetic or religious. One assesses
one’s situation in relation to the object. Some psychologists hold that the mind is an instrument
in the hands of the intellect. Manas is the Sanskrit word for mind, which is regarded as the
THE YOGA SYSTEM
Karana or instrument, while Buddhi is the Sanskrit term for intellect, which is the Karta or doer.
The intellect judges what is cognized by the mind, and makes a decision as to the nature of the
action that has to be taken in respect of the object in the given circumstances.
The intellect is associated with another principle within, called Ahamkara or ego. ‘Aham’
means ‘I’, and ‘kara’ is that which manifests, reveals or affirms. There is something in us, which
affirms ‘I am’. This affirmation is ego. No logic is necessary to prove the ego, for we do not
prove our own existence. This is an affirmation which requires no evidence, for all logic
proceeds from it. The ego is inseparable from individual intellection, like fire from its heat. The
intellect and ego exist inextricably, and human intellection is the function of the human ego. The
functions of the ego are manifold, and these form the subject of psychology.
There are certain ways in which the psychological instruments begin to function in
relation to objects. The ego, intellect and mind perform the functions of arrogation,
understanding and thinking of objects. There is also a fourth element, called Chitta, which is not
easily translatable into English. The term ‘subconscious’ is usually considered as its equivalent.
That which is at the base of the conscious mind and which retains memory etc., is Chitta or the
subconscious mind. But the Chitta in Yoga psychology includes also what is known as the
unconscious in psychoanalysis. All this functional apparatus, taken together, is the psyche or
Antahkarana, the internal instrument. The internal organ functions in various forms, and Yoga is
interested in a thorough study of these functions, because the methods of Yoga are intended to
take a serious step in regard to all these psychic functions, finally.
Now, how does the internal organ function? The psyche produces five reactions in
respect of the world outside, some of them being positive and others negative. These are the
themes of general psychology.
There are five modes into which the Antahkarana casts itself in performing its functions
of normal life. These modes are called Pramana, Viparyaya, Vikalpa, Nidra and Smriti.
Pramana or right knowledge is awareness of things as they are. This is the main subject
of the studies in logic. Perception, inference and verbal testimony are the three primary ways of
right knowledge. Some add comparison, presumption and non-apprehension to the usual
avenues of such knowledge. How do we know that there is an object in front of us? We acquire
this knowledge through direct sensory contact. This is perception. And when we see muddy
water in a river, we suppose that there must have been rains uphill. This knowledge we gather by
inference. The words of others in whom we have faith, also, convey to us true knowledge, as, for
example, when we believe that there is an elephant in the nearby city, on hearing of it from a
reliable friend, though we might not have actually seen it with our eyes. All these methods
together form what goes by the name of Pramana or direct proof of dependable knowledge.
Viparyaya is wrong perception, the mistaking of one thing for another, as, when we see a
long rope in twilight, we usually take it for a snake, or apprehend that a straight stick immersed
in water is bent. When we perceive anything which does not correspond to fact, the mental mode
is one of erroneous understanding.
Vikalpa is doubt. When we are not certain whether, for example, a thing we are seeing is
a person or a pole, whether something is moving or not moving, the perception not being clear,
or when we are in any dubious state of thinking, we are said to be in Vikalpa.
Nidra is sleep, which may be regarded as a negative condition, a withdrawal of mind
from all activity. Sleep is nevertheless a psychological condition, because, though it is not
positively connected with the objects of the world, it represents a latency of the impressions as
well as possibilities of objective thought. Nidra is the sleep of the Antahkarana.
Smriti is memory, the remembrance of past events, the retention in consciousness of the
impressions of experiences undergone previously.
All functions of the internal organ can be brought under one or other of these processes,
and subject of general psychology is an elaboration of these human ways of thinking,
understanding, willing or feeling. It does not mean, however, that we entertain only five kinds of
thoughts, but that all the hundreds of thoughts of the mind can be boiled down to these five
groups of function. The system of Yoga makes a close study of this inner structure of man and
envisages it in its relation to the universe.
As all thoughts can be reduced to five types of internal function, all objects can be
reduced to five Bhutas or elements. The five great elements are called Pancha-Maha-bhutas,
and they are (1) Ether (Akasa), (2) Air (Vayu), (3) Fire (agni), (4) Water (Apas) and (5) Earth
(Prithivi). The subtlety of these elements is in the ascending order of this arrangement, the
succeeding one being grosser than the preceding. Also the preceding element is the cause of the
succeeding, so that Ether may be regarded as containing all things in an unmanifested form. The
elements constitute the whole physical cosmos. These are the real objects of the senses, and all
the variety we see is made up of forms of these objects.
Our sensations are the five objects. We sense through the Indriyas or sense-organs. With
the sense of the ear we come in contact with Ether and hear sound which is a reverberation
produced by Ether. Touch is the property of Air, felt by us with the tactile sense. With the sense
of the eyes we contact light which is the property of Fire. With the palate we taste things, which
is the property of Water. With the nose we smell objects, and this is the property of Earth.
There is the vast universe, and we know it with our senses. We live in a world of fivefold
objects. The senses are incapable of knowing anything more than these element. The internal
organ, as informed and influenced by the objects, deals with them in certain manners, and this is
life. While our psychological reactions constitute our personal life, the adjustment we make with
others is our social life. The Yoga is primarily concerned with the personal life of man in
relation to the universe, and not the social life, for, in the social environment, one’s real
personality is rarely revealed. Yoga is essentially a study of self by self, which initially looks like
an individual affair, a process of Self-investigation (Atma-Vichara) and Self-realization (Atma-
Sakshatkara). But this is not the whole truth. The Self envisaged here is a consciousness of
gradual integration of reality, and it finally encompasses all experience and the whole universe in
its being.
While the psychology of Yoga comprises the functions of the internal organ, and its
physics is of the five great objects or Mahabhutas, the philosophy of Yoga transcends both these
stages of study. The Yoga metaphysics holds that the body is not all, and even the five elements
are not all. We do not see what is inside the body and also what is within the universe of five
elements. A different set of senses would be necessary for knowing these larger secrets. Yoga
finally leads us to this point. When we go deep into the body we would confront its roots; so also
in the case of the objects outside. When we set out on this adventure, we begin to converge
slowly at a single centre, like the two sides of a triangle that taper at one point. The so-called
wide base of the world on which we move does not disclose the truth of ourselves or of objects.
At this point of convergence of ourselves and of things, we need not look at objects, and here no
senses are necessary, for, in this experience, there are neither selves nor things. There is only one
Reality, where the universal object and the universal subject become a unitary existence. Neither
is that an experience of a subject nor an object, where is revealed a knowledge of the whole
cosmos, at once, not through the senses, mind or intellect,-for there are no objects,-and there is
only being that is consciousness. Yoga is, therefore, spiritual, superphysical or supermaterial,
because materiality is shed in its achievement, and consciousness reigns supreme. This is the
highest object of Yoga, where the individual and the universe do not stand apart as two entities
but come together in a fraternal embrace. The purpose of the Yoga way of analysis is an
overcoming of the limitations of both subjectivity and objectivity and a union of the deepest
within us with the deepest in the cosmos.
And what is this deepest? The physical body, being outside as a part of the physical
world, should be considered an object like the other things of the world, and it is constituted of
the five elements. This material body of five elements acts as a vehicle for certain powers that
work from within. Our actions are movements of these powers. There is an energy within the
body which is other than the elements. This energy is called Prana or vital force. The Prana has
many functions, which are responsible for the workings of the body. The organs of action, viz.,
speech (Vak), hands (Pani), feet (Pada), genitals (Upastha) and anus (Payu) are moved by the
motive power of the Prana. But the Prana is a blind energy and it needs to be directed properly.
We know we do not just do anything at any time, but act with some, method and intelligence.
There is a directing principle behind the Prana. We think before we act. The mind is, therefore,
internal to the Prana. But thought, again, is regulated by something else. We engage ourselves in
systematic thinking and follow a logical course in every form of contemplation and action. This
logical determinant of all functions in life is the intellect, which is the highest of human faculties,
and it is inseparable from the principle of the ego in man.
All these functions of the psychological apparatus are, however, confined to what is
called the waking state. The human being seems to be passing from this state to others, such as
dream and deep sleep. Though we have some sort of an awareness in dream, we are bereft of all
consciousness in deep sleep. Yet, we know that we do exist in the state of sleep. This means
that we can exist without doing anything, even without thinking. The condition of deep sleep is a
paradox for psychology and is the crux of the Yoga analysis. It is strange that in sleep we do not
know even our own selves, and still we know that we do exist then. An experience, pure and
simple, of the nature of consciousness alone, is the constituent of deep sleep, notwithstanding
that we are not aware of it due to a peculiar difficulty in which we seem to get involved there. In
deep sleep, we have consciousness not associated with objects, and hence we remain oblivious of
everything external. There is, at the same time, unconsciousness of even one’s own existence
due to there being the potentiality for objective perception. The result is, however, that the
deepest in the individual is consciousness, which is called by such names as the Atman, Purusha,
etc. This is the real Self.
Now, what is the deepest in the cosmos? We learnt that there are five elements. But this
is not the whole picture of creation. There are realities within the physical universe as they are
there within the individual body. If the Prana, mind, intellect, ego and finally consciousness are
internal to the bodily structure, there are also tremendous truths internal to the physical universe.
Within the five gross elements there are five forces which manifest the elements. These forces
are the universal causes of everything that is physical, and are called Tanmatras, a term which
signifies the essence of objects. There is such a force or power behind the elements of Ether, Air,
Fire, Water and Earth. Sabda or sound is the force behind Ether. But this sound is, different
from what we merely hear with our ears. It is the subtle principle behind the whole of Ether, on
account of which the ears are capable of hearing at all. This is sound as Tanmatra. Likewise,
there are the Tanmatras of Air, Fire, Water and Earth, called respectively Sparsa or touch, Rupa
or form, Rasa or taste and Gandha or smell. These powers are subtle energies immanent in the
elements constituting the physical universe.
Modern science seems to corroborate the presence of these, essences behind bodies. The
world was once said to be made up of molecules or chemical substances. Further investigation
revealed that molecules are not the last word and that they are made up of atoms. Research,
again, proved that even the atoms are formed of certain substances, which have the character of
both waves of energy and particles of force. They flow like waves and sometimes jump like
particles. A great physicist has therefore preferred to designate them as ‘wavicles’. These have
been named electrons, protons, neutrons, etc., according to their structure and function. Their
essence is force. There is nothing but force in the universe. There is only a continuum of energy
everywhere. The Tanmatras of the Yoga system, however, are subtler than the energy of the
scientist, even as the Prana is subtler than electricity.
