Penniless in the Arctic

Nuuk, Greenland. 1983. I was the first worker to visit this Arctic colony, the biggest island in the world. Previously I worked in the southern part, but this is my first time in Nuuk, the capital city. I have no contacts here and no return ticket. Back in Denmark I purchased a round-trip ticket from Copenhagen to Sundre Stromford. For a bit of fun I only brought enough money for a one-way ticket from there to Nuuk. I’m scheduled to be here for ten days. In the meantime Baba, you’ll have to create enough Margis to pay for my missing plane fare, and my daily expenses. To add some spice to this brew, one of the Danes I met today said, “Good luck to you. It’s a rare Eskimo who’s mind is not lost in booze, dancing and motorcycles.”

The winter is harsh here. Half the flights usually get canceled due to bad weather. As I walk through the streets, I sometimes have to grab onto a tree to stop myself from being blown over. It once took me forty-five minutes to walk a distance which should have taken fifteen minutes. Coming back, I needed only five minutes — I was almost flying. Even the women wear pants here, so I am doubly unique in my orange lungi, which billows in the wind like a full skirt. I don’t know why I remain warm even while trudging through deep snow.

Nuuk is called “the big city”, though its population is a mere 10,000. In total, Greenland has a population of about 50,000, of which 80% are Eskimos and 20% are Danes. By World War II the majority of Eskimos had converted from nomad-life to town-life, though not out of preference. The shift was primarily to assist doctors who were facing difficulties trying to protect the people from diseases caused by “civilization”.

Since it is my policy not to stay in hotels while teaching meditation. Baba kindly arranged for me to “accidentally” meet a man who invited me to stay in his house. (One way or another, no matter where I am. He always provides a house for my stay.) I began setting up lectures immediately.

Next day. While walking in the snowy streets, I was surrounded by a group of about twenty teenage boys. They were a rowdy bunch, itch

You also Have to Play

280

mg for a fight. When they began pushing one another, it became clear that their real intention was to get around to pushing me. They were keen to test this strange man with a turban.

Later I came to know that it’s considered comical in Greenland whenever anyone falls down in the snow, especially if one gets hurt.

When they were just about to fling themselves into me, I had an inspiration. “I say! Do any of you know a good song to sing?”

A few of them knew enough English to understand me, and they fell into a parley. Seconds later they burst into an Eskimo tune, complete with gesticulations. That completed, I requested another song, and they complied with increasing enthusiasm.

Then they demanded a song from me so I regaled them with my latest frozen version of Baba Nam Kevalam. I made them sing it together with me, and soon we became fast friends.

By evening, word had gone around about that fine Dada fellow.

Coldest cold

Last night I had to perform my kapalika meditation. The only graveyard is dead-center in the middle of the town, flooded by electric light, so I opted instead for a tiny dark peninsula where long ago the people used to bring sick babies who would be left in the cold for some hours. If they survived, they were considered strong enough to deserve care. If they died, that proved they were better off dead.

Before beginning meditation I already felt chilled to the bone due to the freezing breeze. The wind was so strong that it tore off my lungi, which I had to dive to catch. Before I could grab it, the sea almost claimed it, and in the process I slipped on the ice just on the edge of the water, a dark mass of heaving waves. In the last moment, my foot caught on a jutting piece of ice, stopping my fall. I slowly edged my way backward a few feet, and arranged for my meditation without benefit of cover or blanket.

After a minute or two I no longer noticed the intense cold. Indifference to temperature is a common experience for those practicing kapalika meditation. Thirty minutes later, when I had finished, I again became aware of my body, which began shivering so strongly that I could not hold my equipment. Hardly able to stand, I dragged myself toward a nearby house especially arranged for my stay on this night.

281

Travels with the Mystic Master

After crossing the threshold, I laid thawing out on the floor about ten minutes, before moving toward my room.

The next morning I was fine. No matter what difficulties I face during meditation, I never seem to fall sick.

We had group meditation this evening. Because no one moved even slightly, and because there was heavy snow around the house, we experienced complete soundlessness. Impressive, especially considering it was their first such meeting.

Nothing unlikely

During my previous visit to southern Greenland a good number of people learned meditation. I didn’t think to contact any of them, however, because the only way to travel between cities in winter is by plane.

Yesterday, my first initiate down there had a strong thought of me and Baba. On the strength of that feeling alone, she flew here hoping to find me.

When she saw me today, she was just as surprised as anyone else that her intuition had been correct.

They say for the devotee nothing is impossible, or even unlikely.

Faith and fortune

A unit committee was formed tonight, selected from among the forty Margis who have learned meditation in the nine days since I’ve been here. The prediction about Eskimos lacking interest in meditation was wrong. About 80% of these new Margis are Eskimos, exactly reflecting their proportion in society.

I spoke to the most inspired sister, “I don’t have money for my return fare to Sundre Stromford. And I have to leave tomorrow evening.”

“Dada!” she said. “What are you going to do?”

“No, no,” I laughed. “That’s my question to you.”

“But I’m just a student…”

“Can I see your tongue?”

She stuck it out.

“It looks like a healthy tongue. Perhaps it will be of some use in asking the other Margis for help. But don’t press them. They should only give according to their feelings.”

She flashed a big smile and immediately left the room.

You also Have to Play

282

Next day. That sister ran up to me late this morning, saying. “Dada, look! We collected half of your ticket money! Here, please take it.”

“Thanks. Just see how Baba helps.”

“Yes…. Now what are you going to do to get the rest?”

I laughed and said, “Again, that’s my question to you.”

“But… I already asked everyone for money.”

“Well, how about going back to them, and asking for ideas how to get the rest?”

“But the airlines office closes in just four hours.”

“If you do your best, Baba will arrange everything. And remember, no pressure!” I said.

When at last she proudly presented the necessary amount for my ticket, we only had time to run to the airline office and slip in the door as it was about to be locked.

Who’s depending on whom?

Oslo. Today was the second and closing day of a skiing weekend that I had organized here in the Norwegian Alps as part of my regular sports and adventures program. 76 This was only the second time I’d been skiing. The first time was earlier this winter when I conducted a one-week outing in the Swiss Alps. Norwegians are a people said to be bom with skis on their feet. We held racing competitions. To allow me to participate, they gave me a liberal handicap of one minute on each run.

Toward the end of the day. in an effort to see how fast 1 could go, I ordered my feet not to turn inward, i.e. I would not allow myself to slow my downhill speed. I was soon moving faster than anyone else on the mountain. It was exhilarating. The only problem was that I had not yet mastered sharp turning. Because I could not turn around each of the skiers I was passing, I had to yell at those in front of me, “Look out! Look out!” Once they saw me they jumped out of the way. A neat, albeit, self-centered system.

76 At this time I was working as sectorial secretary of the Spiritualists’ Sports and Adventures Club, Two or three times a month we conduct weekend outings in different regions of the sector These programs ranged from mountain climbing, horseback riding, boating, forest hikes, and sports matches on up to full scale training camps teaching relief skills, first-aid, self-defense, survival ski I Is and higher philosophy.

283

Travels with the Mystic Master

At last I came to the final turn, sure that I had cut at least two minutes from my previous best time. As I rounded the comer I had a shock. Directly in front of me was a group of about thirty students, surrounding their teacher, who was lecturing them on some subtle point which demanded their full attention. When I yelled “Look out! Look out!” none of them heard. Within a moment I was on them. At the last moment they noticed me and scrambled out of the way. One of them, however, was not quite quick enough. My skis latched onto his; my head continued forward while he was thrown down; and then my feet, still wearing the skis, flipped over my head as I flew through the air over a fence.

While most of the route is open, fences are erected only where the fall is precipatedly steep. Thus, as I merrily winged my way over that fence, thinking of Baba, I was blissfully unaware that I was courting sweet death. What trouble some of us children make for our Father. He was compelled to save me by arranging my head-down-feet-up fall in a tree in such a way that my skis caught in the branches; I finished my route hanging upside-down with the top of my skull a few centimeters from the ground.

Throughout the weekend a fourteen year-old lad had taken a special interest in me; we usually skied together. This time, however, I had left him far behind in my flakes. Now, as he caught up, he saw me dangling from the tree, and shouted, “Wow, Dada! How’d you do that?”

“I’d prefer to tell you a little later,” I said. “Now how’s about lending me a hand, brother?”

It was nearly as dangerous getting me down as it had been getting there, but after a few minutes of nerve-racking efforts, my young friend had me back on my feet. Unbeknownst to me, the entire escapade, including my brief flight, had happened in plain view of the 200 or so skiers who were waiting for the ski-lift. I was met by loud applause while finally skiing down to the bottom.

The only explanation I can think of why He bothers to save such zany people like me time and again, is because normal conservative people are unwilling to lead this sort of Tantric lifestyle in which one never knows what will happen next. Baba simply has no alternative.

Entertainment at government expense

Paris. Last night, while traveling in a train and sleeping alone in a six-seat compartment, I was woken in an unprecedented manner. A

You also Have to Play

284

strong flash of light hit me directly in the face. Immediately I opened my eyes, sat up, and saw a man still holding a camera. Without even donating a few francs for the privilege of taking my portrait, and without offering a smile, he turned on his heels and high-tailed it out of the compartment. And I, without any idea as to what I was after, jumped up, and ran in pursuit. As I James- Bonded my way down the corridor, I passed a man walking in the opposite direction. Arriving at the link between two cars, I suddenly thought. What a dope I am! That was the camera-man, throwing me off his scent by acting opposite my expectations. I swung around, and raced back, just in time to see him disappear through the door leading to the next car. I rushed forward and turned the door handle, but he had locked the door behind him.

Well, I’m not so easily deterred, I thought, and dashed back to my room, opened my bag, and took out the key used for the doors between cars. (Because I spend so much time on trains, it is convenient to have this key.) Hurrying back to the locked door, I opened it. and entered the next car.

Though I looked at everyone in that car, I could hardly guess which of the apparently sleeping suspects was the real spy. Full of wonder, but not downcast, I returned to my cabin. Id given it a good try. but once again those fellows had gotten the upper hand. I laughed at what expense and trouble they were going to in building up their files on such a carefree, harmless guy. They consider me a dangerous radical, not realizing the true nature of the spiritual revolution for which I am struggling.

You also have to play

Calcutta. Today, during reporting, Baba divided the Dadas into two groups—ERAWS (Education, relief and welfare section) and TRIO (a conglomerate of the three other major trades). I took my place with the rest of the Trio group.

Baba instructed each group to condemn the members of the other group for insufficient speed in our work. Since criticism is a natural lower tendency, everyone passionately threw themselves into the allotted task.

I stood directly in front of Baba, two feet away from Him. The other Dadas, all Indian, yelled accusations back and forth in Hindi and Bengali. Since these languages are not my forte, I remained silent, preferring to feast my eyes only on Baba. For about ten minutes I did

285

Travels with the Mystic Master

nothing but stare at Him, entering into a higher and higher state of mind Meanwhile the room was filled with emotion-laden vocabulary. Baba’s expressions varied throughout, shifting from frowns to smiles to head-nodding to “Here here!” and so on.

All of a sudden He looked straight at me, then pointed and said, “And you! What are you looking at?”

I laughed loudly, then said, “I’m looking at my favorite person.”

“Eh, what do you say?”

“I’m looking at You, Baba.”

“No, no, no. You also have to play the game. You are not exempt.”

Immediately, without waiting for any further prodding. I turned away from Him, and, looking at the ERAWS workers, I said loudly, “You are all just like a bunch of dirty ants, not using a drop of your potentiality; you only swim in the muds of staticity, becoming more and more grimy with each passing day, enjoying your useless existence, and speaking highly of how you moved a few twigs and leaves here and there; and then jumping on the nearest sugar cubes and licking and licking until you become sick and have to fast (‘well it’s fasting day, and we had to fast anyway,’ you say), and proud that you move from place to place, diligently making a mess everywhere you go!”

While I was speaking, everyone was laughing, and Baba said, “Just see … Just see …”

“In short,” I said, “the pigs who roll in filth are better than you, because in the end at least they provide a bit of protein to the meat-eaters.”

I swung back around to Baba. He stuck out His chin and pursed His lips, saying, “Yesss. Rightly said.” He waved His hand at the others, and again they started up. I was left to return to my silence, and dived even more deeply into my contemplation of Anandamurtiji.

This reminds me of a story of a brother who visited Baba in the jail some years ago.

He was an Indian named Rajesh, who was by nature mild and quiet. After Rajesh was with Baba in His cell for five minutes, the guard said. “Time’s up. You’ll have to leave now.”

“Rajesh,” Baba whispered, “the rule permits you ten minutes. Tell them strongly not to disturb us.”

Looking at the guards, Rajesh said softly, “Please don’t disturb us.”

You also Have to Play

286

The guards laughed. Then one of them said roughly, “Now get up and get out, young man.”

“Rajesh, you have to shout at them,” Baba said.

“Please don’t disturb us!” Rajesh said in a louder voice.

The guards didn’t look pleased. The leader said stiffly, “You have to follow what I say. Now leave!”

“I told you to shout,” Baba said. “You’ve got to do it much louder.”

“You have no right to stop me now!” Rajesh yelled. “You are violating the rules, and you are infringing on morality!” Later he said that in all his life, he had never raised his voice so loud.

“You cannot criticize us!” said the guard. “Get out now, or we will take physical action against you.”

“Rajesh, you’ll have to use all your force and all your anger,” said Baba.

Rajesh stood tall, pointed his finger at the guards, and with burning eyes, and a blasting voice shouted, “Get away, you animals!! Or else you’ll have to suffer forever!!”

Without another word, the guards all lowered their heads, turned and slipped away, tripping over each other, leaving Rajesh and Baba alone.

“Well done, my boy, well done,” Baba said.

Intervention

Toronto, Canada. I’ve been assisting another worker here who is struggling to receive political asylum. I had some doubt if our approach was correct or not, so I called Calcutta two weeks ago. I asked Dada Rama-nanda to explain our strategy to Baba and to let me know His response.

When I called back a week ago, Ramanandaji said. “I’m sorry. Baba has been too busy, and there was no scope to ask. Call me again in a few days.”

Three days ago I again called Ramanandaji and he said, “There’s still been no chance. Please call later.” His tone told me that he didn’t want to speak to Baba about it. I was desperate, and thought, “Baba, please help…”

Today I called Dada Ramananda, and he said, excitedly, “A funny thing. Honestly, I was hesitating to ask Baba. But just after your last call. Baba came out of His room and asked. Who was that on the phone just now?’ In all these years. He has never once inquired about phone calls. I told Him your name, and before I could begin to explain your question. Baba said, ‘Yes, I know what they are trying to do there. It is good. Tell them to continue their efforts.’”

You also Have to Play 287

It’s certainly impressive that Baba knew what we were doing without having any objective information, but I give more importance to the fact that if He had not personally intervened we would never have received a reply.

Bathroom power

Oulu, Finland. I am staying in the home of a man to whom I taught meditation only yesterday. This morning, after he took his shower, he approached me and said, “Dada, I felt an extraordinary vibration in the bathroom just now. Did you cause it? Did you practice any special bathroom- meditation?”

“Did you hear anything while I was in the bathroom?” I asked.

“No. Should I have heard something?”

“I mean did you hear any sound coming from the bathroom then?”

“No. I was in my bedroom while you were bathing. It’s too far away from the bathroom for me to hear anything.”

“Then I’m surprised. Yes, 1 always chant a special mantra when I finish my shower. But I never expected someone else might notice the after-effects on the bathroom itself.”

“It must be a powerful mantra! What is it? Please teach me!”

Though I usually only teach this mantra to people who’ve been meditating for a good while, here was a man who was thirsty for experience, even in the bathroom. So I explained, “Whenever we take a shower, it’s like a fresh start. Incantation of the bath mantra inaugurates our coming day, immerses it in God. 1 love the feeling. While still wet, we face the sun or any other source of light and chant this mantra together with some special hand gestures .” Then I taught him the bath mantra. 77

77 The bath mantra itself goes like this: Pitri purushe byo ndma/ia, rishi devebyo namaha

I pay my respect to the ancestors, I pay my respect to the pioneers and wise people B rahmarpandm, Brahma havi

The offering is Brahma (Infinite Consciousness), the object offered is B rahma Brahmagnao Brahmanahutam

The One to whom the offering is made is Brahma, the person who is offering is B rahma

Brahmaeva tena gantavyam

The goal of the offering is Brahma

Brahma karma samadhina.

When the work of Brahma is done, s amadhi (self-realization) will result.

Forgetting and Remembering

288

CHAPTER 17

Forgetting and Remembering

Not an ordinary body

Calcutta. 1984. Whenever Baba walks downstairs for field walk. He always passes by a door behind which I often stand. I keep that door open a crack so that I can see Him. He usually stands there for some time, talking with two or three workers. I feel He does it just to please those of us looking through the crack.

Today, however, He passed the crack without stopping. I saw Him for only a few seconds. Immediately after He left my field of vision, I closed my eyes and sat for meditation. A surge of energy rose in my body, halting only at the crown of my head, where it continued pulsating throughout a half hour of meditation. When I opened my eyes, the powerful vibration ceased.

One week later. Over these last days I have been grabbing any opportunity to see Baba, even for a brief moment. Immediately after seeing Him, I do meditation. The throbbing experience invariably returns. This is my own personal proof that Baba’s body is not like those of other people. Merely seeing His body induces a spiritual change in me. Now I understand the true value of both physically seeing Gum, and mentally imagining Gum.

Yes, I understand. But how useful is it to explain this to others?

When I mentioned my realization to Dada Amalvikashananda, he remembered an experience which he had in front of the same door. A very different sort of experience.

289

Travels with the Mystic Master

“A few weeks ago,” he said, “Baba smashed my ego just beyond this door. I was standing there and talking with Him. He shouted at me about my poor work. I was so embarrassed, thinking that everyone was hearing. So very softly, I said to Him, Baba, excuse me, but maybe it’s better you rebuke me inside the house; the neighbors are listening, and they may get the wrong idea.’

“Baba raised His eyebrows and said sharply in English, ‘Prestige, huh? Prestige…’

“He let His words sink into my brain. Then without going inside. He went on shouting at me, with only one difference-His voice tripled in volume.”

New cultures: adapt or clash out

Tokyo, Japan. After eight years working in Europe, I’ve been posted to the Far East Asia sector as the Public Relations Secretary, with additional duties as Medical Secretary and Publications Secretary. 78 Though our head office is in Tokyo, our greatest number of Margis are in Taiwan.

This posting is interesting for me from a cultural perspective. It may also have a radical psychological effect on me because Oriental human relations are completely different from what I’m used to. Until now I could get away with being individualistic, forcefully determined, even blunt and ambitious. Not so here. These qualities are generally unacceptable among Japanese, Chinese and Koreans.

