Let consider the varnashrama from another angle

The following comes from my preceding article, The preacher: "I firmly believe that without understanding and striving for varnasrama-dharma, a civilized society cannot endure."

And this other part was written two years ago: "Yes, we can accomplish this if we grasp the crucial need for varnashrama-dharma, which establishes a civilized and scientific society grounded in the laws of God. The concept of pantheism, or the Virat-rupa—the universal form of the Lord as described in the Srimad-Bhagavatam— will help this purpose, it is accessible intellectually, sentimentally, and devotionally. We simply need to discuss it —hence the brainstorming on varnasrama-dharma I propose." 

By "intellectually," I mean philosophically and scientifically. Although we are all born shudras, the four classes remain dormant within us. This doesn’t imply that we are going to revive them; I don’t believe in that at all. What I mean is that we should draw upon their archetypal foundation, which underpins virtually any society.

"Sentimentally" refers to our natural and pleasant attraction to connecting with nature: its diversity, beauty, and resources.

"Devotionally" refers to offering the fruits of our work and intelligence to Krishna, who, in His form as Paramatma, observes all our actions. Bhakti encompasses everything: Krishna, Paramatma, and the universe are intimately connected. In one sense, there is no difference between a gardener growing vegetables and a brahmana caring for Deities in a temple.

I wrote all of this and more, I have shared it with devotees all over, but sadly, they showed no interest. 

Let see varnashrama from another angle

Plato wrote about a lost land called Atlantis. It was like an ideal city. In a way, we could say he was the first utopian. He mentions that someone in Egypt told him about this marvelous land that had been destroyed—much like Dwarka. Of course, Plato himself didn’t draw that comparison; I am suggesting the idea.

Devotees are drawn to what the Srimad-Bhagavatam describes about Dwarka. So, in a sense, we too are utopians. We aspire to inspire politics to build a society based on the principles of varnashrama-dharma—a society with God at its center, led by brahmanas and kshatriyas.

Many great thinkers, scientists, and philosophers have admired Plato’s utopia.

Satyaraj Dasa, from the Brooklyn temple, a writer I have admired and who influenced me as profoundly as a guru might, once shared a speculation that deeply impressed me. He suggested, with great conviction, that the appearance of Chaitanya Mahaprabhu, by its very nature and power, had engendered auspicious influences across the world. As an example, he pointed to the Enlightenment in Europe. He published an article to that effect in the Back to Godhead, if my memory serves me well.

In doing so, he may have involuntary aligned with the tendency of philosophers to draw inspiration from and build upon the utopias envisioned by great masters of the past. I mentioned Plato, whose ideas profoundly influenced Renaissance thinkers. In turn, Satyaraj inspired me to reflect on the role Vyasadeva played in shaping the imagination of the Vaishnavas during the 16th and 17th centuries in Bengal.

When I draw a parallel between Plato's Atlantis and Vyasa's Dwarka,

Should she pour into the souls of his beloved's ones the harrowing pain that grips her like a vice? Should she yield to their supplications and reveal the doubt that tortures her so cruelly? Sachidevi, curled upon the muddy ground, her tears mingling with the dust, shaken by tremors and sobs, wrestles with the cause of her unending misfortunes. Could her life be nothing but a relentless procession of horrors, each more dreadful than the last? She regrets not having climbed the funeral pyre of her husband, for who will console her now? If only some misdeed could be laid at her feet, she might find in it the strength to endure this tragedy, to aid, to comfort those who draw near—whether to offer her solace or seek it themselves. Around her, there is nothing but weeping and lamentation. She, who once was a beacon among mortals, a moon in the darkest night, a healer of the ego's wounds, now finds herself unable to lay even the slightest balm upon the gaping wound that has opened: a wound through which life itself inexorably drains from he body. She feels powerless.

Nadia, the town, is struck by a grief that threatens to engulf it entirely. Even the goddess Ganga will conspire to erase this city from the earth: a tidal wave rising from the Bay of Bengal will destroy and flood this corner of the world. A funeral on the scale of the gods! What will remain of the wondrous places where Krishna Chaitanya once walked?

