I said that one of the ladies told me she cannot do it at home.
“No, of course, she cannot. We don’t do things in a hurry. Can you fly. without an airplane? There are many ways of training according to the character and the heart. Really in our System Dhyana is not always used. It is more a Hindu way of training. We use the Way of Love. It is quicker. But it cannot be done always and not with everybody. In our world of pressures and manifold responsibilities a gentler but slower road is used. Dhyana is this road; love is created gradually; it takes more time. The Path of Love creates a great psychological upheaval; not everyone can be subjected to this pressure.
“You will come on the stage; all will be well,” and he dismissed me coldly and abruptly. This was his answer to my unspoken question….
Slept in the afternoon because had hardly any sleep last night.
Asked him in the evening if he could give me the usual thing tomorrow. “Let tomorrow come,” he said, unfriendly. I sat down and was thinking that perhaps he will not give me what I need for the sake of the test. Then I stopped worrying and was serene. He will do anything before I go; every test will be given… so, I had better be careful…. Everybody had left and he remained seated for a while.
I sat there so full of peace, could not move. No need to worry ever… I belong to Him, He will look after me… my love went out to Him in a steady stream. Orion in all its magnificence stood right above my head, clear, big, near… so near.
“You can go,” I got up and went.
54 “Try to be Absorbed”
3rd April
I HOPE HE WILL GIVE ME WHAT I NEED… I have to pay the rent… I tried to chase away my concern about the rent, but it kept coming back….
As soon as I came the wife came out, gave me the money, turned away and went inside before I had time to say anything. I was much relieved.
Yesterday went to the bank, made out a draft which I sent to Madras to the Air India Office for the ticket. In the afternoon told him about it.
“So all is finished?” He smiled.
“Yes, the last job was to send the money; now I have nothing to do but to look at you…. “He smiled quietly.
“Satsang,” he said with a nod, “very important.”
We went to his father’s Samadhi in the morning. Only two cars were going because the truck did not come (the traffic inspector wanted a bribe to give the permit; conditions of India!!), so there was no crowd of dirty children to run about when meditation was due.
Only his family, Durga Shankar’s mother and two children, and the brother’s family; it was quiet, no noise. In a bluish haze were the Indian plains, and I wept so much because it was the last time I will see the grave, for years to come….
Prayed for understanding, trembled when prostrating myself before his father’s grave, blinded by tears, could hardly get up….
When I did finally, tears still streaming down my face, I saw he was looking at me. His face was still and cold. I went to the car; our car was the first to leave because it was Pushpa’s. I saw his tall figure standing at the railing looking at our departing car. White as snow, in full sunshine, his garment seemed to emanate light, and I knew that he stood there because he wanted this picture to remain in my memory… the Mausoleum, the heat, the sunny haze, the palest azure of the distant plains, mango trees, small huts far away, and fields endlessly stretching away seemingly beyond the horizon… and his shining figure in the foreground…. Cried so much all the journey back, and went home because could not sit in his garden shaken by sobs as I was….
But I was there in the evening. He came out and looked very pale. I was told that he had fever. He had no food Satendra told me, and he suffers from a vomiting condition. Will I see you again? I thought sadly. Will I see you alive? What a parting….
In the night could not sleep until two a.m. So strong were the vibrations in the soles of my feet. Needed a blanket, for the night was fresh, but kept the feet stuck out, they were burning. Ssss… it went, I could hear the sound even. Then the vibration at the base of the spine began strongly, and I just lay there watching the light circulating within. There was a sense of a very great peace, and of physical pain in the whole of the body. It was literally aflame.
5th April
THIS MORNING HE CAME OUT IN HIS SUFI DRESS; Satendra brought his writing material. Ahuja’s sister came; his nephew came. She was nearly all the time in Dhyana. I left about eleven.
Tonight many people came. It was a soft, fragrant evening, full of moonlight and huge stars. It had been very hot all day. But now it was delightful.