[Author’s note: Such changes in myself did not come as easily as I hoped. Though it did not take long for me to properly alter my external behavior, the more important development was a mental one. Orientals rarely directly say what they intend to communicate; most of them are more sensitive on the feeling level. So the mental change I had to undergo to live and work with them related to becoming more silent and attuning my intuition. It was such a deep process that, even now years later, I don’t feel I have completed it.]

8 The Far East Asia sector consists of J apan, Taiwan, South K orea, Hong K ong, M acao,

M ainland China, Tibet, M ongolia, North K orea, Asiatic Russia, and thefiveAsian countries of theprevious Soviet Union. Because the last ten countries occupy 90% of the geographical area of the sector, yet were, at this time, under oppressive communist regimes, we were only able to work openly in ten percent of the sector.

Forgetting and Remembering

290

Three months later. Public Home Concert program held for the public in the yoga center this evening. The program included mime, Indian sitar music, and modem dance. 79

Bad stimulates good

Train from Delhi to Calcutta. A song inspired by yesterday’s train journey in an over-crowded second-class wagon:

Riding on an Indian train, people sleeping brain to brain. Heads and feet in touch all the night, their minds adjusting more or less right.

It’s terrible to see men packed like sardines, sharing their chapatiis and beans. It’s terrible to see men resting in filth, only to enrich those with the wealth.

Refrain:

Lovers of life reject the status-quo. Those who accept don’t want to grow. Just now there’s no room to doubt: we’ve to open to the flow of Prout.

Those stinky lousy capitalists— in their faces they deserve flying fists to save them from the path of min, or else mankind will be destroyed soon.

But don’t you worry, Jimmy or Joe, there’s purpose in this painful show.

79 This was the first of our Home Concert series, which continued on a monthly basis for seven years. Renaissance Artists and Writers Association (RAWA) became well known to much of Tokyo’s progressive community because of these special programs. I say special because in all of J apan, R A WA’s concerts were the only informal affairs at which there was no smoking or drinking, at which the performers knew they would be watched with full attention, and after which fine vegetarian meals were served during which peoplehad an opportunity to socialize.

291

Travels with the Mystic Master

Realization comes out of clash. So pity the man with excessive cash.

Refrain

Bad is made to stimulate good, without which wed not know what we should. Without black there’s no thing as white. Without love who could notice man’s fright.

To answer to the eternal call we’ve to polarize almost ail- so mediocrity becomes far less, and purpose comes from our unending stress.

Prout, Prout:

to get rid of all the doubt. Shout for Prout, and spout for Prout, bout for Prout. Come out for Prout.

Do you like It, my boy?

Ananda Nagar. 1985. Dada Yatishvarananda told me a story from his days as a regional secretary in India. Baba was making a tour of south India, and Dada was accompanying Him. Many local Margis came to meet Baba at an airport where His flight was in transit. In an informal mood. Baba asked one mother to pass her young son to Him. Baba took the boy in His lap. Dada was standing behind Baba, and was very curious because he had never seen Baba treat a child in this way. Baba smiled, then gently grasped the boy’s lips, and sweetly said, “Yes, yes, my boy.” The child became excited and shouted, “Baba! Baba!” Immediately the mother and most of the other Margis began softly crying. Dada said that he thoroughly enjoyed the scene, though he had no idea what caused their tears.

Shortly after, Baba and Dada were called for their flight. Baba’s security guard delayed slightly and then met them inside the plane. When he sat down, he said to Dada, “Do you know what really happened back there?”

Forgetting and Remembering

292

Dada said, “No. Tell me.”

The guard said, “Afterward, I asked the mother and other Margis, who were all completely thrilled. They told me that even though that boy was four years old, he had never uttered a single sound. They believed he was completely mute. Though it seemed Baba made no special effort, He made the child speak.”

At this moment Baba turned His face toward Dada, and said, “Do you like it, my boy?”

Fighting samskara

Tokyo. Virendra from America is here. He is one of only ten non-Koreans in the world who have the top black belt of a Korean martial art called K ok Sul 1/1 /on, the traditional self-defense method used by guards of the Korean royal family. Before becoming a Margi, Virendra had a job as a bouncer in a California bar. He had to deal daily with tough rowdy drunks.

When I worked for Spiritualists’ Sports and Adventures Club in Europe I often arranged self-defense training at our weekend camps. Over the years I experimented with different martial art systems. I searched for an instructor who could teach enough in a few days to be of practical use for our students, but I was unsuccessful in that search.

I put the problem to Virendra, and he worked out a series of movements covering the most common situations which arise during confrontations on the streets of our violent world. Of course I asked him to teach me the course. This is the first time I’ve been able to really learn self-defense.

One month later. I have been practicing Virendra’s defense techniques. As a consequence, I’ve been itching for a situation to test my new skill. But I thought it unlikely; I’ve had no need to physically fight anyone for many years. Today, while passing through Shibuya, I ran into a Margi who sells paintings on the street. He had to go somewhere so he asked me to watch the paintings.

Soon after he left, another street-seller appeared. He was a French fellow, and a head taller than me.

“Get your stuff out of heere,” he said. “This is my place.”

“They’re not mine,” I said. “I’m just guarding them for a friend. He’ll be back soon.”

293

Travels with the Mystic Master

“I don giive a damn! Move iit, or I’ll destroy all these paintings.” My heart start beating faster. Would I get a chance to use my new Skill?

“I’m not moving, brother,” I said, staring him in the face. “And you’re also not going to touch the paintings.” “You wanna fight, huh?”

“No, I don’t want to fight,” I fibbed. “But if you’d like to fight. I’m ready.”

He rolled up his sleeves, flexing his muscles. I stood motionless, and centered myself as Virendra had taught me. Suddenly he rushed at me. He lifted his hands to grab my shirt-front and throw me on the ground. But as he did so, I raised my arms in between his, caught his wrists, stepped to the side, and pulled him forward in the same direction as his momentum. He fell in a heap on the ground, skinning his hands and knees. Fantastic! It was so easy!

He jumped up, clearly shocked that such a small guy could trip him like that.

“So! You reeally wanna fight, don’t you?” he shouted.

A crowd began to gather around.

“I told you,” I said evenly. “I’m not interested in fighting. It’s up to you.”

His eyes shifted nervously as he said, “Are these paintings really not yours?”

“Of course not. My friend will come back soon.”

“Okay,” he said softly. “Let us wait for him.”

The crowd dispersed. I offered him a seat.

The Margi took a long time to come back, so the Frenchman and I got to know each other. He had many personal problems, and ended up by asking me to teach him meditation.

I admit I shouldn’t have desired this sort of confrontation. But sometimes the wild child inside me gets the upper hand. I was lucky this time that Baba didn’t punish me for my foolishness. 80

80 The physical world directly reflects the needs of one’s mind. A seasoned spiritual aspirant usually remains busy in dealing with responsesto very old needs. When such a person createsa fresh strong desire for anything, that desire is bound to get fulfilled. Usually it happens sooner rather than later. Conscious desire is dangerous, however, because it is contrary to the path of selflessness.

Forgetting and Remembering

294

Non-stoppable devotees

Calcutta. Among the different gifts I brought for Baba this time was a bottle of chocolate Horlicks powdered-malt mix. 81 Today I was happy to see Dada Keshavananda prepare a big glass of the Horlicks for Him.

A few minutes later, Dada came out of Baba’s room. He put the half-empty glass on a table. “Did Baba enjoy it?” I asked. “Of course.”

“Did you mention my name?” “Of course.”

“Thank you. Now, how about a little prasad (spiritually vibrated food)?”

“What?” he said. “Don’t be silly. You know wholetimers can’t take chocolate.”

“C’mon, Dada. It’s prasad. No problem.” “Noway.”

Starting to advance toward the glass, I said, “Please, Dadaji.” “No. You’re not permitted.”

“Well, I’m just going to take it,” I said, moving closer to the glass. “No. Don’t touch it.” “I’m taking it.”

“No! It will… what are you doing?” “Drinking it of course!” “You drank it!” “Of course.”

Even in the case of Dadas, boys will be boys.

[Author’s note: This reminds me of an incident that occurred when Baba was in Germany. At 10:00 a.m. on a fasting day. Dada Karuna

81 Dadas and Didis are not permitted to eat mildly stimulating food I ike chocolate, non-herbal tea, coffee and Coca Cola, Baba, however, did not follow such a restriction because He wished to provide a living example not only for renunciatesbut also for family people (who are permitted to eat such thingsin moderation). For the same reason. Healso shaved. However, He fasted four times a month like a renunciate, and of course completely refrained from consuming such foods as meat, fish, eggs, onion, garlic, mushroom, alcohol and narcotics.

295

Travels with the Mystic Master

nanda and I were waiting for Baba in His house. We were alone when we noticed four glasses, each with a small amount of orange juice. Obviously this was the remains of a pre-dawn drink Baba had taken in preparation for fasting. We grinned at each other, and, without exchanging a word, each picked up a glass and bottomed-up. Then, laughing with glee, we proceeded to the third and fourth glasses—merrily breaking our fasts. Actually, I didn’t really feel as if I had broken my fast, since the orange juice was pure prasad— not food. I didn’t feel the slightest twinge of conscience. To the contrary, even now looking back so many years, I still derive a certain pleasure from the simple devotion that guided us. ]

Real life drama

During our global reporting sessions, Baba has a fixed order in which He calls the representatives from the different sectors of the world. At present I am representing Hong Kong sector, which is always the first sector to be called. (In Ananda Marga, the Far East Asia sector is called ‘Hong Kong sector’.)

The session began:

BABA: How many district in-charges came from the ladies’ section of Hong Kong Sector?

GLOBAL HEAD OF WOMEN’S WELFARE DEPARTMENT: Ah… ah…

BABA: Speak up.

GLOBAL HEAD WOMEN’S DEPARTMENT: Ah… none. Baba…

BABA: Haat! What nonsense? Let the lady representative of Hong Kong Sector step forward. (Silence. No one moves.) What is this? Is there no representative even?

GLOBAL HEAD WOMEN’S DEPARTMENT: I … I’m sorry. Baba. She did not arrive yet. (In fact, all the Didis of all sectors except Hong Kong are present. There is no question of “yet”.)

BABA: What a sorry scene. Stupid, nonsense. Then let the male representative of Hong Kong Sector step forward. (I move to the front.) What is the excuse? (I remain mum.) How can you justify such nefarious behavior? (Though; I am silent, and nothing could be more awkward, nevertheless I’m enjoying His attention. Any attention is better than none.) And how many district in-charges are present from the male side of Hong Kong Sector?

296

Forgetting and Remembering

ME (unhesitating, with a clear voice, head unbent): Zero, Baba. (An abrupt silence rolls over the room. Everyone holds their breath, expecting an onslaught from Baba. Sure enough…)

BABA (shouting at such a volume it can be heard well beyond the closed door): What?! You foolish idiot! Scoundrel rascal! Then what was your purpose in coming here?! Have you come just to enjoy yourself?! Just to kill our time?! You have no right to be here! (Pointing His finger toward the door, He shouts at ear-splitting volume:) Get out!! Get out!! Get out just now!!!

ME (speaking quickly): But, Baba, district in-charges are on their way from Taiwan—they will surely be here any moment. (Though this is a possibility, it sounds like a common, lame excuse. Everyone in the room remains super tense.)

BABA (turning His head from side to side, squinting His eyes, pushing His lower lip out, and speaking in a radically opposite voice, that is, softly and slowly): But… don’t they know? … Don’t they know that they are to arrive here by the 30th?… GS Dada? (Confusion reigns in the room due to Baba’s sudden mood change.)

GENERAL SECRETARY: Yes, Baba, they must know. (Silence as Baba turns His head again and again.)

BABA (in a low, almost inaudible voice): Alright… and … Manila Sector … what is your status?

After receiving Baba’s spiritual force, my mind was so blown that I could not think what to do next. Several Central workers motioned me to fall back into line. The session continued on a low key.

A few minutes later. Baba signaled the end of reporting. After the Didis and sisters left the room, we performed M adhur Sadhana in front of Baba. 82 Then He left the room. Immediately, four or five Central workers came to me and asked, “What happened? Just when we were sure you would be out on your ear, and all of us would have to step forward to give explanation for your indiscipline; just when we thought there would be a thick drama complete with punishment; just then. Baba changed His mood and let you go. He saved you. Dharmaveda- nanda.”

82 Madhur Sadhana is a special spiritual practice which includes kiirtan. It is done only by acharyas. Didisand Dadasperform it separately.

(

297

Travels with the Mystic Master

“I don’t have any idea,” I said. “My district in-charges really are coming, you know.”

“Sure, sure!” they all laughed, not believing me.

Two overseas workers then walked up to me. Expressing surprise, they said, “Hey, what? You’re still here? But Baba told you to get out, didn’t He?”

Now I laughed. The tension and impact created by Baba’s shouting had been so much that these two workers had not even perceived the exchange afterward between Baba and me about the Taiwan district in-charges. These two must have been in shock.

I was about to leave the room when Baba’s personal assistant, Keshavanandaji, re-entered. “Dharmavedananda, Baba just asked me to collect any further information on the Taiwan district in-charges.”

“I don’t know,” I said uneasily. “They were… supposed to come by now.”

“Baba mentioned that they may now be somewhere between Nepal and India.”

“It could be,” I said. “I don’t know.” “And He

wants an investigation made.”

I laughed nervously. What was this all coming to? Was He planning to catch me on another day about my so-called missing Margis? I sighed, thinking, H e will do whatever H e likes. A rid whatH e likes is perfect.

Three days later. Twice daily Baba has been asking for any report on the Taiwan Margis. At last today information arrived from northern Bihar near the Nepali border. The four Taiwan Margis really are there—but they are in jail! Getting Indian visas in Taiwan is an extremely long process, and to avoid being late, they came without visas, trying to cross the border without being seen.

Surely Baba saw their situation in that same moment when He suddenly changed His mood in reporting.

Three months later. Tokyo. 1986. Today I spoke by phone with Taipei. The four brothers and sisters who were arrested in India arrived back home a few days ago. After their ordeal, they received a

Forgetting and Remembering

298

hero’s welcome. They spent three months being shifted from prison to prison in northern Bihar. For part of that time they were held in the Bankipur Jail in Patna where Baba had stayed. For one month they fasted on only water and juice to protest their imprisonment. During that time, they had special experiences of Baba’s grace—brother Keshava even had a few visions of Baba in his cell. Toward the end they all had the clear intuitive foreknowledge of the exact date that they would be released. Though they were unable to enter India, their risks and sacrifices led to some colorful moments. Dare I say the spiritual benefit was even greater than if they had passed undisturbed into India and physically met Baba?

Dream trance

Benefit concert held on behalf of our work in Burkina Faso, Africa. 550 people attended. By the collection from this program a medical center will be built. 83

I had a dream early this morning:

After walking through a pasture alone with Baba, we stood outside His house. He told me, “It will be highly useful for you to engage in three activities. The first is writing. Your writing will enable you to contact many leading personalities. And that is your second work: to meet such leaders. For example, university presidents,….” His voice trailed off, so I could not catch the other examples.

At that moment a few workers and Margis joined us.

“I know some leading musicians who might perform for our benefit concerts,” I said.

“That’s nice,” Baba said.

Brother Naviin, a Margi musician said. “I would love to hear those performers. Baba, a few years ago we arranged a large concert in the United States, but….”

83

At this time the work in Burkina Faso was only just beginning. It took several years to gain the trust of the poorest tribal people of this poorest African country. At the time of publication the project was established in twelve villages, providing training for the local people to construct wells, build irrigation systems, establish grain storehouses, and provide basic medical services.

299

Travels with the Mystic Master

“Yes, I know,” Baba said, smiling. “I was there with you. and it rained. Better to make such programs indoors.”

Before He could mention the third activity, we all went inside His house, and then into His office. He sat behind His desk and said to me, “Well, come here now. My son should get something.”

I walked up to Him. and He gave me a tap on the top of my head with His knuckles. I thought. Now let’s see what I feel. But there seemed to be no special sensation.

He directed me to sit down, and then said, “No need of any more words.” He placed an egg-shaped bag over my head. I understood He was deepening my spiritual awareness. Gradually the breathable air decreased, but I didn’t mind because I knew Baba was in full control. Thinking this. I entered a trance in which all thought was suspended.

I awoke in that condition.

Serenading God

Calcutta. I and about twenty other Margis were singing Prabhat Sangiit to Baba. 84 He interrupted everyone to speak to me. Pointing to His throat, he said, “While singing, you should keep your mind concentrated here.” I was surprised because when I was a child our singing teacher instructed us to project from the chest. Perhaps it is because Baba is more interested in the beauty of the sound than the volume of the voice. Or perhaps He meant that psychic concentration is on the throat chakra, but physical projection should be from the chest and lungs.

A few days earlier He said, “Those who regularly sing kiirtan gradually develop a sweet and melodious voice.” Is the reason simply practice, or is it (as I believe) because the kiirtan singer is not trying to impress anyone—only to serenade God?

Luminous beings

Tokyo. Six of us were sleeping (on the floor as always) last night in the large room of the yoga center. About 3:00 in the morning I sat up, saying, “Where’d they go? Where’d they go?”

My voice woke Dada Ravindranath. “Where did who go?” he asked.

84 PrabhatSangiitwere His " Songs of the New Dawn”. He usually composed a few daily. Eventually Baba composed 5018 songs, all within a space of only eight years.

Forgetting and Remembering

300

Suddenly becoming aware of him and the other Margis, I said, “You don’t know but there are other beings in this house who are even more absorbed in music than you.” (Ravindranathji usually plays Prabhat Sangiit several hours a day on his electric keyboard.)

“What do you mean?” he said, his curiosity peaked.

In that moment a thought strongly entered my mind: I must not speak more or I will forget everything I saw. So, I said, “Oh, it’s nothing.”

Dada Nityashubhananda’s voice floated over from the other side of the dark room, “It’s not nothing.”

Unwilling to be deterred from my silence, I laid down and slept.

In the morning, after rising. Ravindranathji said, “Dharmaveda-nanda, what did you experience last night?”

“What do you mean?” I said. “I slept all night.”

“No, no, don’t you remember?”

In that moment the memory returned—and with it, a bolt of inspiration. Funny, I would have indeed forgotten it all if he hadn’t questioned me.

“As I lay sleeping,” I said, “I felt an indescribable vibration which woke me up. I looked around, and saw scores, maybe even more than a hundred little people. They were pressed against each other, and against these two walls (which join in the comer where I slept). Those persons were far from ordinary. They were of many colors, sizes and facial expressions. But all had large heads with small bodies. Especially minuscule were their arms and legs. I am sure they were luminous beings.

“I looked at them, and they looked at me for several long minutes. I was super-awake. The ones here were all siddhas or gandharvas (see following footnote). For that reason I said there were some who were more absorbed in music than Ravindranathji.”