I have explained in previous postings that the philosophers of the Enlightenment drew upon Plato to envision their ideal city. In the passage you just read, I take inspiration from the writings of Krishna Dasa Kaviraj, born in 1496 and author of the Caitanya Caritamrita. He believed that Sachidevi's son, Nimaï, was the very same person as Sri Krishna, who lived in Dwarka some 5,000 years earlier —this same esoteric Dwarka that I compare to Plato's Atlantis. I have already said it, and I will repeated in prose to come: that the city also vanished beneath the waves, likely due to an earthquake or tsunami, much like the fabled Atlantis, for which tangible evidence still eludes us.

Thus, like Dwarka, and then Atlantis, it is Nadia, the city where Nimaï was born, later known as Krishna Chaitanya, that disappears beneath the waters following his departure from this world.

I see here a fitting pretext to reflect on this utopia, this ideal society, and to reconsider the varnasrama-dharma, as I encourage others to do. Hence the title I gave to one of my articles: varnasrama brainstorming.

Socrates: "Yesterday's discussion concerned the State —what sort of State is the best, and what men are most like the ideal citizens."

"But at a later time there occurred portentous earthquakes and floods, and one grievous day and night befell them, when the whole body of your warriors was swallowed up by the earth, and the island of Atlantis in like manner was swallowed up by the sea and vanished; wherefore also the ocean at that spot has now become impassable and unsearchable, being blocked up by the shoal mud which the sinking island produced.” Plato in Timae

And when someone raises a varnashrama-dharma question for discussion, they dismiss it outright, saying: “Prabhu, your expectations are too high.” These words come from Vaisesika dasa, the well-known book distributor. And with that, the exchange ends.

Although varnashrama-dharma has long ceased to exist, even in Indian society, as an alternative among Krishna devotees, I feel compelled to introduce this ancient form of organization to the public, one that is forgotten but once brought glory and strength to ancient India during the Vedic era, before Krishna's departure from Dwarka.

I also seek to understand why Srila Prabhupada was so attached to this idea of varnasrama-dharma, even as Indian politicians and intellectuals are firmly rejecting this class-based societal concept. I will not repeat my personal convictions here, as they have already been expressed in my articles.

The response got stuck in his throat, to put it bluntly (excuse the pleonasm), meaning he didn’t appreciate it. The problem here is the obvious lack of communication. What was Vaisesika really trying to express? That the varnasrama-dharma is a utopia, that Srila Prabhupada was cultivating a utopia, much like the philosophers of the 18th century. Though Condorcet, Voltaire, Bailly, or Bacon were thinkers of great intellect, they clung to and cultivated an idea that was, to say the least, fantastic—even if it were Plato's. And today, no philosopher would dare defend such an idea without risking ridicule. This is what happened to my friend, due to the lack of tact and sensitivity of the one speaking while seated on Vyasa’s chair.

"So what?" he said. "Going to Mars to build a city where humans could live—is that not utopia?"

But he hadn’t reacted this way. The lecturer was already answering someone else’s question. And that was it. He knew it would be a wasted effort to drag him into a dialectic. Instead, he preferred to throw in the towel.

The brainstorming I propose regarding varnasrama-dharma is akin to the Socratic method, which the Greeks called maieutics. It involves using dialogue among individuals —devotees in our case— to refine and clarify ideas. Naturally, when one speaks alone, without a genuine interlocutor, when one speaks to the walls, as Srila Bhaktisiddhanta would put it, the effectiveness of maieutics leaves much to be desired.

To be honest, I’m not sure if I gain any real benefit from this, as the method isn’t exactly what Socrates advocated. After all these years spent talking to the walls, a practice that has swallowed up my life, I still wonder if it’s worthwhile. Yet, doubt, in its own way, can be therapeutic, even if Vaishnavas tend to view it with suspicion. 

(And still, this habit of speaking out loud and recording it in a journal sticks to my neurons…) ■