Lord Shiva Never Did It

“You must treat him very well. Give him solace whenever possible, serve him in sickness. Whatever he needs, give it to him. Beyond that, the only remedy is meditation.”

Long range words

The treatment that Baba gave to Keshava from Germany was peculiar.

After the General Secretary took Keshava through a typical set of questions & answers about 16 Points, Baba proceeded to speak to him in Sanskrit. Keshava didn’t mind; he understands very little English anyhow. Some of the Indian workers who could understand Sanskrit said that Baba was speaking about the law of action and reaction.

At the end of the session, Baba took Keshava’s head in His hands, and, rubbing it affectionately, said in English, “My poor boy … my poor boy

No one could understand the meaning of this, including Keshava.

Nevertheless, Keshava was so inspired he decided to go for acharya training.

[Author’s note: Keshava became an acharya, and then an avadhuta with the name Gunaragananda. In 1991, I spoke again to Gunaraga-nandaji about his dharma samiksha. His bewilderment about the meaning of Baba’s words “my poor boy” was apparently resolved when he had a serious car accident while in the Sweden acharya training center. He nearly died in the accident, and needed many months to recover. Severe scars remained. I say “apparently resolved” because a few years later, as an acharya, he had another accident in a car in Venezuela, in which the car flipped over several times, killing the driver. Gunaraganandaji was thrown a few meters away from the vehicle, even though he had been sitting in the back of the two-door car. Again it took months for him to get back on his feet. Hardly had he recovered when there was another incident. This time it was in Ananda Nagar, where he wandered into the jungle far away from our central quarters, fell asleep after doing meditation, and was attacked by tribal people. They stabbed him repeatedly and stole the little money he had. He told me, “Baba’s words in dharma samiksha helped me to keep going ahead even during these worst experiences. I accepted the suffering as a part of my spiritual path. I believe that during dharma samiksha Baba foresaw my death, and changed it into a series of accidents, which allowed me to go on working for the mission.”]

Brother G from the United States stood in front of Baba. After some personal talk, Baba said, “Your mind is unnecessarily disturbed about the past. You made some mistakes of a sexual nature.”

G’s face suddenly became very red.

“Yeah … yes, Baba,” he mumbled.

“When you were younger you had some misunderstanding about the relationship between men and women.”

He stared at the floor, saying, “Yes, Baba.”

“But it was not your fault. As a little boy you were simply influenced by your environment.”

G looked up at Baba. He sighed deeply, smiled slightly and said, “Thank you, Baba.”

“No need of thanks,” Baba said. “I merely convey to you the unadulterated facts. You were unaware. Unaware.”

G approached me after the session, wanting to get something off his chest.

“I never told anyone, Dada,” he said, “but since you were present today, I want to tell you that… that before joining Ananda Marga, I had … improper sexual relations.”

He watched for my reaction. Seeing none, he continued, “Even though I’ve been doing meditation for a number of years, it’s always bothered me; I’ve always felt guilty. But now Baba’s freed my mind. When He said it wasn’t my fault, something let go inside me. I feel so light now; I wouldn’t be surprised if I started to fly!”

Another episode from dharma samiksha:

BABA: Throughout your life you have had one obsession, one greatest fear. What is it?

MARGI: Ah … (apparently confused and unable to reply)

BABA: In your previous life you were a priest of common status. His duty kept him fixed at one temple. He often thought, “How can the idol I worship be God? God cannot be limited to a statue. So how can I find God?” He studied and searched for the answer.

But one morning, before he could come to a clear understanding, a snake bit him as he was picking flowers to offer to the goddess. Lying in the grass, in great pain, he thought, “If there is a God He must save me. Or at least He must properly guide me in my next life.”

Thinking that, he died. That is why you are here today. And that is why you feared snakes so much that you even imagined snakes where they were not. But from today, that fear will no longer trouble you.

Now, my boy, are you satisfied?

MARGI (smiling): Yes, Baba. Very very much.

My dharma samiksha

I stood before Baba for my own dharma samiksha. After passing through the normal preliminaries. Baba commented, “He has some sincerity, but it was better before.” I was mystified by this statement.

While analyzing my physical condition. He said, “There is weakness in your Vishuddha Chakra. 73 "

The asanas He prescribed were almost completely different from what I had expected. This was because I gave little importance a minor operation I had on my knees when I was sixteen years old, and to some weakness in my waist—but it seems Baba considered these defects to be critical.