Nityashubhanandaji then added, “Just before you spoke last night, a wave of energy rolled into me also, waking me up. That’s why I sat up to do meditation. And that’s why I knew what you saw was not nothing.” 85

5 Occasionally Baba would give demonstrations exposing the presence of such beings. At those times He enabled one or more Dadas to perceive these subtler beings. This was the first time I had seen them so clearly and in such number, though I had experi- [continues next page)

301

Travels with the Mystic Master

Forgetting and remembering

1987.1 had a dream last night:

It was set in the future; Baba was an old man. I was together with hundreds of devotees who I didn’t recognize. We were high in the mountains, seated around a small bowl-shaped valley. In front sat the two foremost leaders of Ananda Marga—a man and a woman. I knew neither. Baba sat behind us all, simply looking on without participating. Everyone’s attention was absorbed in listening to the two leaders, whose words I cannot remember.

I too stared at those leaders, until a thought entered my mind: / Ve forgotten Baba.

Turning around, I saw that Baba had already left His seat.

What is this1 Oh, where is He? I thought.

Then I saw Him, off in the distance, together with two or three Margis. He was climbing the highest mountain peak.

What a fool I am! Now I’ve lost this chance to be with Him.

I saw Him pause by an outhouse. It appeared to be occupied, and He waited. As I jumped up to run after Him, I thought, I wonder what is the protocol here. Will anyone try to stop me?

No one noticed me, and I was free. But after running a few steps, I remembered that I hadn’t put on my sandals. So I ran back to look for them among the hundreds of other sandals.

enced them countless times before in other ways. The yogis explain that a luminous being is an entity which has an elevated consciousness like a human but is different because its body is made up only of light, gas and ether. It contains no solid or liquid constituents.) ust as every being is born to fulfill its own needs along its own evolutionary path, so it is with the luminous being. In its previous life, a luminous being was a human who concentrated on a single desire such as the propensity to accumulate wealth (yaksa), or to develop artistically (gardharva), or to gain psychic experiences through meditation (siddha). To satisfy that desire, its primary activity as a luminous being is to intensify the environmental vibration in the field of spirituality or culture or beauty or economics or whatever—according to its special need. Its range of activities is limited compared with humans. Itissaid that spiritually conducive place and many other places of intense activity attract luminous beings who enjoy or maintain or increase the energy.

People who frequently practice kiirtan may distinctly hear other voices singing kiirtan. It is so clear that we often feel compelled to open our eyes, turn around and see if someone else has joined the kiirtan—only to discover that no one else is there. But they are there—our physical eyes are simply unable to see them. The reader will remember an earlier entry about this.

Forgetting and Remembering

302

If I don’t find them soon, I’ll go without shoes, or take someone else’s.

In that moment, I looked down, and saw my sandals on my feet. How strange. What was this except Baba’s play?

I ran to the top of the peak but Baba was gone. Thinking that He must have walked down the other side of the mountain, I dashed down the slope with my heart in my throat. On the way I encountered one of the mountain-folk devotees, a big fellow. He grabbed my arm, and ran at double my speed. As I struggled down the path with him, I wondered how I could keep up. Then a second giant devotee appeared and took me by my other arm. I laughed at this further play of Baba’s, as I half-skipped, half-flew downward. They joined my laughter.

Then I saw Baba far below, just as He turned a corner and moved out of view. The three of us went even faster, the branches whipping in my face so that I had to cover my eyes with my shoulder. I knew it was not only His play, but also a test that I must pass before I meet Him. Again and again He appeared momentarily, then disappeared around another comer.

At last I saw Him standing in a fresh green field, surrounded by a score of devotees. The two giants released me, and I ran forward, thinking to embrace Baba. Something made me stop, however, as I came to the circle of devotees. I joined the circle around Him with the others. He wore a heavenly smile, and looked at us in a way that drove me mad.

We are each HisRadha, playing Krishna Liila, I thought. 86

As we danced, a young boy stepped out of Baba’s body, holding a glass of juice. He tossed drops of that juice toward us, which we caught in our mouths. Then the boy materialized some small milk sweets, which he also threw to us. It was prasad, and I tried my best to catch it in my mouth.

0 h, again I Ve forgotten B aba, I thought, and turned to look at Him. But before my face could turn enough to see Him, I woke up. Forgetting … remembering… forgetting… remembering… Is it His one and only Game?

86 A mythical scene of K rishna’s childhood had Him in just this predicament, surrounded by many dancing girls, including Radha, His favorite. The myth represents the idea that the entire Cosmos is the play of God, and that every entity is knowingly or unknowingly revolving around the Cosmic Nucleus. Those who are aware of this gravitate quickly towards H im through the force of mutual love.

303

Travels with the Mystic Master

Yesterday evening I criticized a worker, even though other workers were also present. Afterward I regretted my behavior. While falling asleep, I pleaded to Baba to free me from this sort of nasty psychological tendency.

Toward morning, I had a dream:

A Margi sister committed an error. In front of others, I chided her repeatedly for her mistake. Eventually I lifted a stick, and, while still reproaching her, softly beat her on the head. She was thoroughly embarrassed.

From behind a curtain I heard Baba’s voice calling to her to come immediately. She left me and walked over to Baba. I felt very bad about what I had done.

After a few minutes she returned. I asked her, “What did Baba say to you?”

“He was angry with me,” she said, “because I silently tolerated your public criticism of me.”

Before I could ask her anything more, Baba again called her out of the room. And I woke up.

Now is what matters

I had a long dream about Baba, but the beginning of it remains clearest:

I was in a room with other workers. Baba appeared at the door and entered. I wanted to prostrate before Him. but as no one else did so, I refrained. A few moments passed as He walked through the room.

I am late in offering sastaung pranam (prostration), I thought. M aybe it’s no longer proper to do…. But devotion knows no time. Then and there I performed prostration.

Baba gave me a beautiful smile, which made me think— The delay had no importance for H im. Rather it was spiritually perfect.

After undue hesitation, why should we hesitate even more?

Spirituality for all

Regular classes started for thirty mentally handicapped women. 87 They suffer from Downs syndrome and autism. We are teaching them

87

As it turned out, almost all of them became positively enthusiastic. In general, mentally disadvantaged people love guided gentle movement which does not require too much coordination. At the same time, the hormonal balance of their glands improves, making them physically and mentally calmer. Some of them even enjoy the deep silence of meditation. Permanent results of course take time to achieve.

Forgetting and Remembering

304

yoga postures, kiirtan. and a little meditation. Though some people have expressed doubt that such people could respond to yoga, many of the women were clearly interested during the class.

Four months later. As it turned out, almost all of them became positively enthusiastic. In general, mentally disadvantaged people love guided gentle movement which does not require too much coordination. At the same time, the hormonal balance of their glands improves, making them physically and mentally calmer. Some of them even enjoy the deep silence of meditation. Permanent results of course take time to achieve.

Good inspires, bad strengthens

Calcutta. I was standing in the middle of the main downstairs room of Baba’s house in Lake Gardens, surrounded by scores of workers and Margis, when one of my higher authorities. Dada M, walked in. Baba had been angry with him for not arranging a series of lectures for the Margis. Since Dada considered this my duty, now he was angry with me. This was a surprise for me. He shouted at me in such a voice that all the others in the room stopped their conversations, and turned to look at me. I saw no value in arguing, so without reacting or becoming nervous, I simply replied again and again, “Yes, Dada… Yes, Dada

After a minute or two, he ran out of steam, and left in a huff.

Immediately two Central workers approached me, and one said, “Dharmavedananda, I didn’t know that you were such a seasoned worker.”

“What do you mean, Dada?” I said.

“M yelled at you in such a way that it would have embarrassed even an elephant. But you took it as cool as a cucumber.”

I smiled. “Well. The credit doesn’t go to me. It belongs to another higher authority I had for one and a half years. He constantly berated me and hounded me to the point that my nervous system can now stand just about anything.”

305

Travels with the Mystic Master

We laughed together, and I added. “It’s the beauty of Tantra, you know, that we can benefit from every situation. The good moments inspire us, and the so-called bad moments strengthen us.”

Soup kitchen started for homeless people in the Shinjuku area. Today we served 50 people, almost all of them men. During the program we were approached by two Christians who told us they had the responsibility to check if any of these people require medical attention. They requested us to inform them whenever we encounter such cases, because they are only able to check every two or three months, and it often happens that people suffer immensely or die in between these visits. Though the government allocates a reasonable amount of money to help disadvantaged people like the physically and mentally handicapped, the homeless people are neglected. They are considered an embarrassment, and both the public and the authorities tend to ignore them.

Most people are surprised to hear that there are a few thousand homeless people in Japan. Almost everyone believes that the homeless are irresponsible, lazy alcoholics. Even some of the Margis think so. But the truth is far different. Most, or perhaps all of them had great suffering when they lived within the normal society. They were rejected or abused, and then in most cases became sick. We found them on the whole to be gentle and polite. Though drinking is common, few of them are alcoholics. It is presently beyond our capacity to establish a permanent center for the homeless, but at least we must find out their direst needs, and not allow them to suffer unduly. 88

88 Over the years that followed, our volunteers probably did save the lives of at least a few very ill people who we took to the hospital.

Forgetting and Remembering

306

CHAPTER 18

Even for the Poorest of the Poor

Like a mountain spring

Calcutta, 1988. This morning, I left my notebook in the reporting hall just outside Baba’s room. Side-stepping the security guard, I ran back up the stairs. When I was about to burst into the room, I had a shock—Baba Himself was sitting there with three workers. I slammed to a halt on the stairway, and pulled back just enough to see, but not be easily seen.

Within a moment, I guessed their purpose: Baba had composed a new song and He wanted them to record it.

This was a sight extraordinaire, a private matter seen by few. I held my breath, hoping I wouldn’t be noticed.

Though they spoke in Bengali, I caught the gist.

“I’ve composed a new song,” Baba said. “Do you want to hear it?” He sat in His big chair, they at His feet.

They turned to each other saying, “I don’t want to hear it. Do you?” “No, not me.” “Another time, Baba.” They giggled like children playing with their father. He also laughed.

“Well, I’ll sing it anyway,” He said.

“No, no, Baba!”

He put His finger to His lips to silence them, and began singing only one sound: “Na na na na na na na na na….”

After He finished, He asked, “How do you like the melody?”

They looked at each other, smiling. “Not very good.” “I wouldn’t say one of Your best.” “Don’t You have anything better?”

Then He sang the words. At the time, I felt He was like a mountain spring—effortlessly and naturally singing without hesitation or thought. His voice was different than I had imagined, different from His speak-

307

Travels with the Mystic Master

mg voice (which is slightly nasal). He played with His voice like an instrument, perfect control—mellow, unstrained and pleasing. He had no written notes. They feverishly scribbled as He sang, trying to write every word. 89

When He finished, there were no wisecracks. They were moved by the song, moved almost to tears. He waved His hand, and they began singing. At first their voices didn’t perfectly reflect the melody-each sang in his own way. But as they continued, the differences diminished, and they fell into the true tune.

At this moment, the cook was walking by the stairs. Seeing me, he came close, whispered “go away,” and shooed me away with his hand. I had no choice but to leave. I walked down the stairs. A few seconds later, the coast clear, I silently came back up.

Now Baba explained their mistakes, while they buried their faces in their notes, correcting them. Again the three of them sang, as baba nodded in approval. Even though I didn’t clearly understand the song’s meaning, by the time they came to the final notes, I, too, felt their ecstasy.

They did prostration, and I knew I’d better get moving to avoid more detection. As I dashed out the main door, the security guard raised his eyebrows but didn’t try to stop me. I looked back and saw the three workers walk into General Secretary’s room, where I knew they would make a rough tape-recording of the song to ensure the melody would not be forgotten. Later it would be recorded it again by a skilled singer with instrumental backing. 90

The Krishna connection

Tokyo. “One of the gurus of the H are Krishna movement is in Japan now,” said Dada Ravindranath. It was ten o’clock in the morning. “Do you want to go together with me to see him?”

“I’ve already had plenty of contact with that religion,” I said. “You go without me.”

89

All of Baba’s dictation and darshans similarly appeared spontaneous yet perfect. He dictated as much as possible for His books— several hoursa day. Heeven dictated while shaving. Afterward, when reviewing manuscripts, He only corrected the mistakes of the transcribers, and never needed to alter any of H is own words.

90

Several times a day Baba called these or other workers to record His new songs, even in the dead of the night. He summoned them whenever inspiration struck Him. Each song was profound and beautiful. Here I will give just one example. It is the rough translation Of song #1494: (continued on next page)

Even for the Poorest of the Poor

308

One of my closest friends joined Hare Krishna nearly twenty years ago when we were in college. At that time he and I shared an apartment, and were practicing another yoga technique. We planned to become teachers of that technique and open a school in Portland. When he shifted over to worshipping Krishna, he tried his best to convince me to do likewise. A few months later I found Ananda Marga, and we lost track of each other. After that. I encountered the Krishna group in a few other places, but never asked about my friend.

In the afternoon, while Ravindranathji was at the Krishna temple, I took a shower. As usual. I was singing Baba Nam Kevalam. I suddenly had a vision of my old friend’s face, and a thought clearly passed through my mind: H e is their guru now.

When Ravindranathji returned, I told him about my vision and asked him to describe the guru.

“It’ll be easier if I show you their magazine,” he said, “because the guru’s picture is there.”

He opened it to a full page color photo—not only was it my old friend, but the facial expression was precisely as I had visualized while taking my shower.

Without informing my name in advance, I went to the temple today. After their ceremonies, during which the devotees garlanded my friend, he turned toward me, walked over and we embraced each other.

“After hardly thinking about you in years,” he said, “somehow this morning I remembered you. and thought you might come.”

We had a lot to talk about.

I n the fragrant breeze and sweet garden of my mind Come silently, Oh Lord of my heart.

Noonewill know, I will meditate on You in mymind.

Y our silent movements will beimperceivable.

I n the depths of my thoughts I made a garland,

And have coated each and every petal with sandalwood paste. Sitting in contemplation, I have forgotten to sleep.

Celebrating Your arrival, my mind shivers.

Incense, lampsand decorations are not needed.

M y mind strives to merge with the Cosmic M ind.

In meditation, in mantra, in joy, in enchanting rage, in tunes of love I paint myself with Y our colors.

309

Travels with the Mystic Master

Before his departure from Tokyo, I once more visited my friend, the H are Krishna guru. After doing Hare Krishna kiirtan together, we sat down to eat. The conversation turned to the books we had given each other three days ago.

“I read your guru’s book, Namami Krishna Sundaram” he said. “For him to write such things, he would have had to have most intimate knowledge of Krishna’s pastimes and Krishna’s thoughts. In fact, he would have had to be Krishna in a past life!”

“Perhaps,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “It would be interesting, wouldn’t it? But then, who am I to know such a thing? Unfortunately, He doesn’t talk much about His past, what to speak of His past lives.”

A rain of grace

Chiba, Japan. A good number of Margis, Dadas and Didis participated today in a program for about seventy-five handicapped people. This time we had a special experience seemingly orchestrated by Baba Himself.

All of the disabled people were wheelchair dependents. Along with volunteers from other service groups, we went by trains and buses to a bunch of greenhouses full of bright strawberry plants, where we enjoyed picking and eating. After that we moved to a park for our picnic. The Margis were in charge of the entertainment.

Maheshvara of Denmark is a professional clown and dancer. He had the whole congregation laughing, until it began drizzling. It looked like the picnic and our fun would get spoiled. At that point, everyone started moving toward the shelters — everyone, that is, except Maheshvara. He laughingly scolded the crowd for having little faith in the will of the Supreme Being. “Come back! Come back, and be brave! It is our Cosmic Father’s duty to inhale this rain and keep our feast alive. He doesn’t dare fail us, or else we’ll stop believing in Him!” Hearing his words, the crowd hesitated, and mumbled among themselves. A few started returning to the field — and then all came back. Maheshvara shouted, “C’mon, Baba. Show your stuff!” As he continued with his show, the light drizzle also continued, but soon ceased.

For two hours we remained there, laughing, eating, singing and playing music together. All that time the sky was dark. From time to time a few more drops fell.

Even for the Poorest of the Poor

310

The program finished and we all filed into the buses. As we drove away, the drizzle again started. Windshield wipers washed back and forth at their slowest speed.

The buses arrived at the train station. It took a few minutes to push all the wheelchairs inside the station building. Exactly the moment when the last chair came under the overhanging, the sky burst open. The very noise of the downpour was overwhelming.

All of us stood there safely under the roof, gaping at the scene. Surely not a single one among us doubted that we had witnessed a show of Cosmic grace.

The unsuppressable living tiger

Calcutta. Today is the 10-year anniversary of Baba’s release from jail. Dada Vijayananda gave a talk explaining a little of Ananda Marga’s history up to the time of His release. Here are my notes from this talk:

From 1955 to 1961 there were few rules in the organization. All the acharyas were family men and women. The work had only a little speed—not great speed. Nevertheless, B.M. Malik of the Central Bureau of Investigation wrote in his book, “I was instructed by Nehru to be vigilant on two organizations and on a particular man. The organizations were the Communist Party and the Jan Sangh. And the man was P.R. Sarkar.” That was in 1955, at Ananda Marga’s inception.

In 1961 the first training center was opened. The speed began to accelerate. The first avadhuta was initiated on 19th May, 1963—Baba’s birthday. At that time the trishula (three-pronged pitch-fork of Shiva) was carried by avadhutas, and only later was the lathi (fighting stick) introduced.

In the early years, I asked Baba if He would have Ananda Marga do service activities or not. He said, “Wait. All will come.” Then, at the 1963 DMC, Baba took some tattered pieces of paper from His pocket. It was the Ananda Marga blueprint He had written at the age of sixteen (twenty-six years before). From that paper He declared the beginning of the Education Relief and Welfare Section (ERAWS). Then He said, “Do something.” But for six months, no one had any clear idea what to do. At that time, Baba’s mother did not want Him to write at night, so He had to write in secret by flashlight. In that way He wrote the ERAWS guidebook. Then we understood what to do. Accordingly,

Even for the Poorest of the Poor

ton 1st January 1964, the first two grammar schools were opened in J amalpur and Ananda Nagar. Over the years, Ananda Marga started more than 1500 schools. But that first opening ceremony in Jamalpur was simply performed in the presence of the Service Department vol-unteers, one mother, two students and one snake. Due to the snake, the next day they brought cots for sleeping.

On 5th March 1967, came the attack on Ananda Nagar during which five of our workers were killed. After that, the Communists started a strong vilification campaign against Ananda Marga. They told the Hindus that Ananda Marga was from East Bengal, and was a Moslem organization. They told the Moslems that

Ananda Margis were fanatic Hindus. They told the tribals that Ananda Marga had come to take their land. They killed goats and pigs to show that Ananda Margis ate meat. But young people understood our vitality. Two years later,

eighteen of our opponents were put in jail for culpability in the Ananda Nagar incident. From that point many began to understand that Ananda Marga was

very strong.

