Daughter of Fire

by Irina Tweedie

“I have to remember you like this, talking to people, never hurting their feelings—how much have I to learn from you!” He was grinning in a most delighted way. I think this man amused him with his chatter. For a man full of virility, such a weakling must have been something to laugh about.

  10th February

  IN THE PAST THE VIBRATIONS usually came on in the morning just before I went to him. They would fade out during the day and at night they were practically nil. Now they are always with me, day and night. The heart is thumping along, or pain in the head or some other sensation is felt constantly due to them. Love is so hard to bear that I keep weeping, such is the longing and the pain of love…. How much I love Him, and He is sometimes so near, and sometimes He forsakes me completely….

  11th February

  HAD A LONG PEACEFUL NIGHT. ln the evening Ahuja and his wife dropped in when I was preparing to go to bed. Had a meal full of raw garlic and was very conscious of bad smell. We were talking banking business and I fell asleep late reflecting over all sorts of worldly things connected with bank, money, and my return to England.

  At his place I cry every time nowadays. Just look at him and start crying…. Heart is aching too much… I cry silently and he talks to others. It is so cruel to send me away…. It is a difficult life.

  Did not go to Pushpa; felt the need to be much alone. Besides I keep weeping all the time; it is embarrassing to have to give explanations….

  12th February

  WANTED TO TELL HIM what Ahuja had told me. He did not come out; I sat alone. As soon as I saw the poet standing outside the gate I thought, now he will come out because the poet knows English and I won’t be able to speak. And so it was, the next moment he came out.

  A soft click of the chik and out he comes with a silken-like swoosh of his longhi. “Aia, aia!” he shouted to encourage the poet and the Nigam to come in. They came and a lively conversation began, on politics, on Pakistan and what not. In a pause I managed to say that I saw Mr. Ahuja and would like to speak to him about it. He nodded and then I sat there. If I cannot speak, never mind. Felt listless. When everybody had left, he turned in my direction and I was able to tell him about some money matters, the information I got from Ahuja.

  Then he went in. Sat alone for a long time. I heard him speaking to somebody near the door. Did he look at me through the chik? Quite possible. I wondered if he knew about the deadly feeling of hatred I have? It is so disturbing to hate so much and so deeply everybody, and for no reason at all…. Just hate them, that’s all…. Listened to his voice telling something to Babu. He must stand behind the chik, I thought, and then suddenly I was aware that the hatred had gone…. I looked, surprised, within myself, there was no hatred at all anymore; it was gone completely, as suddenly as a smoke disappears before a gust of wind…. I was astonished: such a strong feeling of hatred, gone completely, without a trace, as if it never existed….

  Only peace remained. While occupied with analyzing the event, I saw him coming out with the wife. He looked smart in a new green longhi.

  “I am going for a walk,” he announced. “Keep an eye on my house!”

  “If they all go out, they can leave the key with me,” I offered.

  “Oh, there are plenty of people inside, just keep an eye,” he smiled and was gone, the wife walking behind him. I was still reflecting what he meant by “keeping an eye,” why should it be necessary if his family is at home? Satendra came out; he squatted beside my chair and we talked.

  “If you are a Guru one day, will you make me one too?” he asked, and I said, yes, I will if I should become a Guru, and we both laughed at the idea…. Babu joined us, I talked to them, felt friendly, had no hatred in me at all…. They were human beings like everybody else, rather distant from me, but I was not unfriendly to them… and while talking I was still full of wonder, how such a hatred could disappear so completely.

  Shortly afterwards he came back; he looked grey and weak and he coughed. Sat in the room in front of him while he was resting and my heart was very heavy. Kept worrying looking at his tired face. Then he glanced quickly at me and got up.

  “I am going to rest in the courtyard, will not come out; you can sit or go, as you like.”

  “You are not well,” I said, my heart heavy with apprehension.

  “Not too bad,” he answered casually and went in. I sat for a while and went home.