The most beautiful element of my session, however, was something I am unable to adequately describe. It was how He looked at me and how He touched me.

His eyes penetrated far into my soul.

From that moment until even now as I record this memory, I have been feeling an extraordinary sort of ecstasy. Toward the end, He embraced me in such a way that every cell in my body burned with excitement.

I lost consciousness of everything except Baba Himself. I was so happy that my mind stopped functioning except for the thought Baba, Baba, Baba.

I’m not sure how long I had been sitting in His lap, when I suddenly became aware of someone pulling me off of Baba, saying, “Come on, others are waiting, you know.” I fell into prostration in front of Him, and then had a hard time struggling to stand up because my mind was almost out of touch with my body.

73 The fifth chakra, located in the center of throat

[Author’s note: Years later I add two comments in retrospect. First, I still cannot understand what He meant by my being “better before.” Did He mean my meditation, my dynamism, my devotion, my work, all these things, or something else? I don’t know. In any case the effect of His words is that I always feel like I do not express my full potentiality, no matter how much I try and no matter what I do. And yet I don’t feel any inferiority complex because Baba did not compare me with anyone else, only with my previous self. Thus His comment has never stopped pushing me.

Second, though I had no recognizable trouble with my throat before my dharma samiksha, I have often had problems with it ever since. J

Important to us, unimportant to Him

Dada A, born in the Philippines, received dharma samiksha.

When Baba referred to A’s secret weakness, he became so agitated that he soiled himself. All of the Dadas in the room saw a little bit of his diarrhea drip onto the floor. I suppose he had stomach trouble, and could not control himself.

Baba’s personal assistant, Dada Ramananda, said quietly in Bengali, “Baba, the boy soiled himself.”

But Baba seemed not to hear. He went on dealing with Dada A.

After a minute, the General Secretary said something similar to Baba. Again Baba paid no attention. Some of us whispered between ourselves. But Baba continued, unruffled.

When at last He took Dada A upon His lap and lovingly hugged him to His breast, Ramanandaji spoke again in Bengali to Baba about the feces. Baba lost His smile, and replied in Bengali, “What? Why didn’t you tell me before? Immediately clean up the floor! He must not stay here another moment! Nasty, nasty!”

Two Dadas pulled Dada A out of the room, though he didn’t care-not only because he hadn’t understood the Bengali, but also because Baba had finished the dharma samiksha, and blessed Dada A with His embrace.

Rather Dada A was so ecstatic, he must have been unaware of his own dirtiness.

We all laughed into our hands. I loved Him even more for pretending not to hear until the session was finished.

You win

Madhusudan, who was my guide in Mokamo during my field training in 1972, stood in front of Baba for dharma samiksha.

BABA: If you are following 16 Points you should step to the right side. If you are not strictly following, step to the left. (Madhu begins moving right.)

Wait. Do you have a shaoca manjusa? (A small bottle containing water, which is used for cleaning oneself after passing urine.)

MADHU: Yes, Baba.

BABA: But do you use it regularly?

MADHU: Yes, Baba.

BABA: No, it is not true. You have not been regular in usage. MADHU (in a strong firm voice): Yes I was! (He again starts stepping right.)

BABA (to other workers): Do not allow him to move right! MADHU: But I’m following 16 Points!

BABA: Two days ago you were in Patna at Dag Bangla Charaha Crossing at 9:30 in the morning. You passed urine but did not use your shaoca manjusa. Is it not?

MADHU (laughing loudly): You win, Baba. (He steps left.)

BABA (smiling): Just see, just see.

A secret revealed leads to freedom Brother M stood before Baba.

BABA: Before becoming a Margi, were you a worker for the Communist party? M: Yes, Baba.

BABA (chuckles, then says): How was the character of your fellow workers?

M: Very bad. Baba.

BABA (a little indignant): And what about your character, my boy?

M: My character was good, Baba.

BABA (a little angry): Tell the truth.

M: I’ve made no such mistake. Baba.

BABA: You are lying.

M: No, I’m not lying, Baba!

BABA: Come forward for atonement. (As M slowly begins stepping to the front, Baba leans forward with His stick.)

M (slightly stepping backward): No, Baba! I did nothing! BABA (in a strict tone): Turn around, and look to your rear. M (Turns his face around. He sees something which we do not see): Oh, Baba!