Mr Roy and three other important barristers made an alliance against Ananda Marga. They sent many letters to Indira Gandhi to poison Ananda Marga’s reputation. They stressed, “This man P.R. Sarkar is dangerous, knows many things and can do much mischief. He is building a powerful organization. So no time should be wasted in striking against him. Yet remember, if you want to make a case against Ananda Marga, you must be very careful, because the Margis always find the loopholes.”

On 29th December 1971, eighteen charges and six murder cases were filed against Ananda Marga. The following points were highlighted:

1. Ananda Margis believe in violence.

2. The source of their funds is doubtful.

3. Ananda Marga has connection with the American CIA.

4. Ananda Margis are not morally honest.

All eighteen charges were dismissed from the court, and the six murder cases remained. Ultimately we were exonerated on all those cases in 1978.

Baba’s fast lasted five years, three months and two days. During long stretches of that time He took only orange juice twice daily; and during much of the time, during the so-called Emergency rule of mar

Even for the Poorest of the Poor

312

tial law. He took only water. After martial law ended. He took two cups of curd water daily.

The then prison superintendent told me, “Baba is too extraordinary. Napoleon could be tackled in jail, but this living tiger cannot be dealt with.” Baba gave all the jail officials a hot time, demanding that they perform their duties properly. The top prison official came to see Baba, thinking that it might be his only chance to see this great yogi. Baba covered Himself fully with a cloth, so the officer was not even able to see Baba’s face. Baba charged him, “You are the Jail Magistrate who received my letter, but you took no step on my complaint.” The official was embarrassed. Then Baba started calling him names like “filth, swine, rubbish fellow” and so on. The man became so angry he had to rush outside, breathing heavily.

When announcement of the life-sentence verdict against Baba was given. He was on a stretcher. He simply smiled and said. “Now the tables will soon turn.” One month after that, Indira Gandhi decided to hold general elections. It was her greatest misjudgment. A convulsion moved throughout the country because so many poor, innocent people had suffered under martial law. Especially terrible was Sainjay Gandhi’s program of forced sterilization of sixteen year old slum boys. Mrs Gandhi’s opposition, the Janata Party, received the vast majority of the vote. Late that night, Mrs Gandhi called her three top military chiefs, and ordered them to continue the Emergency. But they recog¬ nized what consequences could follow, and refused to comply.

On 3rd August 1978 at 6:00 a.m., all the offices and shops within six to seven kilometers of the Bankipur Jail in Patna were closed. About 7000 Margis arrived the previous night, and were joined by another 10,000. This sea of people clogged the streets for two kilometers. At 1:10 p.m. Baba was brought out on a stretcher. His weight had dropped from 72 kilograms to 46 kilograms. He had also performed a yogi’s feat of suspended animation. The usual yogi who lives on air does not move at all. Excepting a stretch of eight days. Baba did not restrict His movements—though for one year He did not speak, and only wrote on a board. After His release. He remained four months in a wheelchair; His ankles and knees were too weak to provide support.

313

Travels with the Mystic Master

Usually Baba’s darshans are appropriate for compilation into book form. For example. His Sunday darshans serve as chapters in Shabda Cayanika, an alphabetic encyclopedia, packed with original stories and information concerning the derivation of thousands of words.

Today was different. Since it was the 10-year anniversary of Baba’s release from the jail, His speech was special. It being rare for Him to talk of His personal life, I quote the translation of the darshan here in its entirety:

We did not mean to harm anyone. But when adharmic (unrighteous) people use force against you, you must act in self-defense. This is not himsa (violence), it is pratirodha (self-defense). Those who opposed us met a pathetic end and have now merged with the soil.

People who follow unrighteousness believe they have the right to do anything they want. One lady thought she could do anything she wanted with her power. When no reaction comes immediately, sinners think they can get away with more. But gaining power, going up, does not mean that they are getting elevated. Like the Indian washerman who raises the clothes high over his head, they go up very high only to come smashing down. 22

Some people say that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. But I do not say that. After time, the reaction is greater because it comes with interest.

Three thousand five hundred Margis and workers were arrested by the government. All were innocent, yet the political leaders felt no guilt at all in using their power against these innocent people.

In jail, the Central Bureau of Investigation authorities harassed me in every way. For example, there was a rule that when I met with visitors the officers could be present, but not within hearing distance. One time, though, a new CBI man stood very close, silently listening. I asked him who he was—he replied that he was newly appointed. So then I asked him his name and address. He became nervous and could not

91 Eventually I ndira Gandhi was killed by her own security guards, and her thoroughly corrupt son, Sainjaya Gandhi, died when his private plane crashed. One day before Indira Gandhi’s death, Baba asked the meaning of the word assassination. He said that it came from one ass on top of another ass, and on top of that is/, and on top of that is the nation. Indira’s other son, Rajiv Gandhi, then took her place asPrimeM inister, and was later also assassinated—finally ending that family’s influence on India.

Even for the Poorest of the Poor

314

reply. So I shouted and abused him until he ran away. Then the other officers, who clearly were aware of this plot, began to criticize that man in order to appear innocent.

But I had bit down so hard while scolding him that two of my false teeth broke. The next day, two specialists came from the government hospital to replace the broken teeth. I asked them, “How is it that these teeth broke so easily?” They replied, “Baba, they are only plastic, they are fragile.” But according to the prison regulations, the treatment of the eyes and teeth of prisoners is their own responsibility, not the government’s. I knew these specialists had been sent because the officers were feeling guilty at what they had done. So I asked them, “How can I chew my food every day with teeth given by the sinful government?” Then my personal assistant, Ramananda suggested that if we pay them for the work it would be alright, so I agreed.

When I was released, there was such a long procession—do you remember? The jail authorities, seeing the crowds waiting, told me that they would also be willing to undergo imprisonment if such a procession would be awaiting them on their release.

I faced so much trouble in the jail. When I was released. I could not walk. To go to the toilet I had to hop on my hands like this (He demonstrated). I had to use a wheelchair. I remember that my elder sister brought me two luchis (small fried breads) and vegetables, but after my long fast I could only eat half of one of the luchis with great difficulty.

I do not want anyone to undergo the same trouble that I did. But in the struggle for dharma (righteousness), if some trouble comes, you should accept it. If you pick a flower, you may be pricked by its thorns. Your consolation is that your struggle will surely end in victory. Our path is klista/dklistd— initially there is trouble, but in the end there is no trouble.

Dharma is the cause of victory. Intelligent people should take the help of Dharma. If you want to go to Jammu, you should take a seat on the Jammu express train—automatically you will reach there. Similarly you should follow the path of Dharma and surely you will be victorious.

315

Travels with the Mystic Master

Four problems to extinguish

This incident occurred during the district in-charges reporting ses¬ sion of the North Area of the Indian Sector.

Baba called forward brother Ram Chandra. I was surprised because I knew this man tried for several days to arrange his personal contact with Baba, but without success. Because he had failed to establish a school, he was ineligible. He was also an arrogant fellow, with an argumentative nature.

BABA: Fix your mind at manipura chakra (the navel center). Now raise it step by step. To the anahata chakra (heart center). To the vishuddha chakra (throat center). To the ajina chakra (third eye)… Now, are crude or subtle thoughts coming?

RAM CHANDRA (standing with eyes closed): Only subtle thoughts, Baba.

BABA: Now, take your mind downward. Vishuddha… anahata… manipura … svadhistana (genital area)… muladhara (bottom of the spine). How is your thought now?

RAM CHANDRA: Baba… material thoughts are coming non-stop.

BABA: Again take your mind upward … Wait. What’s there at the kidney?

RAM CHANDRA: I’ve throat trouble, Baba.

BABA: No. The cause, the initial cause lies in the kidneys. Due to malfunctioning in the kidneys, toxic air rises up causing complication in the lungs. What’s that at the anahata chakra) Did you ever have any violent experience in the area of your chest?

RAM CHANDRA: I received a blow there when I was a student.

BABA: Do the doctors tell you there is any medical problem?

RAM CHANDRA: They say I have a peptic ulcer.

BABA: Then why didn’t you ever check it with Dada Vijayananda?

RAM CHANDRA: Well, well… I thought I had tuberculosis.

BABA: That’s no answer. In fact, TB is there, but it’s only developed one or two percent. Now, should I give punishment to you alone or in front of others?

RAM CHANDRA: It’s up to you, Baba. (He suddenly does pros¬ tration at Baba’s feet.)

BABA: Stand up, my boy. Kinshuk, take my stick. (Kinshuk is Baba’s adopted son.) Touch his left side. (Kinshuk touches his hand

Even for the Poorest of the Poor

316

to RC’s left side.) No! You must not touch with your hand, only with the stick!

RAM CHANDRA: It burns where he touched me. BABA: Now touch him with the stick. (Kinshuk does so.) How does it feel?

RAM CHANDRA: Oh … it’s very very soothing.

BABA: I have a pet buffalo I brought up with much care. He can enter in any one’s body, which is called Parakaya Pravesh. He can also enter anyone’s mind, which is called Paramana Pravesh. I keep this buffalo always with me. Without him, you boys and girls would suffer a lot… This boy should have at least contacted the proper persons to ask about his problems. You must all be careful of four things: 1) sickness 2) enemies 3) debt 4) fire. Whenever any of these arise, you must extinguish them completely or they may come back. Let it be as a prin¬ ciple in your lives… My buffalo has the eight occult powers and knows everything … You must receive some punishment. What will it be?

RAM CHANDRA: Any punishment, Baba.

BABA: From now on you must be a good boy. Accordingly from today, you are completely cured. 92

K ey to the key

This incident happened during the reporting of North Area full- timers.

BABA: Is there any will power in the protoplasmic cell of a plant, animal or human being? (No one answers. Baba points at one brother.) You, my boy, come forward. (He walks in front, does prostration, then stands.) As you were walking forward, did you feel any twitching in your back?

FULL-TIMER (his face showing anguish): Yes, Baba.

BABA: As you were walking up the stairway, you felt pain in your back. Just upon entering the gate of this house, you felt pain. As you sat and stood for your last meal, you felt sharp pain. As you stood up

92 I inquired about R am Chandra a few months later. A Dada who knew him told me he had not only been completely cured, he had also become a model for all the other M argis. Each day after completing his normal job, he would dedicate several hours for social work. The units under his guidance were becoming more active, and a primary school was started.

317

Travels with the Mystic Master

from your last meditation there was discomfort. You could not practice yoga postures properly for the last eight days due to the same problem. Can you clearly remember each and every one of these moments now?

FULL-TIMER (smiling): Yes, Baba. BABA: Should we thank my flying buffalo? Yesss. Parama Purusha (Cosmic Consciousness) has the key of everyone’s mind. Only He has the key, and no one else. Whenever He likes, He can take away any capacity at any time. If a man holding a Ph.D. can speak three langu ages, He can take away the capacity for speaking one or two or all three languages, as He likes. So what should a human being do? He should surrender to Parama Purusha…. Kinshuk, touch the lower middle portion of this boy’s back with my stick. (Kinshuk does so.) Is the twitching pain now finally gone?

FULL-TIMER: Yes, Baba!

BABA: In fact there is no will power in the protoplasmic cells of plants, animals and human beings. For the expression of will power, the periphery of the doer “I” feeling must be greater than the periphery of the done “I” feeling. Nevertheless, you should not forget that the will power of Parama Purusha is omnipresent-even within your smallest protoplasmic cells.

Capitalism won’t do

During a reporting session:

BABA: GS Dada, come forward. Now, just walk across the room in the manner of a procrastinator. (The General Secretary begins to walk slowly, then hesitates, then walks again, looks around, hesitates, walks a little more, and so it continues. We all laugh.) Yesss. GS Da is walking just like the procrastinating progress of capitalism. You know, poor people cannot contest elections in capitalist countries, for the simple reason that one needs to run up a high bill in any successful campaign. Will such capitalism, will such so-called democracy, solve the aching problems of the people in due time?

Part of Baba’s speech to a group of Margi doctors:

“As physicians, you must start service cooperatives. These are neither in the arena of producers nor consumers co-ops. Rather they are

Even for the Poorest of the Poor

318

a subtle form of cultural co-ops. These can be called Physicians’ Service Co-ops. Doctors should research microvita, both positive and negative, although they are more concerned with negative. 93 Each and every day, several diseases come to this planet through inferential media from different celestial bodies. In the course of study, you should find out whether there can be a coincidence between the characteristics of metazoic cells and multi-cellular protozoic cells in the realm of physi- cality and in the psychic sphere. This will help you to find medicines for newer and newer diseases. You are not acquainted with many diseases which are yet to come to this planet. If you do this research, you will find medicines for those ailments yet to come.

“In the future, neither Communist mania nor philosophical phobia, but humanity and intellectuality will rule the earth.”

Will-power Parama Purusha style

BABA: Kashishvarananda, hold out your right hand. Now, Keshavananda, you smell his hand. What do you smell?

KESHAVANANDA: Sandalwood, Baba.

BABA: Now smell it again…. What do you get?

KESHAVANANDA: This time it’s jasmine, Baba.

BABA: Now smell his back…. What is it?

KESHAVANANDA: Rose, Baba. (I am a few meters away, but even I smell it now. It is very sweet. I suppose everyone is catching it.)

BABA: Shall we allow the smell to continue? If we do, then when Kashishvarananda goes for missionary work, the public and Margis will wrinkle their noses and say, “Where is that smell coming from?” (Look¬ ing at two Dadas on the side of the room who were unable to answer a previously asked philosophical question:) You boys, which scent do you want to come from your backs?

TWO DADAS: Whatever Parama Purusha wants.

93 For thousands of years yogis have declared consciousness to be the fundamental element of all entities. Only Baba, however, went into detail on this subject and clearly explained the concept of microvita. Microvita are subtle living emanations of the Cosmic Consciousness. They serve as the building blocks of matter and life Though several books by Baba and M argis elaborate the subject of microvita, they remain a mystery which is gradually unfolding through various sorts of research. A footnote cannot adequately explain microvita.

319

Travels with the Mystic Master

BABA: Their answer is an intelligent one. This is a demonstration of will-power Parama Purusha-style.

After we left the room, the sweet rose scent on Kashishvarananda was still perceivable by anyone who cared to approach his back.

I don’t remember the cause of Baba’s comment during the reporting session. I think it was regarding a newspaper article which quoted a government minister bragging that the tax-payers had saved much by the cancellation of a construction plan. Baba said:

“It reminds me of Sharmaji’s wife’s reply. While coming home from work, Sharmaji ran after the bus and just missed it. He continued run¬ ning, almost caught up, when again it drove away. In the same way, he missed it again and again. At last, Sharmaji walked in the door of his house and announced to his wife, ‘A big part of our financial problems are solved. I ran after the bus, missed it again and again, until I finally arrived home—thus saving my bus money.’ Mrs Sharma replied, ‘I’m disappointed. Why didn’t you run after a taxi and save more money?”’

An interesting story is circulating here. A few days ago, one Dada went to a village in northern India where no other worker had previ¬ ously gone. He found many people already practicing Baba Nam Kevalam meditation. When he inquired who had taught them, he was introduced to a poor, illiterate villager. This man had been a devotee of Krishna and Shiva, but he thirsted for a proper guru. Because he could not travel, he prayed for the guru to come to him. Baba appeared at his house, and initiated him with a mantra and technique, exactly according to our system. Baba also taught him all the 16 Points practices of Ananda Marga, including tandava and kaoshikii dances. Then Baba instructed him to teach Baba Nam Ko/alam meditation throughout the surrounding villages. The point of interest is that Baba was in Calcutta all the time.

Soon afterward, this Margi began teaching this simple meditation to a few other villagers. He also spoke out against idol worship and castism which created a large number of enemies for him in the strict Hindu community. One Hindu severely beat him with a stick. The Margi yelled at him, “Now surely God will punish you.” As the beating con

Even for the Poorest of the Poor

320

tinued, a snake appeared and bit the Hindu. The Hindu dropped the stick and ran to the village center where there was a doctor and also a black-magic Tantric. The doctor had no antidote so the black Tantric tried to use a mantra, but the poison remained. As the man’s body turned progressively bluer, the black Tantric told him, “Your only chance for recovery lies in your returning to the Margi for his blessing.” He ran back to the Margi and was told to dance kiirtan, singing Baba Nam Ks/alam, with his arms held upward. He did as instructed and gradually the blue color gradually left his body, but remained in his fingertips. Then the Margi said, “If you take a vow from the heart to propagate Ananda Marga, the rest of the poison will leave.” The Hindu did so and became cured. After this incident, hundreds of villagers learned meditation.

After the Dada returned with this story, two other Dadas were sent to the area and confirmed its veracity. Today, Baba was asked for His comment, but He only smiled. 94

Anandamurtiji came to serve the masses

There was heavy flooding when we arrived at our Tiljala headquar¬ ters yesterday. It had been raining heavily since yesterday afternoon. Baba arrived only that morning—perfect timing. From the main road to our office it is a distance of about one kilometer; I had to walk with my luggage on my head. The water level was up to my waist. As I was entering, there was a stream of villagers leaving, temporarily abandon¬ ing their homes, taking with them whatever belongings and food they could manage.

When I reached our building, some villagers were seeking safety from the rain in our four-story office. The Dadas told them they would soon be arranging relief materials, but there was no more space in the building. It was true. The place was packed with about 500 Margis due to various meetings Baba had called.

Soon after, our electricity and water systems stopped functioning. The water level rose up to my chest. We had not prepared any special food stocks, and that evening we consumed the last of our meager supplies.

94 There are many other stories of Baba appearing in two places at once. I hope other workers and Margis will write their own books about Baba, and mention their personal experience on this subject.

321

Travels with the Mystic Master

No one can enter the area now except by swimming or rowboat. Boats, of course, are very few.

With all this trouble, one might expect a tense atmosphere among the workers and Margis. But the level of inspiration seems higher than usual; everyone is taking it as an interesting test.

From the moment I came, Baba has been holding meetings in His house as usual. To get there I have to swim, and the water is filthy—an oil slick covers the surface. I keep a dry uniform in a plastic bag under a chair in His house. During the meetings, He never refers to the flood or our present difficulties. For Him, difficulties is something normal.

Outside of our meetings, He takes hourly reports on the progress of our relief programs for the village people. At first we didn’t even have food for ourselves. Then a small boatload of beaten rice and unrefined sugar arrived. This has been our only food. Our relief workers are pro¬ viding the same food to the flood victims, and also helping them set up temporary shelters on the road. By this evening, the number of recipi¬ ents increased to 18,000. Government assistance has still not arrived.

Three days later. This afternoon the rain finally stopped. Most of us stood on the roof as we watched Baba board a boat, which then slowly negotiated its way between the flooded houses. A few Dadas swam beside the boat. At that very moment the sun came out; it was beautiful. A thought passed through my mind: Anandamurtiji came to serve the masses. Even the poorest of the poor will reap the benefit.

A dog joined the Dadas swimming near the boat. When they shooed him away, he climbed onto a rooftop sticking out of the water. From this vantage he wagged his tail and watched Baba.

