“IF THE SHISHYA cannot love by himself and love has to be produced, can it be taken away?”
“What is given can be taken away at any time. But the Teacher does not take it away. The love ceases by itself if one has not got faith in the Master, or obedience. But the Teacher who has planted the love in the heart of the disciple will look after it, as the gardener looks after a plant; he does not want it to die. The disciple must surrender completely; only then the Teacher will judge if he is ready for more.”
15th March
FOR THE LAST TWO NIGHTS it was absolutely unbearable. The body is breaking down. This state goes on for already two months with short intervals of peace from time to time. Fell down twice this morning.
Did not go to him. Must have had fever. Mind did not work. The “creatures” were with me all the time—could not hide from them anywhere. Physical condition is deteriorating. Feel so weak. Burning.
The spectacle of the flow of light is fantastic… and frightening. An old woman at the mercy of some cosmic force….
Went at 4 p.m. He was walking up and down in the garden as if waiting for me, his grandchild in his arms. Went directly to him as soon as I came in and began to tell him that I cannot go on anymore, that I am going mad, that it is he, with his powers, who brings it on, and I went on and on accusing him, attacking him, desperate with frustration and anger. As soon as I opened my mouth, the kid took a look at me and began to wriggle and to howl—he could hardly hold it. Here I was in hysterics, practically breaking down; the child banging his face with his little fists, howling in a mad fury. It was slipping from his arms—he could not hear what I was saying, trying to control the furious child. I was nearly shouting in a vain attempt to be heard, but realized that it was useless to try to compete with a child screaming literally into his ears. I slumped down in helpless sobbing.
He firmly got hold of the violently struggling child, and with quick steps went inside and closed the door. I realized afterwards what a blessing it was that nobody was present. Such a scene… and how was it that the noise did not attract the mother of the boy to see what was happening? But I know already that, when he wanted, the conditions were always suited to his requirements.
I kept sobbing… could not stop for a long time. Then the servant came and looked at me with curiosity. Realized that soon people will come, and I had better control myself… but nobody came. Sat alone in the darkening garden. L. came late. He came out after a while. She was telling him about her departure in a few days time. Then he said:
“Women… they have no perseverance. That’s why a woman is not suitable for spiritual life.”
I was boiling with anger. Nobody, not even his strongest men, disciples, are subjected to what I am—I was sure of that. Nobody.
Not one of his disciples was left without a penny as I knew I would be. No perseverance indeed…. “I am of the stuff of which Saints and Martyrs are made; and you, you know it! And after all that is happening, you have the courage to talk of the lack of perseverance!”
I glared at him. L. asked me if I was well.
“She is confused; take no notice,” he said to her.
Went home early and slept in perfect peace.
17th March
L. is LEAVING TOMORROW. He kept being difficult, telling me off for one thing or another. He will ask something, pull to pieces my answer… could not do one thing right. At last could not bear it any longer, burst out crying, took my chair and went to sit under the mango tree, near the fence, far away from them. And there I cried—it must have been for more than one hour. He kept talking and laughing with L.; perhaps they were laughing about me; God knows.
Did not care, not really. My heart was aching so much, I had enough; but apart from that, there was such a longing. Please, a little, just a little peace, and kindness and compassion. A little encouragement… a little warmth. Was so lonely. Truth, oh Truth, cried out my heart: Hurry up! Or I won’t be alive! It hurts so much! He hardly speaks with me for days, and when he does, it is only to increase my confusion, to hurt, or to create a doubt, a mental torture. Yesterday he accused me of something I have not done; it was an insignificant thing, but it was very hurtful, and he was so angry, oh, it did hurt!
L. again warned me not to stay here for the hot season. I will not be able to bear it, and she wanted to know why I was crying so much. I asked her for the sake of our friendship to abstain from questioning me. I cannot say anything, and if she mentions it to him he will seize the opportunity to torture me; and at any rate he will know even if she says nothing. So I left, and when at home, cried and cried, and could not eat anything; had some black coffee and aspirin and cried myself into a kind of a strange sleep, heavy, as in a muddy, hot bath.
