Superphysics Superphysics

The Orange Fire

by Dada
18 minutes  • 3691 words
Table of contents

Since I’ve been here, the sky has been overcast. It drizzles continuously, adding to the gloomy feeling.

I am told that the weather was fine until the moment Baba left on the 21st. This morning, the weather was still dismal.

About ten thousand Margis were gathered on the front lawn in front of the Central Office. All of us either sat or stood around the great cement funeral pyre which has been constructed in the shape of a six-pointed star (as in our symbol). It will remain as a permanent reminder of this day.

The crowd was abnormally restrained in their behavior. They sang non-stop PrabhatSangiit and kiirtan.

At noon, the pall bearers appeared, carrying an open coffin in which Baba lay. Almost in one voice, thousands of persons let out a gasp, then a sigh. Though many wept quietly, the overall atmosphere was calm.

According to Ananda Marga system, a short ceremony to console the bereaved was performed in which all participated. A final Guru Puja was sung, sung with a feeling never before known.

Purified butter was poured on His body, the fire lit, and thick, dark smoke rose. Exactly at that moment, two things happened. After six days of continuous clouds, the sky suddenly cleared sufficiently for the sun to shine down brightly, the rays illuminating only the cremation area.

At the same time, a flock of birds dropped down from the clouds in a V-formation, executed a tight circle directly over His body, and flew off in steep ascent.

He Sends Out a Clarion Call

For 3 hours, the orange fire burned. The crowd continued to sit and sing.

During all that time, the sun shined brightly. At last, the fire was gone, and only the slight remains went on smoking. The sun again disappeared, the sky grew cloudy and somber, and gradually the Margis dispersed.

Later in the evening, I was sitting alone on the roof, thinking of nothing in particular. I felt freer than ever and full of love for Baba. For a moment, my mind looked at itself and wondered why it was feeling so peaceful. Immediately I knew: a previously unrecognized impediment in my relation with Baba had been burned.

I found that I had always harbored a fear, deep in my subconscious mind, that something in my guru was not perfect, that some sort of personal ambition or purpose may have affected Him.

Though I had not been aware of this fear, it had nevertheless subtly affected me. Now it was abundantly clear that He was a man who had not been guided by even the minutest ego. His death was the final proof. Though He had obviously planned His final moment in detail, He made no drama of it.

The manner of His departure was in perfect silent harmony with the message of His life.

If my story were divided dramatically, it would be in 3 Acts:

Act | Description 1 | My first years on the spiritual path and in Ananda Marga 2 | The period I physically knew Baba 3 | His physical departure

Act 3 is the most critical one, for it is in His absence that we will see the test of His teachings, His love and the Tantric power that He exudes without the burden of a physical body.

A few years ago, He mentioned in a workers’ meeting: “After my physical passing, Margis and workers will be blessed with greater psychic and spiritual attention than I am presently able to provide. They will be very fortunate.” At that time we gave little importance to His words, thinking He would remain with us for a long time.

Though it is still too early to know how Act III will unfold, we can take a look at some of the earliest scenes.

Continuation of H is system

Calcutta. 28 October. Several newspapers reported: “In the aftermath of P.R. Sarkar’s passing, a great power struggle flares among Ananda Marga’s Central workers, as they fight over establishing new systems and new leadership.”

As usual, the newspapers write with an authority they don’t deserve. Here everyone is aware of Baba’s warning to His brother and other family members that “After M aha Guru Ni Pat, the departure of the great guru, for one year you must be very careful.”

No one contemplates making major changes during this period. As the Central Committee already exists, it is only necessary to chose a new president.

Today, without fanfare, Dada Shraddhananda was unanimously elected for the post. From all corners of our organization, he is regarded as a saintly man, simple, straightforward, and uninvolved in political psychology or favoritism. Over seventy years old, he spent the last years working in a small room as Central Finance Secretary and editor of the Central newsletter.

Though it has no relation to the above, now, while writing, I suddenly remember my dream of January 1987 104.

Baba gave me a glimpse of a symbolic future when I should be careful not to forget Him due to the presence of other personalities, no matter how outstanding they might be.

“Whatever happens I planned long ago”

New Delhi. November. I don’t know how many Margis and workers told me stories of their dreams or thoughts which clearly foreshadowed Baba’s departure. I heard so many that it seems like nearly everyone had some form of premonition.