Just as behind the Prana there is the mind, behind the Tanmatras there is the Cosmic
Mind. Beyond the Cosmic Mind are the Cosmic Ego and the Cosmic Intellect, the last
mentioned having a special name, Mahat. Beyond the Mahat is what is called Prakriti, in which
the whole universe exists as a tree in a seed, or as effect in its cause. Transcending Prakriti is the
Absolute-Consciousness, called Brahman, Paramatman and the like. So, whether we dive deep
here or there, within ourselves or within the cosmos, we find the same thing-Consciousness. And
the stages of manifestation in the individual correspond to those in the universe. The purpose of
Yoga is to effect a communion between the individual and cosmic structures and to realize the
ultimate Reality. The Yoga places before us the goal of a union wherein infinity and eternity
seem to come together. The aim of Yoga is to raise the status of the individual to the cosmic
level and to abolish the false difference between the individual and the cosmic. The cosmos
includes ourselves and things. The individual is a part of the cosmos. Then, why do we make a
separate reference to the individual? This is a mistake, which Yoga effectively corrects. To
regard the cosmos as an outer object would be to defy the very meaning of the cosmos. To
imagine ourselves to be subjects counterposed before an object called the cosmos would be to
stultify the comprehensiveness of the cosmos and to interfere with its harmony and working. The
Yoga rectifies this mistake and hereby the mortal becomes the Immortal. As the individual is a
part of the cosmos, this achievement should not be difficult. The individual is not separate from
the cosmic, but there seems to be some confusion in the mind of the individual which has caused
an artificial isolation of itself from the rest of the universe. This confusion is called Ajnana or
Avidya, which really means an absence or negation of true knowledge. Here we enter the realms
of depth psychology.
Avidya represents a condition in which one forgets reality and is unconscious of its
existence. We have somehow forgotten the real nature of our selves, viz. the universality of our
true being. This is the primary function of ignorance. But it has more serious consequences. For
it also makes one mistake the non-eternal (Anitya) for the eternal (Nitya), the impure (Asuchi) for
the pure (Suchi), pain (Duhkha) for pleasure (Sukha) and the not-Self (Anatman) for the Self
(Atman). It is obvious that the world with its contents is transient, and yet it is hugged as a real
entity. Even the so-called solidity or substantiality of things is challenged today by the
discoveries of modern science. The Theory of Relativity has put an end to such a thing as stable
matter or body and even a stable law or rule to work upon. Still the world is loved as reality.
This is one of the functions of Avidya. So, also, the impure body which stinks when deprived of
life or unattended to daily is loved and caressed as a pure substance. The itching of the nerves is
regarded as an incentive to pleasure and to scratch them for an imaginary satisfaction seems to be
the aim of all sense-contacts in life, whatever be their nature. The increase of desire (Parinama)
after every sensory indulgence, the anxiety (Tapa) consequent upon every attempt at fulfilment of
a desire, the undesirable effect in the form of psychic impressions (Samskara-duhkha) that follow
in the wake of all sense-enjoyments and the obstructing activity of the modes of the relativity of
things (the 3 Gunas) called Sattva, Rajas and Tamas, which revolve like a wheel without rest
(Guna-vritti-virodha) point to the fact that worldly pleasure is a name given to pain, by the
ignorant. Also, objects are loved as one’s Self, while in fact they are not. All these are the
characteristics of Avidya or Ajnana, due to which there is a total distortion of reality into an
appearance called this universe of space, time and objects.
Another result which spontaneously follows from Avidya is Asmita or the sense of being.
This sense is the consciousness of one’s individuality and personality, the ego, Ahamkara, or
self-affirmation. Forgetfulness of universality ends in an assertion of individuality. The wrong
notion that the individual is organically separated from the universe and the consequent selfassertion
(Asmita), the bifurcating attitude of likes and dislikes in regard to things (Raga-Dvesha)
and a longing to preserve one’s body by all means (Abhinivesa) are the graduated effects of
Avidya, which follow from it in a logical sequence. We do not know Universal Being. We
know only the particular and the individual. We love and hate objects. We cling to life and fear
death. The first mistake is to think, ‘I am not the Universal’; the second to affirm, ‘I am the
particular’; the third to like certain things and to dislike others; the fourth to strive for
perpetuating individuality by the instinct for self-preservation and self-reproduction. The error of
forgetfulness of universality has produced affirmation of individuality, which has caused love
and hate, or like and dislike, all which finally has led to desire for life and horror of death. This
is our present state. We have now to wake up from this muddled thinking and go back to the
truth of thinking universally. The union of the individual with the Universal is Yoga.
If Pramana, Viparyaya, Vikalpa, Nidra and Smriti may be called the painless functions of
the Antahkarana, which are studied in general psychology, the other functions, viz. Avidya,
Asmita, Raga, Dvesha and Abhinivesa may be regarded as the painful ones, because it is these
that cause the unhappiness of all beings, and these form the contents of abnormal psychology.
The painful functions create pain not only to oneself but to others as well, because we
have a tendency to transfer our pain to others. A personal affair becomes a social problem and
the personal ego becomes a social assertiveness. One’s likes and dislikes may seriously affect
others in society. The Yoga psychology takes this fact into consideration. Hence, before
contemplating any method to frees the mind from its painful functions, it has first to be weaned
from society and brought back home from its meanderings outside. Like a thief who is first
arrested and then suitably dealt with, the mind has to be made to turn away from the tangle of the
external world, and then analyzed thoroughly. Social suffering is the impact of these
psychological complexities mutually set up by the different individuals through various kinds of
interaction. Social tension is the collision produced by individualistic psychological
entanglements. This is the reason for everyone’s unhappiness in the world. No one is prepared
to sacrifice one’s ego, but everyone demands the sacrifice of the egos of others. Yoga has a
recipe for this malady of man in general, for this internal illness of humanity. It asks us to bring
the mind back to its source of activity, and if all persons are to do this, it would serve as a remedy
for social illness, also. Thus, though Yoga is primarily concerned with the individual, it offers a
solution for all social tensions and questions. Yoga alone can bring peace to the world, for it
dives into the depths of man. Yoga is, therefore, a means not only to personal salvation but also
to social solidarity.
The mind is to be brought to its source. Unfortunately, we cannot know where the mind
is unless it starts working, like the thief whose presence is known from his activities. The outer
problems are manifestations of the inner fivefold complexity. Ignorance is the first cause. But it
is a negative cause when one is merely ignorant or stupid. Man does not stop with this
acceptance. He wants to demonstrate his ignorance, and here is the root of all trouble.
Affirmation of egoism is the first demonstration. When one wants others to yield to the demands
of one’s ego which goes counter to the egos of others, there is clash of personalities and interests,
and this circumstance breeds unhappiness in family, in society, and in the world. Yoga makes an
analysis of this situation. Avidya affirming itself as Ahamkara and clashing with others produces
the context of Himsa or injury. As Himsa is an evil which begets social grief of different types,
Ahimsa or non-injury is a virtue. Ahimsa is akin to the Christian ethics which teaches us to
‘resist not evil.’ If even a single ego would withdraw itself, the friction in society would be less
in intensity to that extent. Himsa is born of Asmita, Raga and Dvesha, and hence Ahimsa is a
moral canon. Ahimsa, or the practice of non-violence, is not merely a rule of action but also of
thought and feeling. One should not even think harm of any kind. To contemplate evil is as bad
as committing it in action. Contemplation is not only a preparation for activity but is the seed of
the latter. ‘May there be friendliness instead of enmity, love instead of hate,’ is the motto of
Yoga. By love we attract things and by hatred we repel them. Love attracts love, and hatred
attracts hatred. This great rule of Yoga ethics extends from mere avoidance of doing harm to
positive unselfish love of all, with an impartial vision, love without attachment (Raga) or hatred
(Dvesha). Ahimsa has always been regarded as the king of virtues and every other canon of
morality is judged with reference to this supreme norm of character and conduct.
The ego tries to work out its likes and dislikes by various methods, one of them being the
uttering of falsehood in order to escape opposition from others. The insinuating of falsehood in
society is regarded as a vice. Satya or truthfulness is another virtue. Truthfulness mitigates
egoism to some extent. Dishonesty is an affirmation of the ego to succeed in its ways in the
world for its own good, though it may mean another’s harm. Truthfulness is correspondence to
fact. Yoga stresses the importance of the practice of truth in human life. There are dilemmas in
which we are placed when we find ourselves often in a difficult situation.
Sometimes
truthfulness may appear to lead one to trouble and one might be tempted to utter falsehood.
Scriptures give many answers to our questions on the issue. Truth that harms is considered equal
to untruth. We have to see the consequence of our conduct and behaviour before we can decide
whether it is virtuous or not. But, then, are we to utter untruth? A most outstanding instance on
the point is narrated in the Mahabharata. Arjuna and Karna were face to face in battle. Krishna
mentioned to Arjuna that Yudhishthira was very grieved because of his combat with Karna on
that day, on account of the severity of which he had to return to his camp, badly injured. Krishna
and Arjuna went to Yudhishthira and greeted him. Yudhishthira was happy to see Arjuna
particularly, because he thought that he had come after killing Karna in battle. He exclaimed his
joy over the good event, but when Arjuna revealed that Karna was not yet killed and that they
had only come to see him in the camp, Yudhishthira curtly told Arjuna that it would have been
better if his Gandiva bow had been given over to someone else. Arjuna drew out his sword.
Krishna caught hold of his hands and asked him what the matter was with him. Arjuna revealed
his secret vow according to which he would put to death anyone who insulted his bow. Krishna
expressed surprise at the foolishness of Arjuna and advised him that to speak unkind words to
one’s elders is equal to killing them and Arjuna would do well to abuse Yudhishthira in
irreverent terms rather than kill him and incur a heinous sin. Accordingly, Arjuna used insulting
words against Yudhishthira in a long chain. But Arjuna drew his sword again, and Krishna
demanded its meaning. Arjuna said that he was going to kill himself because he had another vow
that if he insulted an elder he would put an end to himself Krishna smiled at this behaviour of
Arjuna and told him that to praise oneself is equal to killing oneself and so he might resort to this
means rather than commit suicide. Arjuna, then, praised himself in a boastful language. One can
well imagine the consequence of putting Yudhishthira to the sword for keeping Arjuna’s
promise. Morality is not a rigid formula of mathematics. No standard of it can be laid down for
all times, and for all situations. Even legal experts like Bhishma could not answer the quandary
posed by Draupadi. If keeping a vow conforms to Satya, killing one’s brother in such a
predicament or committing suicide is contrary to Ahimsa. Scriptures hold that truthfulness
should not invoke injury. Manu, in his Smriti, observes that one must speak truth, but speak
sweetly, and one should not speak a truth which is unpleasant; nor should one speak untruth
because it is sweet. The general rule has been, however, that truth which causes hurt or injury, to
another’s feelings is to be regarded as untruth, though it looks like truth in its outer form. Our
actions and thoughts should have a relevance to the ultimate goal of life. Only then do they
become truths. There should be a harmony between the means and the end. ‘Has the conduct
any connection, directly or indirectly, with the goal of the universe?’ If the answer to this
question is in the affirmative, the step taken may be considered as one conforming to truth.
Brahmacharya, or continence, the other great rule, is as difficult to understand as Satya or
Ahimsa. In every case of moral judgment, common-sense and a comprehensive outlook are
necessary. Many students of Yoga think that Brahmacharya is celibacy or the living of an
unmarried life. Though this may be regarded as one definition of it, which has much meaning,
Yoga morality calls for Brahmacharya of the purest type, which has a deeper significance. Yoga
considers Brahmacharya from all points of view, and not merely in its sociological implication.
It requires a purification of all the senses. Oversleeping and gluttony, for instance, are breaks in
Brahmacharya. It breaks not merely by a married life, but by overindulgence of any kind, even in
an unmarried life, such as overeating, talkativeness and, above all, brooding upon sense-objects.