The heat increasing day by day does not help the situation. Strong coffee is a great help lately. Prayed to his Rev. Guru Maharaj… and cried some more.
When I went there in the afternoon, while he was talking to others, I often caught his unsmiling look resting on me, a quick questioning look. He was chatting away with the men in Hindi. L. was moaning terribly, in deep Dhyana… a small, dreadful moan as if she were on the verge of dying. She is getting worse, I thought. Her feet are swollen lately; the heat does that to her, and she is puffy around her eyes. The temperature is beginning to be too much for her, and it is already very hot.
18th March
IT WAS A CLEAR, luminous Sunday. Many people came in the morning and in the evening. L. left. I was glad. She was constantly giving me advice without the slightest idea what it was all about. I knew she meant well. She kept nagging me about money and not to spend too much because she was sure that I misunderstood his hints. She was here most of the time and heard what he was saying to me. People who lived as he did are at a high state already. She was sure that he did not mean me to be without money, because I am bound to be in great trouble. I kept quiet. What does she know as to what it is exactly that he wants me to be in trouble! and the more the better! By the time he finishes with me, only he and God will know what will become of me!
To be in the hands of a man who will do anything, absolutely, for the sake of training, is a chilling thought….
The money from the sale of my house, everything that my husband had left me, my own savings—all will have to go. I am so sure of it, as I am sure that I am sitting here, at this moment. What astonishes me is that, deep down, it is not worrying me much more than it actually does. I am resigned, really. I want Truth so much, so terribly, I will give everything and anything for it. I am worried, yes, but in reality I should worry more. For I will have nothing left. And my pension is far too small to be able to live on it, and at my age it is not easy to get a job. My lack of concern is amazing. A most strange state of mind. Confusing.
In the evening it happened (as always when he wants to speak to me) that everybody had left soon, and we were alone. He began by saying softly, with great kindness, that he did not understand why I was so upset the day before.
“The whole day my heart was with you, I felt it so much.”
I tried to tell him that I was upset because he deliberately seemed to misunderstand everything I had said and was accusing me and was angry. He ignored this remark. After a while he said: “If you knew what I have in mind for you, for your future, you never would cry, never would be upset. About the end of April a flat will be available for you, a more suitable one. And do not tell people that I told you to remain here. They will not understand, for they all think that you Europeans cannot stand the heat.”
19th March
HE BEGAN TO SPEAK about Bogroff who died seven years ago of a brain tumor, and who, he said, was the best of all the European disciples he had until now.
“Where is he now?” I asked.
“In heaven,” he said. I retorted that it is not a very high state Swarga Loka. He shook his head.
“He will not come back. He will go to other Lokas where there is no death and where one goes from Loka to Loka without birth or death. Without coming into t
he womb,” he said with emphasis. It made me smile. What an Oriental way of expressing it! He kept smiling too, half hidden under a towel which he had on his head because a strong, hot wind was blowing up the dust from the dry soil in the garden. A few drops of rain fell, and the horizon was full of distant lightning. But it cleared soon, and the stars came out on a deep velvet sky.
There are three Lokas:
1. MIRT LOKA—the Loka of the physical plane where we are born, and we die.
2. KAMA LOKA—the Loka of the Desire of the physical body, or even desire by itself.
3. SWARGA LOKA—heaven, the world of effects where the good deeds done in the physical body reap their rewards.
From these three Lokas one comes back into incarnation again.
When we are in the MIRT LOKA, if we are attached to the Spiritual Guide, or Master, and if the Master is powerful from the spiritual point of view, he will leave no desire with the disciple at the time of death; the desire would lead to another incarnation. The Master serves as a focus of attention for the mind, for the mind needs something to hold on to.
