A New India

Chapter 133: Swami Chinmayananda

While the leaders in New Delhi focused on modernization and development, anxiety was increasing elsewhere.

For some, the question was more fundamental, how could India, with its deep-rooted culture and spiritual heritage, hold on to its soul in the face of a rapidly changing world?

That question always troubled on the mind of Swami Chinmayananda as he sat cross-legged on the veranda of a small ashram in Rishikesh, overlooking the serene yet powerful flow of the Ganges.

He had spent years teaching the principles of Vedanta, trying to guide people toward understanding their spiritual essence.

But lately, his thoughts had been occupied with a growing concern, not just for individuals' spiritual awakening, but for the very future of the Hindu dharma itself.

Across from him sat M.S. Golwalkar, often known as Guruji, a respected figure in the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), and Mahant Avaidyanath, an influential Hindu leader from Gorakhpur.

Both had come to seek Swami Chinmayananda's guidance, troubled by what they were seeing across the country.

"The people are forgetting who they are," Guruji said, breaking the silence.

He spoke softly, but there was a sharp edge to his voice. His brow furrowed as he looked out toward the mountains.

"I see it every day. The youth are drawn to Western ideas, Western lifestyles. They are more interested in dressing like Europeans than understanding their own traditions. It's like we're losing something vital, something sacred."

Swami Chinmayananda listened without speaking, his eyes closed, as if he were deep in meditation.

His silence, however, was not dismissive. He was known for listening carefully before speaking, weighing his words with the wisdom of someone who had seen many generations pass through India's changing tides.

Mahant Avaidyanath, his forehead marked with the sacred tilak, nodded in agreement with Guruji.

"It's not just in the cities. Even in the villages, the younger generation seems disconnected from their roots. Temples are still places of worship, but they are becoming more about rituals and less about understanding. People go to pray, but they don't know what they're praying for anymore."

Swami Chinmayananda finally opened his eyes, his expression calm but thoughtful. "What you are seeing," he began slowly,

"Is a symptom of a deeper issue. It's not just about Western influence or modernization. These are surface-level changes. The real issue is that we, as a society, have forgotten the meaning behind our traditions. We have forgotten the dharma that sustains us."

Guruji leaned forward slightly, sensing the Swami's words were leading somewhere important. "What do you mean by that, Swamiji?"

Swami Chinmayananda looked directly at him.

"Hinduism is not just a religion. It is not merely rituals or customs. It is a way of life, a philosophy that has been passed down through thousands of years. But that philosophy has become buried under the weight of ignorance. Our people follow the customs, yes, but without understanding why they are important."

He paused, allowing his words to sink in.

"And when you don't understand something, you don't value it. You discard it easily, thinking it's outdated, irrelevant. That is what's happening to our youth. They see the West and think it represents progress, without realizing that true progress is internal. It comes from knowing who you are, where you come from."

Guruji nodded slowly, understanding the deeper point. "So, you're saying the problem isn't just that people are forgetting their traditions, it's that they never truly understood them to begin with."

"Exactly," Swami Chinmayananda replied. "The British left, but their influence remains. Even if the current government has done amend to the damage, it cannot be reversed this easily. For centuries, we were told that our culture was backward, that our dharma was inferior to Western ways of life. We started believing it.

And now, our own people, our youth are more interested in adopting Western habits than in learning about the wealth of knowledge contained in our scriptures."

Mahant Avaidyanath frowned. "But Swamiji, how do we counter this? The country is changing so fast. The politicians are talking about industrialization, about moving forward, look at their new plan called Gati Shakti. They're not interested in spiritual revival."

Swami Chinmayananda smiled faintly, as though he had expected the question. "The answer is not in fighting change. Change is inevitable. What we must do is remind our people of what they already have. We need to show them that Hindu dharma is not something to be left in the past, it is something that can guide them through the present and into the future."

Guruji stroked his beard thoughtfully. "But how do we do that, Swamiji? How do we reach people, especially in this time of such rapid transformation? We are not just talking about a few villages. We're talking about an entire nation."

Swami Chinmayananda turned to face him, his expression serious but calm. "We need to start with education. Not the kind of education that comes from textbooks, but the kind that comes from understanding one's own spiritual roots. We need to teach our people the essence of Hindu dharma, what it truly means, not just the rituals but the deeper philosophy."

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Mahant Avaidyanath spoke up again. "But even in our temples, Swamiji, people come to pray, to perform rituals, but they leave without knowing the meaning behind those rituals. They don't understand what they are doing."

"That is because the essence has been lost," Swami Chinmayananda said. "Temples have become places of routine rather than places of learning. They were once centers of knowledge, where gurus taught the deeper meanings of our scriptures, our stories, our symbols. Now, they are places people visit out of habit."

Guruji nodded, seeing the larger picture now. "So, we need to revive that essence. We need to bring back the connection between the people and their dharma. But how, Swamiji? How do we begin?"

Swami Chinmayananda looked out at the flowing Ganges for a moment, as if drawing strength from its timeless flow.

"We start by bringing together the people who already understand this. The sadhus, the gurus, the spiritual leaders. If they speak, the people will listen. We need to organize gatherings, not political rallies, but spiritual meetings where we can discuss these issues, where we can teach people about the importance of their own dharma."

Mahant Avaidyanath looked hopeful but still cautious. "But will the people come, Swamiji? In this fast-paced world, will they take time to listen to us? Or will they see us as relics of the past, talking about things that no longer matter to them?"

Swami Chinmayananda smiled gently. "People will listen if you speak to their hearts, not just to their minds. We are not asking them to reject modernity or development. We are simply reminding them of what lies beneath all of that, something deeper, something eternal. If we can show them that Hindu dharma is not a barrier to progress but a guide for it, they will listen."

Guruji's eyes brightened as the Swami spoke. "You're right, Swamiji. Our dharma teaches us balance. It teaches us how to navigate the material world without losing our spiritual grounding. That's what people need to hear. That they can be modern without losing themselves."

Swami Chinmayananda nodded. "Exactly. But it's not just about speaking to the elite, to the educated. We need to reach the common man, the farmer, the laborer, the shopkeeper. These are the people who live and breathe our culture every day, but they are also the ones who are most at risk of losing it. We need to show them that their dharma, their traditions, are their greatest strength."

Mahant Avaidyanath looked thoughtful. "But we can't do this alone, Swamiji. We will need support. We will need to bring together spiritual leaders from across the country."

Swami Chinmayananda agreed. "Yes, this cannot be the work of a few. It must be a collective effort. We will need to reach out to the leaders of our temples, our ashrams, and our spiritual organizations. If we can unite them, if we can make them understand the importance of what we are trying to do, they will spread the message to their followers."

The room fell silent again, the sound of the Ganges rushing in the background. The Swami's words had struck a chord with both Guruji and Mahant Avaidyanath.

They had come seeking guidance, and they had found it, not in grand political strategies, but in a simple, profound truth, that the survival of Hindu dharma lay not in opposing the modern world but in reviving the essence of what it meant to be Hindu.

Guruji finally broke the silence. "We need to begin. We need to start talking to the people, to the spiritual leaders. This is not something that can wait."

Swami Chinmayananda smiled. "Yes. But remember, this is not a race. This is a journey, a long one. But if we walk it with purpose, with sincerity, We will find that the path will reveal itself. We don't need to rush.

What we are trying to protect, our dharma, our culture, has lasted thousands of years. But the work must begin now. Every journey, no matter how long, starts with a single step."