I said that I pray that the self should go before I have to leave.
“No, no,” he laughed; “don’t give any span of time; don’t limit the date! It cannot be! How will you make the effort? When you come back, then you will be united with me, then the self will go completely and forever… and your Greater Self will be with you!
You will come back; stay with me for some time, then… you will see me alive… I got an extension; some important work has still to be done.”
I said that I felt that he wants to go.
“Yes, I have no interest in this world; what can attract me? People say they merge in me; it means nothing. Merging in the Master is a very different thing. They just think of me, and they say they have merged. Thoughts don’t reach me. You want to surrender to me, don’t you?”
I said that it is my greatest wish, one of the few which still remained. “And I want it to be 100%. Please, don’t leave even a hair’s breadth; do it completely, as it was done to your Rev. Father and to you; otherwise my mind will never give me peace!”
“Not 100%, but 199½%!” he laughed. “No veil will remain!”
Speaking of knowledge he repeated what he said so often: “It is not given on the mind level; it is infused.”
“Reflected into the mind?” I ventured. He gave me a nod and a radiant smile.
“You have such a way of talking to one that the heart is melting,” I said, and he looked at me sideways and laughed merrily. Went home happy.
9th January
WHEN I WAS COMING THROUGH THE GATE, I saw him standing at the side door of his room. I went to him and gave him the photo Pushpa gave me. Actually Pushpa gave me two photos, both taken by the French woman archaeologist; one was of the whole of his family and the other was of him alone. He looks wonderful in it: he was just about to come down from the steps of the Samadhi, the clean, clear lines of it behind him in the background. His eyes are half-closed, for he came out into the sunshine, and he looks free and bold and tall, standing there as if hesitant, a mysterious longing like an aura around him… I think he was not aware that his photo was taken. At home I was looking and looking at it; it is wrong to keep it, I thought, but his children have many photos of him; I have none, and am not likely to get one… I will give him only the one with his family and keep this one for myself… I prayed that the Hint should be given to me that I can keep it… and if he will ask me, then I will tell the truth. I know he will speak to me this morning. I was thinking much in the night; there was a lot more to say….
Giving him the photo I confess that I was afraid and felt guilty.
“This one Pushpa sends you,” I said. He looked sharply at me, my heart went quite small.
“How kind of her,” he gave me a quizzical smile and went inside.
Good God, let me keep it, I thought, I wanted it so much….
He came out almost immediately; I hardly had time to sit down.
We were alone, and there were hardly any interruptions. And he talked to me from half past nine to nearly one. To my inquiry if I will remain always with him, he answered:
“For ladies, perseverance is difficult for them. It is difficult for men too; very few achieve it. Ladies have Bhakti (devotion) and if they get it, they get it in an instant. Otherwise it takes time. You will be on the highest level, but there is such a thing as Character Roll. In it the character is marked, and all the doubts and the lack of faith, will be seen there. In our System we make no difference—hearts are hearts. But in our System no lady was sufficiently interested to go on to the highest level…. One has to leave the love behind… nothing remains. Not that the love has gone—one can get it—it does not mean that one loses it; one can get it at any moment. But one leaves it behind, so to say. Even of my spiritual brothers nobody wanted it; they are not with me; they are left behind; how can they be with me? Who wants to work? Why do you want to understand?
It is not for you now; don’t pray for it now; wait till the time comes…. Everything, every prayer has its time. One thing at a time… work is a wide term. Bhakti is such a state; the state itself makes it that one does not want to leave it. My Rev. Guru Maharaj took me to this state when I did not even know about it. Only much later I came to know…. Who wants this state? Nothing remains.”
He was silent for a while. All was still. I had the feeling that even the garden was listening.
“Even men want Bhakti,” he continued; “it is a wonderful state.
Bogroff also had trouble with his mind, but for a very short time.”
“He was an exceptional man,” I said. He shook his head.
“He had to complete the road in a short time; that’s why….“He was silent once more. A light wind sprang out from somewhere behind the corner of the house rustling the leaves in the mango tree.
A bird whistled. “Love,” he said musingly, “you did not recognize it when it came.”
In the evening he came out, many of us were already sitting, and he spoke to them very highly of me; when asked to translate, he said it is not for me, it is for them. I smiled inwardly. The Teacher of Rumi, Shamsi Tabriz, was always rude to his disciple, but to others he spoke highly of him. History repeats itself—not that I want to compare myself with Rumi, but this seems to be the training. At home I kept musing that all the statements seem to be contradictory. There is only one road… this is clear… to disregard them all. HE WILL NOT tell me the truth. All his behavior shows it to me; that it is the ONLY road. I have to reach such a state of faith that if he should say: this chair is a dog, I will think, yes, it is a dog, and I had better not sit on it for it can bite me….
45 Faith without Understanding
10th January, 1963
I TRIED TO REPEAT THE STATEMENTS to him in the morning, but he interrupted me: “Logic will not help you; it is only a matter of lack of faith. If faith is great enough, it will carry you through. If not, mind will revolt always…. I never, never, contradict myself. We never do in our Yoga System. All my statements are perfectly correct, seen from different levels.”
