The Moon and its Craters

One of my closest friends, a senior from my college, is a monk of the Ramakrishna Order. One day, before he was a monk and we were idling away in the hostel, I asked him, ‘Don’t you think that the Ramakrishna Order has miserably failed Swamiji’s vision? In religion, I haven’t seen a re-enactment of his strong preachings; in public service I don’t see anything as revolutionary as the Order’s involvement during 1899 plague in Kolkata. There is this undocumented story I heard in Narendrapur: the one common thing found in the belongings of each member of a militant sedition against the British government, was Swamiji’s photograph print; so much so that the newly-posted British officer-in-charge issued a arrest warrant against His face, not knowing who He was or that He was no more in mortal frame. One of the revolutionaries laughed hearing this, saying, ‘Sure, try your best to catch Him. If you can get hold of His feet then that is your only chance of atonement!’ Now, where else has the Order played such a massive role in world politics anymore? Even Subhas Bose commented on the Order’s unfaithful passiveness in An Indian Pilgrim.’ He slowly said, ‘You said so easily, Anamitro. Is it really so simple? With an exception of Subhas Bose, how many followers of Vivekananda have the same potential as Himself. Didn’t He Himself know that? How many Vivekanandas as born in a century? Isn’t it enough fortune that one was born to this pathetic and ungrateful race in such near past? Doesn’t it matter that His machine is still rolling in the Order?’

I wasn’t convinced yet. Last year, I tried to paint on two subjects. One was the scene of Śrī Kṛṣṇa’s discourse with Arjuna, based on how Swamiji described the freeze-frame to his disciple Sarachchandra Chakraborty. He stands there, holding in firm hands and untwitched face the reign of the energetic horses of sense organs and universal phenomena. His graceful physical twist as He holds them into a stop and turns with a sympathetic face at His misguided friend. His other hand shows no stress of the massive action that flows through the reins, His grip of this hand, His broad shoulder and flexible waist, with firm feet grounded into stillness of the chariot. I tried to follow Swamiji’s instructions, which were so lucid and explicit. I had surely got, however fuzzy, a glimpse of His vision, because if He was wishing to convey something through words, He would. Yet, after days of hard work, it seemed not to turn out what it should had. I had understood His instructions, but as a mere mortal was unable to carry them out in essence. The other painting was The Goddess of Apocalypse, based on his poem ‘Kali the Mother’ and Satyendranath Dutta’s Bengali translation of the same ‘Mṛtyurūpā Mātā’, which He had expressed His wish to see on canvas. Again, carrying out every practicable detail, my vision resonating His was still lacking on paper. If I can’t even put to realization two paintings He had visualized, how can I expect a massive organizational, charitable, academic, nationalist and spiritual work of His planning to be put into action in crisp perfection? I realized that with all its mistakes that one may come up with and which I don’t care to argue about anymore, the Ramakrishna Mission is the best bet we have now, in this era of degrading humanity.

By the way, if you want to see those two paintings by me, they can be found here:

1. Mṛtyurūpā, the Goddess of Apocalypse: https://sites.google.com/view/ani-paint/deities/ramyakapardini#h.xzzc7dizrcbb

2. The Holiest Moment in World History: https://sites.google.com/view/ani-paint/mahabharata#h.ftdwy16tml73