The Love for the Master is also Vasana (subtle desires arising from samskaras, seeds of karma, which are impressions of actions in chitta, universal mind), but it is this Vasana which will lead one beyond the Lokas of change. It will carry one right through. There are four other Lokas in which there is neither birth nor death. According to desire or necessity, one goes from one to another in a glorious body made of light.
“Could you tell me the names of those four Lokas? “I asked. He shrugged.
“I could, I suppose. But what for? The names are not to be told because, if the names are told, an explanation is needed. Then it will be the same as when an experience is described in a book; if one comes to know the same experience as described, the value of the experience is partly lost, for the simple reason that one knows about it. Knowledge without experience is a hindrance. Those Lokas have to be experienced by the disciple, so for the moment I only say that there are four other Lokas, seven in all.”
He reminded me that I had better bring the fan tomorrow, because the nights are getting hot.
20th March
HE GAVE ME AN ORDER to give some money to a fellow sitting there, telling me that he was in need. Brought the table fan. It is a lovely one and works well. I wonder if he will use it. I am prepared to bet that it will be given to Durghesh or go into his children’s room. He never keeps anything for himself.
Too much talk was going on. Everybody seemed to talk all at once.
He was doing his mala and did not listen. It is surprising how he never seems to be disturbed by anything. I left soon, this constant droning made me tired.
The same retired police sub-inspector with the booming voice was still there droning endlessly when I came in the afternoon. I wondered if he kept sitting here since this morning. He was a Brahmin and showed off his knowledge; but I think he is talking a lot of nonsense.
When the Guru went out, he took the opportunity to ask me searching questions—why I did not marry again, and what is my opinion about the married life. He was such a bore; I took a book out of my bag and, to cut him short, pretended to read.
DREAM: I was looking at myself in a mirror and saw that I was very thin, very pale, my hair in disorder.
INTERPRETATION: “It is a very good dream! Thin and thinner, until nothing will remain.”
“I am thin already, I can assure you,” I laughed. I was hardly recognizable, lost so much weight, could not eat because of the heat; much perspiration and the tremendous vibrations did the rest, along with the lack of sleep, for the fire in the body was flowing, sometimes more, sometimes less. This fire causes intense pain in the body; it is a torture, lasting many hours in the night… I lived on black coffee and aspirins. Not much chance to get fat on such a diet. He only smiled gently.
The Kirtan was very dynamic tonight.
21st March
LAST NIGHT when returning from Pushpa’s saw people still sitting in his garden, so I joined them. It was a lovely moonlit night. Everybody was very jolly, and he was telling stories in Hindi making everybody laugh. Sat there till after ten and then went home.
22nd March
“THERE COMES A TIME in every Saint’s life, when Yama, the King of Death, becomes his friend. It is when the Saint reaches the point on the Nirodika Path where the Devas cannot go further, only humans can.”
Tonight he came out at 6 p.m. I also came late, for it was the “Holy” which is a Festival in honor of Krishna when paint and colored water are thrown in the streets and it is not advisable to go out. But at 5 p.m. it is all finished.
The droning sub-inspector translated a Persian couplet: “When you have received the Wealth and want to drink the Wine of Love, do it silently, so that nobody should know about it.”
Bhai Sahib explained the meaning: People can be an obstacle; they can shake your faith before you are firmly established in virtue; but once you are, everybody can know. He spoke of Mogul emperors; some of them were very cruel.
“Some Saints are cruel too,” I said. He looked at me seriously.
“Yes, Saints are very cruel. It is because they want only the good of the disciple—that nothing should remain, no impurity, no obstacle, no defect to hinder him. Is the doctor not cruel when he takes the knife and cuts the abscess?” He had his searching, unsmiling look.
For the last ten days I seem to be completely alone. Cannot reach his Revered Guru Maharaj at all. Nothing… just a wall, an emptiness. I get lonelier and lonelier, and so great is the force of Maya that I do not even seem to feel the love and devotion in my heart….