  When in bed I prayed much but fell asleep soon. And slept all night until dawn. Lately I sleep well and sometimes until late; I think the body gets tired with the strong vibrations. Woke up about four; it was still dark. The waning moon illumined my courtyard with a pale eery haze. I looked up to the stars. God was near…. Began to pray for Guruji’s health. The longing was such that it was hurting my heart physically. I began to think how little money I had in London, how difficult it is going to be. But in reality there was a certain indifference, it is all up to You; if You want me to be in trouble, I will be. I will pray as I am doing now, full of love. Infinite peace was with me… peace and tenderness to Him who guides our lives…. The Real Master is He, I thought, repeating Guruji’s words. And it was wonderful how tender the love to Him can be. I never suspected that it could be so tender, like the sweetest human love… the most tender feeling in the world….

  13th February

  THE VIBRATIONS DID NOT SEEM TO BE so STRONG this morning, in fact I hardly felt them at all. But when sitting in front of him I was one with him. It was such a glorious feeling. Could not help wondering how it is done—how this feeling is provoked, and if I really am one with him at this moment, somewhere; or is it just an illusion, of no consequence?

  When he came out, my heart stood still for a moment. He looked so immaculate in his long, white kurta. He was pale, and the light around him increasing all the time. So beautiful, so transparent,. he did not look like a human being but a being from another world…

  I looked and looked. He sat down and began to do his mala. Sannyasi was there too and from time to time he said a few words to him. But most of the time his lips moved in silent prayer. I sat there full of bliss. How to describe it, I wondered… resting in your inutterable stillness and peace…. Words are completely meaningless. What I never could reconcile is the difference between the happenings around him and his behavior on the physical plane and what happens within myself. Here he will shout at servants passing by, talk about politics, discuss household matters with his wife, and Munshiji and I will be one with him. So completely, so sweetly is the feeling of belonging. And he will not even speak to me, or be harsh to me, will not even once look at me. It is puzzling indeed. It is the most difficult relationship, because it is not a human relationship at all. It belongs to the “other part of me.” On the human level it is hard and terrible.

  But somewhere, where the thinking cannot reach, it was wonderfully lovely.

  “Babuji loves you too much,” said Satendra to me yesterday.

  “He does not; he treats me badly,” I answered.

  “But this is a sign of love,” said he. “I know the System. If he treats you badly, he has much love for you!”

  He was right of course. And his words made me glad. Maybe he was talking about me with his family, I was thinking. Sannyasi went.

  But he remained sitting. He organized some work for the sweepers, gave some instructions about the sweeping of the garden, then went into the room, and I was convinced that he will not come back. But he did. Sat down again, always doing his mala. This sort of light… as though transparent, I was watching it. I had tears in my eyes, the bliss was difficult to bear…. Who will forget the way you sit, the slender legs drawn up, the elegant way you hold your head….

  How I will miss you…. He seemed to wait for something. I had this feeling. He sat there, prayed and waited. For what? I wondered.

  The wife, who went in the meantime to have her bath, appeared. She sat down and he was talking to her in a special, extra kindly way.

  Children came. Poonam with the grandchild in her
arm. His voice had a thousand inflections; it was so tender. He was talking to them and they all had their little ways and smiles for him.

  I understood. It was meant for me, to irritate me. I had to smile. It was amusing. It went on for a while. He was talking softly with them and once gave me a quick and searching glance.

  “You can go home now,” he said coldly, “I am going inside.” But when I was leaving he was laughing and playing with the child still sitting, and it did not look that he will go inside.

  At home in the kitchen, while cooking my meal, I thought that it was a bit naive, the whole behavior; he clearly wanted to make me see the contrast how he treats his family and me. It was so deliberately done it made me smile. But then I stopped dead in what I was doing: I remembered that this summer he did the same, being extra kind with the family and the disciples and I suffered hell. Now I do not… this is the difference. Now I can smile. It is not a naive behavior; it is my not understanding the why and the how of the ancient training.