A few thousand villagers stood on the road watching Baba’s boat. For most of them, it was the first chance to get a close look at this man whose fame had spread throughout the world. As His boat pulled up and He stepped out, the villagers maintained complete silence, holding their hands together in namaskar pose. Everyone’s eyes were glued on the People’s Guru. The dog too was caught in this collective trance. Only at the moment that Baba slipped out of view behind a bus, did the dog stop wagging his tail and retire from his post.

Baba had instructed some of the workers, including me, to follow Him after the relief work was regularized to His other house in central Calcutta.

Even for the Poorest of the Poor

322

Next day. We are now in central Calcutta. I heard that at last the government’s relief team arrived in Tiljala. The villagers were so frus¬ trated with the slowness of government help that they shouted, “We would have died without the assistance of Ananda Marga!” To demon¬ strate their anger, they dumped the first delivery of government food into the flood waters.

Two days later. We sometimes hear suspicions voiced regarding the source of Ananda Marga’s finances. So how did we get money for these relief operations? Food, medicine and miscellaneous assistance for 18,000 flood victims is no small matter.

Though our relief department promised the public their minimum necessities, our relief teams had almost no money in the beginning. Practically speaking, the guarantees we made to serve the needy public fully depended on Baba’s grace. That might seem foolish, but we had faith that He would provide what was required. The team leader, Dada Ramananda, personally approached Margis and workers for donations from the first to the last day. A few days ago, I gave him as much as I could, but when he left my room, he said, “It’s still far from enough. I really don’t know how we’ll manage tomorrow.” When I saw him the next day, he smiled at me. “Yesterday, shortly after I met you, I ran into one of the richer villagers, who owns a car which we saved from the flood waters. I expressed our financial problems, and he gave me enough money for an entire day’s supplies. In relief work, we are forced to count on at least one or two miracles a day.”

I mproving agricultural and industrial production

Dada Vijayananda gave a class today explaining many of Baba’s suggestions about how to increase agricultural and industrial produc¬ tion, especially in developing countries. Excerpts from my notes not only provide some practical ideas, but also show Baba’s concern for overcoming poverty. 95

[Author’s note: These notes are somewhat detailed. Interested read¬ ers are referred to the article “On increasing agricultural production” in the appendix Technical talks by Baba or with Baba. At the end of

95 Later a book was printed of Baba’s agricultural ideas called Ideal Farming.

323

Travels with the Mystic Master

this class were a few points of general interest regarding improving the industrial output in poor regions:]

Baba supports the idea of synthetic fibers. He warns that Bengal will soon be in danger because it is too dependent on jute fiber and animal hide. Due to synthetic fibers, the jute industry will soon be a thing of the past. Hundreds of thousands of people will lose their jobs. Baba explained that it is better to convert to the production of jutewool. Jutewool is a combination of jute and wool. He does not appreciate the slogan from the days of Mahatma Gandhi — “science is the monster of civilization.” Rather, for all those in danger of losing their jobs Baba proposed a demand: “Let every sub-division have a jutewool industry, and let the weavers be supplied with power looms. Thereby both the farms and the weavers will receive the proper wages.”

In India paper is expensive because it is imported. To improve the paper industry, He gave a list of twenty good plants. These include bam¬ boo, different kinds of grass, and mesta jute sticks.

Bran is usually wasted simply as a fuel. Part of the bran is good for manufacturing oil, and the rest should be used as an element in making cement (along with lime).

Until now politics has dominated the economy. But economics should dominate politics. If any politician does little to improve the people’s living standard, then he should be dismissed.

[Author’s note: A few days later, Baba gave a number of points to which all Margi district in-charges must pay attention when making their planning. These points may be found in the article “Grassroots planning”, located in the appendix Technical talks by Baba or with Baba.]

Even for the Poorest of the Poor

324

CHAPTER 19

Working 24 H ours a Day

Saving plants

Delhi, 1989. Today, as I arrived at the airport with three large boxes containing my sector’s quota of 600 plants , I was compelled to undergo a complex customs process. 96 Two officials insisted that twelve of my plants were forbidden by law. Because these happened to be my most expensive plants, I was sure they were lying, with the intention of selling the plants afterwards. Officers commonly indulge in this sort of corruption. My argument to keep the plants thus fell on deaf ears.

They had already removed the expensive plants, and I was awaiting their final okay to leave. When their backs were turned, I silently ex¬ changed cheap plants for the expensive ones. A moment later, they handed me the authorization. As quickly as possible, I made my way through the rest of customs, and jumped into a taxi. Just as the taxi was pulling out, I noticed one of the officials run out and anxiously look around.

“Since 1981, each of the eight sectors outside of the Indian sector, and each of the ten regions inside of the i ndian Sector was required to deposit about 600 plants monthly with the Calcutta office. In addition, each time any worker reported to Calcutta, she or he was required to personally deliver a number of extra plants. In total, about 13,000 plants were brought every month.

The plants were not brought arbitrarily, but according to specific lists provided by Central Headquarters. These included seedlings and small cuttings of flowers, vegetables, medicinal herbs, fibers, spices, cosmetic plants, plants on the verge of extinction, fruit trees and other trees. For example, at the time of this entry, Hong K ong sector was requested to bring Acasia Triacantus, Taiwan Calmanis. Serissa Foetida, Yellow Palm, CalamisFormosana, Cryptomeria I apanica, and J apanese Cherry. Calcutta would then distribute the plants to different M aster Units of I ndia, and to some extent overseas. Now our botanical gardens rank among the largest of India.

Working 24 Hours a Day

325

Languages of the world

[Author’s note: In today’s workers’ meeting, Baba spoke at great length about languages around the world. He frequently spoke on this subject. Even when speaking about something else, He commonly went on linguistic detours, explaining the derivation of important words. I include these notes not because they are exceptional, but to give an example of a lecture on His pet subject.. However, the matter is highly technical and so the reader is referred to the article “On the evolution of languages throughout the world” in the appendix Technical talks by Baba or with Baba.]

Philosophy becomes reality

Calcutta. A few days ago, while taking the train from Delhi, I sat next to Dada Devashraddhananda, who is working in the USA. Though he is a dynamite worker, he couldn’t help but mention to me about his health problems. He said, “I’m suffering so much for so long, I don’t know how I can take it any longer. Why doesn’t Baba free me from this hectic lifestyle of constant touring and post me to supervise a farm on a Master Unit, or something like that?”

“Why do you worry?” I said. “Baba knows everything, and is treating you and all of us perfectly. When He wants to cure you, He will. Otherwise we have to simply keep tasting the fruits of your past actions, whether they be sweet or sour.” I knew my words were blunt, but here was an elevated man who would understand my meaning.

“You’re just speaking philosophy,” he said, “and I’m suffering.”

Hearing this, what could I say?

After we came in Guru’s presence, Devashraddhanandaji’s attitude changed. Smiling, laughing, enjoying Baba—He seemed unaware of his own suffering.

Baba called me out of line to answer a few questions. Then He also called Devashraddhanandaji forward. After two or three questions, Baba’s mood suddenly changed. “Devashraddhananda, stand straight. Do you know that there is a defective functioning of your urinary tract?”

“Yes, Baba.” (Later, Dada told me he hadn’t really known, but was only saying so.)

Working 24 Hours a D/\ y

“You should take only liquid diet in the evening. Do you understand?” “Yes, Baba.”

Baba told us to step back, and continued the session. I looked at Devashraddhanandaji—he was beaming a million rupee smile.

Criteria for board member

Baba was listening to the report of one of the workers’ boards : 97 BABA: During the last one month, this board did nothing significant. Should a chair or a table be a member of this board? What do you say?

DADA WHO IS MEMBER OF THE BOARD: Perhaps we achieved nothing, Baba, but we were active, and we met regularly.

BABA (getting a little angry): What do you mean to say? Should a ceiling fan be a member of the board?

F rom the perspective of P rout

Today Baba expressed some points on Prout. There may be some small mistakes in my notes:

Regarding the case of Salaman Rushdie’s book Satanic Verses, i.e., Iran’s Ayatollah Khomeini demand for Rushdie’s death because of the book’s criticism of Islam and Mohammed, Baba commented:

Prout does not support the suppression of any popular sentiment. If it is suppressed then some people may think there is some value in it. Hence suppression only helps to keep the idea alive, and it will manifest in different ways later. If the Proutists believe that a particular popular sentiment is harmful to the path of human progress, they should encourage the idea to be brought into the public light so that it may be countered by logic and reason. A constructive alternative should be presented. Thus negative energy is channeled in a positive way. Of course, this does not deny the importance of legal defamation guidelines.

Regarding the economic development of a nation, Baba gave six points: l) Maximum industries should be developed in local areas according to the availability of raw materials for local consumption. (This is

97 This brief conversation is included as an example of a Baba-style criticism during review- meetings.

327 Travels with the Mystic Master

diametrically opposed to the present policy of every country in the world.)

2 ) Finished products which can he locally produced should not be imported.

3. No country should invest significantly in industries which depend on imported raw materials.

4 ) The first step to decentralized planning is to make an economic plan according to the needs of the lowest level, i.e. block-level planning for areas having about 100,000 people.

5. In pure economic terms, developmental promts are those projects which directly and indirectly increase nations wealth.

6. The more government revenue is spent on development projects, not including the salaries of government employees, the better it is for the country’s economy.

[Author’s note: At this point, Baba went on to give a detailed explanation regarding the way for Bangladesh, one of the world’s poorest nations, to solve its economic problems. Refer to the aricle “On solving Bangladesh’s economic problems” in the appendix Technical talks by Baba or with Baba.]

Go on thinking deeply

[Author’s note: During a workers’ meeting, Baba asked me some ques- tions about microvita, the mysterious emanation of the Cosmic Mind. I tried my best to answer, and He gave some hints for further contemplation of this complex subject. About two weeks later, 1 was in Taiwan. It was 3:00 in the morning, and I was struggling to stay awake while answering the questions of one of our Margi scientists. Suddenly I had a long stream of thoughts on the same subject. These diary entries are combined into the article “On microvita” in the appendix Technical talks by Baba or with Baba.]

Forever with H im

For about one year, access to Baba has much more limited. Previously, Baba’s door was usually open during meetings and reporting sessions. Those who couldn’t fit inside His room would stand outside, looking in. During this past year, however He has allowed the door to stay open only once or twice a day. At all other times, we have

Working 24 Hours a Day

had to communicate with Him by yelling under His door. In one way it is humorous; in another it’s painful.

Humorous? Well, take the moments when He becomes angry (which are not infrequent). Atonement is required for those workers who fall short of their targets or for any number of other logical or illogical reasons. In such cases, the General Secretary should beat the worker with a stick. In fact what happens is that, yes he beats alright, but he beats any notebook or book that the “guilty” Dada holds, while that Dada makes crying and sighing sounds. Pretending to be tormented by the whipping, the Dada yells “Oh, Baba!,” “I shall improve,” “We’ll open an orphanage within one week,” or whatever is the appropriate reply. Baba sometimes shouts back: “Does he repent, GS?,” “Scoundrel!,” “How does he intend to rectify the situation?,” and so on. Commonly, however, He remains silent while the drama proceeds at a Tantric pace. If the excitement fades away, He may pipe up, “Eh, GS? What does that nonsense fellow have to say for himself?”

To an outsider it would seem absurd. But for us, because we un¬ derstand at least a little of the purpose behind the drama, we tolerate it— or, as in my case, even enjoy it.

A few days ago, I saw Dada Asiimananda (Central Farm secretary, one of our most elevated and respected monks) sitting alone outside Baba’s door. While Baba was shouting a long series of directives under the door, Dada would occasionally reply through that same crack, “Yes, Baba!,” while he was busy consuming a snack. He had obviously adapted to the pressure. He had also found a way to adjust with being so busy that he had no time for a meal.

Personally I feel nostalgic for those days when the beating was genu¬ ine. It generated a perceivable tension, a smellable fear, which hung in the air—and that added to the seriousness of our work. I suppose Baba now wants our motivation to depend less and less on external pressure. We must derive our inspiration from our hearts, while feeling the pressure of our conscience.

Nowadays the non-Central workers, like me, are usually invited to come near Baba’s door only a few minutes a day, and occasionally to enter. So I am constantly seeking to find new justifications for being near His door. For example: “I must speak to my Central departmen

329

Travels with the Mystic Master

tal secretary,” or “I was told by so-and-so to wait here —What?—No, I don’t know why.” At other times, like today, I run out of excuses and resort only to melancholic contemplation. My eyes becoming watery and doe-like and I mutely turn them on any Dada who challenges me for violating protocol. Though these Dadas have great responsibilities, they are still fundamentally devotees, so the doe-eyes often silence them.

It was 1:30 p.m., and for some unknown cause most workers were away from the Cosmic nucleus. Even those who were present had slipped away for lunch. Only one other Dada, Ganadevanandaji, re¬ mained with me outside the closed door.

When Baba rang His call-bell, His personal assistant, Dada Keshavananda, ran from his office, opened the door, popped his head in, and said, “Yes, Baba.” Baba said nothing. The other Dada and I, crouched at the feet of Keshavanandaji, had a clear view of Him resting on His side, facing us. He appeared to be sleeping. He’s so beautiful, I thought, like the tiniest baby.

“Yes, Baba!” Keshavanandaji said again. When no reply came, he slowly and noiselessly shut the door.

“You two should not be here,” he whispered.

“Ah … but, Dada … couldn’t you? … just this time? …” My eyes watered, Ganadevanandaji’s mouth quivered, and we each held one of Dada’s hands.

Though it was one of our best performances to date, he shook his head. “No, no, I can’t allow it. You know the system.”

Slowly, ever so slowly, with expressions of heart-wrenching anguish, we began edging backwards, away from the Cosmic Door. Keshava¬ nandaji stood his ground, waiting to see that we would really leave.

When we were just on the verge of leaving, the sound of the call-bell cut the air. Keshavanandaji reopened Baba’s Door. “Yes, Baba?”

By this time we were again huddled at the Doorway, staring into the king’s chamber. His position was the same, His innocent face a bare two meters away from us. Again Keshavanandaji called, again no response, again without a sound he shut the mystic entrance.

And again he turned on us, “You shameless fellows!” he yelled in a whisper. We smiled glumly, not showing our teeth, mentally pleading for mercy.

“No. Out. Out!”

Working 24 Hours a Day

330

Our heads and shoulders bent, feet dragging like lead, we tortoised our way toward the stairway. Step by step, inch by inch, slowly, slowly- dreading to face-the other world….

And then again! Saved by the bell. “What is this?” Keshavanandaji muttered. In a? flash we were nestled behind his feet as he opened the gateway to paradise.

“Baba, kill " he said loudly. There He lay, more peaceful than ever, unresponsive to Dada’s worn-out query. Dada turned his eyes toward heaven, then looked at us. “Alright. Call me the moment that Baba wakes up. I don’t know what His game is today.” He walked away, leaving the Door open!

Baba, thank you.. . I thought. Hardly believing our luck, but under¬ standing “His game”, we sat down comfortably. Of course, His game was that we should have his uninterrupted darshan—to see Him without the slightest distraction of reports or talks or background chatter, without even the slightest movement or change inside the room. We gazed at His face, at His hands, at His body—and entered into an indescribable, transcendent dimension. My ego-centered mind drifted away, replaced by a long peaceful wave of tranquillity. Deeper, deeper, I became lost in the thought of Him; nothing remained of me.

After what seemed like measureless time, something stirred within me, like a thin, almost invisible shadow. A feeling arose, increased and surged upward from my stomach, tearing at my heart. Tears flowed in a steady stream, my mouth grimaced uncontrollably, my body shook, and my mind screamed, Baba! Baba! Meanwhile, He lay there, yet un¬ moving—affecting me more by His silence than by anything He might say or do. Every muscle, every nerve tensed, as waves of emotion wracked my being. I struggled not to shout, not to move, and not to faint. My feelings rushed like tidal waves; the blood throbbed against my temples; and my brain—what words should I use?—my brain swooned, demanded relief…. I could not think, but I knew, / am with Baba, have been so forever, and will be so forever.

“Okay, Dadas,” a soft voice said. “You’ve been here almost two

hours.”

I looked upland saw Keshavanandaji. He smiled tenderly, knowingly. I didn’t resist. As I got up, my legs trembled, unable to hold my weight. I held onto the wall. Ganadevanandaji also stood up. Baba,

331

Travels with the Mystic Master

who all this while had faced us unmoving, now rolled over to His other side, turning away from us. It was a perfect ending as Keshavanandaji gently closed the Cosmic Gate.

Once downstairs and outside, we looked at each other. What did he experience? we each thought. But neither of us asked nor spoke. W e only smiled, and arm-in-arm walked silently down the road toward the coconut-water man.

H is responsibility beyond the earth

Today while I was sitting outside Baba’s door, I asked a senior Indian worker, Dada Shubbhabodhananda, to tell me the most special experience he’d had of Baba. This was his story:

“It was one year ago during a DMC tour in India. As the secretary general of the Service Department, it was my duty to oversee the secu¬ rity arrangements. One morning, at 3:00,1 woke up and decided to check everything. First I made sure that the two guards were both vigi¬ lant. Then I walked around to the rear of the house. Baba’s room was there, and the window looking into His room had the curtains drawn back somewhat. I looked in, but He wasn’t there. Hmmm. Perhaps He had gone to the bathroom? I walked over to the bathroom window and listened. Nothing. Very peculiar. Where could Baba have gone? I walked back to the big window of His bedroom, but He still was not there. For some minutes I stood there gazing in the window, wondering and wondering.

Suddenly I became aware of the slight shadow of a figure in the center of the room. As I watched, the vague shape became more and more definite. It was a man sitting in meditation. Finally I realized it was Baba. Where there had previously been nothing, He materialized.

The next morning I was full of curiosity, hoping for some opportu¬ nity to ask Baba about the night before. Baba called me in alone to perform massage. Shortly after I began, He asked, “Do you have some question?”

“Baba, last night, You know I was there. What was that?” He smiled and said, “Do you think I only have responsibility on this one planet?”

Working 24 Hours a Day

332

The trouble is mutual

Ananda Nagar. Today Dada Svarupanandaji (the principal of our college here and one of our most senior Dadas) told me a couple of stories from his early days in Ananda Marga:

After my initiation, but before I became an acharya, I visited the yoga center of the famous elderly lady saint Ananda Mayi Ma. At that time, Baba was not well known, so I did not inform anyone there that I was a Margi.

I sat together with the other devotees in front of Ma. She called me forward, and said, “You are very lucky. Anandamurti is the greatest guru. As for me, I will not be able to go to Him for a long long time.”

I was shocked by her psychic ability to know my guru, and thrilled by her praise of Baba. “I can convey your namaskar to Him if you wish,” I said.

“Thank you. It is my wish.”

Later, when I met Baba, and passed Ananda Mayi Ma’s namaskar.

He returned the namaskar, and commented, “Yes. She is a good girl.”