BABA (in a threatening tone): Need I say anything more about hat happened on 1st April? M: No, Baba! (He throws himself in prostration at Baba’s feet.) BABA: That will not suffice. Come to your feet. (M stands up. Baba beats him several times.)

Afterward, when M was asked what he saw, he said. “Didn’t you all See her? When I turned around, I saw my lady friend dressed in a black sari. She was a secret, burning in my heart.” Then he smiled, saying. “But now I’m free.”

Beyond criticism

Sister Aruna from northern Sweden stood before Baba. After going through the formalities of her name, duty, and so on, the General Secretary began asking her about 16 Points.

Baba interrupted, saying, “There’s no need to question her about her conduct. She is trying her best.”

We were all astonished. This was the first case of any Margi being declared uncriticizable.

I looked at Arana’s face. Instead of noticing the expansion of ego that such a comment would have caused in almost anyone else, she looked unselfconscious—her eyes glistened with tears. She was lost in the ecstasy of being with her Baba.

The flow of dharma samiksha has been different from Personal Contact. Over the past few years I saw many reactions to Personal Contact. My own Personal Contact was a case in point. But every dharma samiksha without exception resulted in unparalleled inspiration. Baba’s remarks were so individualized, both in rebuke and in praise, that each Margi was fully satisfied. The majority of us could confirm that He knows our most closely kept secrets, and knows every wave of our mind and body. I am sure that each and every Margi thought something like, “He cares for me. He loves me.”

In the last weeks. Baba gradually became sick. Today, August 24, the strain of altering our mental and physical condition reached the limit. He announced that the dharma samiksha program is now finished.

Conflict with a dancer of darkness

Lucknow. After the flood of feelings generated by dharma samiksha, today’s experience served as an ideal epilogue. But first something about yesterday.

Yesterday I left Calcutta by train for Delhi. Shortly before Delhi, a bridge collapsed; how, I never came to know. From that point on, the train moved backward to access a different route. But the speed was so pathetic that a distance which ought to have taken one hour took over twenty. At one rural station, while having a brief walk on the platform, I heard a sudden mixture of shouts and screams. Rocks flew through the air. The women and children ran to get back into the train. Not having the vaguest idea of the cause, I joined the ladies in retreat. As I jumped inside, I looked back in time to see a rock strike a man in the forehead. The scene was dotted with tiny pools of red blood.

As the ladies madly pulled down the iron shutters on the windows, I asked, “What’s happening?”

One of them replied, “The passengers are protesting that the train is taking so long.”

India: everything is here—from the crudest vulgarisms to the subtlest sublimities. This leads me into describing today’s episode, the cherry on my dharma samiksha cake.

Tonight was the third night of the new moon. I was busy the first 2 nights and this was the last possible night for doing my kapalika meditation. I had no choice but to break my journey here.

This was my first time in Lucknow and I had no idea where I could find the cremation grounds — the place for burning the dead, which is always located on a river shore. My questions raised a few eyebrows, but ultimately led me to a quiet corner of the city where I met the servant of a rich businessman.

His master was out of town, so he invited me to rest in his humble quarters. He said he would show me the cremation ground at midnight.

In the meantime, this illiterate man became intrigued by my talk of meditation. I initiated him. We meditated together, and had a simple supper. Later, in the dead of the night, he led me toward the river. As we came closer and closer, however, his legs seemed to drag.

“Sir, that’s it… there,” he said, pointing a shaking finger at the darkness at the end of the road.

“Very good,” I said. “But don’t call me Sir.”

After walking some steps, I noticed he was lagging behind. “Come along,” I said. “What’s the matter?”

“Sir … ah, Dada, don’t no go, Sir. Bad … verry bad …”

“Nonsense. There’s nothing to be afraid of.” I continued walking. I heard him start panting.

I arrived at the gate. He hung back about ten feet, shaking.

“Pie pie pleazzze. Sir … no, no!”

“If you don’t want to come in with me. it’s no problem. You can go back to your house, and I’ll go in alone.” “Really, Sir?” “Yes, sure. Why not?”

Saying, “Okay! Okay!”, he spun around and took to his heels, sprinting back down the road so fast that he reminded me of a character in a Charlie Chaplin film.

