Aranya Kanda
Analysis
Up above we had a short story — just a brief episode about Shabari, with a little description of Lake Pampa. And—ah—there are two points we need to think about.
First, this detailed description of Lake Pampa. We touched on it a bit last Sunday too: what is it really? So I’ll try to explain that first, and then we’ll take up Shabari’s storyline.
To begin with, Shabari’s story itself is a kind of narrative shift. We’re in the middle of Rama’s story—He’s on the journey that will end in Ravana’s defeat—and in between comes this Shabari episode, a little interlude. It’s a beautiful one, so we’ll look at it as well today. But first, let’s try to understand Pampa a little.
If we read the first chapter of the Kishkindha Kanda—around verses seven and eight—there’s a very expansive, very beautiful description of Lake Pampa. So what is this Pampa that’s described as so exquisitely lovely?
I thought about it a bit. In Sanskrit, the root pampa carries the sense of “protecting, guarding, preserving”—that which protects noble thoughts and noble feelings. In short: Pampa means “that which safeguards our highest thoughts and finest feelings.”
So when the Ramayana speaks of Pampa here, it’s not really talking about some outer lake. This Pampa is within us—very beautiful, very sacred—its waters are pure, and Rama bathes in them, enchanted by their sight. To understand this inner Pampa, it seems we should approach it through the framework of the koshas (sheaths). We’ve read the physical description; now how do we grasp its meaning? The best way that came to me is to understand the human personality through the koshas.
We’ve talked many times about this: the scriptures divide the human being into six koshas. The first is the Annamaya Kosha; second, the Pranamaya Kosha; third, the Manomaya Kosha; fourth, the Vijnanamaya Kosha; fifth, the Hiranyakosha; and sixth, the Anandamaya Kosha. The scriptures mention these six repeatedly. There are topics that need the help of this kosha framework to be understood. Some explain the person through koshas; some through chakras; some as gross, subtle, and causal bodies. They’ve tried many ways to help us understand.
So what is the Pampa Lake within our body?
Among these six, the fourth, the Vijnanamaya Kosha, is this Pampa Sarovar. To understand the Pampa within us, we have to understand our Vijnanamaya Kosha—because here, in symbolic language, they have called the Vijnanamaya Kosha “Pampa Sarovar.”
What is this Vijnanamaya Kosha like?
All the qualities ascribed to Pampa Sarovar are the very qualities of the Vijnanamaya Kosha. Pampa is pure; its waters are crystal-clear; Rama bathes there; the animals and birds in and around it play in wondrous harmony—these main points of the Pampa description mirror the traits of the Vijnanamaya Kosha.
The first kosha is Annamaya—the lowest sheath. To live in the Annamaya Kosha means to be engaged only in eating, drinking, sleeping, and procreation—just that. The second is Pranamaya—how life-force functions within us, enabling us to breathe with ease. The third is Manomaya, which the shastras explain in two tiers: lower Manomaya and higher Manomaya. In the lower Manomaya we dwell in low-grade thoughts—mere worldly chatter, blame and praise, gossip about who did what. That is the lower mind. The higher Manomaya is when one moves beyond mere eating and sleeping; one turns toward thought, and even toward knowledge—one starts speaking and dwelling in knowledge-related matters.
As consciousness rises further, it enters the Vijnanamaya Kosha. This is the sheath of knowledge and of purity. It means the mind has become thoroughly pure, cleansed; the stains have been washed away. It is a sheath that relishes knowledge and begins to live that knowledge in daily conduct. That is the Vijnanamaya Kosha.
Why, then, is Pampa described here?
Because this is the route to Sugriva. The text says: proceed along the bank of Pampa Sarovar, and you will reach Sugriva. Who is Sugriva? Look at the word: gri/greev relates to knowledge—so Sugriva means excellent knowledge. If we want to meet excellent knowledge, befriend it, take its help, then we have entered the Vijnanamaya Kosha. And if we want to bring that noble knowledge within and live it, we must “walk along Pampa’s shore”—i.e., abide in the Vijnanamaya Kosha. We must rise above the Manomaya and dwell in Vijnanamaya—moving toward purity, toward sanctity, toward knowledge.
So the elaborate physical description of Pampa is given so that we may understand our Vijnanamaya Kosha and be ready to live in it. Only then will our friendship with Sugriva—knowledge—be formed. Why is this relationship needed?
Because knowledge within us has not yet awakened—it sleeps. This is hinted at by Rishyamukha Mountain: Sugriva lives there—meaning, knowledge exists in a mute, dormant state, and must be awakened. Before Rishyamukha, Pampa is mentioned—meaning we must now move through the Vijnanamaya Kosha, adopt purity, and turn toward knowledge. That’s all Pampa means: understand Pampa as the Vijnanamaya Kosha—pure and limpid—where Rama must bathe. To immerse in knowledge is to bathe in Pampa; to bathe in purity is to bathe in the Pushkarini. Bathing in knowledge, bathing in purity means our journey is now going to move toward knowledge. That, in brief, is Pampa.
Now to today’s main story: Shabari.
As Bina-ji has read in detail, here’s the briefest outline. As instructed by the radiant being Kabandha, Rama and Lakshmana set out toward Rishyamukha to befriend Sugriva. On the way, along the western bank of Pampa—that is, before moving toward knowledge—they came upon a lovely hermitage: Shabari’s. Shabari was a perfected ascetic and disciple of Matanga Muni. Even after Matanga Muni departed to the divine realm, Shabari kept gathering wild fruits and roots, waiting for Rama’s arrival. Matanga had assured her that one day Rama would surely come, and by His darshan she would attain the eternal realm. So Shabari welcomed Rama and Lakshmana with forest fruits—and after meeting Him, she ascended to the heavenly world. That’s the gist.