While one conserves energy from one side, it can leak out from another side. Oversleeping is a
trick played by the mind when we refuse to give it satisfaction. Overeating and overtalking are,
results of a bursting forth of untrained energy. Contemplation on objects of sense can continue
even when they are physically far from oneself. Brahmacharya is to conserve force for the
purpose of meditation. ‘Do you feel strong by the conservation of energy,’ is the question?
Brahmacharya is tested by the strength that one recognizes within. The virtue is not for parading
it outside, but for the utilization of the conserved power towards a higher purpose. Unnecessary
activity of the senses wastes energy. The Chandogya Upanishad says that in purity of the intake
of things there is purity of being. In the acts of seeing, hearing, tasting, smelling and touching,
we have to contact only pure things. Any single sense left uncontrolled may nullify the effects of
control over the other senses. As the Mahabharata points out, we become that with which we
associate ourselves, which we serve for a long time and which we want or wish to become, by
constant thinking. Brahmacharya is therefore an act of all-round self-control. The Brahmacharin
is always cautious. And no one should have the hardihood to imagine that he is wholly pure and
safe.
The practice of Brahmacharya as a vow of abstinence from all sense-indulgence,
particularly in its psychological aspect, and a rigid fixity in personal purity, generates a unison in
the vibratory functions of the body, nerves and mind, and the Brahmacharin achieves what he
may look upon as a marvel even to himself. Brahmacharya is often regarded as the king of
principles, which embodies in itself all other virtues or moral values. In its observance, care has,
however, to be taken to see that it comprises not merely avoiding of sense-indulgence and mental
reverie but also freedom from the complexes that may follow, as well as satisfactions which one
may resort to as a consequence of frustration of desire.
The Yoga system mentions two more important canons viz., Asteya or non-appropriation
of what does not lawfully belong to oneself, and Aparigraha or non-acceptance of what is not
necessary for one’s subsistence, which, in other words, would mean non-covetousness. These
may be considered to be two great social restraints imposed on man, apart from their value in
Yoga practice, and, when implemented, they become healthy substitutes for the irking regulations
invented in the social and political fields of life. Nature resents any outer compulsion, and this
explains the unhappiness of humanity in spite of its legal codes and courts of law. One cannot be
made to do what one does not want to. Law has to be born in one’s heart before it takes its seat
in the judiciary or the government. The Yoga morality as Asteya and Aparigraha acts both as a
personal cue for spiritual advancement and a social remedy for human greed and selfishness.
The Yoga student is asked to be simple. Simple living and high thinking are his mottoes. He
does not accumulate many things in his cottage or room. This is Aparigraha or non-acceptance.
In advanced stages, a whole-timed Sadhaka (aspirant) is not supposed to keep things even for the
morrow. One need not, of course, be told that one should not appropriate another’s property. It
is simple enough to understand, and this is Asteya or non-stealing. The student should not only
not take superfluities but also not accept service from others. Some hold that to keep for oneself
more than what is necessary is equal to theft. These are the fundamental virtues in the Yoga
ethics. That conduct which is not in conformity with the universal cannot, in the end, be good.
Yoga is search for Truth in its ultimate reaches and above its relative utility. Adequate
preparations have to be made for this adventure. We have to become honest before Truth, and
not merely in the eyes of our friends. This openness before the Absolute is the meaning behind
the observance of what Yoga calls Yamas, as a course of self-discipline which one imposes upon
oneself for attaining that moral nature consistent with the demands of Truth. Yoga morality is
deeper than social morality or even the religious morality of the masses. Our nature has to be in
conformity with the form of Truth. As Truth is universal, those characters which are
incongruous with this essential, should be abandoned by degrees. Any conduct which cannot be
in harmony with the universal cannot ultimately be moral, at least in the sense Yoga requires it.
Does the universal fight with others? No. Non-fighting and non-conflict, or Ahimsa, therefore,
is a virtue. injury to another is against morality. Does the universal have passions towards
anything? Will it steal another’s property? Does it hide facts? No, is the answer.
So, sensuality, stealth, falsehood are all immoral. By applying the universal standard, we
can ascertain what true morality is. Apply your conduct to the universal, and if it is so
applicable, it is moral. That which the universal would reject is contrary to Truth. Ahimsa,
Satya, Brahmacharya, Asteya and Aparigraha are the Yamas for freedom from cruelty,
falsehood, sensuality, covetousness and greed of every kind.
Lust and greed are the greatest hindrances in the practice of Yoga. These propensities
become anger when opposed. Hence this fivefold canon of Yoga may be regarded as the sum
total of all moral teaching.
Self-control needs much vigilance. When one persists in the control of the senses, they
can employ certain tactics and elude one’s grasp. One may fast, observe Mauna (silence), run
away from things to seclusion. But the senses are impetuous. Any extreme step taken might
cause reaction. Not to understand this aspect of the matter would be unwise. Reactions may be
set up against prolonged abstinence from the normal enjoyments. Hunger and lust, particularly,
take up arms in vengeance. It is not advisable to go to extremes in the subjugation of the senses,
for, in fact they are not to be subjugated but sublimated. After years of a secluded life, people
have been found in the same condition in which they were before, because of tactless means
employed in their practices. It is not that one is always deliberate in the suppression of one’s
desires, but this may happen without one’s knowing it. Caution in the pursuit of the ‘golden
mean’ or the ‘middle path’ has to be exercised at all times. As the Bhagavadgita warns us, Yoga
is neither for one who eats too much nor does not eat at all, neither for one who sleeps too much
nor does not sleep at all, neither for one who is always active nor does not do any work at all.
The senses should be brought under control, little by little, as in the taming of wild animals.
Give them their needs a little, but not too much. The next day, give them a little less. One day,
do not give them anything, and on another day give them a good treat. Finally, let them be
restrained fully and harnessed for direct meditation on Reality.
One of the methods of the senses is revolution, jumping back to the same point after
many years of silence. Another way they choose is to induce a state of stagnation of effort. One
will be in a neutral condition without any progress whatsoever. There may even be a fall, as the
ground is slippery. A third way by which one may be deceived is the raising of a situation
wherein one would be trying to do something while actually doing something else in a state of
misapprehension. The senses hoodwink the student, he is side-tracked and he may realize it
when it is too late. A fourth tactic used is frontal attack by threat. The Buddha had all these
experiences in his meditations. Temptation, opposition, stagnation and side-tracking are the four
main dangers of which students are to be wary. The Upanishad uses the term Apramatta, ‘nonheedless’,
to denote this state of perpetual caution. The student of Yoga watches every step, like
a person walking on a thin wire. A tremendous balance is required to be maintained in the
operation of one’s thoughts. No action is to be taken unless it is weighed carefully. The
direction of movement is to be well ascertained before starting on the arduous journey.
The Yamas are the moral restraints. If the moral nature of the student does not cooperate
with his efforts, there cannot be progress in Yoga, because morality is an insignia of one’s nature.
If we remain contrary to what we are seeking, there will be no achievement. To be moral is to
establish a concord between our own nature and the nature of that which we seek in life. Yoga is
our interview with the Supreme Being, and here our nature corresponds to its highest reaches.
Morality is not dull-wittedness or incapacity; it is vigilance and all-sidedness of
approach. It is not sluggish movement but active advancement. The moral nature also implies
subtle memory and buoyancy of spirit.
Apart from the Yamas, there is another set of prescriptions of Yoga to every student, and
these are the Niyamas, personal observances or vows. We should not, as far as possible, allow
ourselves to fall ill, physically or mentally, because illness is a hindrance to Yoga. Saucha or
purity of conduct, internally and externally, is a Niyama. The lesson supposed to be imparted by
the images of the three monkeys, one of them closing the eyes, another the ears and the third the
mouth, is to see no evil, hear no evil and speak no evil. One should not even convey evil by way
of news, because this is to become the vehicle of the movement of evil from place to place. One
should not commit evil even by giving expression to it in speech, by seeing it or thinking it. All
this is internal purity. But external purity is not unimportant. People there are who think that
Yogis remain unclean in body. It is wrong to imagine that in advanced stages of Yoga one
should not put on clothes or take bath. That in conditions of meditation where one rises above
body-consciousness one may not pay attention to bath, etc. is a different picture altogether. It is a
consequence of spiritual expansion. Merely not to bathe or to be nude in the initial stage itself
would be to put the cart before the horse. Health is as important as the power of concentration,
for ill-health is a disturbance to mental concentration. Saucha also implies non-contact with
those objects which communicate impurity or exert an unhealthy influence. One should avoid
undesirable company; keep good company, or else, have no company.
A Yoga student is always happy, and is never worried or vexed. Yoga prescribes
Santosha or contentment in whatever condition one is placed. Many of our illnesses are due to
discontent. Contentment follows as a result of the acceptance of the wisdom of God. If God is
wise, there is nothing to worry about, because in His wisdom He keeps us in the best of
circumstances. Many changes have taken place in our lives, and many more may take place in
the future. We have to be prepared. God’s omniscience permits of no complaint. Man should
be contented with what he has, though he may be discontented with what he is. Honestly felt
needs will be provided where contentment and intelligent effort go together.
To be satisfied with the minimum of necessities for a healthy living is Tapas or austerity.
One should not ask for more. Austerity is that discipline by which one feels internally contented
with the barest of facilities in life. The practice of the ‘golden mean’ in everything is Tapas.
Etymologically, Tapas is what produces heat. It stirs energy or power within the Yogin. The
practice of Brahmacharya and of the Yamas in general stimulates supernatural power. The
Yamas themselves constitute an intense Tapas. In a broad sense, moderateness in life may be
said to constitute Tapas. Sense-control is Tapas. To speak sweetly, and not hurtingly, is Tapas.
To eat a little is Tapas. To sleep less is Tapas. Not to exhibit animal qualities is Tapas. To be
humane is Tapas. To be good and to do good is Tapas. Tapas is mental, verbal or physical.
Calmness of mind and subdued emotions form mental Tapas. Sweet but truthful speech is verbal
Tapas. Unselfish service to others is physical Tapas.
Svadhyaya or sacred study is the fourth Niyama. Svadhyaya is principally a disciplined
study of such texts as deal with the way of the salvation of the soul. This Niyama helps the
student in maintaining a psychic contact with the masters who have given these holy writings.
When one reads the Bhagavadgita, for example, not merely does one gather knowledge of a high
order, but one also establishes an inner contact with Bhagavan Sri Krishna and Maharshi Vyasa.
Svadhyaya is continued persistence in study of a scripture of Yoga. Study is a kind of negative
Satsanga, when the positive company of a sage is not available. Svadhyaya is a help in
meditation, because the student thinks here in terms of the thought of the scripture or of the
author of the text. Japa of a Mantra is also included under Svadhyaya. Japa and study are both
means to holy association and divine communion. Svadhyaya, however, means repeated study of
a selected set of books on the subject of the Higher Life, and does not connote random readings
in a library.
