Sree Krishna, the Lord of Love

by Baba Premananda Bharati

That answer is: Because the whole universe, of which we are parts, has come out of that Eternal Abode of Happiness, called Bliss, where it had dwelt before creation, like a tree in a seed, and the memory of which dwells still in the inner consciousness of all created beings, though it has dropped out of their outer consciousness.

That abode of happiness is called the Abode of Absolute Love; the Hindoo calls it Krishna. The word Krishna, in Sanscrit, comes from the root "karsha"—to draw. Krishna means that which draws us to Itself; and what in the world draws us all more powerfully than Love? It is the "gravitation" of the modern scientist. It is the one source and substance of all magnetism, of all attraction; and when that love is absolutely pure, its power to draw is absolute, too.

In seeking even material Pleasure or happiness through life we are ever seeking this Absolute Bliss, only most of us do not know it. The man who devotes his heart and soul to acquiring wealth is, in fact, but striving to attain this blissful state. For what does the would-be millionaire work to make the million but to secure pleasure, the pleasure of good eating, good drinking, good living, good enjoyment—to be happy? He makes the million; but the happiness which he secures, by securing the means of pleasure and by enjoying the pleasures themselves, is not complete. He still feels some void in that happiness, something still wanting in those pleasures to make him fully happy. He therefore piles up more millions, he plunges into newer pleasures, he leaves no stone unturned to find the material objects which will add to his pleasure; and when he has secured all these objects and enjoyed them, he finds himself exactly at the same place where he was before—there is something still wanting to make him completely happy. Finding no newer objects which are likely to add to his happiness, he occupies himself by enjoying what he has already enjoyed over and over again; that is to say, he goes over again the same round of pleasures to delude himself into the belief that that is the best happiness allowed to mortal man.

But the delusion is temporary and far from complete. The longing, the search for something still wanting, is present all through that delusion—something unknown, but which he thinks he might know and recognize, if he once found it. But, alas, he does not!

Poor Man! He does not know the secret of true happiness, the happiness which is complete in itself, which never ends, which, once secured, never falls short or vanishes, which flows from within the heart through all the channels of the body, out through the pores of it in a continual stream of ecstasy. He does not know that this thing, this unending happiness, is not to be found in material objects; that it cannot be secured by the means or by the instincts of the physical senses, which cognize only material objects.

And why? Why is it that material objects fail to give us that true and absolute happiness, fail to satisfy the hunger of the yearning human heart for that unknown something which it feels somehow must exist, but which ever eludes its ken and quest, and which, alas! it does not realize that it once knew, that it once owned by right of heritage?

The answer is simple, and ought to be convincing to every thoughtful mind. The answer is: Because material objects are changeful in their nature and principle; because, being nothing but forms of changefulness, they do not possess this permanent, this unchangeable happiness, to give it to those who seek to derive it from them. An object whose very principle is changefulness can afford nothing which is not changeful in its nature. All the pleasures, therefore, that we derive from material objects must necessarily be changeful, which means short-lived, pleasures of short duration, broken pleasure, distinguished by the Hindoos from unbroken pleasure, which, because of its unbrokenness and ecstatic taste, ceases to be called pleasure and assumes the name of Bliss.

The question now arises, where is this true happiness to be found, if it cannot be found in material objects? Some modern scientists call this unbroken happiness a delusion and a snare of credulous humanity. Modern science has done much, has done wonders in this Western world. None but a fool will deny the glory of its brilliant achievements. But even among those who admire the wonderful progress of modern science, if there be one who fails to find anything in these products of science which is in any way likely to contribute towards the attainment of contentment by the human mind, that person need not necessarily be a fool. Modern science has excited our wonder, but has failed to make us either contented or happy—contentment and happiness, which are our eternal quest, the one object of our life, the one goal to which all creation is running in a blindfolded race. It should rather be claimed for modern science that it has made its followers outward-looking. It has produced conveniences and comforts of life, which have made all people hanker for them; and many, failing to secure them, make themselves discontented and unhappy. Modern science, in a word, has served only to put obstacles in the way of our attempt to realize that one object of our existence—contentment, which affords true happiness.

This leads me to repeat what I have just said, that no true or all-satisfying permanent happiness can be found in material objects, and hence the failure of material scientists to make humanity either contented or happy.

Where is, then, this happiness to be found?