How difficult it must be to live in the world AND be just a drop of water absorbed into the desert sand… difficult it must be….
Still, it has to be done; it MUST be done. The very loud talk was disturbing me. Sometimes it is so restless here. People make it so.
And he not only tolerates it, no, he encourages it, himself talking a lot. Clearly it must be so for reasons I don’t understand….
6th April
THIS MORNING WHEN I CAME he was working in the garden. Later when people came and we were sitting, I asked: if for instance the Master says this chair is black. I must think: he says it for a certain purpose and I must accept it.
“No,” he interrupted with a smile, “If the Master says: this chair is black, you MUST SEE IT BLACK.” I understood. But it seems incredible that one can reach this degree of surrender….
He was telling me off because I talk too much to Pushpa about the Training and myself.
“You think that you did much, but from my point of view it is nothing; nothing at all. We served our Rev. Guru Maharaj for so many years and we thought it amounted to nothing by comparison with what we are given by him.”
Then he made an ambiguous statement, intended to upset, to confuse my mind and create trouble. When confronted with it, he at first pretended not to understand what it was all about. Then he twisted and turned it, then denied three quarters of it, and paralyzing my mind, so that I could not think clearly sitting there before him… I knew no more what is what and which is which…. When he speaks to me in a certain way, it is sometimes as if a strong wind would blow through the whole of my being, making me feel as if I would take off at any moment…. And I don’t remember a thing about it….
On the other hand, when he speaks to me kindly so that my heart is melting, there is always poison hidden somewhere underneath.
In the night the mind gave me terrible trouble. Deceptions, falsehoods, contradictions. Either he does not speak to me, or if he does he frequently confuses me with denials and contradictions… makes statements immediately to be contradicted—about his culture being the only right one, and ours a bad and an inferior one, or inferiority of women and the like—all sorts of statements which I know well he does not mean, cannot mean at all. And of course the next day he will say exactly the opposite, or deny the lot.
Maddening.. I was so furious that I cried. In the evening a storm was approaching with much thunder and lightning. He came out for a moment. “It is going to rain,” he said. The storm swept down in this very moment with gusts of wind whisping up clouds of evil smelling dust from the unpaved streets. We all went into the courtyard and I sat there on a tachat feeling miserable in the whirling dust. They were all in the room. At last the wife called me inside. He was squatting on the tachat.
“Yes, yes,” he said mechanically, contemplating his toes, “Yes, yes, you can come in.” I sat down on the chair; the fan was whirling around uselessly, bringing no refreshment at all. Outside, the storm was raging, and the yells of the kids of Tulsi Ram were heard amongst the howling of the storm; they rejoiced about the green unripe mangoes falling from the tree. I was crying silently; he was talking to his wife, chatting to Satendra. Once I caught his thoughtful glance; he quickly lowered his eyes when he saw that I noticed it. Then the wife and the other lady present became aware that I was still weeping.
They commented on it.
“My wife
wants to know what is the matter with you?” He was still looking at his toes.
“Ask Guru Maharaj,” I said blowing my nose.
“When the doctor operates and hurts, does he listen to the protests of the patient?” I shook my head. “And who is always blamed?”
“The doctor,” I said. He kept looking at his toes.
I took the air ticket from my bag and gave it to him. He read the letter and examined the ticket.
“So now,” he said slowly; “there is really nothing more to do…. “
“Only three weeks are left, three miserable weeks… such a short time!”
“Three weeks are short, so are three months, or three years, and so short are three hundred years. And in one splitsecond the world was created, and in one splitsecond it will disintegrate…. “
“So Sufis also believe in Pralayas and Manvantaras,” I said looking at him squatting there, all in white in a thin dhotie and singlet, his face radiant with light. He nodded.
“Yes, only the terminology is different, and we don't speak of it.