The last of the Niyamas is Ishvara-pranidhana or surrender of oneself to God. Whatever
the commander orders, the army follows. Each one in the army does not start commanding
things independently. Seekers of Truth take Ishvara as the Supreme Commander, and once they
decide to abide by his will, their lives become the pattern of righteousness. Surrender to God
implies acceptance of the divine ordinance and an abolition of one’s own initiative to the extent
that the seeker does not think individually but resigns himself to those circumstances which take
place around him, without interfering with their occurrence. In advanced stages, the devotee is
accustomed to all circumstances, and does not desire a change in their set-up. He does nothing
with the notion of personality, but bears what comes. He does not wish to alter conditions, but
tolerates everything. He allows things to happen, and does not wish to modify existence. To
him, God is all. This is the essence of self-surrender in Yoga. The Yoga discipline requires that
a student should score at least the minimum marks in the test of the Yamas and Niyamas.
Students often commit the error of neglecting these fundamental observances in Yoga and going
to Asana and meditation directly. Many even begin to think that they are already established in
the Yamas and Niyamas, while they have not mastered even one among them.
Meditation is the seventh stage in Yoga. It is like striking a match which produces the
flame. The flame must be there if the striking is properly done, and the matchstick is dry. But
the manufacture of the match is a long process, and it takes time, though the striking of it is a
second’s work. That the effort of meditation does not bring satisfaction in many cases should
show that the preparation is not sufficient. Meditation is a flow of consciousness, not a jump, a
pull or push of consciousness. A calm river flows on its inclined bed, without effort. So does
meditation flow if the previous steps are well laid. The foundation is never seen when the
building on it is seen. But we know how important the foundation is for the building. The
invisible power which the Yamas and Niyamas exert is the foundation of Yoga, and no one
should have the hardihood to think that one is fully established in them. Caution is watchword in
Yoga.
The Yamas and Niyamas are the beginnings, which really last till the end of Yoga. Even
as education in the primary school level is important, since it paves the way for one’s further
mental build, the Yamas and Niyamas are the rock-bottom of Yoga. The student enters the
practical field of meditation after being built up by the tonic of Yamas and Niyamas, which
provide the power and courage needed to face all obstacles. Meditation is not difficult to achieve
if the necessary preparations are made earlier. The Yama-Niyama process constitutes the
instructions in Yoga psychology, which should give us sufficient warning on the path and make
us vigilant pilgrims on the journey spiritual. With this, we place ourselves on the first step in
practical Yoga, viz., Asana.
Asana is the third rung in the ladder of the practice of Yoga. If the Yamas and Niyamas
are the foundation of Yoga, Asana may be regarded as its threshold. ‘Asana’, literally, means a
seat. Here ‘seat’ does not mean a cushion or some such thing that is spread on the ground.
Asana is a pose of the body or the posture which it assumes at the commencement of the practice.
It is called a ‘seat’, because it is a posture of sitting and not standing. While there exist many
Asanas, such as the ‘Sirsha’, etc., there is only one set of postures which can be taken as aids in
meditation. A sitting posture is Asana, because to stand and meditate may lead to a falling down
of the body, and lying down may induce sleep. The sitting posture is therefore the most
conducive to concentration of mind. That there are many other Asanas like Sirsha, Sarvanga,
etc., need not deter us from a choice of the Asana for meditation. The Hatha Yoga prescribes
several postures for different purposes. These Asanas of the Hatha Yoga are coupled with
certain other practices, called Bandhas, Mudras and Kriyas, in addition to Pranayama. While
Asana is a pose, Bandha is a lock of the limbs of the body intended to direct the Prana in a
particular channel and centring it in a given location. Mudra is a symbol. It also means a seal or
fixing up of the limbs. The two types of Mudras are those which seal up the Prana and which
symbolise meaning by a gesture. Kriya is a process of purification, so that the body may be fit
for Asana and the others. The purpose is to make the body healthy and free from inertia as much
as possible. Neti or cleansing the nostrils, Basti or washing the colon, Dhauti or cleaning the
stomach, Nauli or churning the abdomen, Trataka or gazing for training the eyes by
concentration, and Kapalabhati or chastening the brain and the skull are the main Kriyas in
Hatha Yoga. The physical body is characterised by dullness, torpidity, etc., which bring about
sluggishness and sleep, in which condition meditation cannot supervene. The Bandhas etc. free
the body from Tamas, make it flexible, easily adjustable and healthy. This is the general effect
produced by Asanas, Bandhas and Mudras. All these are the preliminary exercises, and Hatha
Yoga is a preparation for Raja Yoga. While there are many Asanas in Hatha Yoga, there are only
a few in Raja Yoga, and finally we come to a single Asana. This final Asana is called Dhyana-
Asana or the meditative pose.
How does Asana help one in meditation? The relation between the individual and the
universal has to be brought to mind in this connection. There is an organic tie between the
individual and its environment, and the purpose of Yoga is to rouse to consciousness this
inherent harmony. This is to be brought about in successive stages. Whatever one is, and
whatever one has, should be set in tune with the universal. This is Yoga, ultimately. When the
personal individuality is attuned to universal being, it is the condition of Yoga. The individual
begins with the body, but there are many things within the body, as there are in the physical
cosmos. There are Prana, senses, mind, intellect, etc., encased in the body. All these things
within have to be in gradual union with the universal. The mind cannot be so attuned when the
body is in revolt. Yoga requires union of everything in the personality with the universal. Asana
is the initial step in Yoga, whereby the bodily structure is set in unison with the cosmos. When
an individual thinks in terms of the ego, which is self-affirmation, with a selfish attitude towards
the things of the world, there is internal disharmony. The more is one unselfish, the more also is
one concordant with reality, and the more is the selfishness, the more also is the discordant note
struck in one’s life. Yoga is a systematized process of establishing permanent friendship with
Nature in all its levels,-friendship in the physical, vital, mental, intellectual and spiritual levels.
It is all love and friendship, and no enmity anywhere. This is Yoga. The Yoga system is an
exact science which takes into consideration every aspect of life, in a slow process of
unfoldment. The lowest manifestation is the physical or the bodily personality.
The Asana should be firm and easy. It should be steady and not cause discomfort of any
kind. It should not make the student conscious of the body through tightness, tension, etc. It
should be a normal posture in which he can sit for a long time. The Yoga prescribes certain
minimum requirements in Asana, though a long rope is given when it is merely said that it is the
firm and comfortable. Within the limits of the rule, one may have freedom in Asana. What are
the limits? The extremities of the body should be locked, and the head, neck and spine should be
in a straight line. These extremities are the fingers and the toes. If they are left exposed, the
electric current generated in meditation may leak into space. Also, one should not sit on the bare
ground, because the earth is a conductor of electricity and the energy may thereby leak again. A
non-conductor of electricity is prescribed as good material to spread on the ground. In olden
days a dry grass mat was used, called the Kusa Asana over which a deer-skin, and a cloth, both
non-conductors of electricity, were spread. The Gita prescribes that the seat should not be too
high or too low. The student may fall down if the seat is very high, and if it is too low, there is
the likelihood of insects and reptiles creeping into the seat. The spine, too, should be kept
straight. It should be at right angles to the base. One should not be leaning against any support
or be bending forward. The reason is that if the spine is straight the nerves get relaxed and no
part of the body exerts influence on another part. The flow of the Prana through the nerves is
smoothened. If the body is twisted, the Prana has to make effort to flow through the limbs.
There is a free movement of energy in the body when the whole system is in a state of relaxation.
Apart from the spine being straight, and the extremities being locked, the legs are to be
bent in three or four ways. There are Padma-Asana, Siddha-Asana, Svastika-Asana and Sukha-
Asana. One can choose any of these postures for meditation. The purpose of a fixed Asana is to
enable the mind to slowly forget that there is a body at all. The body will attract attention,
somehow. But the mind cannot, in meditation, afford to remain conscious of the body. The
student gradually loses sensation of the limbs. He forgets that he is seated, that he has a body or
the limbs. The first sign of successful practice in Asana is a sense of levitation. The body is felt
to be so light that it may appear to be ready for a rise. This sensation comes when there is a
thorough fixity of posture. This is the test. One will begin to feel a creeping sensation as if ants
are crawling over the body. That should show the student’s readiness for a rise above bodyconsciousness.
Together with these sensations, he will also realize a kind of satisfaction, a
happiness, a delight that comes due to lightness of the body in Asana. If one sits thus for two to
three hours, one may not have any feeling even if someone touches the body. The Prana is so
harmonious that it does not create sensation in the body. It is disharmony that creates sensations
of things. When the highest harmony is reached, there will be no external sensation. With
extremities locked; with fingers kept one over the other, or locked; with spine straight; head,
neck and spine in one line, and at right angles to the base of the body; the Asana is perfect.
The Asana should be effortless. There should be no effort not only in the body but also in
the mind. Absolute ease of relaxation is the sign of perfected Asana. The student should be in a
most natural condition in which he is not conscious even of his breathing. If there is pain, jerk,
or a pinching sensation, it should mean that the Asana is not properly fixed. There is a
prescription given by Patanjali to quicken fixity of posture. And that is ‘attention on the
infinite’. Steadiness is nowhere to be found in the world. There is only oscillation and fleeting
of things everywhere. Fixity is unknown, as it is all motion in the world. There is only one thing
that is fixed, viz., the infinite. All finites move and change. If the student can concentrate his
mind on the infinite, he would imbibe certain qualities from it, the first being fixity.
Here concentration is to think nothing in particular but all things at once. Though no one
can think of the infinite as it is, one can think everything in the sense of inclusion of everything
that comes to the mind. This is the psychological infinite. The imagined infinite created in the
mind helps the student in fixing himself in an Asana and in stabilizing his emotions.
Contemplation on the infinite is thus a means to perfection in Asana.
When this bodily control is achieved, there comes freedom from the onslaught of what
are called the ‘pairs of opposites’, such as heat and cold, hunger and thirst, joy and grief, and so
on. Anything that creates a tension in one’s system is a pair of opposites. These are overcome
by a perfected practice of Asana. The pairs of opposites become active in our system when the
Prana becomes restless. The restlessness of the Prana causes hunger and thirst. When the Prana
is poised, there is a lessening of the feeling of the pairs of opposites. The Prana is calmed not
only by the practice of Pranayama but also by Asana. When the body remains in a state of
balance, the Prana too tends to be harmonious, even as the mind becomes tranquil when the
sensations are harmonized. Distracted sensations disharmonize the thoughts. What the senses
are to the mind, the body is to the Prana. As harmonized sensations create a harmonious set of
thoughts, the harmonized body ushers harmony of the Prana. There is always a connection
between the outer and the inner.
Also, we are asked to face the East or the North in meditation, because of certain
magnetic currents produced from these directions, due to sunrise and to the effect of the pole of
the North. The place selected, too, should be free from distracting noise, from gnats and
mosquitoes, etc., and from the chirping of birds, and the like. A temperate climate is desirable
(which means to say that one cannot engage oneself in the practice when it is too hot or too cold,
because of chances of increase in body-consciousness thereby). When the student is seated in
Asana, with a harmonious flow of the Prana through the nerve-channels, he has already entered
the gates of meditation. Asana has a spiritual import. One knocks at the door of the palace of the
immortal, here. While in Yama and Niyama one is in preparation, in Asana the gates of Reality
are reached, though they are yet to be opened. The soul is there ready to meet the Sovereign of
the universe. This is the first step in actual Yoga.
