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In the last few episodes, we embarked on a journey through some of the deepest philosophical ideas. We explored the perspectives that the ancient Indian sages held regarding consciousness. The most important part of that discussion was the astonishing and mind-boggling state of consciousness known as Turiya, which appears to lie beyond all experience-based reasoning.
To the modern, rational mind, the idea of the Turiya state may seem like a beautiful speculation. It may appear to be a poetic, idealistic, and unrealistic concept. Therefore, a skeptic may ask, "Did anyone really live in such a state? Or is it nothing more than a fictional story from ancient psychology?"
Today, I would like to present an argument that this Turiya state is not merely imaginary. We may not be able to prove Turiya scientifically. However, we can examine documented incidents from the lives of people who lived in this state—people who lived among us, not centuries ago, but only a few decades ago—real-life events that were recorded without any glorification.
For this purpose, I shall take the life of one of South India's well-known saints as an example. I am not referring to any books or hymns of praise. My source consists only of the experiences narrated by ordinary people who lived with him and saw him firsthand. These people had nothing to gain and no reason to fabricate stories.
The first people who shared this information with me were a few elderly women who had lived during the lifetime of this saint. They did not know who he was. They had no idea where he had come from. This saint wandered completely naked through the coastal villages of South India.
He hardly spoke to anyone, so there was no question of giving spiritual discourses. Nor did he ever beg anyone for food. Sometimes people saw him eating food that had been thrown into garbage bins. Consequently, almost everyone assumed that he was insane.
Children in the streets mocked him. They even threw stones at him. But the saint never reacted. Sometimes, simply to avoid those mischievous children, he would climb tall trees and sit there.
After wandering from village to village in this manner for many years, he finally settled in a dilapidated temple deep inside a forest near what is today the great city of Mumbai. The local tribal people looked after him and even built a small hut for him.
He spent most of his time sitting in meditation inside that hut, as though completely unaware of the outside world. Only on very rare occasions would he speak to anyone.
But gradually people began to feel drawn toward him. His reputation slowly spread. People began calling him Bhagavan, a divine being. Thus was born Bhagavan Nityananda of Ganeshpuri.
At that time, a young Brahmin boy named Krishna had run away from his village and arrived there. He had fled to escape a false accusation that he had stolen the ornaments of the deity from the village landlord's temple.
He found refuge in Bhagavan Nityananda's ashram.
However, Krishna had absolutely no respect for Nityananda. In fact, when Nityananda had once wandered naked through his village years earlier, Krishna himself may well have been one of the mischievous boys who threw stones at him. But now he was helpless. He had nowhere else to go. He simply needed a safe place to hide from the people who were searching for him.
Many decades later, I met this very Krishna. By then, he was much older than I was. Krishna had become a temple priest - Krishna Acharya. He narrated many fascinating incidents from Nityananda's life.
As a boy, Krishna had believed that Nityananda was nothing more than a madman. He laughed whenever he heard the tribal people refer to him as Bhagavan. But out of curiosity, he began observing every action of this "madman."
According to Krishna Acharya, Nityananda remained in a state resembling deep samadhi almost all the time. He spoke only on very rare occasions.
Curiously, the only times he appeared to behave like a madman were when gamblers came seeking advice about their bets. He would shout at them, abuse them, and throw whatever objects happened to be nearby in an attempt to chase them away. Yet nobody took this seriously. They interpreted every word he uttered and every finger he raised as hints about winning numbers.
What did this "madman's" daily routine look like?
Even a madman has to eat. He too must answer nature's calls. Was Nityananda any different?
Krishna observed these things very carefully.
According to Krishna, Nityananda would wake up early in the morning and step outside his hut. After attending to nature's calls, he would stand in the nearby pond with water reaching up to his neck. He did not even seem interested in scrubbing or cleaning his body properly.
One particular thing deeply impressed Krishna. Whether Nityananda was waking up, walking, bathing in the pond, returning to his hut, or doing anything else, he performed every action like a sleepwalker—with no personal involvement whatsoever, in complete peace, and with mechanical precision. It was as though his body was functioning automatically, while his consciousness remained established somewhere else altogether.
When villagers placed food before him, sometimes he simply ate whatever happened to be in front of him. He even ate fruits without peeling them. He seemed utterly unconcerned about taste, likes and dislikes, or social etiquette. It appeared as though there was no personal ego left in him that could say "I," like something, or dislike something.
All this left Krishna completely confused.
"Is this man really insane?"
He found himself asking that question again and again.
Years passed.
By now Krishna had settled into life there. He earned a living by sitting beside the roadside with pictures of Hindu deities. Villagers paid him to perform special rituals for them. That was how he made his living.
Then one day, Krishna happened to witness a crime committed by a local rowdy.
Eventually, the police arrested the criminal, and Krishna was summoned to court as a witness.
Now Krishna found himself in great difficulty.
If he appeared in court, the criminal's associates might kill him.
If he refused to appear, the police would drag him there by force.
He had no idea what to do.
Finally, with tears in his eyes, he explained his predicament to Nityananda. Krishna himself had once been a fugitive. He had no family or friends there. Nor did he expect Nityananda, who seemed permanently absorbed in samadhi, to come to his rescue.
But to Krishna's amazement, Nityananda did help.
After opening his eyes briefly, he uttered a few words, almost as though he were speaking in his sleep.
"Hey, fool! Go back to your village. Nobody can harm you. Your people have been searching for you. They will be here very soon."
Hearing this only made Krishna more anxious.
He had believed that no one could ever find him in this forest so far away from his village. But if this "madman" was speaking the truth, not only had they found him, they were actually coming to take him home!
Perhaps Krishna did not sleep at all that night.
The next day, exactly as Nityananda had predicted, a man from Krishna's village arrived searching for him.
He brought wonderful news.
The villagers had now discovered that Krishna was innocent.
There was even more good news.
They wanted Krishna himself to become the priest of their newly renovated temple!
Krishna offered his heartfelt gratitude to Nityananda.
Falling at his feet, he begged forgiveness for having misunderstood him.
Many years later, when I met this same Krishna serving as the priest of that village temple, he described his experiences with Nityananda. Tears flowed from his eyes as he spoke.
He had been completely transformed.
He had developed immense reverence for Nityananda.
More importantly, he had resolved to live, just as his Guru had lived—with honesty, selflessness, and complete detachment.
Throughout his life, Krishna Acharya led an exceptionally honest and simple life.
He also helped many poor boys who, like him, had run away from home and survived by doing odd jobs.
Today, if you search on YouTube, you will find countless videos describing Bhagavan Nityananda's miracles and supernatural powers.
But that is not the real miracle.
The real miracle is the way such great souls transform the lives of those who come into contact with them.
Without speaking…
Without preaching…
Without performing any magic.
Isn't all this enough to suggest that the state in which he lived was not merely some psychological condition, or simply the "temporal lobe epilepsy" proposed by the famous American neuroscientist V. S. Ramachandran?
Perhaps we should keep our minds open enough to search for better explanations.
Who according to you Nityananda really was? A madman? Or a genuine yogi who had attained the highest state of consciousness? What do you think? Do share your opinion in the comments.
See you again in the next episode.
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