Another occasion, also before I was an acharya, I was together with Baba at night. Though we were walking, His mind was obviously far away. Taking advantage of His transcendental state, I stole two rupees from His pocket. Afterward, I used that money to buy sweets and brought them to the tiger’s grave where three of us sat with Baba. We all enjoyed the sweets. Then Baba said to me, “You are only a student, and couldn’t afford these sweets. I’ll give you the money.” I replied, “No, Baba, it wasn’t my money… I stole it from You.” Baba looked at me sternly and said, “From Guru you stole? You must be punished…. But I cannot give you punishment because I also indulged in the stolen goods.”

During those early years, (Svarupanandaji continued) one could often see Him enter into trances and different special states of being, just like other highly elevated spiritualists. But He is not like others, because He never studied under any guru, and He passed through all His personal realizations as a youth. After that, I mean for the last thirty years or so, He always appeared in total control of Himself-even though He’s busy raising the kundalini force (spiritual energy) of so many other

333

Travels with the Mystic Master

people. And busy making trouble for us. Well, of course, we’re also nicely skilled in making trouble for Him.

M icrovita demo

Exactly seventeen years ago I first came to this spiritual paradise. I have to use the adjective spiritual because it is certainly not a physical paradise. Nevertheless, even physically it is far better off than when I first saw it. At that time it was a near-desert, without electricity or running water, and almost devoid of buildings. Now it is crawling with schools, welfare homes, dormitories, medical centers, small industrial plants, farm buildings, and offices. Most of these buildings have elec¬ tricity and running water—all provided by our own power plants, damns, bio-gas systems and solar cells. About 3000 of the local tribal people participate or are employed in construction, cottage industry or agricultural development projects in Ananda Nagar. And yet, so far, the government has not helped us in the slightest.

The most impressive change, however, is in the natural environment. As I said, it used to be a near-desert. Its small streams would run dry in the summer. Now, even in the driest time of the sweltering summer, the river is not only running, its water is deep enough for swimming. Although in this very moment a severe drought affects all of northern India, Ananda Nagar is an oasis, full of green-leafed trees and bushes. Rain falls at least on a semi-regular basis.

How did this happen? I cannot be sure. Is it the special trees and plants here, which Baba specified for attracting rain clouds? Or the system of rivers and drainage which catches rainwater to avoid its run¬ ning into the ground? Or is it some sort of special spiritual grace?

(During a reporting session:)

BABA: Any effect may be achieved by causing a concentration of the relevant microvita. And those microvita may be transported by any of a number of different means. For example … my boy, step forward. (A Dada walks close to Baba.) The microvita causing thermal generation may be conveyed by the tactual factor. (Baba uses one finger to touch the Dada’s anahata chakra or chest.) Now how do you feel, my boy? DADA: Very hot, Baba. There are waves of heat. BABA: Acha. (Baba touches him again.) And now?

Working 24 Hours a Day

334

DADA: My body’s coming back to normal, Baba.

BABA: These microvita may also be conveyed by the ocular faculty. (As usual, throughout the last few minutes, Baba was hardly looking at anyone, even while speaking with particular persons. Now he looks very specifically at the Dada.) How do you feel now?

DADA: I feel super hot, Baba.

BABA: Do you want to go on enjoying this state?

DADA: Ah (he smiles, though clearly very uncomfortable)… what¬ ever Baba likes.

BABA (again looking in an obvious way at the Dada): It would be dangerous for your cells to remain in this agitated condition for long. That is why I am now withdrawing the microvita. Well?

DADA: Thank you, Baba.

BABA: No, no. It was done by your grace alone.

J umping cure

The Central Secretary of the Education, Relief and Welfare Section, Dada Paripurnananda, is a good friend of mine. Recently, Baba has been very hard on him. I feel proud of Paripurnanandaji, because no matter what sort of clash Baba gives him, he seems to take it nicely. Now in the middle of a scolding, Baba’s mood suddenly shifted.

BABA: I believe you have some problem with your knee. Is it so? PARIPURNANANDA (smiles sweetly, enjoying this change in Baba’s attitude): Yes, Baba.

BABA: GS Da, apply your hands to his left knee, massaging gently. (The General Secretary does so.) Is it somewhat cured now?

PARIPURNANANDA: Yes, Baba. It is maybe thirty percent better. BABA: Now you should leap in the air as high as possible. (Paripurnanandaji hesitates a moment, wondering if he understood cor¬ rectly, as it seems a strange way to cure a knee problem. Then, shrugging his shoulders in surrender, he jumps almost one meter up.) Jump again. And again. Now, describe the condition.

PARIPURNANANDA (with an enormous smile): I believe it is one hundred percent cured, Baba.

BABA: Just see, just see. But do I remember hearing one little boy thinking, “Baba loves those two other Dadas. He doesn’t love me.?” Hmmm, did anyone think that?

PARIPURNANANDA (softly): Yes, Baba, I was thinking so… but…

335

Travels with the Mystic Master

BABA: But what? Is it so that Baba does not love the little boy who was thinking so?

PARIPURNANANDA (looking affectionately at Baba): No. Baba loves him very much.

BABA: Perhaps your assumption is correct. Yes, I think it may be correct.

Global Weatherman

Calcutta. Dada Pranavatmakananda told me that on 2nd June, dur¬ ing a workers’ meeting, Baba mentioned, “The panorama of the world is going to undergo a very fast change. You all should be ready….”

Yesterday in Vishnupur, Pranavatmakanandaji said to Baba, “Three days ago You said the world’s panorama is going to undergo a big change. Baba, in that time so much happened. On 3rd June, Ayatollah Khomeini, the revolutionary mullah of Iran died. On 4th June, Com¬ munism was voted out of power in Poland—the first country to reject it. Also on 4th June, when the military attacked the peaceful protesters in Tiananmien Square, Communism stood exposed in China as a system that can only be maintained by brute force. It seems that Your prediction of communism’s downfall is beginning to be fulfilled.”

“You wait and see,” Baba said. “The world will be dumbstruck to witness the pace of change. Before you reach your sector, there will be much more change in the world.” 98

Real dreams

Dada Pranavatmakananda toled me a story he heard from two other Dadas: Nityasatyanandaji and Haratmanandaji. They were both sleep¬ ing in the same room in Sao Paolo, Brazil, when Nityasatyanandaji had a dream:

He was on a field walk with Baba. At one point, their way became obstructed by mud. Dada thought, “If Baba walks through this mud, His legs will become dirty.” So he lifted Baba, carried Him across, and then put Him down. Then he woke up.

He noticed that their room was full of a sweet lotus scent. He was so excited that he shook Dada Haratmananda to wake him up and asked

98 Pranavatmakanandaji reached his sector a few months later. During that time, Communism collapsed in the whole of E astern Europe.

Working 24 Hours a Day

336

him, “Do you smell anything in this room?” Dada replied, “Yes … it’s like a lotus flower … very sweet.” After this, both Dadas forgot about the incident.

Nine months later, Nityasatyanandaji was in Calcutta. It was his daily routine to wait for Baba in the garden. When Baba would come out of the house, Dada would sing the latest Prabhat Sangiit song. One day Baba turned toward him and said, “If you had not lifted me that day, my legs would have become dirty.” He smiled and walked away. Nityasatyanandaji was surprised. He went on singing but could not un¬ derstand what Baba meant. He remembered nothing.

Two days later when Dada was returning to South America, he sud¬ denly recalled that night and understood Baba’s words. He wept with love for Baba.

At another time, Haratmanandaji was alone with Baba, massaging Him. Somebody had told him that Baba’s navel area produced a special scent. When Baba was sleeping, Haratmanandaji lifted Baba’s un¬ dershirt out of curiosity. Baba woke up and said, “Nonsense fellow! What are you doing?”

Again He slept. More careful this time, Haratmanandaji lifted the undershirt. Baba woke up while Dada was sniffing. But this time He smiled and asked, “What do you smell?”

“It’s sweet, Baba.”

“Is it like a lotus?”

“Yes.”

“Have you seen pictures of the mythological Vishnu which show a lotus sprouting from his navel, and on top of the lotus flower Brahma is sitting, creating the whole universe?”

“Yes, Baba.”

“It is symbolic. Parama Purusha (the Supreme Consciousness) cre¬ ates all, and His nucleus, His creative faculty is the navel. As His navel produces a lotus smell, mythology shows it so. Do you remember this scent?”

“What do you mean, Baba?”

“Do you remember when you were sleeping in the same room as Nityasatyanandaji, and he woke you up? It was exactly that smell.” It is clear that for Baba, our dreams of Him are also part of reality.

337

Travels with the Mystic Master

Lost in their own lies

[Author’s note as a background to today’s entry: In 1982 the Tripura state government, at that time communist, tried to crush Ananda Marga. Some of their leading politicians openly stated they would “oust the socio-political organization Ananda Marga.” Soon after, one of our primary schools was bombed. A court case was filed and the judge’s de¬ cision went against us so we appealed in the High Court. At that time, the communists held 54 seats in the State Assembly out of 60. Most of the public used to treat Chief Minister Chakravorty like a god. How could we expect to win? But Baba said at that moment, “When the sinner reaches the climax point, downfall is certain.” We sent 500,000 leaflets and 200,000 posters to this small state of less than two million inhabitants. Finally in the High Court, the District Magistrate apolo¬ gized for obstructing our school. The High Court instructed the police and the government agents to leave our school undisturbed. Not long after, the communist government was defeated by the Congress Party.

The West Bengal government’s (also communist) reaction to our work in Ananda Nagar was similar. In 1987, Baba told us, “The wind is blowing in your favor.” He also said, “Complete every work immediately, as time is short.” Highest priority went to developing Ananda Nagar. In short time, the near-desert scene dramatically changed. It must have terrified the federal and state governments to see Ananda Marga creating a beautiful community in one of the poorest areas of India. If we succeeded, it would prove the government’s inefficiency and insincerity. The local communist party leader announced to the press, “Just as we drove out the Lutheran Universalist Mission, we will also drive out Ananda Marga.”]

In Ananda Nagar this year there have been almost daily attacks on our staff, destruction of our agricultural work or harm to our buildings. Ananda Nagar is about 1200 acres, and these attacks have mostly occurred on the outskirts. Four months ago, at midnight, the police destroyed one of our buildings, declaring it the property of the Forestry Department. The police claimed they seized weapons from Ananda Marga. We denied it. They often make such claims. We are compelled to repeatedly file court charges, and eventually always win. It seems a

Working 24 Hours a Day

338

never-ending process. By now, the general people doubt any negative news published about us. In this case, our statement in the court was, “Why didn’t the police destroy the building in the daytime, if it were really the government’s building?” We won the case.

The Chief Minister of West Bengal, Jyoti Basu, became furious-he openly hates Ananda Marga. The step he decided on was excessive. Yesterday he approved an attack hoping to drive out Ananda Marga. The District Magistrate sent a message to Jyoti Basu, “If we raid Ananda Nagar, we can expect a fight just like the Sikhs waged at the Golden Temple.” They sent 1500 police and 153 vehicles to Ananda Nagar. They even brought ambulances to take care of the wounded. Apparently there was so much propaganda against us for so long, that the opposition believed their own lies about us. They thought we had a huge number of machine guns and explosives. But what did this overwhelming military force find? Nothing. Nevertheless, in a press conference just after the raid, the police claimed they discovered numerous weapons.

Today our Public Relations secretary filed a court case against the West Bengal government and police. In the history of West Bengal, no case was ever filed against top police officers. The PR secretary also held a press conference, and showed the police seizure lists which proved that they found nothing. The media representatives were astonished; they had published the false news only yesterday. Today they printed the true story.

Working 24 hours a day

During the last few days of reporting, Baba did not sit with the rep¬ resentatives. Each time He comes back from field walk, everyone greets Him as He steps out of the car, then those who have reporting duty run into the main room to be ready in case He wants to take their report. Though we’ve regularly followed this procedure, our sense of despon¬ dency deepens as the days pass and He seems to ignore us.

This morning there was a feeling of resignation among many work¬ ers. “Surely again He will not sit with us.” Our crisp readiness was so absent that this time the main room was full of Margis and workers who were not supposed to be there, and no one had made any effort to shoo them out.

339

Travels with the Mystic Master

Together with everyone else, I greeted Baba at His car. As He slowly walked away, moving toward the side entrance, one brother approached me. “Dada, I’ve completed the paper-work that you wanted me to do. Here it is.” I was torn between going through the documents and going to the room, just in case this time Baba wanted our report. But if I didn’t take the papers it might make trouble for this brother. I took the material and quickly checked it. In this way, perhaps a minute passed.

Then I rushed toward the room. A mad scene was taking place at the door! Margis and other workers were scrambling to squeeze out, everyone trying to get out at the same time. Though I could hear Baba shouting inside, there was no way I could enter at that moment. A gap appeared, and I jumped forward, pushing violently against the others, and forgetting all politeness. Just as I reached the door those inside began closing it. I thrust in my arm, and then a leg, and with a burst of strength, pressed it open, and squeezed into the room.

The very instant I entered Baba looked at me, burning me with His inner fire. As the last to enter, I was the most irresponsible element in this entire brew of feckless workers. But instead of hiding behind the others, I stepped toward the front. I love His attention, no matter what sort.

“Nonsense! Stupid! Scoundrel!” He shouted at me. “Breeding chaos! Like animals! Idiot! Rascal!” I bathed in His force. “How can you waste my time? Don’t you know that I am working twenty four hours a day?” His words stabbed at me with a power and a volume I had never before experienced. Surely even the neighbors could clearly hear His voice through the now closed door. The other workers turned their faces to¬ ward me, wondering how I would take this scorching chastisement. I suppose they thought me arrogant, because instead of bowing my head in abasement, I looked straight at Baba. He was dead right, I was some¬ times wasting my time and His time, but in that moment I did not care because Baba was directing a colossal force at me, and I did not want to miss a drop of it.

He stood up from the sofa. A sinking sense of disappointment surged through the workers as they understood that this opportunity for a long- awaited meeting with Baba was spoiled. As He left the room everyone became gloomy and turned their eyes toward the floor. Every

Working 24 Hours a Day

340

one, that is, except me. I was elated with the shakti, the spiritual power He had injected into me. But, knowing the others would not understand, I neither smiled nor said anything. I was, after all, the one deserving maximum blame.

His voice echoed again and again in my mind: “Don’t you know that I am working twenty four hours a day?”

Society’s high expectations

(During the meeting of the district incharges from Area West of the Indian Sector. A Margi stands in front of Baba.)

BABA: GS, ask him how many full-timers he created.

GENERAL SECRETARY: How many full-timers did you create in the last one year?

MARGI: None.

BABA (now directing his words at the Margi): How many schools have started due to your own efforts? MARGI: None, Baba.

BABA: And could you even inspire any Margis to become Block Secretaries within your district? MARGI: No, Baba. I’m sorry. BABA: You’re sorry. Are you married? MARGI: Yes, Baba.

BABA: Then why are you also keeping a secret wife? (Some of us gasp in surprise. Most surprised is the Margi, who rolls his eyes and is no longer able to stand still.) Haram jada! (You donkey!) Because your lifestyle is immoral, of course you could not achieve anything. And due to your illicit behavior you have also contracted some serious disease. Is it not so?

MARGI: Yes, Baba…

BABA: Do you promise from this very moment to rectify yourself and become an ideal man, serving the society with all of your capacity? MARGI: Yes, Baba.

BABA: Come closer. (The Margi moves near Baba, who reaches out and momentarily touches him below the navel area.) You are henceforth cured of that disease. Do you understand that we, the members of the collective society, maintain high expectations regarding the contribution that you will make for the universal welfare?

341

Travels with the Mystic Master

MARGI: Yes,

Baba. BABA: Very good.

When we spoke to him afterward, he refused to tell what disease he had, saying only that it was something abominable. Then he went to the bathroom. After coming out, he said, “By Baba’s grace it is cured!”

Service beyond party politics

Today Baba introduced a new program called ARS: All-Round Ser¬ vice. Henceforth it will be a daily-report item. ARS consists of basic relief works to be offered to the most needy people, and will be directed primarily at the communist and post-communist countries. Baba explained four points—

1. ARS had to be created due to the defective economic subsistence level in the communist countries.

2 ) ARS has nothing to do with party politics..

3. We have to help the people down to the district level at the time of calamity.

4 ) We should continue cooperation with other service organizations such as Red Cross and Oxfam.

The Fareast Asia sector has the greatest population of any sector suffering under communism. It includes China, Asiatic Russia, Mongolia, North Korea and Tibet, so this new emphasis will be very important for us.

An article appeared in the newspaper today about a flood in South Korea. Baba, to whom at least four newspapers are read daily, requested a report within twelve hours about our relief work. I tried to telephone our office in Seoul, but could not get through.

When the deadline for reporting approached, Baba’s personal as¬ sistant pressed me for the report. I told him that I couldn’t get through, but he wouldn’t accept this reply. Not knowing what to do, I closed my eyes, meditated on Baba’s face, and asked Him for guidance. I imagined what work we should have done in Korea, and accordingly, on opening my eyes wrote the following false report:

Working 24 Hours a Day

342

“In the aftermath of Typhoon Judy, Seoul Regional Secretary (Dada Alok) and Universal Proutist Intellectual Federation Secretary (Dada Mahaprajinananda) organized a relief team of 12 Margis to help home¬ less and suffering people in the Seoul area. Already clothes have been given to 25 families, and food to 200 people. The team also helped to clean out and make habitable four houses so far. They will continue their work with accelerating speed.”

Soon after the report was submitted, Baba called a meeting in His bedroom. During that meeting, He praised Hong Kong Sector for re¬ sponding so quickly to the flood in Korea, and encouraged the repre¬ sentatives of other sectors to follow this example. On top of that, He directed the Central Public Relations Secretary to submit the news of our on-going Korean relief work to the Calcutta newspapers.

I was thoroughly embarrassed, but could tell nobody. All this hoopla over a false report. At the end of the session, I immediately took permission to go to the city public telephone office.

This time I got the line to Seoul. Dada Alok answered:

ME: Alok, it’s absolutely urgent that you do something for the people suffering from the flood in Korea. Baba read about it in the newspapers.

ALOK: We already did a bit of relief work.

ME: Great! I’m writing it down. Tell me who did the work?

ALOK: About a dozen Margis under the guidance of Mahaprajina- nandaji and myself.

ME: Wow! I was just guessing Mahaprajinanandaji was there.

ALOK: What?

ME: Nothing. How many people did you help?

ALOK: We gave clothes to about twenty-five families, and food to about 200 people.

ME: That’s incredible! Absolutely totally Baba Nam Kevalam! Did you, by the way, did you clean out any houses?

ALOK: Yeah.

ME: Was it about four houses?

ALOK: No, it was three houses. Wait a moment, come to think of it, it was four houses. How did you know?

ME: I love you, Baba! Somehow Baba knew all this even without the telephone call. He’s reporting your work to the newspapers already.

343

Travels with the Mystic Master

ALOK: What’re you talking about? Really? But it’s not such a big deal yet. Anyway you can let Him know that there’s a lot of people still suffering, so we’ll do more and more work.

