Samskara

“I myself will arrange for the donations and other rituals,” he said, pricking the miserly Madhva with these words.

# Chapter Three

After all the Brahmins had set off to Parijatapura, Praneshacharya, moved by compassion, told Chandri, “Sit down,” and went to the dining house where his wife lay resting. “She—Chandri—has such a pure heart, you know,” he thought, recalling how she had given the gold, and the new problem that had arisen from it. He spread out the palm-leaf manuscripts and books, searching for what the Dharma Shastra prescribed in such a situation. Narayanappa had always been a problem for him. In the agrahara, would it be his own asceticism, holding fast to Sanatana Dharma, that would ultimately prevail, or Narayanappa’s demonic nature? That was his stubborn question. He grieved, wondering what evil fate had made Narayanappa turn out this way, and, praying for God’s mercy to redeem him, he fasted two nights a week, leaving aside his meal. Besides, the reason his heart was so full of remorse and anxiety for Narayanappa was the promise he had made to Narayanappa’s mother: “I will look after your son’s welfare, I will bring him to the right path”—thus he had comforted the dying old woman. But Narayanappa had not come to the right path; he had not heeded any words of wisdom. The son of Garuda, Shyama, whom he had taught the Vedas and made recite mantras by heart, and Lakshmana’s son-in-law, Shripati—he had drawn both away from his own influence. He had encouraged Shyama to leave home and join the military. After hearing endless complaints brought by Garuda and Lakshmana, Praneshacharya had finally gone to see Narayanappa one day. Narayanappa, lying on a thin mattress, showed just enough respect to rise and sit up when he saw Praneshacharya. But when he tried to offer advice—

He spoke whatever came to his mind. He derided Brahminical dharma: “Your shastras have no place anymore. The Congress is coming. Panchamas must be allowed into the temple,” he rambled incoherently. I wondered, should I care? Should I not have separated that Shripati from his wife? He laughed aloud. “Who would marry a girl who brings no happiness, Acharya, except these foolish Brahmins?” he mocked. “Why should I tie a mad girl to myself and ruin her life? You Brahmins—let your dharma be yours. Life is but a span. I am of the Charvaka lineage—‘R̥ṇam kṛtvā ghṛtam pibet’—incur debt, but drink ghee,” he declared. He taught: “This physical body is not eternal.” He pleaded: “Do what you will, but at least do not ruin the lives of girls.” He gestured helplessly. Even at that, he laughed. “Is a Brahmin, according to you, one who grabs the property of the shaven-headed, who performs sorcery, who drives away evil with spells?” he ridiculed. “In the end, who will win, you or I? Let us see, Acharya. How long do you think this Brahminhood will last? If I wish, I can throw all the honor of