The Yoga prescribes at least three hours of daily practice in a steady posture, when one is
supposed to have mastered Asana (Asana-Jaya). The body is the vehicle of the nerves, the
nerves are the channels of the Prana, the Prana is an expression of the mind, and the mind it is
which practices meditation, in the end. There is this long linkage, and so the moment a
harmonious posture is assumed, the mind receives an intimation thereof. The body is at once
calmed down in its metabolic process, and hunger and thirst are lessened. The forces of hunger
and thirst are symptoms of an agitation of the Prana, and when the Prana is set in harmony, the
agitation should come to a minimum. Hence, the student’s hunger and thirst are reduced to the
least. The cells of the body find more time to construct themselves rather than deplete energy
and make progress through mellowed emotion. Even emotions can be subdued by Asana, for
here one inhales and exhales calmly, and so the cellulary activity of the body comes down, the
nerve-channels are opened up for a rhythmic flow of the Prana, and a rhythm sets in everywhere.
Yoga is rhythm. Asana is therefore the beginning of Yoga, wherein one starts relating oneself to
the cosmic order.
Simultaneously with the practice of Asanas, there should be effort towards the regulation
of the Prana. So, Asana and Pranayama go together. There is an intimate relation between the
activity of the physical body and that of the Prana. The Prana is the total energy which pervades
the entire physical system and acts as a medium between the body and mind. The Prana is
subtler than the body but grosser than the mind. The Prana can act but cannot think. The Prana
is not merely the breath. The breathing process,-inhalation, exhalation and retention-does not
constitute the Prana by itself, but is an indication that the Prana is working. We cannot see the
Prana; it is not any physical object. But we can infer its existence by the processes of respiration.
Air is taken in and thrown out by a particular action of the Prana. Some hold that there are many
Pranas and others think it is one. The Prana is really a single energy, but appears to be diverse
when viewed from the standpoints of its different functions. When we breathe out, the Prana
operates in one of its functional forms. When we breathe in, the Apana functions. The ingoing
breath is the effect of the activity of the Apana. The centre of the Prana is in the heart, that of the
Apana in the anus.
There is a third kind of function called Samana, the equalising force. Its centre is the
navel. It digests food by creating fire in the body and it also equalises the remaining functions in
the system. The fourth function of the Prana is called Udana.. Its seat is in the throat. It
prompts speech and, on death, separates the system of the Prana from the body. The fifth
function is called Vyana, a force which pervades the whole body and maintains the continuity of
the circulation of blood throughout the system.
This fivefold function of the Prana is its principal form. It has also many other functions
such as belching, opening and closing of the eyelids, causing hunger, yawning and nourishing the
body. When it does these five secondary functions, it goes by the names of Naga, Kurma,
Krikara, Devadatta and Dhananjaya, respectively. The essence of the Prana is activity. It is the
Prana that makes the heart beat, the lungs function and the stomach secrete juices. Hence,
neither breathing nor lung-function ceases till death. The Prana never goes to sleep, just as the
heart never stops beating. The Prana is regarded as the watchman of the body.
The Prana is characterized by the property of Rajas or restlessness. One cannot make it
keep quiet even with effort. The body which is of the nature of Tamas is made to move by the
Rajas of the Prana. The Prana incites the senses to activity. Because of its Rajasic nature, it does
not allow either the body or the mind to remain in peace. Such a distractedness is definitely not
desirable, and Yoga requires stability and fixity in Sattva. So, something has to be done with the
Prana; else, it would become a hindrance to internal tranquillity. The Yoga system has evolved a
technique by which the Prana is made to assist in the practice of Yoga, and this is called
Pranayama. As is the case with Asanas, the methods of Pranayama in Hatha Yoga are manifold.
But the Yoga of meditation does not require one to practice many forms of Pranayama.
Just as there is one Dhyana-Asana, there is one method of Pranayama, by which to purify the
Nadis or nerve-channels and to regulate the Prana in Yoga. The Prana has to be purged of all
dross in the form of Rajas as well as Tamas.
The Prana runs in various channels of the bodily system. It is intensely busy. Its agitated
functions disturb the mind and do not allow it to get concentrated on anything. The Rajas of the
Prana also stimulates the senses, and indirectly desire. Any attempt to stop its activity would be
tantamount to killing the body. One has to employ a careful means of lessening its activity, of
making it move slowly rather than with heaves and jerks. When we run a long distance, climb
steps, or get angry, the Prana loses its harmony and remains in a stimulated condition. It gets into
a state of tension and makes the person restless. So the student of Yoga should not engage
himself in excessive physical activity causing fatigue. Steady should be the posture of sitting,
free from emotions of mind, and slow should be the practice of Pranayama. The breathing
should be mild, so that it does not produce any sound. One should not sit for Pranayama in an
unhappy condition of mind, because a grieved mind creates unrhythmic breathing. No
Pranayama should be practiced when one is hungry or tired or is in a state of emotional
disturbance. When everything is calm, then one may start the Pranayama. Be seated in the pose
of Dhyanasana.
In the beginning stages of Pranayama, there should be no retention of the breath, but only
deep inhalation and exhalation. The Prana has first to be brought to accept the conditions that are
going to be imposed on it, and hence any attempt to practice retention should be avoided. In
place of the quick breathing that we do daily, a slow breathing should be substituted, and instead
of the usually shallow breathing, deep breathing should be practiced, gradually. Vexed minds
breathe with an unsymmetrical flow. Submerged worries are likely to disturb Pranayama. One
may be doing one’s functions like office-going, daily, and yet be calm in mind. But another may
do nothing and be highly nervous, worried and sunk in sorrow. One should be careful to see that
the mind is amenable to the practice.
In breathing for health, the chest should be forward during inhalation. We feel a joy
when we take a long breath with the chest expanded to the full. Deep intakes of fresh air daily
are essential for the maintenance of sound health. An open air life for not less than two hours a
day should be compulsory. Pranayama is a method not only of harmonizing the breath but also
the senses and the mind. Be seated in a well-ventilated room and take in a deep breath. Then,
exhale slowly. This practice should continue for sometime, say, a month. Afterwards, the
regular Pranayama with proportion in respiration may be commenced. The technical kind of
breathing which, in Yoga, generally goes by the name of Pranayama is done in two stages:
Exhale with a slow and deep breath. Close the right nostril with the right thumb. Inhale
slowly through the left nostril. Close the left nostril with the right ring finger and removing the
right thumb from the right nostril, exhale very slowly through the right nostril. Then, reverse the
process commencing with inhalation through the right nostril. This is the intermediary stage of
Pranayama without retention of breath and with only alternate inhalation and exhalation. This
practice may be continued for another one month. In the third month, the perfected Pranayama
may be started: Inhale, as before, through the left nostril; retain the breath until you repeat your
Ishta Mantra once; and then exhale slowly. The proportion of inhalation, retention and
exhalation is supposed to be 1:4:2. If you take one second to inhale, you take 4 seconds to retain,
and two seconds to exhale. Generally, the counting of this proportion is done by what is called a
Matra, which is, roughly, about 3 seconds, or the time taken to chant OM thrice, neither very
quickly nor very slowly. You inhale for one Matra, retain for four Matras, and exhale for two
Matras. There should be no haste in increasing the time of retention. Whether you are
comfortable during retention or not is the test for the duration of retention. There should be no
feeling of suffocation in retention. The rule applicable to Asana is valid to Pranayama, also.
Sthira and Sukha, easy and comfortable, without strain or pain of any kind, are both Asana and
Pranayama to be in a practice which is a slow and gradual progression of the process.
The length of time of Pranayama depends on individual condition of the body, the type of
Sadhana one does and the kind of life one leads. All these are important factors which have to be
taken into consideration. The normal variety of Pranayama in Yoga is the one described above,
and it is termed ‘Sukhapuraka’ (easy of practice). The other types of Pranayama such as the
Bhastrika, Sitali, etc., are only auxiliaries and not essential to the Yoga of meditation. There are
many details discussed in Hatha Yoga concerning Pranayama. One of them, for instance, is that
in retention a threefold lock (Bandhatraya) consisting of Mulabandha, Uddiyanabandha and
Jalandharabandha is preferable. But these are all not directly related to the aim of Yoga.
Pranayama is not the goal of Yoga but only a means to it. Ultimately, it is the mind which has to
be subdued and Pranayama, etc. are the preparations. When one has to meet a great authority,
many hurdles have to be overcome, and many lesser levels have to be satisfied with one’s
credentials. Likewise, we have these guardians of the bodily system, the Pranas, and they cannot
be bypassed easily. They have to be given their dues. We have to do something with the body
and the Pranas, befitting their status and function. We have our social problems and there are
also personal problems. Social situations have to be tackled by the practice of the Yamas, and
the system has to be calmed by the Niyamas. The Prana is a purely personal affair and its
regulation is a precondition to higher discipline. A higher step is not to be attempted unless the
lower need is attended to properly. There are no jumps but there is always a gradual progress
through every one of the steps, though a step may be comparatively insignificant. By the practice
of Pranayama, in this manner, is prepared the ground for a rhythm of the body, mind, nerves and
senses. The Prana actually rings the bell to wake up everything in the system. The powers get
roused when the Prana is activated.
The different Yoga scriptures detail the methods of Pranayama in lesser or greater
emphasis. The Hatha-Yoga-Pradipika, the most important text in Hatha Yoga, stresses
Pranayama more than the practice of Asana. What we are physically depends much on how our
Pranas work. Healthy Pranas ensure a healthy body. We are not supposed to take in anything
which will irritate the nervous system. The Yoga prohibits all extremes in practice. The Pranas
are to be kept even throughout the year, in all weather conditions and mental states. The texts
also enjoin great caution upon the Yoga practitioners.
There was a Sannyasin who read books on Pranayama, and thought it was all very good.
In spite of instructions to the contrary by elders, the Swami went on practicing Pranayama,
concentrating his mind on the point between the two eye-brows, which should not be resorted to
in the beginning stages without an expert guide by one’s side. Once, he was at his practice inside
his room for three days, and was found missing by others around him. After a search, it was
found that his room was bolted from within and he was inside. No shouting by people could
wake him and the door had then to be broken open.’ Even shaking of his body by others could
not bring him to consciousness; probably his Pranas were locked up in a centre and could not
move up or down. His Guru came and keeping his palm on the forehead of the student, he
uttered OM, thrice. The practitioner came to his consciousness. People thought he had attained
Samadhi, but, to everyone’s surprise, he was the same old person, with all his negative qualities,
and exhibited no signs of one who had tasted Samadhi. Later, on his death, his body got so
decomposed and melted that it could not be lifted and had to be swept. The student had no
spiritual illumination, but only got into a knot through wrong Pranayama and spoiled his health
in the end. Hence the insistent warning given in all scriptures of Yoga. The Prana should not be
forced to get concentrated in any part of the body. One should not concentrate on any spot of the
body above the neck, especially in the initial stages. Concentration on parts in the head directs
the Prana to that centre, the blood supply gets speeded up to the area and it is then that generally
people complain of headache, shooting pains, and the like. No meditative technique should be
wholeheartedly resorted to without proper initiation. Also, one should not be under the
impression that one can heal others by passing the Prana over their bodies. Beginners should not
try these methods. One may pray to God for the health or prosperity of any person to whom one
wishes good-will, but one should not place one’s palm or pass the Prana over another in the
earlier stages of practice; else one would be a loser. What little one has gained through Sadhana
might get depleted by such interferences. Out of enthusiasm, one is likely to exhaust one’s Tapas
in these ways. In advanced stages, where one is full with power, there is, of course, no such
danger, for one cannot exhaust the ocean by taking any amount of water from it; only if the
reservoir is a small well, there is fear of its being emptied. This is the reason why many seekers
do not allow people to prostrate themselves before them and touch their feet. This rule does not
apply to advanced souls, but Sadhakas should definitely be careful. The gravitational pull of the
earth draws the Prana down and it tends to pass through the extremities of the body.