I turned back to face the gate. I noticed the total absence of sound. Even the leaves were silent. It was, somehow, artificial—too sudden. This may be interesting, I thought.

I passed through the gate and began walking down the grass-covered steps in the pitch darkness. I could only feel my way forward. Slowly, slowly…

A yell came from below! I halted to listen. A man’s voice, harsh, threatening. I knew enough Hindi to understand his unmistakable warning: “Don’t dare to enter! Get out of here!”

An Avidya Tantric, I thought. A lover of the dark force. A personal-power seeker. A black magician.

Yes this will really be interesting, I thought, smiling.

I stepped down: one step, two, three…

Again he shouted, with a guttural force I had never encountered before. “I’ll kill you, you madman! Begone! Begone!” He swore at me, using very dirty language.

My mind was calm. I was a bit surprised how I was taking it. This was to be a challenge arranged by Baba’s grace. I went on thinking of Him, confident that no power could be greater than His.

I walked further, and at last was the bottom of the stairway.

“I’ll murder you!” he screamed so loudly that I was momentarily stunned. Then I think he added, “And drink your blood! And eat your flesh! And swallow your bones!”

I had heard that some Avidya Tantrics can consume an entire human body in one sitting. It is one of their systems for extracting power from other Tantrics.

To hell with you, I thought clearly. I felt he could hear my thoughts. And perhaps it was so. For, as I continued on, he made no further sound.

His voice had come from the darkest comer of the place. In that direction, nothing was visible. In other directions though I could perceive vague shapes, I was unable to recognize anything. Then I saw a faint red light. It was the dying remains of a fire, a few embers. I walked toward it, feeling my way forward with my sandaled feet.

What was that? A movement near the fire … what? … a pair of … yes … a pair of eyes. I walked nearer. What? Not two eyes, four. No, more…. Many many eyes. Fantastic! I went on walking, thinking of Baba with each step.

Then I made out a form: a dog. No, there were many dogs. Scores of them. Maybe thirty or forty. As I drew closer, I could see their eyes gleaming with excitement. They were eating the last remains of a dead body. Their teeth glistened. They growled menacingly, facing me. I felt I could hear their thoughts: Don’t come forward anymore!

To hell with you too, I thought in reply. I continued moving toward them now that I could make out a path which passed near the fire. If I moved in any other direction God knows what I might have fallen into.

They growled louder. Though my body moved on, my thoughts stood still, contemplating Guru. I passed in front of the dogs. They snarled and bared their teeth but let me pass.

As I walked on further, I heard the bubbling of a river. I walked up to it, and put my materials on the sand. This was my spot. After preparing for the meditation, I started dancing Shiva’s Tandava to increase my courage. Immediately the man yelled and the dogs barked. With each step, I leapt high in the air, laughing in transcendental pleasure.

Then I sat. At last, undisturbed by any sound, I easily slipped into deep meditation.

When I finished, I walked back toward the fire. The dogs were still there.

But this time something was different. They looked mad. Their mouths hung open, saliva dripped from their teeth. They growled loudly—very loudly. Perhaps they were angry that I had succeeded in thwarting their efforts to stop me.

Seeing no alternative way, I continued walking toward them. They began moving here and there, and… what? They assumed an ominous shape. In the front was one dog, then two dogs, then three or four, then more—it looked like a triangle or a wedge pointed at me. Suddenly, they charged, growling furiously. Though I was still thinking of Baba, He put another idea in my brain: I ’ll kill the first dog, I thought.

In the very next moment after that thought, even before my hand could reach toward the knife which was in my pocket, the lead dog jumped into the air and let out a human-like scream. He somersaulted backward, smashing into the other dogs. Some of them screamed, others barked in low voices, as they fell apart from each other, confused, hurt, scattered.

I watched it all, from a point deep inside, not from my normal waking consciousness. The dogs looked away from me, whimpering, crying, and lost.

I walked on, came to the stairs and climbed out of this bizarre world. The man and the dogs had fallen into silence. Coming up onto the road, I didn’t bother to look back.

Delhi. I mentioned yesterday’s episode to an old Dada here. He said, “Yes, those dogs were real dogs. But they were controlled by the mental power of the Avidya Tantric. It’s a common phenomenon. He uses them for many purposes, including both protection and attack. When you thought to kill the first dog, the man surely caught your thought, and was terrorized. If you had killed that dog, who was moving on the thought currents of the man, it would have caused him great harm. It might even have killed him. That’s why there was such a reac¬ tion. Anyway it’s Baba’s play. He arranges such experiences for those who need them. If we surrender to Him. we pass the test. Of course the tests never stop. But. then, neither does His grace.”