ME: I already told Him you’ll work with accelerating speed.

ALOK: Exactly.

ME: We should give some more news to the papers. So try to call me with your report tomorrow and the day after also. ALOK: Will do.

The peculiar business of making saints

All the other workers were doing meditation, and I alone guessed that Baba’s door was wide open. I stood there for half an hour, look-ing at Him as He talked with Dada Keshavananda. Baba was in a fine mood, laughing and joking. Toward the end, Keshavanandaji gave Him a soft drink. Like a child, Baba wore a napkin tucked in at His neck, and sipped repeatedly at the plastic straw, enjoying Himself. I felt a change in the air, and knew something was coming, though they still talked lightly together. Suddenly, Baba began shouting loudly, and Keshavanandaji jumped up and ran out of the room, calling the Central workers. Baba, alone now, continued shouting. Within seconds, they all clambered into His room. Boiling with rage, He charged them with numerous crimes. They could hardly reply. Within no time, pun- ishment was allocated, and all these senior workers rolled onto their backs and into the shoulder stand, their legs pointed up in the air. Some of them are old gray haired men.

As soon as they were so positioned, Baba returned to His drink, as if nothing had happened. He spoke mildly with Keshavanandaji, and paid absolutely no attention to the score of workers so oddly assembled before Him.

The workers smiled at each other, whispered together, and, knowing it would be a long session, secretly leaned their legs against the walls.

Tears in our eyes

Today was the last day of this month’s reporting so all the secto-trial representatives were holding garlands, hoping to get a chance to place them on Baba. During these last months He had not directly received any garlands, but rather accepted them only through His personal assistant.

Still, we had hope.

Working 24 Hours a Day

344

After He returned from field walk, we quickly lined up at the side door. There are two entrances to the main reporting room: the front door, and the side door which Baba uses as He walks upstairs to His room. He would not enter the reporting room at this late time. Since Fareast Asia — Hong Kong Sector — is always the first to be called, I stood at the front of the line. For some minutes He talked to us. Then He turned to go upstairs. We would not be able to put our garlands on Him…

Then abruptly He pivoted, and walked into the reporting room. Within a moment He was seated, and I heard Keshavanandaji yell, “Hong Kong Sector!”

The narrow path back around the house to the front was blocked by twenty-six workers: two Dadas and one Didi from each of the nine sectors. I could not push them aside, but neither could I delay when I was being called before Baba. So I jumped. I wonder how I did it, and still people ask me about it, but I jumped over this entire crowd of workers, and in no time ran through the front door and up to Baba. Keshavanandaji smiled broadly and tilted his head, also marveling at how I came so fast.

Without waiting for permission, I placed my garland over Baba’s head, and draped it on His neck. His eyes glittered. All my excitement disappeared as I became lost in His affection.

“Did you enjoy the program, Dharmavedananda?”

“Too much, Baba.”

“But do you remember our days together in Berlin Sector?”

His tone made me start crying. “Just like… it was yesterday… Baba.”

He smiled at me, and kept His eyes on me, though He said nothing. His eyes also teared. After some time the magic shifted, and He did namaskar to me, tears still shining in our eyes.

From that moment my state of mind was so altered that I cannot remember anything else that happened.

Y ou will see

Dada Mantreshvarananda told me that on a recent field walk he had the following conversation with Baba:

DADA: Baba, today the materialists have all the power. They have all the manpower, all the wealth, all the technological strength. The

Travels with the Mystic Master

spiritual-moralists, on the other hand, are but few in number, having no wealth, and almost no machinery. Excuse me for asking, Baba, but in the face of this reality, how can we expect to see the realization of a Proutist government within any reasonable period of time?

BABA (abruptly turning toward Mantreshvaranandaji): There is no one who can stop Prout’s progress. It will be established within a very short time. (Pointing His finger at Dada) You will see.

Improving bodies for improved service

During reporting of Dadas, in the midst of the review of one worker, Baba suddenly interrupted him:

BABA: There is a dull pain in the lower vertebrae of your spine. Is it not?

DADA: Yes, Baba.

BABA: Occasionally it flares into acute pain. Is it not?

DADA: Yes, Baba.

BABA: Have you not experienced these symptoms for several years? DADA: Yes, Baba.

BABA (looking at the General Secretary): GS Da, place your right thumb in my palm. (The General Secretary does so, and Baba rubs his thumb between His two hands.) What is the feeling in your thumb now? GENERAL SECRETARY: It is very hot, Baba.

BABA: Using that hot thumb, touch the vertebrae in the area of his svadhistana chakra (i.e., area of lower back). (Speaking to first Dada:)

Is that the area of your pain?

DADA: Yes, Baba.

BABA: GS, twist and turn your hot thumb … move slightly higher … yes… now move down the spine … continue … yes … that is enough.

Now, how do you feel, my boy?

DADA: I feel full of power.

BABA: And the pain?

DADA: It is gone, Baba.

BABA: It will not return. Now, what plan have you chalked out for the use of your improved body?

DADA: I will do maximum service to the suffering humanity, Baba. BABA: Very good. Very good.

Working 24 Hours a Day

346

Pretending to be normal

Baba’s voice is a nasal one. It is something peculiar. Many people like that voice, but I doubt that the public would consider His voice especially appealing or magnificent.

That’s why, after hearing Baba’s voice for more than ten years, today I was surprised. His voice became beautiful and mellow, like a trained public speaker. The scene was appropriate for this attractive voice, because He spoke to the Prout candidates for state assemblies in India.

It was as if He wanted to give them an example how to speak to the public though He did not say it in so many words.

A portion of His speech in English:

“Communism was a Utopian idea never to be materialized on this earth. Now most of the countries have recognized this fact. So this is the opportune moment for Prout to come. We have to propagate it among the intellectuals. The time is come. In each and every corner of the earth. In each and every hearth of human soul. For this we need more Prout cadres. Forty-eight new wholetimers in India, and forty-eight new wholetimers overseas. Help this project. It is not enough, but for the time being it may do something. I said twice before, the time is come. There is no other philosophy to solve the world’s problems and quench human thirst. This election proved there is a need and a demand. The world wants you. No time is to be lost. There is dire necessity.”

Perhaps each and every action of Baba is calculated for its effect. He is a full-time unpaid actor. To imagine that all these years He was speaking in an artificial voice. And why did He pick such a nasal sound?

I can guess that He wanted us to be attracted only by His way of living, His ideas, and His sacrifice.

Perhaps this is why He wears glasses, dresses simply, and appears normal. In the early days, before Ananda Marga was well known, it often happened in train stations that non-Margis would approach Dadas to pay their respects, never even noticing Baba.

I remember a story from many years ago:

A certain Margi believed that Baba did not need spectacles, but only wore them because His unobstructed gaze was too over-powering. One day, this Margi served Baba His meal. When he entered the room,

THE

Travels with Mystic Master

he saw Baba reading a newspaper without wearing His glasses. But He was holding the paper very close to His eyes.

The shocked Margi thought, My God! Baba does need glasses! He stood there, holding the tray of food, unable to move. Wild thoughts entered his mind: perhaps he had over-estimated Baba; perhaps Baba was not really powerful; perhaps He was not a true guru.

After thinking this for some time, he noticed that Baba was holding the newspaper upside-down.

In that moment, Baba lowered the paper, looked at the Margi, and smiled.

Going to Ananda Nagar instead of staying with Baba

Everyone is alarmed. Baba has experienced some sort of heart fail¬ ure, and was admitted to the emergency ward of a private nursing home. The festive atmosphere of yesterday is now replaced by a gloomy one.

Next day. Workers and Margis have decided to hold continuous kiirtan until Baba is cured. The kiirtan has been super-high. Now again everyone is feeling inspired.

Next day. Just after the kiirtan reached the 24-hour mark, Baba sent a message from the nursing home: “All Margis and workers should proceed to Ananda Nagar for the winter program. May it be a grand success. Keep in mind three points: 1) All Margis should love Ananda Nagar. If any don’t yet love Ananda Nagar, they should start to love it now. 2) Ananda Nagar is the best place for Margis. 3) Every Margi’s body should touch the soil of Ananda Nagar.”

Though Baba remained away, we had to follow His directives. We stopped the kiirtan, and left for Ananda Nagar.

Five days later. Ananda Nagar. As Baba foretold, our spiritual fes¬ tival was “a grand success.” About 30,000 Margis attended. Sixty-five full-timers and Margis decided to go for acharya training, and twenty pieces of land were donated for making model communities.

Working 24 Hours a Day

348

CHAPTER 20

H e Sends Out a Clarion Call

L ittle work and all pleasure

Calcutta, January 1990. Today, as Baba was leaving the nursing home, He called all the nurses “Ma” and distributed sweets to them. They all cried. The last person at the door was Baba’s doctor, Dr Sen, one of India’s leading heart specialists. He also treated Mother Teresa. He said, “Baba, we all thank You for putting Your holy feet in our nursing home. But You are not a man, or even a superman. You are a god.” Then he prostrated himself at Baba’s feet.

Dada Keshavananda told me that a few days ago the doctors pro¬ tested that Baba was continuing to compose Prabhat Sangiit songs in the emergency ward even though they had requested Him not to do any work. In one day alone He wrote thirteen songs. He responded by saying, “Composing Prabhat Sangi it does not require any special effort from my part. Similarly, whenever I write Shabda Cayanika (His encyclopedia), it is a spontaneous expression. Rather than considering these processes to be my work, you should title them my pleasures.”

Keshavanandaji asked Baba what He considered to be work. He said, “When I conceptualized the idea of Ananda Marga, or Prout, or microvita, or Neo-H uman ism —these original revolutionary creations required a little exertion. You may be interested to know that the work which occupied my effort for the longest time was the invention of our Pratik (the symbol of Ananda Marga). It took me thirty minutes.”

A few days ago two nurses approached Keshavanandaji with a ques¬ tion. They said, “Each of us separately observed Baba talking in His

349

Travels with the Mystic Master

sleep. Both times He said the same words: Master units. Master units. Do the words master units have any special meaning that you know?”

Keshavanandaji laughed. “Yes, I know. The establishment of Master Units all over the globe is now our most important program. It is so important that Baba goes on creating the conducive psychic wave for them even when His body is sleeping.” 99

The last story concerns Dr Ramesh, a specialist at the clinic. One day the doctor told Baba, “Your health is not good. But I understand you frequently scold your workers. Anger is not helpful to your cure. So I request you to refrain from such rebuking.”

Baba became furious, shouting loud enough to cause everyone to jump, “Who is he to tell me such a thing!”

The Dadas became upset, and the doctors became afraid.

In a twinkle of an eye, Baba again changed His mood, and said sweetly, “Now, do you mean like that?”

“Yes, Baba,” said Dr Ramesh, shaking.

“No need to worry,” said Baba. “You see, I say all such caustic words from my throat, not from my heart. It does not affect me.”

“TheM aster Unit program is the culmination of all other social service activities of Ananda M arga. For simplicity’s sake, until this point my diary entries referred to such projects as’ 1 land communities” or 11 model communities.” Ananda Nagar was our first M aster Unit. To be considered a M aster Unit, a piece of land must beat least five acres. On this land we must establish a yoga/meditation center, agricultural farm, cottage industry, family dwellings, a self- contained system of ponds and streams, an alternative energy center, and a permanent service center. According to location and various other factors, we should also, if possible, develop a children’shomeand school, a wild animal sanctuary, botanical gardens, medical hospital or clinic, a dairy farm, and a good number of welfare homes and appropriate industries. Thus, the M aster Unit serves as a model community by which the public may practically experience Prout in action. Without this demonstration, Prout would be only an interesting theory, and most people would not believe that the implementation of Prout is truly possible. The M aster Unit is also a training ground to develop the subtle feelings and knowledge required for gaining the cooperation and leadership skills upon which a Proutist society is based.

Though Baba gave the concept of M aster Unit many years before this diary entry, it was only in 1987 that He began emphasizing it. During the four years beginning with 1987, He gradually stepped up the level of concentration on making and developing M aster Units. Eventually, almost every Dada and Didi became involved in obtaining land. Throughout the world we now own hundreds of properties on which we are developing M aster Unit projects. For example, in theFareast Asia sector we have a total of ten M aster Units in Taiwan, K orea, Russia, M ongolia, Hong K ong and J apan.

He Sends Out a Clarion Call

350

The creator of madness

The doctors first gave strict instructions, and then pleaded with Baba, that He should not work for the next one month. Though it is doubtful He can keep Himself away from work for so long, we expect that for a few days at least He will abide by these instructions. He will not, for example, hold darshan or workers’ meetings. Many Margis are here from all over the world who are desperate for a glimpse of Baba. Their only chance is while Baba takes garden-walks twice daily. It is possible to look over the boundary wall and see Him. It is Baba’s private time so no one is technically permitted to do this, but the rule is generally overlooked because the Margis have never been too many at a single time, and everyone maintains silence. This stretching of the .rule has gone on for years.

Today there were far more Margis looking over the wall than at any other time. There were hundreds, mostly from overseas. The Margis literally climbed over each other to secure a vantage points on the wall. To see over the wall it is necessary to stand on something, usually piled bricks or rocks. The types of structures thus built were varied, and often were piled too high, so that they sometimes collapsed, causing many people to simultaneously fall to the ground. Though knees and elbows were scraped, no one seemed to care.

In this atmosphere, for the first time, the unwritten rule of main¬ taining silence was broken. The Margis could not control themselves. As Baba emerged in a wheelchair, a few weeping sounds and sighs cut the silence. Within a few more moments, such a thrill swept through the crowd that Margis were crying, laughing, yelling “Baba!,” “Namaskar Baba!” and so on. Baba smiled. He turned His face toward the Margis, and they went wild. A Yugoslavian brother jumped over the wall, and was immediately restrained by the security volunteers. I was standing or, rather, hanging down from the roof, and had a perfect view of the whole scene. It was cinematic, to say the least.

As Baba concluded the walk, He was wheeled toward the final corner. It was a few meters from there that the Yugoslavian brother was being held. Suddenly he broke away from the guards, lunged in front of Baba, and prostrated at His feet. In the same moment, Baba’s closest bodyguard, Pratap, leapt forward, and in a single flowing movement lifted the brother off the ground and thrust him into the distance.

Though

351

Travels with the Mystic Master

everyone was excited by this performance, Baba was undisturbed. He pretended not even to see it, though it happened immediately before Him.

A moment later, when yet another Margi yelled “Namaskar Baba,” He spoke to the Margis for the one and only time, saying, “You are all doing namaskar to me. One namaskar from me is enough for all.” He then folded His hands and, turning His body slowly around, did a long namaskar toward all the Margis. The effect was like His varabhaya mudra, His gesture of blessing during DMC. By their crying and sighing it was clear that every Margi felt it.

Don’t make problems out of nothing

Without reporting sessions to attend, I’ve time on my hands. Think¬ ing to inspire a few Margis from my sector, I escorted four of them to the Didis’ quarters where I requested a meeting with Didi Ananda Bharati who everyone affectionately calls Aunty. Aunty is the first Didi and also the oldest. She is the sole teacher of kapalika meditation for Didis who are authorized by Baba to become avadhutikas. For many months she has been so sick that she could hardly leave her room.

The five of us sat around her bed.

“How are you, Aunty?” I asked.

“My T is fine. But, ach, this body should have died some years ago. Baba is just keeping it around for His pleasure. Ha, ha!”

She spoke in such a way that we all laughed with her. Then I asked Aunty to tell us some of her experiences with Baba. She did not want to tell any, but due to our repeated requests, she narrated a few incidents. These stories were mostly sentimental. For example, she said, “I used to frequent His kitchen to cook food for Him. Once I made ice cream for Him, and He said, ‘Mother, this is yum yum!’

“I remember this sort of moment best. You know, He never had me sit on the floor like other workers—He always arranged a chair for me. Though I was the disciple, He was such a gentleman with me.

“Countless times I saw Him perform miracles with other workers and Margis. But I never desired that experience. I don’t crave things which come and go. I only want what’s permanent. So He never gave me those kinds of miracles. Yet I know He hears the words I am speaking right now. No one can hide anything from Baba.

“You must listen to Guru like a child listens to his teacher in school. Though Baba is against dogma, we must have blind faith in Him. This

He Sends Out a Clarion Call

352

alone is surrender. The more the child surrenders, the more He must take care.”

She turned to each of the Margis to ask them how they felt in India—it was the first visit for each of them. When it came to Taiwan sister Madhavi’s turn, she said, “I’m fine, Aunty.” Knowing that Madhavi was actually sick, I said, “You see, Aunty, Madhavi is Chinese. So even if she has problems, she will say she has no problems.”

Aunty said, “Why should she have problems? She is a yogini, a Tantric.”

“But the more we Tantrics evolve, Aunty,” I said, “the more prob¬ lems we have.”

“No, no,” she said. “No problems.”

“But look at Baba,” I said. “He has so many problems.”

“Oh, Baba. He is something different. Listen, don’t make problems where there need be no problems.”

She gazed at me, smiling. Her last sentence, simple and obvious as it was, rang in my mind. For the first time in my life I realized that I had a tendency to dig up problems and complications even when they were best left undisturbed. I will never forget her words . 100

Global water crisis

Ananda Nagar. June. During a workers’ meeting, Baba said, “A water crisis is soon to strike the earth. Due to overuse of underground water resources, the water-table is sinking. Furthermore, at some point that water will become so polluted it can no longer be processed for drinking. This problem will dominate over most other problems in most countries of the world. It will be the direct cause of millions of deaths. In many areas people will become dependent on rainwater. International commerce in water will become more than commerce in petroleum. This crisis will come to a peak in the year 2000. Will you remember that? 2000? (So saying, Baba used His forefinger to draw the numerals 2-0-0- o in the air.) It is for this reason that on our Master Units, next to every building, a pond should be constructed to catch the rainwater. Our Master Units should not depend on underground water sources.”

100 A few weeks later Aunty died.

353

Travels with the Mystic Master

The most powerful mudra I ever felt

Baba’s DMC varabhaya mudra (gesture of blessing) was scheduled for today. In the moment that we all expected Him to give the mudra, however, He brought His hands down on the couch—so forcefully that it made a dull noise.

There are all sorts of speculative explanations. But no one really understands Baba’s strange behavior.

The crowd of about 30,000 was disappointed.

Two days later. There was no darshan this morning; the program was clearly finished, and most people arranged to leave. We faced the usual problems of secretly removing the overseas Margis. The police want to catch foreign Margis and blacklist them from reentering India. In the past, we hid them inside large trucks. But this time the trucks were delayed, and hadn’t come.

Two or three workers made a plan to hustle the overseas Margis into a train during its stop in Pundag (the closest station). This plan was neither announced nor clarified, even when it came time to rush the first batch of Margis to the train. At that time, about two or three thousand Indian Margis were also boarding.