I recall my own experience last June in Ananda Nagar: for the first and last time in my life I was wild to see Baba at the close of His con¬ cluding discourse. Then I became inconsolably depressed after my last look at Him when His car sped away from my sprinting feet. Though I was consciously unaware that it was my final moment with Baba, my heart obviously felt it.

Dada Vicitrananda told me about an old Filipina woman. In the evening of the 21 st October, she telephoned him at our Manila office.

“Is there any news about Baba?” she asked.

“I’m sure He’s fine, mother,” Dada replied.

“But I know there’s some problem. Can you please call Calcutta? I cannot telephone from my little village.”

“Alright, don’t worry, mother.”

She called an hour later, saying, “Did you get through, Dadaji?”

“I couldn’t get the line yet, mother.” “Please. Please keep trying.”

He had not tried. Now he knew she would go on troubling him until he confirmed Baba’s health. So he called Calcutta. He was shocked to hear that Baba was lying in trance.

1M That was the dream when I was on a mountain together with unknown M argi mountain¬ peoplelistening to the two leaders of Ananda M arga. I forgot about Baba, who had become an old man.

Vacitranandaji then called the old lady, and said, “Mother, you were right. Baba is not well. He is in some sort of trance.” “No. No. It’s worse than that,” she said.

One hour later, Dada called Calcutta again, and heard that Baba was no more. After going through his own agony, he called the old lady.

“Mother … you … were right. Baba is … gone.”

There was a moment of silence, then she hung up the phone without a word.

Today I was on a train with Dada Bodhprajinananda who told me the following story:

“On lith August in Minali, India, I had a dream. I was in Tiljala (Calcutta). I saw Baba’s body on the main stage. It was covered with a sheet, lying on a cot. A huge number of Margis and workers sat in front of Him, and everyone was weeping.

“I went near His body, though I also was crying. I lifted the cloth from His face, and said to Him, ‘Baba, You left us without proper guidance and direction. How will we remain in this world?

How will we establish our organizational system, Prout, and a moralist society?’

“Then Baba woke up, sat up smiling, and said, ‘Whatever I had to give, I have given. You do more and more kiirtan and meditation. Do as much noble work for the cause of society as you can. I am always with you. Go ahead.’

“Then again He laid down, and the dream finished.

“I told the Margi in whose house I was staying (he is a bank manager). Also Dada Harimayananda was with me, and I told him too. They encouraged me to call Calcutta to see if Baba was alright. I called, and found out Baba had just entered hospital, and was very sick.

“After two months, when He really died, the thought of this dream helped me very much to overcome my sorrow.”

There are many such stories. But let’s leave it at that for today.

Dada Aksayananda tells another story. It is a long story, but this one will have to win the final prize for experiences showing how Baba preplanned everything.

Dada said:

In 1979, Ananda Marga purchased a house in Lake Gardens, Calcutta for our Marga Guru Quarters. I was then Baba’s second personal assistant. I frequently had the chance to talk with Him while performing massage. It was shortly after moving into the new house.

I was alone with Him when I said, “Baba, at last there is a house in Calcutta which belongs to us. How would it be if we were to plant the grounds around the building and make a garden on the roof?”

“You can do it,” He replied, “but do you know what the result will be? If you plant around the house, the roots of the plants will damage the building’s foundation. If you make a roof garden, the roof will be spoiled by water draining out of the flower pots.”

We didn’t talk for a few minutes. When I looked at His face He seemed to be sleeping.

Then a thought occurred to me. I started thinking we should get a much larger piece of land than this with a bigger house. Then I could make a big garden away from the building.

There Baba could walk and enjoy the plants and the fresh air.

“Aksayananda, are you saying anything?” Baba suddenly asked.

“Nothing, Baba.”

“No, no. You were telling me something.”

I understood that Baba had been listening to my thoughts, so I replied, “Yes, Baba,” and expressed my thoughts to Him. Baba only smiled and kept silent.

He became reserved and silent for a few minutes. Then Baba closed His eyes for more than ten minutes. I wondered whether Baba was angry at me because at first I had told Him that I liked the new house, and then had started talking about getting another.

Quite suddenly, Baba asked me to come near. I went close to His head, but Baba still did not open His eyes. I said, “Yes, Baba.”

He opened His eyes with a loving smile, and placed both His palms on my cheeks.

“Yes, my son, what you thought may come true some day.” He asked me to sit in meditation pose, close my eyes, and keep my mind concentrated in my sixth chakra. He then asked me what I saw.

I told Baba that I saw a grand house surrounded by beautiful trees and many plants. He told me to go further and see more. Then I heard the sounds of hundreds of birds and saw that they were flying from tree to tree.