Many things my father and my Rev. Guru did teach me. I never tell it to anybody. People are idiots; they will not understand. Not everything can be said, only the strictly necessary. Until the human being reaches the stage, no teaching is given.”
Then he told me that the life of the physical body is one hundred years, the life of the Manas (the mind) is five hundred years, the life of Shukshma Sharira (the body of the higher mind) is twenty-five hundred years—3100 in all.
“We don’t believe that we come back again and again. The Atma is supposed to be immortal because after millions of years we know of people still in existence here.”
“Do we go to other Lokas?” I asked. But he was in Samadhi. The wife came in telling him to come; supper was ready.
I left. It was a clear night after the storm. But as it did not rain, the air still smelled of dust. A little rain came later in the night, and I had to move my bed from the courtyard into the veranda.
Was thinking practically the whole night. I will try to attempt the seemingly impossible; there is only the one way: to accept everything at its face value. He said that all I did was nothing; all right, I offer my effort, my suffering to Him as a flower…. Bogroff was sitting on hot stones for half an hour not feeling the heat, Guruji commented. I was without a fan for twelve days, not to speak of other discomforts, but he says that it is nothing. All right. I understand that until I give up the idea that I did something of great merit it will represent an obstacle. So the sooner I forget about it, the better it will be. And when he says that women are inferior, all right, I will, or rather I WILL TRY to accept it. I cannot haggle about what he said or did not say, what I can accept or cannot. One cannot surrender to a Great Being directed by a higher power and criticize the man as imperfect. He will say things, then he forgets them; it is up to me to understand. He throws them before me to be picked up, to sort them out. I should rather accept everything, as it comes…. So if one day he will say: ‘!You are cowdung,” I must think of myself: though I don’t look like one, there seems to be a slight difference; if he says I am so, I am… he knows better…. Only by accepting everything in this way there is a slight hope to surrender this devil, the mind…. Otherwise I will haggle till doomsday and get nowhere.
The vibration in the feet and at the base of the spine has been going on in a terrific way since Sunday.
In the morning plenty of people were there all knowing English.
He said: “The regard in our family is such as is in no other family to the same extent. My father NEVER talked to his elder brother, and answered only: ‘Yes, Sir,’ when spoken to. So did I to my Rev. Guru.
My son cannot speak to his wife before me. Cultures are different, but where the Truth is, one has to find out by oneself. We Sufis lay great, primary importance on regard for the Guru. When my Rev. Guru made me his disciple, my uncle hinted to me that if I regard the Guru and please him, he will give me everything. I was a small boy; I did not understand them… later only I understood; something more is necessary as well. It was clearly a hint. If you regard him, he will give you; you are not yourself doing it. The disciple is nothing, can do nothing.”
I understood it only when I came home. In the meantime he was talking all the time on all sorts of topics so that I should have no chance to open my mouth. I was crying, feeling very rebellious….
At eleven when the others had left he said: “It is eleven; you can also go home.” Only at home I understood the wisdom of it; it was useless to talk to him accusing him of this and that….
The way is clear: the GREATEST reverence to the Master, and acceptance without murmur or doubt, or criticism—only then can I have some hope! So my mind went still at last and I had peace. In the evening I asked permission to go home early. Felt tired, could not bear horrible voices going on endlessly….
7th April
IN THE NIGHT WAS MUCH BOTHERED by my feet, for more than three hours. Got up, switched on the light, sat in the room for a while keeping my feet in a bowl of cold water. Then drank some cold water. Fell asleep after midnight, and in the morning it was a bit better. The vibration went on strongly. He must have noticed that I had trouble, for in the afternoon the vibration was not there, and there was hardly any in the night.
9th April
HE IS FEVERISH and had a vomiting condition last night. And I was thinking that perhaps he will not die after all. It did not matter really what he did.
Later he said: “A child is afraid to leave the arms of his mother, that’s why I am sending you away.” In the evening he was talking “nineteen to the dozen” and it was very hot. Went home at half past eight. He was still talking to others.
