Who is the real brahmin?

A recluse belonging to the Brahmin caste, who had been for a number of years performing severe austerities on the banks of a sacred stream, had by degrees come to regard himself as a most holy and pious man. His so called piety consisted in holding himself aloof from the general public, whom he considered as too low to associate with and whose touch and even near proximity he thought would defile him. He imagined that his daily ablutions in the holy water, his taking a solitary meal cooked by no other hand than his own, his constant recital of sacred verses with closed eyes for several hours, and his living far away from the habitations of other men had transformed him into a pure and virtuous man. He had not a spark of love in the whole of his heart, nor an atom of pity for the frailties and weaknesses of human nature, nor any wish to make the slightest sacrifice in order to help and cure erring mortals. His heart was like a deep abyss, awfully dark and bleak, shut out from the genial warmth of sun or the purifying influence of air. He resented any familiarity with him and would not allow anyone to approach his abode, as if his presence carried contagion with it. Although leading a life of penance, he was a man of violent temper, which, when once roused, he found difficult to control.

A washerman, who was a new arrival in the neighbourhood and quite ignorant of the residence of this recluse, came to wash his linen in the very stream, near which the hermit was at the time muttering his prayers with closed eyes, hidden by a clump of trees. The dhobi began to dash some dirty linen against a board, so close to the hermit that the sprinkle flew towards the latter and fell on his body. Opening his eyes, he discovered that the unwelcome intruder was a dhobi, a Chandala, who had dared to approach his sanctuary and there to defile him with the sprinkle of dirty washings. His rage knew no bounds. He abused and cursed the man and then, in a very angry and loud tone ordered him to desist from his dirty work and to instantly leave the place. The poor dhobi, who was lustily beating his linen, did not hear the hermit and innocently went on with his work. Finding his commands thus slighted, the hermit lost all self-control and rising from his seat, ran to the washer man and belaboured him mercilessly with his fists and legs, till he felt quite tired. His victim stood speechless and astonished at this sudden and uncalled for attack. But, perceiving that his assailant was a holy Brahmin, he could only mutter a feeble remonstrance and said, “My lord, what has this slave done to incur your displeasure?” The hermit replied angrily, “Why, Sirrah, how darest thou approach my hermitage and defile me by pouring the sprinkle of dirty washings upon my holy person?”

The dhobi, finding that he had been an unwitting intruder upon forbidden ground, offered a humble apology and prepared to depart. The hermit now perceived that he had defiled himself by coming in contact with a Chandala and must cleanse himself. He accordingly went to the stream and bathed himself, thus purifying himself from the momentary defilement. The dhobi also followed his example. The recluse did not understand the meaning of this proceeding and asked why he had washed himself. The dhobi said, “Sir, for the same reason that you washed yourself.” The hermit was still more surprised and rejoined, “I washed myself because I touched a lowborn washerman – Chandala – and thus defiled myself. But, why did you bathe? Surely, the touch of a holy man like me cannot carry any defilement?”

The dhobi weakly said, “My Lord, one far worse than a Chandala just now touched me through you. For, the burst of passion, which caused you to forget yourself and lay your hands on me was more accursed and unclean than a Chandala by birth. I came in contact with him through you and was thus defiled.”

The scales fell from the eyes of the hermit on hearing this. He pondered over this answer of the dhobi, which taught him a lesson which his vaunted austerities and penance had hitherto failed to do, viz. that he, who conquers his passion, is mightier than he, who subdues a kingdom and that there is no worse Chandala than one’s own ungoverned temper.

The hermit then compared himself – proud of his piety yet a slave to the sudden and violent gusts of temper – with the dhobi, who remained calm and unmoved even on receipt of the gravest provocation – and found how superior to him the latter was and which of the two had then acted the part of a real Chandala.

Questions:

1. Why was the Sanyasi angry and shouting at the dhobi?
2. What did the dhobi do?
3. What was the explanation given by the washerman?

Source- Stories for Children-II Published by- Sri Sathya Sai Books & Publications Trust, Prashanti Nilayam.