Again Baba asked me to see more. I told Him that I saw Him walking under the trees on a narrow path. Some Dadas were with Him.

Baba asked me to go towards the house.

“What are you seeing now?”

“Baba, I see that the building has two parts, one on the east and one on the west. Also there are a few underground rooms.” “Go inside the western room. What do you see there?” “Baba, there are rooms but no one is there.” “Go downstairs to the underground room.” “Baba, there’s not enough light to see clearly.” “Go outside and look around.”

“Baba, I see the rooms in the eastern part of the building.”

“Go inside. Now tell me what you see.”

“Baba, there are many Dadas and Didis there.”

“Go further inside. Tell me what you see.”

“There is a door, but it’s closed.”

“Open it. What do you see?”

“I see You there, Baba, lying on a bed.”

“All right. Come out of the room and go upstairs. What do you see?” “Baba, there is a big function going on with many people, and the room is beautifully decorated. Baba, You are sitting there with some other people.”

“Can you recognize them?”

“No, Baba. I have never seen them before.”

“Is anybody else there?”

“Yes. Two Dadas are doing something. They seem very busy.”

“And what else do you see?”

“Baba, I see a marriage going on.”

“Can you recognize the bride and groom?”

“No, Baba.”

“Now come downstairs. What do you see?”

“A fountain.”

“And now what do you see?”

“Baba, I see you going up in an elevator,” I answered with surprise. “Go inside again. What do you see now?” “Baba, all the Dadas and Didis are weeping.” “Ask them why they are weeping.” “Baba, I am asking them, but no one is replying. They just raise their heads and look at me. No one will answer.” “Ask them again.”

“Baba, they are simply weeping, and not replying.”

“All right. Come out now. Do you recognize the location of the


“It is somewhere in Calcutta, Baba, but not in Lake Gardens.”

Then the demonstration was over. He said, “Don’t tell anyone about this just now. Keep it to yourself for now.”

Not long after, I was transferred to Kerala State. In January 1983 ,1 made my first visit to Baba’s new residence in Tiljala, Calcutta. There was no way for me to express my inner joy at finding that what Baba had shown me a few years before was now coming true.

Years later, on 11 September 1990, Baba came out of the hospital and at midnight He called for me. While I was massaging Him, He asked me to talk quietly about something so that He would feel sleepy.

“Baba, what you showed me in that demonstration in 1979 has come completely true now to the last detail. I had been wondering if the foun¬ tain would really be built, but it had come just as it was in the vision. Lastly the elevator was installed and reality was completely like my vision. I thought now I could tell everyone.” 105 “You are forgetting one feature of the things I showed you. Try to recollect.”

I tried and tried to remember, but I could not remember anything that was not already there in reality. I asked Baba to please tell me what it was that I had forgotten.

“When the time comes, you will remember everything. You see, whatever happens I planned it all long ago. Whenever I take determina¬ tion for any purpose, that thing must happen and no one can stop it.”

The next month, Baba left His physical body.

Recently I went to Madras to conduct a spiritual seminar. As I gave a talk about Baba, I suddenly remembered the missing element in my vision that Baba had referred to. Yes, after Baba’s passing, all the Dadas and Didis wept in Baba’s quarters for two days. None of us could speak even if we tried. We just looked at each other and wept.

With You in Your room

Tokyo. I miss Baba so much, that there is a constant ache in my chest. Early this morning, however, He relieved it slightly by a dream— my first dream of Him after His passing:

105 The marriage of Baba’s adopted son K inshuk had also been held.

After having fieldwalk with Baba, I was with Him and several other workers in His room in Calcutta. A few minutes passed in normal dis¬ cussions, during which He smiled and joked. Then He turned to speak confidentially to me.

He said, “What do you dearly want?”

I looked up and saw my answer written in three-dimensional letters suspended in the air. I read this reply to Him, without understanding what I was saying.

Understanding carries no weight, I thought. Only feeling matters. Only love matters.

Baba spoke intimately with me, “But there is someone else, isn’t


“There’s no one else for me, Baba,” I said.

“What about that lady in your class?” He asked.

It took me a moment, and then I knew whom He meant. I almost laughed, because my feeling for her was simply as a student.

“No, it’s nothing,” I said. “Only You.”

He smiled. It was only playful lovers’ talk, and of course He knew the truth. He hugged me tightly, and I began to cry, feeling I would again soon be separated from Him.