Brahmacharins and, sometimes, also Sannyasins are often seen putting on wooden sandals, which
are non-conductors of electricity, as a protection against this natural occurrence. If someone
touches the feet of a student, the Prana which he has conserved may pass on to the other, by
means of the contact. The Prana can be drained off by misdirection and overstrain. Let the
Pranayama continue slowly, and let no one be quick in the practice.
The Pranayama is not to be done after one’s meal. It is better done before food, on empty
stomach. No sound should be produced during inhalation and exhalation. In sitting, facing the
East or the North is beneficial. There are certain signs which indicate one’s success in
Pranayama. These signs, no doubt, cannot be seen in persons who practice the technique for a
short while alone. A lustre in the body, new energy, unusual strength which cannot be easily
diminished by fatigue, and absence of heaviness in the body, are some of the indications of
progress in Pranayama.
We are still in the outer court of Yoga. Asana and Pranayama form the exterior of Yoga
proper. The internal limbs are further onwards, which form its inner court. Pratyahara or the
withdrawal of the sense-powers is where this inner circle begins. As Asana is a help in
Pranayama, so is Pranayama a help in Pratyahara. Asana is steady physical posture; Pranayama
is the harmony or regularization of the energy within by proper manipulation of the breath.
Pratyahara is the withdrawal of the powers of the senses from their respective objects.
Pratyahara means ‘abstraction’ or ‘bringing back’. As the rider on a horse would control its
movements by operating the reins which he holds in his hands, the Yogi controls the senses by
the practice of Pratyahara. To gain an understanding of the reason behind Pratyahara, we have to
go back to our first lesson in Yoga. Why should we restrain the senses at all, would be the
question. Yoga is the technique of the realization of the universal. The individual is to be
attuned to the cosmic, and this is the aim of Yoga in essence. The senses act as obstructions in
this effort. While the individual tries to unite itself with the universal, the senses try to separate it
therefrom by diversification of interest. The main activity of the senses is to provide a proof that
there is a world outside, while the Yoga analysis affirms that there is really nothing outside the
universal. When we try to think as the universal would think the senses prevent us from thinking
that way and make us feel and act in terms of manifoldness and variety. This is where most
people find a difficulty in meditation. The senses do not keep quiet when there is an attempt at
meditation. They rather distract the powers in the system within and retard focussing of
consciousness. The senses release the energy along different channels of activity, the main
courses being the functions of seeing, hearing, smelling, touching and tasting. As long as we see
the particular, we cannot believe in the universal. No one would believe in the existence of
universality, because no one has seen it. The senses seem to be bent on creating a difference
between the seer and the seen. The fact, however, is that there is no difference between the
individual and the universal. The apparent difference has been created by the senses. One is
hypnotized by them into an erroneous recognition. While one is omnipotent, they hypnotize one
into the feeling of being impotent and one is made to undergo the pains of individuality. A
millionaire can undergo the pains of penury in a dream. After a sumptuous meal, one may feel
hungry in the dream-world. We have experience in dream of an expansive space, while we are
confined within the four walls of a room. While we are in our own locality, we dream that we
have flown to a distant land. A circumstance psychologically created becomes the cause of the
difference in experience. Place, time and circumstances can be changed when the mind enters a
different realm of consciousness. The senses in the dreaming state produce the illusion of an
external world which is not there ‘outside’. This means that we can see things even if they are
not. It is not necessary that there should be a real world outside for us to see it. Dream makes
the one individual appear as many. So two truths come to relief here: the one can become the
many; and we can see a world which is not there.
This is exactly what is happening to us even in the waking state-the same law, the same
rule of perception, the same experiential structure. That we see a world does not mean that it
should really exist, though it has the reality of ‘being perceived’. Only when we wake up from
dream we learn what happened to us in dream, and not when we are in dream. Just as the senses
of the dream-condition entangle us in an experience of the dream-world, the senses of the waking
state do the same thing to us. When the dream-senses are withdrawn, we awake from dream;
when the waking senses are withdrawn, we enter the universal reality. This is the reason why
Pratyahara is to be achieved in Yoga, which is the way to the realization of universality. If we do
not restrain the senses, we would be in the dream of the world. When we bring the senses back
to their source, the bubble of individuality bursts into the ocean of the Absolute. We do not
partake of the nature of the world even as we are not anything that we see in dream. Pratyahara
is essential to wake up man from the long dream of world-perception. These are subtle truths to
be meditated upon, which are purifying even to listen. Even if one hears these truths, one’s sins
will be destroyed. This is the necessity for the practice of sense-control. As long as the senses
cling to their objects, we are in a world. Yoga rises above mere world-perception to universal
consciousness. There are many methods of Pratyahara. The texts hold these means as great
secrets. No one should seek to do meditation without purity of heart. One is not to enter the path
unless the preconditions are fulfilled. One should not merely force the mind into meditation
without purified feelings. Desires frustrated are great dangers. To approach Yoga with lurking
desires would be like touching a bursting dynamite. Let the heart be free, for it is the heart that
has to meditate and not merely the brain. Thought can achieve nothing when the heart is
elsewhere and the feelings are directed to a different goal.
Pratyahara may be said to constitute the frontiers of Yoga. When one practices
Pratyahara one is almost on the borderland of the Infinite, and here one has superphysical
sensations. Here it is that the need for a Guru is mostly felt. Here again does one experience
tremor of body, flitting of mind, sleepiness and overactivity of the senses. When we attempt
Pratyahara, the senses become more acute. More hunger, more passion, more susceptibility to
irritation, oversensitiveness, are some of the early consequences of this practice in Yoga. To
illustrate this condition we may give an example: if we touch our body with a, stick or even an
iron rod, we do not feel it. But our eyes cannot bear the touch of even a silken fibre, because of
the subtlety of the structure of the eyeballs. So subtle does the mind become that it remains
susceptible to the slightest provocation, impact or exposure. In the stage of Pratyahara we
remain in a condition where we directly come into grips with the senses, as the police would
come into a face-to-face confrontation with dacoits who were hiding themselves in ambush
before and now fight with the police not even minding death. In a fight to death the strength of
the fighting powers increases and gets redoubled at a pitch. If a snake, about to die in a struggle,
bites a person, there is said to be no remedy, because its venom then becomes intensified in rage.
The flame shoots up before passing out. Even so the senses, when they are grappled in
Pratyahara, become overactive, sensitive and tremendously powerful. Here the unwary student
may have a fall. What is one to do when the senses become thus active and fierce? One cannot
bear the sight of sense-objects in this condition and here it is that one should not be in the
vicinity of these objects. While one lives a normal social life, nothing might appear specially
tempting. But now, at the Pratyahara stage, one becomes so sensitive that the senses may yield
any moment. It is like walking on a razor’s edge, sharp and cutting, fine and difficult to perceive.
A little carelessness here might mean dangerous consequences. Subtle is the path of Yoga,
invisible to the eyes and hard to tread. The Yamas and Niyamas practiced earlier will be a help
in this state. The great discipline one has undergone in the Yamas and Niyamas will guard one
against the onslaught of the senses. Because of the student’s honesty, God will help him out of
the situation. This is the Mahabharata-war of practice, where one has to fight the sense-powers
inclining to objects and enjoyments.
Pratyahara should also go side by side with Vichara or a careful investigation of every
psychological condition in the process. The senses easily mistake one thing for another.
Samsara or world-existence is nothing but a medley of misjudgment of values. The senses
cannot see Truth. Not only this; they see untruth. They mistake, says Patanjali, the non-eternal
for the eternal, the impure for the pure, pain for pleasure and the non-Self for the Self. This is the
fourfold blunder committed by the mind and the senses. There is nothing permanent in this
world. Everything is passing, a truth that we all know very well. Everyone knows that the next
moment is uncertain and yet we can see how much faith people repose in the future and what
preparations they make even for fifty years ahead. There can be nothing stable in the world
because of the impermanence of the whole cosmos caught up in the process of evolution. Yet
man takes things as permanent entities. The senses cannot exactly see what is happening in front
of them. They are like blindfolded persons who do not know what is kept before them. It was
the Buddha who made it his central doctrine of proclamation that everything is transient, and yet,
to the senses, everything seems to be permanent, which means that they cannot see reality. There
is not the same water in a flowing river at any given spot. There is no continuous existence of a
burning flame of fire. It is all motion of parts, jump of particles. Every cell of the body changes.
Every atom of matter vibrates. Everything tends to something else. There is change alone
everywhere. But to the senses there is no change anywhere and all things are solid. Wedded to
this theory of the senses, man is not prepared to accept even his own impending death. So much
is the credit for the wisdom of the senses.
The senses also take the impure for the pure. We think that this body of ours is beautiful
and dear and other bodies connected with it are also dear. We hug things as beautiful formations
not knowing that there is an essential impurity underlying their apparent beauty. To maintain the
so-called beauty and purity of the body we engage ourselves daily in many routines like bathing,
applying soap, cosmetics, etc., and when these are not done, we would see what the body is,
really. The true nature of the body gets revealed if one does not attend to it for some days. This
is the case with everything else, also, in the world. All things manifest their natures when no
attention is paid to them. When the body is sick and starved it shows its true form. In old age,
its real nature is visible. Such is the beauty of the body-borrowed, artificial, deceptive. Why do
we not see the same beauty in the body affected with a deadly disease, or when it is dead? Where
does our affection for the loved body go then? There is a confusion in the mind which sees
things where they are not, and constructs values out of its imagination. There is an underlying
ugliness which puts on the contour of beauty by exploiting it from some other source, and passes
for a beautiful substance, just as a mirror shines by borrowing lustre from a light-it is light that
shines and not the mirror, though we usually say that the mirror shines. We mistake one thing for
another thing. The beauty does not belong to the body. It really belongs to something else which
the senses and mind cannot visualize or understand. The Yoga scriptures thus describe how this
body is impure. From where has the body come? Go to its origin and you will realize how pure
that place is. What happens to it when it is unattended to, when it is seriously ill, and when it is
robbed of its Pranas? Where is the beauty in the body from which the Pranas have departed?
Why do we not see beauty in a corpse? What was it that attracted us in the living body? The
reports of the senses cannot be trusted.
We also mistake pain for pleasure. When we are suffering, we are made to think that we
are enjoying pleasures. In psychoanalytic terms, this is comparable to a condition of masochism,
wherein one enjoys suffering. One is so much in sorrow that the sorrowful condition itself
appears as a satisfaction. Man never has known what is true bliss, what happiness is, what joy is.
He is born in sorrow, lives in sorrow and dies in sorrow. This grievous state he mistakes for a
natural condition. “On account of the consequence that follows satisfaction of a desire, the
anxiety attending upon the wish to perpetuate it, the impressions produced by enjoyment, and the
perpetual flux of the Gunas of Prakriti, everything is painful”, say Patanjali. It is only the
discriminative mind that discovers the defects inherent in the structure of the world.