  The vibrations in the feet were strong when I lay down to rest after my lunch. Intended to rest for only one hour and, though I am sure that I did not sleep, I must have lost consciousness, for when I looked at my clock it was three; two hours had passed. The vibration in the heart was very strong. Summer is here. Today I saw the first wasp in my courtyard, so I know, summer is here again. It is windy and warm. The sun begins to be rather hot.

  He had fever in the night, so he told me. And when I answered that I prayed for him, he murmured something and continued to pray. I was silent, he did not want me to speak, it was clear. I was beyond talking anyhow, such was the bliss….

  16th February

  SPOKE TO HIM ABOUT MY IDEA to keep the flat. I am afraid that I will not find accommodation when I come back. Pushpas’s place is not at all suitable for spiritual life.

  “Why you Europeans always think of the future?” I said that we are brought up like this. “Then you have to stop it! You still don’t want to change?”

  When at home I spoke about it to the landlord, but he was not very enthusiastic; he said that in a flat not inhabited for a number of years white ants appear, it cannot be done. I was thinking of arranging it with L., but it did not seem a practical proposition and he was against it, it was only too clear.

  “We never think of the future. If you think of the future and make plans, you don’t trust in God. Never think of tomorrow.”

  He was right. The future is in His Hands. Why should I worry?

  But there was a nagging fear in my mind that I will not find accommodation when I come back. I must confess it….

  Decided not to write to L. after all. When told about it he said: “For a few days you were after the flat and not after the Reality. If we have a desire, we are after the desire and not after God.”

  “Is the sense of oneness a reality happening somewhere and coming down into the mind, or an illusion?”

  “It is an illusion. A superior kind of illusion. What one thinks, what one tries to explain or what one speaks is an illusion. There are superior and inferior kinds of illusion. When there is a feeling of oneness, how can the mind give trouble if it feels itself one with the object? Many are illusions, some high, some low.”

  I said that I did not mind; it was a glorious illusion full of bliss, and if the mind does not give me trouble I want it every time; never mind it being an illusion! “Illusions will remain until the mind goes completely; but what about your mind? Is it gone? It seems to be very much here, very much perfect!”

  “What a useless question! You don’t know how to talk to the Elders!”

  “It is of no use blaming me for something I cannot know!”

  “It is not a question of blaming; the culture of this Line is not for everyone. Only for the few. Who will accept it? Even Hindus don’t accept it, or know nothing about it. By and by, never mind, you will understand… let time come….

  “Why don’t you listen more carefully to what I say? Why don’t you try to grasp it? For the third time I say to you: when there is a little interest it can be done! If there is interest and if they are ready to make a sacrifice… without a sacrifice how can it be? Europeans are materialistically minded, but so are Hindus. I never said that Europeans are hopeless! Why do you jump to hasty conclusions? We don’t differentiate; for us Christians, Mohammedans, Hindus are all the same. We are not narrow-minded. Why do you say that you are discouraged? It only shows that you are at the mercy of discouragement! Like a straw tossed by the waves! Emotions are nothing; they are not at all a sign of spirituality! If somebody would hear you talk like this, he will say what an idiot you are to waste one year, and what an idiot I am to train you for one year! We never discourage anybody, never deceive, never lie…. If I am angry, the person will not even come to my gate because I don’t want it…. I may do things for the sake of training; this is another matter.

  Never think that I am angry or displeased, it is a wrong conclusion.”

  “You have said that I never will progress here.” He nodded seriously, his lips tight.

  “You are sent back to atone for the life you have led previously, and which was not justified. If there is search for Truth, there is an URGE from your side and SWIFTNESS from the side of Truth…. If you want the Truth, Truth wants you… Truth will be after you… and then you are quickened.”

  50 The Pain of Love

  18th February, 1963

  “PEOPLE LAUGH AT YOU,” he said. I nodded.

  “I know, and they will laugh at me in England; because I will be intoxicated with God and I will speak of love.”