“Please post me in India or anywhere that I can be close to You,

Baba. I want to be with You in Your room.” Now I remembered that this is what the three-dimensional letters said. So I added, “This is what I want more than anything else.”

He didn’t reply, so I embraced Him more closely, completely, and went on crying.

In this state I woke up, and indeed I was crying. My pillow was soaked in tears. I rubbed my face in those tears, and felt Him inside of me.

And I knew this was His strange way of comforting me—for, though my throat swelled and tears flowed, the top of my head throbbed rhyth¬ mically and all the cells of my body quivered with His blissfulness.

Our case with Amnesty temporarily rests

  1. The woman from Amnesty International called me, saying, “I’m sorry, we have not yet received a reply from our London office concerning your case. I’m very concerned about the persecution in Ananda Nagar, so I intend to give London a big push. I thought to ask if you have any more information or documents you’d like to add.”

“I’m very thankful to you,” I said, “but there’s been a change. You see, in October, P.R. Sarkar, the propounder of Ananda Marga, passed away.”

“Oh, I’m very sorry to hear that.”

“No need to be sorry. There’s benevolent purpose in everything.

Since then, the daily attacks at Ananda Nagar have ceased. It’s now completely peaceful, and we are free to engage in purely constructive work.”

“Oh, well, that’s a great relief to me.”

“I might add that the violence stopped, I guess, because the com¬ munists believe Ananda Marga will crumble in the absence of Sarkar. But we always gain strength out of adverse conditions. The annual gath¬ ering in Ananda Nagar, which was concluded a few days ago, was even bigger than usual. More than 20,000 people attended. Many were new people who had not even seen Sarkar. So, I wouldn’t be surprised if, after watching our development for a few months or so, the communists recommence their attacks against us.”

“Well, I sure hope not. In any case, I’ll keep your files safe. Let me know if the trouble starts up again.”

“You will see it. But I will not.”

Taipei. A few days ago, Dada Pranavatmakananda interviewed Mr N.C. Ganguli, an old colleague of Baba’s from the Jamalpur Railway accounts office. 106 He never learned meditation, though he held Baba in highest esteem. Ganguli said that daily after lunch many of the staff would gather around Baba’s desk for discussion. Sometime in 1952,

Baba was talking to them about communism. He said it was an inhu¬ mane philosophy, and therefore would not survive for long. It would eventually completely disappear from the world. Not only would com¬ munism face such a fate, even the Soviet Union itself would disintegrate.

At that time Stalin’s nation was a powerful force, so the statement was in every sense surprising. (Even now that communism is in trouble,

106 Since shortly after Baba’spassing, Pranavatmakanandaji hashad a special duty which I envy. He is incharge of collecting the accounts of Baba-experiences from M argis, non-M argis and workers. The amount of material has so far been enormous— already hundreds of video tapes. We can guess that hiscompleted reports will contain sufficient new information for writing scores of booksabout Baba.

it does not appear likely that the USSR will collapse.) So Ganguli asked, “Prabhat Ranjan, will we see all this within our lifetime?” Baba replied, “You will see it. But I will not.” 107

Pranavatmakanandaji also told me of another incident from that Jamalpur office. One of Baba’s colleagues clearly remembered that around 1959, Baba told him, “In my family the longevity is not more than seventy years. My grandfather and my father both died early. So there is very little chance that I’ll cross seventy. If I were to cross sev¬ enty, then I would personally show the world the power of my ideology. But there is very little chance of that.”

Baba died at the age of 69.

Why He didn’t allow me to meet H im in jail

Komsomolsk, Russia.

Some part of the first Vedas were composed in central Russia 15,000 years ago.

Those Aryan people migrated southeast, where they mixed their Vedic culture with the Tantric culture of northeast India.

The Aryans were an aggressive warlike people. Yet they were knowledgable on spiritual philosophy.

The effect of those days seems to remain here, because many Russians are extremely thirsty for psychic and spiritual experience.

I found them intelligent, dynamic, and usually responsible. They are enthusiastic about anything having an occult flavor*.

*I should mention that I later worked in M ongolia. Though most M ongoliansare not so desperate for spiritual knowledge like the Russians, they have a greater tendency toward a spiritually-centered lifestyle. Before communism took over M ongolia, it was nick-named " Little India” because of its affinity for spiritual culture. The people seem as simple as the renowned devotees from K rishna’s time, who were cowherds.

(That my picture of them should not appear over rosy, let me add that they also have a tendency toward over-argumentation and over-intellectualization.)

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