“Even if you say it is effortless?”
“How can there be effort with Divine things? They are GIVEN, INFUSED,” he smiled gently, “and the Guru can NEVER be forced. If you will say so, you will deceive others and deceive yourself. Divine things can never be forced, however right, however correct is the attitude of the Shishya. It is given as a gift. Never, never can there be a question of forcing the Guru. One cannot force God. Yes, there is a connection between the Almighty and me for the sake of training.
You must tell me everything, but if you don’t, I come to know.” I was thinking if he knew about the photo… probably….
Much talk was going on about politics, and he sent us home early.
11th January
HE CAME OUT GRINNING BROADLY; in his hands were the two photos.
“Miss L. sent me those photos,” he said to me, “look! My children appreciated it very much!” I sat stiffly. He passed the photos around.
Everybody thought that they were very good. Don’t ask me for mine; I prayed silently.
“I am going inside, I have to work,” he declared and went inside.
Others and myself sat for a while, then we all went home.
12th January
LAST NIGHT I LEFT HIS PLACE about half past five. Felt so tired, am like a drunkard now; if there are no vibrations, the body feels tired and depressed. Ten to six I was in bed. So deep, so much longing there was. It is a lovely feeling, no wonder the poets sing about it, but it is very painful. Slept well, which is unusual, perhaps because the body was tired. Usually I don’t sleep more than a few hours, and the rest of the time I look at the stars. The moonlight was so bright that it woke me up—it may have been about midnight—pulled my bed into the veranda and fell asleep again until seven. The night was so fragrant. I will miss them in England—those southern nights laden with fragrance of some distant flowers, and shimmering with stars….
Some men came, and he was
very angry because of the sawdust they had delivered which was of bad quality; he was shouting at them and his wife was shouting too. Later he said that they were swindlers.
“Cheats,” he grumbled when they had left.
I said smilingly that I did not know that a Saint can get angry until I came to him. People say “a saintly man,” when they mean that he never gets angry.
“The world is full of wrong ideas, and full of foolish people,” he said. “A Saint is an ordinary man, only he does not indulge in anything. He has desires as every other human being. Only he is not after them. If they are fulfilled, there is no pleasure; if not, there is indifference and no pain. That’s all. He is on the same platform as any other human being. People say the Saint has to be hungry, must not eat, drink only twice a week and so on.” I said that the misconception has arisen because of Hatha Yogis who often do that, and the world thinks this is the highest thing!
“Hatha Yoga means one who has not been accepted; it is not a high state. The Almighty is full of desires; otherwise what was the necessity of creating the world? Nobody can ever remain without desires; they must be fewer, that’s all. Some desires are needs, like eating, drinking, needs necessary for daily living. Understanding alone is not enough; if you have understood something, it must become part of your thinking. Part of your mind. Your mind is always revolting; it even revolts now.”
13th January
DID NOT SEE HIM YESTERDAY; he seems to be occupied with the Bandhara preparations. The other day I complained that there were few vibrations; tonight I could not sleep so strong they were. The mind also was working well. But I could pray, and I prayed for faith.
There are two kinds of happiness: the dynamic one, the feeling ”the world is mine”; the other composed of non-being and stillness.
Had both of them in the night, first the one, then the other. Both are different, but both are perfect bliss, each in its own way. One is full of joy, the other full of a sense of belonging.
And I was sure that after the prayers so deep in the fullness of love, my relationship with the Guru was different…. Somehow all my being was directed towards him in a single devotion, difficult to describe.
Somehow he fitted better in his surroundings, and I seem to hate them less… “We Sufis are ordinary people.”…
14th January
MANY PEOPLE WERE THERE LAST NIGHT and he came to sit outside.
Hindi was being spoken. As soon as he came out, I saw that his face was grey. “You are not well,” my heart became heavy….
“Who says so?” he asked sternly. “Why do you think such a thing?” I said that I had the feeling that he was not well, and I was worried this morning.
“What makes you think that your feelings are always right?” he asked ironically.
“Oh, by no means,” I said, “by no means!” I remained silent. It is the second time he is unfriendly with me since yesterday, I reflected.
He does not lose time, I must say… he is testing me… he knows that I am making the effort and am praying so he will test me….
Must be very careful now… all my attention must be directed NOT TO BE RESENTFUL EVER… whatever he does. Hindi was spoken exclusively. I just sat there looking at him, and suddenly I saw green light around the lower part of his face and flashing on the forehead… a very light-green and golden light. I closed one eye to test if I was not mistaken. No, it was still there, but later it disappeared. In a pause of the conversation I managed to tell him about it. He flicked a few rapid glances at me and gave me one of his radiant smiles. Later he asked us to come into the room; it began to be cool and too damp to sit in the garden.
“You too can come in.” We all sat on chairs around the room and conversation continued. I asked him if I could say something.
“Yes?” he lifted his eyebrows. So I repeated the conversation I had with Sida Prasad yesterday.
“This is the place of drunkards; people who want to drink come here!” said Sida Prasad.