People’s movement

Manerbio, Italy. 1982. The Margis have uncovered a major case of graft and corruption, and have organized a movement to try to stop it —Prout in action! 74 In a few months the local government plans to close the Manerbio hospital and shift its facilities to another town. The only reason for the move is the financial benefit it will bring to the host of companies involved in the construction of the new hospital. The losers will be the people of Manerbio, who will lose their hospital.

Sister Damayanti is the leader of this fledgling movement, along with her husband Jiivananda and two other Margis. Over the last few weeks many volunteers have helped them to distribute leaflets and collect petition signatures. Today they held their first demonstration. It was a grand success. Over 4000 people came and joined in the march.

Two months later. By now, the “Save Our Hospital” movement has had four demonstrations, with up to 8000 participants apiece. A few days ago an incident occurred which showed how much the local people have come to trust the Margis: During a village meeting held in a market place, speakers expressed their opinions about city conditions. At one point, a well-known priest said, “We have to encourage more

74 At this point in time, Prout people’s movements outside of India were still a novelty, i.e, such work had only just begun. Though M argis were the leaders of these actions, the participants were primarily non-M argis. The actions were of two main types—positive constructive programs and anti-exploitation drives. For example, I had recently participated in initiating a mass-housing action in Holland, and an anti-pornography drive in Norway. In India, Prout people’s movements had already begun many years before. Some had the support of hundreds of thousands of people.

275

Travels with the Mystic Master

the involvement by the young people of our city. Just see what good work is being done by those leading the Save Our H ospitat movement.”

From the crowd one women yelled back, “Si, noi crediamo piu in quei giovani che in te/—Yes, we believe more in those young people than in you!” Another yelled, “Perche voi preti non avete fatto niente per salvare il nostro hospetale tanto tempo fa?— Why didn’t you priests do anything to save our hospital long ago?” Someone else added, “Te giusto Stai saltando sul populare vagone della bandal— You’re just jumping on a popular band-wagon!”

An incident happened today which also demonstrates the movement’s strength, but in a shocking manner. After a morning meeting in one section of the city, the Margis drove to another meeting in a different part of town. Damayanti was so inspired she sang Baba Nam Kevalam the entire way, about thirty minutes, over the loud-speaker system mounted on the car’s rooftop. At the foot of a hill leading up to the meeting site, the car’s engine died. After the Margis got out of the car, a man opened the hood to check on the cause of the failure. He discovered a bomb lodged there! Because Damayanti had been using the amplifier throughout the whole drive, the weak electrical system was sufficiently over-taxed to cause the engine to die, leaving an insufficient charge for the bomb to explode.

Though the lives of the Margis were obviously saved by the grace of Baba, this experience shook them up. They had not understood the extent of the danger they faced from opponents of their movement.

Two weeks later. Today the local government announced its decision not to shift the hospital. A big party will be held by the public honoring Damayanti and the other leaders of the Save our H ospital movement.

Over the last weeks Damayanti and Jiivananda’s meditation became irregular. They gave more importance to their social work than to their spiritual practices. As a result, their behavior became more aggressive and egoistic. Fortunately, through discussion with acharyas a few days ago, they recognized this loss of balance — and they re-started their spiritual discipline.

It is surprising but true that those who work more also need to meditate

more.

You also Have to Play

276

A desperate attack

Luxembourg. 1 May. There is news from Calcutta. It is so outrageous, so abominable, so heinous that I find it difficult to write.

Yesterday morning at 6:30, our workers were attacked while coming by taxis to our Calcutta headquarters. Seventeen Dadas and Didis were killed in an atrocious manner. The same vicious tactic was used in each case. The attackers stopped the taxis at railroad crossings, pulled our workers out onto the street and first beat them with iron rods to make them helpless. They then blinded them by throwing acid in their eyes, gouged out their eyes with knives, stabbed them repeatedly, and finally doused their bodies with petrol and burned them.