Now, what is being conveyed by this? We need to understand four main points.
First: Matanga Muni and Matanga Forest. Who is Matanga? Not some physical sage named Matanga. We have to understand who Matanga is within us. Look at the word Matanga in Sanskrit; divide it as mattam + ga—ga meaning “goes/attains,” and mattam meaning “joy.” So Matanga means “one who attains joy,” and muni means mind. Thus, Matanga Muni is “the mind that has attained joy”—a gladdened mind.
When does the mind attain this joy? In worldly life, the mind feels joy from many things—buying goods, building a house, children’s doings, social activities. But that’s not the joy meant here. This is not from outer means. Matanga here means the joy that comes from keeping the company of sat—the true and the good: the company of noble persons, and the study and listening of true scriptures. The joy the mind experiences in the company of sat—that joy-filled mind is Matanga Muni. So the key point is: Matanga = the mind gladdened by the company of truth.
Second, Shabari, the central figure. What does Shabari mean?
We just said Shabari is Matanga Muni’s disciple. That is, from the mind’s joy born of sat-sanga, a particular mental tendency arises—a specific longing: “May I have Self-vision; may I gain Self-knowledge.” In spiritual language this tendency is called mumukshutva—the longing for liberation. When we study true scriptures and the mind is gladdened, mumukshutva arises within. This mumuksha-tendency is what they have called Shabari.
Why that name? Because the mumuksha-tendency is neither fully in knowledge nor fully in ignorance. By experience we can see it: study of true scripture brings joy; from that, the desire for Self-knowledge is born. But we are not fully enlightened, nor entirely ignorant—a mixture of both. In Sanskrit, such “mixed” is called shabali—variegated, mottled. Not wholly white, not wholly black—speckled. So where there is some knowledge and some ignorance, but a living desire for Self-realization, that shabali state is present. To veil the inner truth a bit, the texts often tweak letters: shabali becomes Shabari (changing l to r), just as purast became Pulastya by changing letters elsewhere. Thus Shabari symbolizes mumukshutva—a mix of knowledge and ignorance, yet ardently longing for Self-knowledge. And that’s why she is called Matanga’s disciple: the mumuksha-tendency arises from the joy of sat-sanga.
Next, the text says Shabari gathers wild fruits and roots. Read plainly, it sounds like a woman plucking forest produce to feed Rama when He comes. But here, Shabari is not a physical woman, nor is Rama merely a person. Rama here means Self-knowledge, and Shabari is the mumuksha-tendency. Her longing is: “When will I abide in Self-knowledge?”
So what are these “fruits and roots”? Think of the spiritual law of cause and effect. The Root (mula) of this universe is Paramatma/Atma. What emanates (the effect) is the world/body. At the individual level, the root is Atma; at the collective, Paramatma. So Shabari—the mumuksha—collects mula and phala: she gathers knowledge of the Self/Paramatma (the Root) and knowledge of the world/body (the fruits/effects). Wherever she finds even a little Self-related insight or world-related understanding, she collects and keeps it. That is the gathering of wild fruits and roots.
Then the text says Shabari beholds Rama and goes to heaven. What does that mean? The aim of the mumuksha-tendency is moksha—here meaning Self-vision, abiding in Self-knowledge. Moksha is not “freedom from birth and death” in a simplistic sense; its benefit is that we make our life noble. When the mumuksha achieves its aim—Self-knowledge—its task is complete, and it naturally falls silent; there is no further need for the longing, since the goal is attained. The scripture signals this poetically: “By Rama’s darshan, Shabari went to the imperishable realm.”
Now, are we understanding Shabari correctly as mumukshutva? Rama’s six questions to Shabari confirm it. He asks:
Have you conquered all obstacles?
Is your tapas growing?
Have you mastered anger and appetite?
Do you keep the vows you accepted?
Do you have happiness and peace in your mind?
Has your service to your teachers borne full fruit?
These six checks show whether true mumukshutva has arisen. When it does, six signs appear: we don’t panic at obstacles; our austerity keeps progressing; we bring anger and sensory intake (ear, eye, tongue—their “food”) under some control; we observe chosen disciplines; and happiness and peace abide within; service to teachers becomes fruitful. On these we should examine ourselves: is our mumukshutva genuine, or are we just putting on a show of satsang?
Further, Rama asks to see Matanga Forest. Shabari shows it, saying Matanga Muni left long ago, but the bark-garments they spread are still damp; the garlands offered to the gods haven’t withered. What does that indicate? She glosses valkala (bark) as “var-kar”—var (best) and kar (karma), with the letter play again: valkala hints at noble actions. When the mind, gladdened by true scripture and endowed with mumukshutva, turns toward Self-knowledge, one’s actions become noble, and those noble actions never “dry up”—they continue steadily. Likewise, the gods’ flowers haven’t withered means that divine feelings—flower-like inner sentiments—blossom within such a mind and do not fade.
So, though the story is short, it carries three compact teachings. In essence:
Satsanga (study and listening to true scripture) gladdens the mind (Matanga).
From that joy arises mumukshutva (Shabari).
Sustained long enough, it becomes a samskara—an abiding tendency toward knowledge. Then, gathering knowledge (of Self and world) steadily, one day Self-knowledge surely dawns—“Rama’s darshan.”
Thus the episode is an interlude within Rama’s main narrative, but its message is clear. We now understand Pampa as the Vijnanamaya Kosha—purity, clarity, knowledge. Abiding there, we awaken the sleeping knowledge within (Sugriva on Rishyamukha). And it is knowledge that will help us recover our purity—the purity abducted by Ravana, that is, by our own body-identified ego. From the next Sunday, the main current of the story will move forward along these lines.
Here the talk ends. We tried to grasp its essence. Now I’ll pause. If you have questions from this story—or any others—please ask.