The consequence of enjoyment is the generation of further desire to repeat the enjoyment.
Desire is a conflagration of fire which, when fed, wants more and more of fuel. The desire
expands itself. ‘Never is desire extinguished by the fulfilment of it’, is a great truth reiterated in
the Yoga texts. The effect of the satisfaction of a desire is not pleasure, though one is made to
think so; the effect is further desire. One cannot say how long one would continue enjoying; for
it has no end. Man does not want to die, because to die to this world is equivalent to losing the
centres of pleasure. The mind receives a shock when it hears news of death that is near. Desire
is the cause of the fear of death. The consequence of the satisfaction of a desire should therefore
teach a lesson to everyone.
Also, when we are possessed of the object of desire, we are not really happy at core.
There is a worry to preserve it. One does not sleep well when there is plenty of satisfying things.
Wealthy men are not happy. Their relatives may rob them of the wealth, dacoits may snatch it
away, and the government may appropriate it. Just because we have our object of desire, it does
not mean that we can be happy. One was unhappy when one did not have the object, and there is
now again unhappiness because of its possession.
There is another cause of dissatisfaction. Unwittingly we create psychic impressions
subtly in our subconscious mind through the satisfaction of a desire. Just as when one speaks or
sings before a microphone, grooves are formed on the plate of a gramophone, and the sound can
be relayed any number of times; so also when one has the experience of the enjoyment of an
object, impressions are formed in the subconscious level and they can be relayed any number of
times even if one might have forgotten them, though many births might have been passed
through and even when one does not want them any more. The impressions created by an act of
enjoyment are for one’s sorrow in the future.
There is a fourth reason: the rotation of the wheel of the Gunas of Prakriti. Prakriti is the
name that we give to the matrix of all substance, constituted of the properties called Sattva, Rajas
and Tamas. Sattva is transparency, purity and balance of force. Rajas is distraction, division and
bifurcation of one thing from another. Tamas is inertia, neither light nor activity. These are the
three modes of Prakriti and our experiences are nothing but our union with these modes. We are
dull when Tamas operates in us, we are grieved when Rajas functions, and we are happy when
Sattva preponderates. We can be happy only when Sattva is ascendant, not otherwise. And we
cannot always be happy, because Sattva will not rise at all times. The wheel of Prakriti revolves
and is never at rest. Sattva occasionally comes up and then goes down. When it comes up we
feel happy and when it goes down we are unhappy. In a moving wheel, no spoke can be fixed or
be in the same position always. Happiness in this world, thus, is impermanent; it comes and
goes. All this world, constituted physically and psychologically in this manner, is a source of
pain to the discriminative mind. Even the transient joy of the world is found only to be the result
of a release of biological tension, a titillation of nerves and a delusion of the uninformed mind.
We also mistake the not-Self for the Self, a very serious error we all commit daily. When
we love anything, we transfer the Self to the not-Self and infuse the not-Self with the characters
of the Self. The Self is that which knows, sees and experiences. It is the consciousness in us.
That which is seen or experienced and that which we regard as an object, is the not-Self. The
object is not-Self because it has no consciousness. That a being like man has consciousness is no
argument against his being an object, for what is seen is the human form and not consciousness.
The ‘objectivity’ in things is what makes them objects. It is not the objects that know the world;
it is unbroken consciousness which knows it. It is not the world that feels a world, but the
knowing subject. The consciousness becomes aware of the presence of an object by a mysterious
activity that takes place psychologically. How does one become aware of a mountain, for
example? It is a little difficult to understand this simple phenomenon, though it is one that
occurs almost daily. The mountain which is in front does not enter the perceiver’s eyes or mind.
It is far and yet the mind seems to be aware of its existence. It is not that the eyes come in
contact with the object; the object does not touch the subject physically. How, then, does it know
the object? One may say that the light rays that emanate from the object impinge on the retina of
the eyes of the subject and the latter knows, then, the object. But neither has the object any
consciousness nor do the light rays have it, and an inert activity cannot produce a conscious
effect. How is, then, an object known? The secret of the relation between the subject and the
object seems to be hidden beneath its outer form. It is the senses that tell us of our having had
the knowledge of an object by means of light rays. The eyes alone cannot see, and the light rays
alone cannot reveal the object. The light rays may be there, and the object may be there, but if
the mind is elsewhere, one cannot see it. Other than the instrumental factors, something seems to
be necessary in perception. The mind plays an important role here. Now, is the mind a
substance, an object? Or is it intelligent? The minimum that could be expected in perception is
intelligence. We may suppose that the mind is intelligent, as we may say that a mirror shines.
Even as the mirror is not what really shines, the mind is not intelligence. As it is the light that
shines and not the mirror, it is some transcendent consciousness which illumines even the mind.
It is not easy to understand the nature of this consciousness as it is itself the understander. Who
can explain that which is behind all explanation? It is the knowledge behind all understanding.
Who is to understand understanding? It is the mysterious reality which is in us, by which we
know everything, but which cannot be known by anyone else. This intelligence, or
consciousness, acts on the mind even as light on a mirror. The mind reflects itself on the object
even as a wall can be illumined by the reflection in the mirror. The object is located by the
activity of the mind and the intelligence in it perceives the object. Intelligence does not directly
act; it is focused through the medium of the mind. A ray of intelligence passes through the lens
of the mind and confronts the object. Intelligence beholds the object through the instrumentality
of the mind.
How does intelligence come in contact with unconscious matter, which we know as the
object? How can consciousness know an object unless there is a kinship between them?
Granting that there has to be such a kinship, it cannot be said to be a material relation, as certain
philosophies of materialism may hold, for matter has no understanding. It has no eyes, and no
intelligence. Who, then, sees matter? Matter cannot see matter, as it is blind. Intelligence,
without which everything becomes bereft of meaning, is different from matter. It is intelligence
that knows even the existence of matter. How does it come in contact with matter unless the
latter has a nature akin to it? Materiality cannot be the link between the two, for matter cannot be
linked with consciousness. Unless consciousness is hidden in matter, consciousness cannot
know matter. Matter, in the end, should be essentially conscious, if perception is to have any
acceptable significance. There should be Self even in not-Self, consciousness should be
universal, if perception is to be possible. But the senses cannot see the universal consciousness.
They only see objectiveness, externality, localized thinghood. They falsely project a phantom of
‘outsideness’ and create an ‘object’ out of the universal reality. The object is artificially linked
with the subject. When the senses visualize an object outside, which appears as a material
something, there is a transference of values taking place between the subject and the object. The
Self within, which is universal consciousness, affirms its kinship with the object, but, as it does
this through the mind, there is love for the object. All love is the affinity which the universal
feels with itself in creation. This universal love gets distorted when it is transmitted to objects
through the senses. Instead of loving all things equally, we love only certain things, to the
exclusion of others. This is the mistake of the mind, the error in affection when conveyed
through the senses, without a knowledge of its universal background. While spiritual love is
universal, sensory love is particular and breeds hatred and anger. Individual desire brings
bondage in its train.
The Self is mistaken for the not-Self, and vice versa, in the sense that the universal is
forgotten and gets localized in certain objects and the senses commit the blunder of taking the
non-eternal for the eternal, the impure for the pure and pain for pleasure. Pratyahara is greatly
helped by this analysis, for the senses, by this understanding, refrain from clinging to things. The
entanglement of the senses in their respective objects and their organic connection with the
objects is so deep and strong that it is not easy to extricate consciousness from matter. Just as
one cannot remove one’s skin from one’s body, it is difficult to wean the senses from things.
The organic contact artificially created between the senses and objects should be snapped by
Vichara or philosophic investigation. This is a stage in Vairagya or dispassion for what is not
real.
It is not necessary that in a state of Pratyahara the senses should always be active. Many a
time they appear to lie down quietly and yet cause great disturbance to the student. When they
are positively active, the student becomes conscious of them, but, when they resort to
subterfuges, it is difficult to perceive them. The activities of the senses have stages or forms of
manifestation. A mischief-maker might be maintaining silence, but thereby it does not mean that
he is inactive, because he might be scheming over a course of action in which he wishes to
engage himself at a proper time. At times, his activities might get thinned out due to the work of
the police and when he is harassed from many sides. When he is overworked, he might get
fatigued and in this condition, again, he may not do anything. Yet, it does not follow that he is
free from his subtle intentions or that he is really free from activity. Sometimes, it might also
happen that he suspends his activity for other reasons like the marriage of his daughter or the
sickness of his son. This suspension of action does not also mean a closure of his plans. When
all circumstances become conducive, he will resume his work in full vigour.
This is also the way of working of the desires. They may be asleep, attenuated,
interrupted or actively operative. When we sleep, the desires also sleep; they regain strength for
further activity on the following day. They also get tired and then cease from work for a while.
They lie dormant (Prasupta) when there is frustration due to the operation of the laws of society,
the absence of means for fulfilment, or the presence of something obstructing satisfaction. In
frustration, the activity is temporarily stopped. When one is in an environment which is not
conducive to the expression of desire, one suppresses it by will, and here it is in a condition of
induced sleep. In cosmic Pralaya or the final dissolution, when all individuals get wound up in a
causal state of the universe, the senses with their desires lie latent; they remain in a seed form.
The desires are not wholly blind, because they know how to create circumstances for their
expansion and fulfilment. Even instinct has intelligence. Sometimes intelligence gets stifled by
instinct. Intelligence often justifies instinct and accentuates its work.
Though this may be one of the conditions of desire in ordinary persons, it gets thinned out
and becomes thread-like in the case of students of Yoga. Sadhana attenuates desire, makes it
feeble, though it is not easily destroyed. The desire loses some strength in the presence of the
spiritual Guru, inside a temple or place of worship, because it is not the atmosphere for its
exhibition. This is another condition of desire, where it remains feeble or thin (Tanu).
There is a third state of desire, where it may be occasionally interrupted (Vichhinna) in its
activities. One may have love for one’s son, but for a mistake committed or an unpleasant
behaviour of his, one may get angry with him. Here the love for the son has not vanished but is
temporarily suspended in a state brought about by passing circumstances. This frequently
happens between husbands and wives. Love is suppressed by hate and hate by love due to
situations that may arise now and then in society. For the time being, the object of affection may
look like one of hatred. We see, among monkeys, the mother-monkey will not allow her baby to
eat and she may even snatch away from its mouth the piece of bread it has. This does not mean
that the monkey hates the baby and we can also observe the extent of attachment the mothermonkey
has for her baby. Love and hate are mysterious psychological conditions and we cannot
know where we stand at a given time until we are strongly opposed by contrary forces.
Sometimes one feels depressed and at other times one is in a mood of joy. There is often
dejection and melancholy. Small unhappy events easily put out people, though all the while they
might have been happy. Suddenly, also, they may be elated due to some joyful news conveyed to
them. These are waves which arise in the lake of the mind due to the movement of the wind of
desire in different directions. The mind dances to the tune of the senses.