The police spotted the non-Indians, and took up the chase. While most of the foreigners escaped, they succeeded in capturing three sisters and one brother. In the process, they ripped off some of the women’s clothing in a most disrespectful manner. In India such behavior toward women is considered outrageous. Within moments the Margis were taken off to the nearby policebox.

The Indian Margis were so angry about the behavior of the police that they pulled out one of the track railings, rendering the train im¬ mobile. The Margis declared they would not permit the train to leave until the captured Margis were released.

The few hundred innocent passengers already on the train became the victims of this drama. Two Margis gave them a mass lecture to explain the problem, and all became sympathetic. The Margis brought water and snacks for the stranded passengers.

Meanwhile, back at Ananda Nagar (about two kilometers away), all the overseas workers had long before changed from their orange

He Sends Out a Clarion Call

354

robes to civilian clothes. Hearing that the police and local communist thugs were preparing for a confrontation, we engaged ourselves in plan¬ ning and constructing a defense. We began shifting the women and children into more central buildings where they would be safer. In this way, several hours passed. The tension increased, and still the train remained. Because it was a fasting day, the strain was not only psychic but also physical.

At 10:00 p.m., someone yelled, “I see Baba’s car! It’s headed toward the darshan tent!” Since the DMC program seemed finished, and as we were in the midst of a dangerous crisis, we could not believe that Baba would give darshan. But better run to the tent to see!

By the time I entered, Baba was already seated, and a program was indeed underway. For the first time ever, I sat in the middle instead of the front for darshan. Being in civil clothes, I preferred not to attract the attention of anyone, including Baba.

Because many people had already left, and the tent was half empty, the feeling was strange. But Baba was in a fine mood, joking and speak¬ ing casually. When He finally started the formal darshan itself, the air became energized. By the time He had half finished, I was so concen¬ trated on Him that I unconsciously shifted from my normal cross-legged position to a strained kneeling pose. Even though He spoke in Bengali, I became excited. I didn’t know why. And then I thought, “Perhaps He’ll give the mudra. How odd if it’s so, but…” A few moments later He began singing the chant Samgacchadvam, which always precedes the mudra. We all sat forward, astounded, waiting, tense.

And He gave it. A varabhaya mudra as I had never before experi¬ enced. He used to hold the mudra for perhaps five seconds or less. But this one, how long did it last? At the time it seemed interminable. Everyone, absolutely everyone, including the small children, were blasted. Shouts of “Baba! Baba!” came from all sides. I also shouted uncontrollably. My hair seemed to stand on end. My eyes felt as if they would pop out of their sockets, and my skin as if it would explode off my body. My heart burst with feeling for Him, and my mind stopped functioning, except to think Baba! Baba!

At last He closed His hands, and did namaskar. Perhaps forty sec¬ onds had passed. The crowd sang Prabhat Sang!it or something, I don’t remember—I remained absorbed in looking at Him. Then everyone

355

Travels with the Mystic Master

stood up to dance kiirtan. I stood but could not dance. I could only stare at Him. As the kiirtan continued, Baba slowly walked off the stage.

Without thinking, I ran toward Him. The tent was so big. I did not know where He had gone, but I lifted up one wall, dove under, and kept running. Sooner than I expected, I saw Baba entering His car. Volunteer guards were protecting the area with their sticks. Paying no attention to them, I rushed toward Baba. The guards didn’t react quickly enough, and I was soon past them. I rushed up to the window of Baba’s car without any concern for the impropriety of my clothing. I was crying.

The car drove away before I could touch it. I ran alongside it. I could clearly see Baba, though He did not see me. Weeping and running. Oh, Baba! It went on a long way like that. Then the car sped up, leaving me behind.

I walked slowly toward our quarters. Someone came from behind me and took my hand—Dada Nityashubhananda. He was also deeply affected. We walked together without speaking, tears welling in our eyes. When we arrived at the hostel, I excused myself and went up to the roof to be alone in the darkness. Everyone else was still at the darshan tent. As I sat for meditation, I heard powerful, booming voices speaking to the crowd over the PA system.

The mudra had invested everyone with such energy that an imme¬ diate return to normality was impossible. Remembering the stand-off at the train station, the Margis became even more excited. They could no longer tolerate the injustice. Hundreds poured out of the tent and raced toward the station.

Silence returned. I slipped deep into meditation and paid no heed to my surroundings. I was unaware when the overseas Margis returned to the hostel. Unaware when, some time later, a great hubbub stirred.

Someone ran onto the roof. “Dada, we’ve been looking for you! Come quickly, there’s an emergency!”

Uninterested, but compelled by duty (I have been the main organizer for overseas Margis during this DMC), I rose slowly to my feet and made my way downstairs. Three or four workers rushed up to me. “Dharmavedananda, where’ve you been? There’s been an attack!”

My senses returned. “Where? What happened exactly?”

“The police went mad at the station area! They fired their rifles ran¬ domly in all directions! Many people were hit, and some may be dead!”

He Sends Out a Clarion Call

356

I looked at my watch. After midnight. Margis and workers were running here and there. A Dada told me that he was going to the hos¬ pital by motorcycle to check on the extent of the injuries and asked me if I wanted to come. I nodded. Within minutes we were there.

About twenty men were lying in beds, groaning from bullet shots. One in particular was screaming in pain. Not long after, he died. The condition of four others was critical.

The police had fired indiscriminately. Though many women and children were in the crowd, none were hit. It seemed that only divine dispensation had spared them.

The suffering was very real. For some reason I was inspired. Their stolid manner in the face of agony, the history in the making of which all were aware, and the fact that Baba chose this moment to give His mudra—l felt, I had to feel, that a noble purpose was behind us. I held someone’s hand here, touched a forehead there—what more could I do? The doctors and nurses were caring for them, and I had still to think for the overseas Margis.

We went back to constructing more defenses, still discussing how to escape, taking care of some Margis who were inexperienced, helping others to adjust who were physically ill—it was late, 3:30 a.m.; we had been fasting in the heat all day; Margis were collapsing, closing their eyes, sleeping. It was enough already. I informed the guards that I, too, would rest until the sun rose, and to wake me if there was news.

Dramatic education

At sunrise, I awoke. A few workers were talking.

“Has anyone spoken to Baba about all this?” I asked.

“Just now one Dada came with that news. Baba said, ‘I’m very pained by the suffering of these boys. But why did no one check with me before rushing in front of the police? It was inappropriate.’”

Soon after, the trucks finally arrived. We prepared to leave in our normal secret manner.

And what about the four imprisoned overseas Margis? After hearing Baba’s comment, we decided to deal with their cases through the courts.

357

Travels with the Mystic Master

Ranchi. The evening papers ran headlines stories about the attack. Photos of the dead Dada and the four severely injured workers appeared with long articles condemning the behavior of the police.

Though this conflict may have technically been inappropriate, I feel it was a part of the Cosmic plan. The Margis now understand better the injustice of this government and the general public has gained further evidence of the persecution of Ananda Marga. We have experienced and learned many things through this incident.

Maybe I have no right to make the following comment. Nevertheless: Though Baba’s words condemned the Margis’ action, I feel He knew it would happen, and perhaps on the psychic level caused it to happen. It was obvious that Baba should have been consulted first; I think He speeded up their minds and made them forget to ask Him. In order to create various circumstances for our growth, the Tantra guru often causes us to commit mistakes, without which the necessary conditions would never develop.

Some people may consider my opinion a heartless one. For me, however, this idea is full of love. I remember Baba’s explanation as to why Krishna engineered the Mahabharata war: “It was meant for popu¬ lar education. If Parama Purusha (Cosmic Consciousness) accom¬ plishes everything by mere thought-projection, the lessons would go unnoticed and unlearnt by others….Hence, events like the battle of Kurukshetra had to be conceived and dramatized….Nobody was spared— even Abhimanyu, the nephew of Krishna and son of Aijuna, was not spared. For in war between virtue and vice, the sparks of the fire spread out on all sides.” 101

Conversation on a train

New Delhi. While coming here by train, I overheard an interesting conversation. Several educated men were discussing world politics. They spoke in English. When their conversation turned to the predicament of communism, one of them said, “The strange fact is that many years ago the guru of Ananda Marga, P.R. Sarkar, predicted in detail the collapse of communism.”

Another man made a few comments about Baba, and finished by saying, “Yes, in every age at least one such great intellectual is there.”

101 Namami KrsnaSundaram, Ananda M arga Publications, 1981.

He Sends Out a Clarion Call

358

“But he also prophesied the demise of capitalism,” said a third. “I don’t know about that.”

“Well, none of us knew about communism’s downfall either. Let’s wait and see. If I had to wager, I’d bet whatever Sarkar said is correct.”

They all nodded their heads. I was about to stick my neck out and say something, when they changed the topic.

The university

Tokyo. A Dada returned from India today. The latest news is that Baba has started a new program. A university is being created in Ananda Nagar.

Several times daily, jeeps and motorcycles arrive at the Central Of¬ fice piled high with books to be used for the university library. The books are perused by a full-time staff of workers and Margis. One of the largest rooms in the office is being used for planning the university’s architecture, courses, staff needs, budgets and so on. They are hoping to open the university before the end of the year, and so, an enormous amount of preparation is required. 102

Amnesty cooperates

A few days ago, while teaching meditation at Waseda University, I met a few student members of Amnesty International. On their initia¬ tive, I was introduced to a local Amnesty leader who spoke fluent En¬ glish. I explained that Ananda Nagar workers are facing almost daily attacks from thugs and police. I also explained that Amnesty never helped us when Baba was in jail, because His case was then classified as a criminal case. She was sympathetic and requested me to show her proof of my allegations. Since then, we have had several meetings, and I have presented all the newspaper clippings, court decisions and other documents related to the persecution of Ananda Marga in Bengal. Today the Tokyo Amnesty office formally took up our case and began correspondence with their London headquarters. The woman in-charge told me they would insist on a proper investigation, though it may take a few weeks to get the ball rolling.

102 T ogether with theM aster Unit program, the university is one of our most important Central projects. It isconcerned not only with academic study but also with practical research on new scientific inventions and agricultural systemsat Ananda Nagar.

359

Travels with the Mystic Master

TotaI shock

October 22. The most shocking experience of my life occurred today.

At 3:00 in the morning, Dada Artapremananda woke me up and called me into his office where he had been sleeping alone. His eyes bulged, his body shivered continuously, and his skin was pale. He looked as if he had gone mad.

“I… received … a phone call two hours ago,” he stammered. “I couldn’t believe it, and just sat here dazed since then. But… but… now another call came. So I had to tell someone.”

“What is it?” I said.

He started weeping and shaking furiously. I put my hand on his shoulder to try to comfort him. “Baba … is … gone.”

“What! What are you talking about?” I said.

His crying and shaking increased.

“Did you have a bad dream or something?”

“No. No. Oh, Baba. First Didi Hemavati called me from Korea. Now someone called from Calcutta. It’s true. Baba’s left His body.”

“It’s impossible! I can’t believe it, and I don’t accept it.”

“Oh, I don’t know what to do or what to think,” he said.

“No, this is ridiculous. Baba couldn’t have died. He said He would stay until His work was done. It must be something else. I am going to call Calcutta.”

“Alright.”

After a few minutes I was able to get through. Dada Bhaveshananda answered.

“What happened?” I said.

His voice was sober, slow and somewhat shaking, “It seems… Baba left.”

“What do you mean seems?”

“The life force is gone for some hours now. No pulse. Nothing.” “Perhaps He’s in samadhi or some special state. Maybe He will come out of it after some time.”

“Well, we hope so. But… I don’t think so.”

I tried to think of something else to say, but my mind went blank. I passed the phone to Artapremanandaji, and he spoke briefly in Hindi. Then he hung up. He turned to me, saying, “What should we do?”

He Sends Out a Clarion Call

360

“Well, I simply don’t believe Baba’s died,” I said, almost calmly. “But in any case, something extraordinary’s happened, so I want to go to India immediately.”

“Yes, I’ll also go.”

“Now we should tell the other Dadas.”

“Oh, I can’t talk anymore.” “It’s okay. I’ll

tell them.”

I woke up the others and brought them in the room. I felt very cold, but otherwise almost normal. After speaking a few words of introduc¬ tion to prepare their minds, I said, “They’re all telling that Baba has died.”

No one said a word. But all four of them stared at me eerily. Their faces all wore strange expressions, and they edged closer toward me. “There’s no explanation,” I said. “And personally, I just don’t believe it.”

They could hardly speak. I don’t know why, but I think they imme¬ diately accepted it as true. Without saying a word, Moksanandaji got up, took his jacket, and walked out of the house. The others wandered aimlessly or sat and stared at the walls.

I was sure there was more to the story. Unworried, I took a shower, entered the meditation room, and sang kiirtan as if it were an ordinary day. No one joined me.

At 9:001 phoned our travel agent and booked tickets for Artapre- manandaji and myself. By 10:00 we were out the door and on our way to the airport.

Sitting in the plane, I was still feeling relatively normal when Artapremanandaji turned to me and said, “I just remembered some¬ thing Bhaveshananda told me which I didn’t tell you. They’ve already put Baba’s body on the ice.”

His words hit me like a sledgehammer. “What? But then … He must really be … Oh, God, no! Oh, no! Then He’s really dead!”

I turned my face away. At this point I can’t clearly remember what happened, except that I went mad. A million ideas and visions passed through me. I thought of every possibility of what it meant for Baba and for me. I wept at my loss, wept at the world’s loss, worried for Baba, blamed Him, felt as lonely as a boat lost at sea, burned in my physical heart, felt guilty, felt rejected, felt insane. I even thought of leaving

361

Travels with the Mystic Master

Ananda Marga. Why should I stay without Baba? Our mission was not yet finished, and we would never be able to complete it without Him.

After about an hour, I regained my composure. It was just a test. He knew what He was doing, as He had always known. There must be a great purpose behind it. Though I never imagined He would do such a thing, I had to accept it. Though it was intolerable, I had to tolerate it. I would have to go ahead, and I steeled my mind for the task. I forced it to be positive, if not happy.

Throughout this time I hadn’t spoken to Artapremanandaji. At this point I turned toward him, saying, “I’m okay now.” He nodded his head.

When we reached Bangkok, we called Japan. Only a few minutes before, Moksanandaji had returned. After receiving the news, he had strayed through the streets of Tokyo for fifteen hours.

H e remains active without H is physical body

Yesterday I received an emergency visa from the Indian embassy in Thailand. After discussing the matter with a few workers, it was decided that all Didis and Dadas could come. We phoned Japan, Taiwan, Korea and Hong Kong.

Today at 2:00 a.m., while standing in the line for the immigration check in Delhi, I befriended a Japanese tourist and translated all the procedures for him.

Just after receiving my entry stamp, an elderly official in civil clothes directed me to the side of the room.

“You’ve come for the funeral, haven’t you?” he said.

“What funeral?”

“You know very well. The Anand Marg funeral.” “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Listen. I’m an old man. I’ve seen you in Calcutta. I know you’re a Margi.”

“Sir, I’ve never been to Calcutta.”

“I don’t want to disturb your program. If you admit the truth to me, I will allow you to go ahead for the funeral. Why should I trouble you at a moment like this? But if you persist in this drama, I will have you deported. Now, please confirm that you are an Anand Margi.”

“A what? Look, it’s very late. I’m tired, and I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He Sends Out a Clarion Call

362

He turned toward another official and directed the Japanese man to be pulled out of the line, suspecting him also to be a Margi. I would have laughed internally, but I wasn’t in great humor. For God’s sake, I was enough troubled, and now on top of it, I was going to get deported. Surely they would find out the truth because my suitcase contained my orange uniform, and Ananda Marga books and documents. I had never before been stopped like this, except in Calcutta, so I hadn’t taken any precautions.

He asked questions for another half hour. I desperately clung to my story that I didn’t know Ananda Marga, and was following nobody and nothing except my own nose. He didn’t believe a single word. Mean¬ while, the Japanese fellow was questioned by someone else.

At last the old man turned to an assistant, saying, “Go check his luggage for any Anand Marg related items.”

As I hopelessly handed over the luggage key, I thought, Baba, if You get me out of this one, then I’ll accept You’re still active, even without Your physical body.

About ten minutes later, the assistant returned. He shook his head.

“I can’t believe it,” said the officer in Hindi. “Are you sure there’s nothing?”

“Nothing,” said the assistant, shrugging his shoulders.

The officer scowled. He stared into my eyes. I looked back nonchalantly, hardly believing my luck. “I’m sure you’re a Margi,” he said. “But… you’re free to go now.”

“Thanks a lot,” I grunted. Then I thought, Baba, You’re still with me! How did You manage it?

1 picked up my luggage, and walked to the green channel.

“Do you have anything to declare?” asked a custom’s official.

“Only a small cheap camera,” I said.

“Show it to me,” he said.

Opening my suitcase, I shuffled my orange clothes and other pos¬ sessions around. The camera wasn’t there, and neither was a box of empty cassette tapes. So that was it! The assistant knew I’d never expose his theft.

“Sorry,” I said. “Forgot I left it in Thailand.”

As the official waved me through, I looked back and saw the poor Japanese man sweating under the old man’s investigation.

363

Travels with the Mystic Master

Losing my center

Calcutta. Thousands of Margis are here, eyes glazed or filled with

tears.

Because I had already adjusted myself during the plane flight with Artapremanandaji, I felt calm. I stood in a long line waiting to enter Baba’s house to see His body. Next to me stood Cintamani, a Margi from Norway. He was particularly lucky, even inspired. After not going to India for about ten years, something had pushed him to come here one month ago. He was blessed to experience Baba in the last weeks of His life.

We were calmly talking together when suddenly, unexpectandy, a surge of feeling rose from my chest, and before I knew what I was doing, I was sobbing. As my knees gave way, Cintamani held me up.

“It’s okay, Dadaji, it’s okay,” he said.

Now I’d lost my center. Nothing could console me. I dragged myself toward the house, crying continuously.

When I entered the door, I saw Him. His face was peaceful, beautiful. Immediately I felt alright. He knew what He was doing. I accepted it fully.

After leaving the room, I went to the back of the line. I waited, and again entered; again stared at Him. Again and again I made the circuit.

It was my last chance to see Him, so why should I do anything else?

A few hours later, a Dada approached me and asked me if I wanted to run the video camera inside Baba’s house.

I accepted, knowing that while it wouldn’t be enjoyable, it was a way to keep busy, and remain inside Baba’s room at the same time.

I filmed thousands of Margis as they shuffled around the body. Each face was unique, but each was filled with anguish. Occasionally, some¬ one collapsed, screaming in agony. Some workers and Margis who I highly respected, lost all control, and acted with unconscious abandon. As for me, at first I believed I had regained my composure. But again and again, I lost it, and wept bitterly.

I filmed many brothers and sisters that I hadn’t seen in years. It was not the time, however, to say hello.

Why and how He left

The Central workers called a meeting of overseas Margis and work¬ ers. Who was there who did not wonder why and how Baba had sud¬ denly left us?