  He had said that the nearness to the Master is an illusion. But if everything which goes through the mind is an illusion, and the nearness represents a higher kind of illusion, then it is nearer to Reality, is it not? So, it is welcome, a thousand times… illusion or not….

  In the evening he did not come out. He was coughing and I left soon, could not bear to hear his painful cough. In bed prayed for him and how…. Deep down the fear that I won’t see him again… how much I want the Truth… the longing was terrible… how much I want You, so deeply, so endlessly…. Truth, hurry up, help me to You! I am small and silly and not worthy of You! But I am prostrated with longing for You…. Help me to get You….

  19th February

  HE CAME OUT IN THE MORNING. Sat there motionless, pale, coughing painfully. Ignored me completely, and my heart was heavy with concern for his health. He left soon, went to see a sick woman who had fever. Vibrations started strongly. I was glad that Munshiji went with him so he was not walking alone. In the evening he did not come out at all. Sitting near his door at sunset, so serene and full of drifting clouds, I heard his voice from time to time and the chatter of his wife.

  Looking at the sky, all in gold and grey, I began to sing softly. My repertoire is not great; mostly folk songs, from Italy, Germany, Russia, everything which came into my mind at this moment. It gave me a kind of sad comfort to hear my own voice. One melody after another I sang, marking the time on the armrests of my chair. It was like a drive, an urge to sing, and to sing to the setting sun and the fading colors of the sky… to sing in unison with the vibrations deep inside my heart aching with longing for Him and His Glory.

  In the afternoon I had had some trouble with the mind. The usual story of discourtesy to a woman and sending me home because I have no money anymore and he has to keep me…. L. will be welcome, she has money, and so on…. But in my heart I knew that it was wrong to think like that and it was not true. And now sitting here and singing to Him I was ashamed of it. So I sang to be forgiven, sang my longing and the restlessness away and the deepest, sorrowful love.

  And my heart was full of such yearning as I looked up to the now dimly lit sky. At one moment I heard his voice near the door, and wondered if he came to have a look at me and if he had heard my soft humming and singing. When it became quite dark I went home.

  Passing his door, with the light inside the room, saw him sitting near
the door, in the big chair, something he never does. And I could not help wondering if he did it because he listened to me or was watching the ironing man iron his garments in the garden. Probably the latter was the reason, but I preferred the thought that he was listening to me.

  He looked up when he saw me passing. I quickened the step. But this look from behind the chik remained in my heart. Love flared up, and I went to bed aching with it. Noticed that there was a difference in feeling quality. It was more painful. The longing, always difficult to bear, was killing. So I prayed to Him who is Merciful telling Him aloud how much I wanted Him. I want You, I want You so much… terribly… endlessly…. I am small and silly and I was a fool to waste my life. I am nobody and You won’t even look at me. But I throw myself before You, imploring You to love me for myself. My whole being went out to Him in unending sorrow, to Him who knows and guides our destinies. Could not fall asleep because of the vibrations. The heart was a wild thing. I wanted to get up and run about, but did not. What’s the use of it?… perhaps I am hungry, but no, I was not hungry at all, so that was not the reason why I could not sleep. Heard the hours chime in the big bungalow, and at last fell asleep. When I woke up, the longing was still there like a torment throbbing in the background, and it made me moan in sheer pain. The pain of love, the terrible, tormenting pain, which the poets say is even superior to the feeling of love itself…. And they are right… it is….

  20th February

  THIS PAIN… how it burned inside today.. restlessly, endlessly, an unceasing torment….

  The other day I said that I did not care if I had success when lecturing.

  “No, you have to care!” he said. “You must want to be successful.

  If you do something, you must want to do it as best as you can! You will be letting down the superiors, you will be letting down Sufism if you don’t care!” He is right of course. Another time he said: “At the beginning and in the middle one wants to work, to share, to teach. Later this desire also goes. It is then that one really begins to teach. If you feel the need to teach, you are not ready to be a teacher.