This love is a strange thing indeed. When I try to analyze it, I find that in reality I don’t love him directly, as a person; what I mean is that I love something “beyond” him. How shall I put it? I love something, this Something for which he is a symbol. Is it so? This feeling is very definite and clear, and I had it from the very beginning.
But yesterday he said that it is the attachment to the Master which will lead the disciple to the Ultimate Reality… and I am confused again. Will this kind of feeling I have for him be enough?
Still, I cannot help it. I look at him when I sit there. I see him even if I am not in his presence. I seem to see him all the time. I admire his divinity, which to me is so clearly visible and evident. In some human beings one has to dig very deeply to be able to perceive it at all. But with him one just KNOWS it. But is it Love, as we understand it?
Probably it is, only it is not easy to recognize it as such, for it is the most difficult relationship.
I remember his saying that this is the most difficult relationship, because it belongs to the transcendent, the eternal part of the human being, and the personality is unable to reconcile the opposites, i.e., of tremendous bliss experienced and the hard treatment one has to endure.
I am afraid of him. I could never think of him as the Beloved.
When I think of the Beloved, it is always God. He is the only real Beloved of our Soul. The personality worship is never encouraged by a Sufi Master. The Teacher will attract your attention, and then will point away from him to the Eternal.
23rd March
THE TWO HEARTS are still here.
He was translating a Persian couplet:
“When you die of surrender, only then you will live forever.
If you are put to death through surrender,
There is no such thing as death for you,
For you have died already!”
And:
“The life of a man is a bubble on the surface of the water.
A bubble which comes and goes;
the water remains the same.”
The room was full of people. I sat in the big chair, and it was the best place. It was his father’s chair; he sits in it and uses it for meditation. Later we were all sitting in the garden. It was filled with moonlight, and black were the shadows under the trees. Fragrant was the Queen of the Night, a shrub with sma
ll insignificant flowers, fragrant only in the night.
Went home late.
24th March
THIS MORNING THE POLICE INSPECTOR was already sitting when I came.
He was very fat, and I think very ignorant. Again and again he was repeating that one should remember God all the time and how he wished to be like me, because he can see that I have renounced the world, etc. At first I was bored, but then his urgency struck me. Why this fear in him? Why the constant self-accusations? I looked at him with attention, and the truth dawned on me—he will not live very long, a few more years probably, and it is his Soul, his Atman, who tries to impress the personality with the urgency to think of God.
“lf I go tomorrow, how can I stand in the Presence of my Creator, if I do nothing to merit His Grace?”
I felt sorry for him and began to watch the Guru. He began to talk to him as soon as he came out, with such love, such affection, explaining to him proverbs, telling stories. When he was looking at this man, his expression was so full of love—there was something in his face, this “something” I know from other planes, and which is like a haunting memory, beyond the comprehension of the mind… an impression only, a flaming face, of such infinite love, such powerful call. A bit of it was in his face during the Bandhara, I remember. Then I knew for sure that he was “fishing,” the fisher of men… Fisher of Souls….
“Show me your hand,” I said, when the Guru went out. His lifeline was short, and he was already sixty-four. Well, I may be right ….
“Deceive, do all sorts of evils, if you cannot help it; burn all the sacred books; but never, never hurt anybody’s feelings!” he was translating. So according to the Sufi doctrine, to hurt the feelings of others must be the greatest crime.
Truly it is said in Light on the Path (by Mabel Collins): “If you can speak in the presence of your Master, your tongue must have lost its power to wound.”
I watched him when he was explaining, and the Compassion was shining from his eyes, and when a pause in conversation gave me the opportunity, I said: “Bhai Sahib, you are a great Teacher, a Fisherman of men, as Jesus said. You throw out your nets to catch a Soul. I am watching you for months now, and I see how you treat everybody individually, exactly as they must be treated; you give each and everyone what he wants; if he wants little, you give little; if he wants more, you give more.”
Daughter of Fire Page 19