“How right you are,” I laughed. “Two days ago I had to go home at half past five, so tired I was, and was in bed before six. All because there seemed to be no vibrations, and my body is so used to them by now that it flops if there are none. As a drunkard needs alcohol to keep him going, so we too need a stimulant, though of a different kind!”
“Those vibrations are only if he is pleased, and while he is alive,”
said Sida Prasad. “As soon as he dies, they will stop. We, the disciples of his Rev. Father, were full of good vibrations; they have all stopped since he died.”
“I did not say anything, but it does not seem to apply to you, since the death of your Rev. Guru Maharaj? The contrary is the case, is it not?”
He listened and then smiled: “It is all a question of character; if during the lifetime of the Guru the character has time to change completely, to become like his, the vibrations will not stop after his death. On the contrary: after the death of the Master the vibrations are much stronger! But if the character is not formed yet, all the vibrations will stop unless one goes to the successor. Those people were puzzled and seemed lost; they had no faith in the System. The Master will die, but the Yoga System will go on forever. You ask why blind faith, without understanding? Why blind? Well, a blind man needs a stick, and without a stick he cannot walk. So, we too, without faith, cannot go on the Path. People want to know the how and the why and then they surrender, when they are satisfied. It is rare, very rare, as it was in my case, that one surrenders in the first second; then the mind does never rebel. Why should it rebel if there is blind faith? But it is rare, as I say. Until now I have found nobody capable of doing it…. “
COUPLET:
“It is a strange thing with Love, that it is the Beloved who merges into the lover.”
EXPLANATION: the lover is imperfect, so it is God, who is Almighty and Perfect, who merges into the Soul….
15th January
WHEN I LEFT PUSHPA yesterday afternoon, suddenly in the street, I felt funny; it was as if I had a bang on my head, no pain, but a sort of emptiness inside my head. I kept walking, reflecting what could it be….
Arrived at his place… to my surprise he was sitting in the door passage. He seemed to be waiting for me, stood up as soon as he saw me entering the gate, and spat out something. I thought that he will go in now, as he so often did when I arrived, but he sat down again. It was drizzling and not a pleasant place to sit, for it was draughty. I sat down on a chair opposite, and told him about an article in the Reader’s Digest; it seems that the astronomers have discovered something like God. So many and such enormous vibrations in space were detected by the radio telescopes, and nobody can account for them or explain them reasonably. But his face was averted, and I was not sure that he listened. His expression was as if carved of stone.
Told him how funny I felt. No answer. I wondered if something was being done to my mind, and he was sitting there just to be sure everything was O.K. Could easily be, but it is possible that he expected some reaction from me and wanted to test me. It was the mind, of course; every impression goes through the mind; perhaps he switched it off too quickly? But that could not be; he makes no mistakes. He knows exactly what he is doing….
Went home very early, felt tired and worn out. Slept well. Woke up about four in the morning, was full of peace; the mind did not give the least trouble, but there seemed to be no feeling of love. But He was not far, even if not quite near. Prayed for faith without understanding….
It was raining all night. And when I went there in the morning it was still raining. So, I sat in the doorway. It was cold and draughty.
My feet were wet. For one moment I began to think whether it was right, whether it is friendly, to let an elderly woman sit in a cold doorway on a rainy day? What does it matter to him to let me sit in the room, and if he does not want me to sit in his room, could I not sit in the veranda encircling the courtyard? But I stilled the mind quickly. A dead body, if it is put in the rain, gets wet. If it
is put in the sun, it is scorched. Can it protest? It cannot. Can I protest? I cannot.
When in London, suppose I have to wait for a train in a draughty place—will I be resentful because of it? I wouldn’t like it, that is sure, but very probably I would think that is one of those things… it cannot be helped… so here too. If he wishes me to sit in the cold, I will sit. I belong to Him, I am His thing… what He will do with me will be. The Guru is only His representative.
And so I sat there full of peace, full of vibrations, and then I went home.
And last night I was thinking that He loves me. He was in my heart.
And as He loves me, so He loves others, all the Souls. For Him there is no difference. Not even a little. And suddenly I understood why Guruji said that one has to be careful how one speaks to people; they will not take it; they will not understand. If it is a Christian, then one has to take him the Christian way; if he is a believer in Hindu philosophy, I will not say anything against Karmas, or Shiva, or the like. Gently, by and by, things are infused… one has to lead His sheep gently… no matter by what road, one must get them nearer.
And I understood how much humility is in this attitude: it does not matter what I think right, what I believe: it is THEY who matter only, and I am nowhere… I am only the instrument of His. And so full of peace I was. Deeply.
16th January
HE CAME OUT YESTERDAY AFTERNOON for a quarter of an hour. Sat in the doorway for a short while. Didn’t speak to me. Went home early; it was cold and damp. This morning it was foggy and damp. I sat outside his door. And I pray and I pray all the time, day and night, for faith without understanding. I don’t want to judge, or think, or understand… I want faith, please, help me to have faith, endless faith; I cannot afford to waste time any longer. Time is so short… it is running out. And that I should accept gladly whatever he inflicts upon me… that I should not be resentful, because I belong to Him.
Daughter of Fire Page 49