There have been instances where seekers, for a long time, appeared to be sense-controlled
persons and then began to indulge in unwanted activity. Sometimes, when no progress is
tangible, one may think that one’s efforts have all gone waste; but then suddenly one may realize
also a great joy. This happened in the case of the Buddha. He lost hopes even on the day
previous to that of his illumination. He had decided that his end had come. But the bubble burst
the next day, and light dawned. Seekers may go down or go up on the path winding like a hillroad,
with many descents and ascents. The student of Yoga should be vigilant and should not
make decisions or pass judgments by looking at the moods of the mind day by day. Things may
appear all-right for a time; but there may also be a cyclone of emotions subsequently, shattering
one’s hopes and expectations. This is the guerilla warfare that the desireful senses wage when
one tries to control them or restrict their activity. When we constantly watch the senses, they
show resentment and react and want to jump upon us. None tolerates restriction on one’s
freedom.
Whatever be the condition of desire,-sleep, attenuation or interruption-it is still there, and
has not gone. It can gain strength at a convenient time. We may go on pouring water over fire
with a view to extinguish it, but if a spark is left, though the large fire is put out, it may create a
huge conflagration again. This happens often in forests, with a small log of wood smouldering in
a corner. The spark that is left manifests itself in an opportune moment. Though the desire may
be thin, it is not destroyed, and becomes powerful when suitable circumstances present
themselves.
Desire, when it is placed wholly in favourable circumstances, becomes fully active
(Udara) and then one cannot do anything with it, as with the wild forest fire. The raging flames
cannot be put out with a bucketful of water. The student’s little discrimination will get
extinguished due to the might of desire. The whole world is fire, said the Buddha. Experience is
the fire of desire; the eyes are this fire burning, the ears and the other senses are burning with
desire. The mind and the faculties have been caught up in this fire. The world is a burning pit of
live coal, according to the Buddha. The four conditions mentioned are only a broad division of
the working of desire. But it has many other forms in which it may lie concealed or act. The
mind creates certain mechanisms within itself for its defence against attack from Yoga. It runs
away from the spot where it can be observed and the student might miss his aim. And it can
follow any of the four techniques mentioned already. It can divert its activity along another
channel altogether. This is one of the defence-mechanisms of the mind. If the student in a higher
state of mind observes that the lower mind is attached to an object, there will naturally be
vigilance kept over it. But it employs a shrewd device of giving up that object and deftly
clinging to something else, thus creating an appearance that the attachment has gone. Loves are
shifted from one centre to another. The student might find himself in a fool’s paradise, if proper
caution is not exercised here. He might think that the affection has been snapped, while it is as
hard as before, only fixed in another centre. The river has taken a different course and is
inundating another village. When a tiger is being pursued, one does not know on whom it will
pounce.
The mind also can resort to another method, different from this common technique. If
one is persistent in spotting out the desire wherever it goes, it might stop going to any outer
object, but be internally contemplating on the desired end. There can be enjoyment of an object
within, if all other avenues are obstructed. One can imagine the objects and acquire a
psychological satisfaction when all other channels are blocked. If the best is not available, the
mind gets satisfaction in the next best, and if nothing is given, it will enjoy its object in thinking.
If the vigilance goes to the extent of observing even this, the mind will try to manipulate itself by
projecting its negative characters on certain persons or objects. If a small monkey is pursued by a
bigger one, the former will make a chirping noise and draw the attention and support of the other
monkeys to someone nearby, and then the whole group will jointly offer an attack on the third
party, so that the original skirmish is forgotten by displacement of attention. There are people
who try to become virtuous by pointing out the defects of others. Small persons become great by
casting aspersions on noble souls. Wonderful is the trickery of the mind. The desireful condition
will find an evil spot in someone or something, to the dissatisfaction and disgust of the vigilant
mind, and thus side-track the activity of the latter. One might here become more conscious of the
defects of the outer environment than of what is happening inside. In the meantime the lower
mind works its way. Dreams, phantasies, building of castles in the air, seeing defects outside, are
some of the defence-mechanisms which elude the grasp of the vigilant intelligence. Whatever be
one’s efforts at subduing the mind, the same will never be too much before the impetuosity of the
senses. The Bhagavadgita gives a warning when it says that the force of the senses may sweep
over like a whirlwind and carry away one’s understanding. The Manusmriti says that the senses
have such power that they can drag away even a wise man’s mind from the right course. The
Devimahatmya says that Maya can pull by force even the minds of those with much knowledge.
In Pratyahara, reactions are often set up and the student may get frightened about what is
happening. Patanjali, in his Sutra, details out the difficulties. Apart from the positive hazards
mentioned above, there are certain other negative types of problems that come on the way.
Illness (Vyadhi) may come upon one due to indiscriminate eating, pressure exerted on the Pranas
in one’s practice, undue exposure, over-exertion, etc. Sickness is a great obstacle in Yoga.
Sickness may be physical or psychological, engendered by one’s disobedience to Nature or by
reactions to one’s practice. It can so happen that the student gets fed up with everything after
years of practice and concludes that all things are useless. He gets into a mood of despondency
(Styana). He may start thinking that he is alone and there is no one to help him. This thought
may become so intense that he may not be able to think of the ideal before him. Outwardly, there
may be weakness, recurring head-ache and sleeplessness. He may not get sleep for days together.
There may develop pain in the body and absence of appetite for food. The stomach may lose the
strength to digest anything. These are temporary reactions from the Prana and the mind under the
process of control. These are passing phases of which one need not be alarmed. Due to
concentration of mind on a particular line (not spiritual concentration but concentrated attention
on a particular effort) one may have occasional irksome feelings. These are outer symptoms
which may annoy the student for a considerable time. Pratyahara is, in a way, a tussle between
the inner and the outer nature. This should explain the reason behind reactions. The inner war is
as complicated as the outer and there are as many manoeuvres employed inside as in wars
outside. The inner battles are more difficult to win than the outer ones, because in the outer
several persons and tools can be employed, while in the inner no such things are available. The
inner war is perpetual, without rest. A truce seems to be declared only in sleep, swoon and death.
There may come about a languishing state of the body wherein one cannot sit even in an Asana.
The student feels tired even of meditation. Dullness that sets in may make all things slow and
one starts taking things easy without the enthusiasm and vigour with which the practice
commenced. This happens after a few years of effort. Styana is a condition of sluggishness of
the body and mind. Also a kind of doubt (Samsaya) may start harassing the mind because of
there being no palpable progress in Sadhana. One does not know how far the destination lies.
The student trudges on but does not know the distance covered. There is no guide-map to
indicate the distance yet remaining. The inability to know where one is standing creates
uncertainty in the mind. Doubts may also creep in by study of too many books of a variegated
nature written by different authors, each one saying something different from the other. It is with
difficulty that one becomes a good judge of the multitude of ideas served through conflicting
literature. Absence of a proper understanding of one’s true position is a cause of doubt, on
account of which one changes the place of residence, changes one’s Guru, changes one’s Mantra,
changes the mode of meditation, etc. These changes are done with the hope that some sizable
result will follow from them. But in the changed condition one finds oneself where one was and
feels a necessity to make a further change. It is not easy to realize where the real mistake lies.
Such a dubitable character is an obstacle in Yoga. The reactions that the mind and senses
produce take many forms and the instability of the mind whereby one does not stick to any one
thing or place is an instance. Stickability to one thing is also a great concentration of attention
and hence the difficulty in its practice. The mind gets bored with seeing the same people, same
place and the same things. There is desire for variety due to disgust for monotony. This is the
outcome of doubting, due to which the student gets lost in the wilderness of life. The state of
mind wherein it is unsettled and is confused by heedlessness (Pramada) is another obstacle.
Doubts arise on account of carelessness in thinking. The student has allowed the enemy an entry
while in sleep and he wakes up when the enemy has already taken possession of him. Because of
want of vigilance, the calamity has befallen him. Once we are convinced of the validity of the
practice and the competency of the Guru, what need be there for a change? How did this
happen? It occurred because one had no conviction even before. A faith that can be shaken up
cannot be called a conviction; it is only a temporary acceptance without proper judgment. No
success in any walk of life is possible without a correct assessment of values. It would be foolish
to go headlong without considering a situation from all sides, with its pros and cons. It is not
good to jump into a mood of emotion in Yoga, for Yoga is not a mood of the mind. Yoga is
steadfast practice in which one’s whole being dedicated. The student should be firm in his views
and substantial in the core of his personality. He should not reduce himself to a silly person who
can be changed by the empty logic of people. The student’s understanding has to be powerful
enough to withstand and overcome the argumentation of the senses. Once he listens to the plea
of the senses, he will believe in the reality of outer circumstances rather than the inner
significance of Yoga. Pramada, or carelessness, is verily death, says Sanatkumara, the sage, to
Dhritarashtra. Heedlessness is death; vigilance is life. This is more true in the case of spiritual
seekers. A kind of lethargy (Alasya) in the whole system, bodily and mental, sets in as another
obstacle. One will not be doing any meditation but only drooping heavy with idleness. This is
the Mohana-Astra or the delusive weapon cast against the seeking mind in its war with desire.
Lethargy paralyses the action of the mind to such an extent that the mind cannot even think in
this state. The thinking power goes away, Tamas creeps in, and one becomes torpid in nature.
The Yogavasistha says: ‘If it were not for idleness, the great catastrophe, who would not be
successful in the earning of wealth or learning?’ Lethargy puts a stop to onward progress. Again,
this lethargic condition is not to be mistaken for a mere inactivity of the body and mind. It is
rather a preparation for a contrary activity that is to take place after a time, and it is comparable
to the cloudy sky, looking dull and silent, before the outbreak of thunder and lightning. Just as
lack of appetite is only an indicator that the body is going to fall sick, lethargy is an indication
that something adverse is going to happen. Keeping quiet, saying nothing, doing nothing, is
dangerous to the student of Yoga. One does not know when the bomb will burst. Torpidity is a
breeding ground for the mischief of the senses and their coterie. They first paralyze the person
by lethargy and then give him a blow by sensual excitement (Avirati). It is easier to kill a person
when he is unconscious. The student is put to sleep by Tamas, and then there is a violent activity
of the senses. The cyclonic wind has risen from the dusty weather. The mind jumps into
indulgence of various sorts and this is what they call a ‘fall’ in Yoga. Having fallen into this
condition, to mistake it for an achievement in Yoga is, indeed, worse. Such mistaking of
delusion for success is the other obstacle, the illusion (Bhrantidarsana) by which one thinks one
is progressing higher while falling down. The senses whip one to dance to their tunes and one
also gets induced to a hypnosis by the senses. Even if, by chance, one recovers consciousness
from this unwanted condition into which one has been led, it is not easy to regain the ground that
has been once lost. Losing the ground (Alabdhabhumikatva) is a further obstacle in Yoga. One
cannot start one’s practice again with ease, due to the Samskaras created by the ravaging work of
the senses during the state of gratification. The lack of ability to find out the point of
concentration (Anavasthitatva), even if the ground is to be gained with difficulty, is a serious
obstacle, again.
The nine conditions mentioned above are some of the major obstacles in Yoga, in
addition to the psychological complexities to which reference has been made already. They
cause the tossing of the mind and its drifting from the path. Here the student has to be cautious.
But there are certain other minor obstacles, of which at least five may be named as the chief ones.
One of them is pain (Duhkha) which takes possession of the seeker. There is a sense of internal
grief annoying him constantly. ‘Where am I, and what am I doing’, is his silent sorrow. It is all
darkness and there is no light visible in the horizon. This brings in an emotional depression
(Daurmanasya) and one becomes melancholy. One sees no good in anything and no meaning or
value in life. Life loses its purpose and it is al |