Over the last few weeks, the Communists prepared the public for this attack by holding small street demonstrations and claiming that our orphanages and schools are full of children we stole from their parents. In response, we approached both politicians and newspapers to show the documentation of all the orphans under our care. We challenged the demonstrators to produce even a single parent with a complaint against us. Instead of responding to our documentation, the Communists tried to drum up further hostility by repeatedly shouting over loud-speakers “Beware of the Ananda Margi child-lifters!”

Only when the attacks occurred did anyone recognize that the dem¬ onstrations were part of a strategy to protect the true villains. At yesterday morning’s press conference. Communist politicians claimed that the violence was the spontaneous result of mob psychology, and that the attackers were parents and local people.

From the first, however, the public and the media unanimously rejected this explanation. The claim that it was a spontaneous uprising was patently absurd. How could a spontaneous uprising happen simultaneously in three separate locations, using identical methods? The local police were also responsible. For one hour after the attacks they refused to initiate an investigation, even though their station was within 200 meters of the incidents.

The attackers’ true intentions become clear once you add the fact that our Central workers come to the office by taxi at just this hour every day.

Only because Baba requested a special meeting the previous night was their schedule different yesterday. The mobsters planned to kill the Central workers, but instead the victims were all school teachers coming for a teachers’ meeting. 75

It may seem strange, but the Communists fear our moral integrity and low-budget social work. In comparison they know that their government looks corrupt and ideologically backward.

Our legal section has filed cases but the attackers have already absconded through police complicity. Since we well know that the West Bengal government will never make any investigation, we are demanding an inquiry by the federal government.

Considering that Ananda Margis have never engaged in violence, and that we have been victims of numerous personal and property attacks by the Communists, one would think at least the federal government will cooperate. But I do not expect cooperation, because the federal government is as corrupt as the state body.

In the face of these assaults, and without hope of government or police assistance, should we give up our social work and our social movements, and join the under-the-table diplomacy which rules the country?

Or should we gain strength and inspiration from the understanding that the corrupt are bound to attempt to destroy those who are non-compromisingly striving toward goodness? The answer is obvious.

Necessary insight and intuition

Calcutta. Several court cases are going on, most of them initiated by Ananda Marga to protest oppression by local communists or other politicians.

While informing Baba of the progress of these cases, one worker asked Baba for guidance.

Baba replied: “Ours is a missionary work. You are all working for long and have sufficient experience. Must I give suggestions on each and every petty matter? It gives me much pain. If you all are simply sincere with your meditation and 16 Points, you will get the necessary insight and intuition. This applies to all workers.”

He requested this statement to be made known to all workers.

75 Since apparently Baba knew the attack would occur, the question may arise why He allowed the school teachers to fall into the trap. Why does Baba (or for that matter God) allow anyone in the world to suffer or die? I believe that suffering can often be a positive force in the path of spiritual awakening. We are born in order to realize life’s lessons. Suffering and death are vital for that realization. Why Baba freed some people from certain suffering, and did not free others, isa far too complicated matter for me. Thedeep psycho-spiritual needsof both individuals and the society are involved. Surely He had His plan, and followed it.

Ananda Nagar. During afternoon reporting, one-by-one we stood in front of Baba, undergoing His scrutiny. When it was my turn. He exposed some of the defects of my work, and then began beating me with His stick.

The General Secretary said to me, “Give some explanation.”

Usually workers reply by saying something like, “I will do my work better, Baba,” or “I tried my best. Baba, but couldn’t get the public’s response,” or “Baba, Baba, Baba!” or some other unimpressive statement. Generally He continues the beating for some time.

But I said spontaneously, “I am lazy and selfish!”

His whopping became softer.

“I am stupid and insincere!”

The beating stopped. “What do you say, my boy?” Baba said. “I will change my ways and not waste a single solitary moment!” I said decidedly.

“Yesss. Very good.”

Afterward, one Dada said to me, “Those replies to Baba were very clever.” “But I meant it,” I said.

During the night reporting that same Dada came under Baba’s stick. Immediately he said. “I’m worthless and slothful!” Beat beat beat.

“I’m egoistic and not industrious!” Beat beat beat.

“Yes, yes. We know that,” said Baba.

Beat beat beat.

“But I’ll become a perfect worker, Baba!” Beat beat beat.

“Just words. Just words,” said Baba. Beat beat beat.

The Dada looked at me. I shrugged my shoulders.

“Baba, Baba, Baba!” he said.

The beating went on about double the normal time for him.