11th April
ONLY LESS THAN THREE WEEKS… and the mind gives so much trouble. Packing for Bhogoun. Will pray at the grave of His Rev. Guru Maharaj….
16th April
OF BHOGOUN I REMEMBER PRACTICALLY NOTHING. There was a long, tedious, hot, train journey; somebody payed for my ticket. A stranger joined our party in the carriage and spoke to Guruji in such impertinent, practically derisive way, arguing endlessly. Bhai Sahib answered him gently with infinite patience. Nobody spoke. I sat there boiling with indignation. At last I could not bear it any longer and asked the young man if, being an Indian, he did not learn from his parents how to respect the elders. He stared at me in amazement, but Bhai Sahib attacked me most viciously, telling me how could I dare, being only a woman, speak to a man in this way. He practically shouted at me. I was so taken aback and so deeply hurt, I only sat there and said nothing. The young man was also amazed at Guruji’s outburst—perhaps feeling somewhat guilty because he was the cause of my ill treatment, or perhaps realizing that he really did lack respect for an old man—kept quiet from then on and got out after a few stations.
All I know is that it was hot, oh, so hot. All I remember is that I prayed so ardently as never before in my life. I think we stayed at first in the house of his aunt where the lavatory was arranged in such a way that I suddenly noticed that a crowd of boys looked at me from a nearby roof when I was in it, so I didn’t dare to go. Very little consciousness was in the mind. Then I remember that we went to stay with a Muslim doctor who sang most beautifully his prayers at four in the morning, his magnificent baritone voice ringing far and wide across the village… the procession of us all to the group of trees across the cultivated fields where the two small Muslim graves of his Guru Maharaj and his son were found. And that’s all. No memory of anything else. I think that we stayed three days.
In the evening he translated many couplets: “Those who love always cry, where is deep love there is always separation. Beauty has a reason, but love has no reason for the mind knows it not….
“It is easy to come with me: I am standing in the middle of the bazaar and shouting: Come with me! All you need to do is to burn down your house and come with me! It is easy to come with me: take off your head and follow me! .
&nbs
p; “if I am happy I forget You; but if full of sorrow, I think of You! So give me sorrow only that I may always think of You…“
17th April
“GURU BHAKTI IS DIFFICULT (devotion to the Guru),” I said and he nodded.
“The lane of Love is narrow, as narrow as the edge of a sword; two cannot walk on it. I have shown you the room where I was sitting for years. And in front of the room there was no veranda as it is now.
And I was standing before the door in the sun when it was closed, and I did not feel it. And you know I cannot sit in full sun. But then I did not feel the heat or the sun. It was his greatness. And you have been thinking all the time that you have been getting harsh treatment.You have been sitting here in the garden all the time, it carries no weight with me…. “
“Yes, I am afraid I did think so,” I said. ·
“It is my failing.”
“Oh no!” I protested, “it was my foolishness, my lack of understanding. Because the conditions in your country are different; in my country pigs live better,” I pointed to Tulsi Ram’s shed. “I never sat on chairs where mangy dogs were sleeping.”
“But in your country you will not find people like me.” He smiled faintly.
“Yes, you are right; here lies my foolishness; I should not have been distracted by non-essentials.”
“No,” he shook his head. “It was my failing. My Rev. Guru was much greater than I. He would have taken away those ideas as he did with me; they would not arise at all. Culture has nothing to do with it. He was much, so much greater than I; I am only dust at his feet, and even so, I am fortunate to have absorbed what I could.” He fell silent with the most tender expression in his eyes.
“Even now, he is the greatest; he gives orders; nobody can be like him.” He looked thoughtfully at his feet, slender, brown, perfectly shaped, stretched out on the chair in front of him. And I was thinking that history repeats itself—nobody is so great, nobody is so beautiful or perfect as he is for me… and still my mind keeps rebelling….
Daughter of Fire Page 59
