“It is perfectly true,” I said softly; “when I was sitting at his grave, I kept thinking what a difference this time is from the last time, nearly three years ago. There was a great difference. Then I was heart broken; I had to go; I did not know if I would see you again. I wanted spiritual life; I wanted God so badly. Desperately I prayed. And now?
I looked within my heart, analyzed my feelings. It seemed to me that this time I wanted nothing… nothing at all. What is spiritual life?
Perhaps it is also a delusion. It is Maya. One more Maya. To desire something is a delusion. The only thing which seemed to remain now is my love, my desire for God which is Truth. Only that is Reality; only that I want even more than before. So I just sat there full of peace, desiring nothing, except God, and all around were the plains and the palm trees, vultures settling on them for the night, and the sky of the special mother of pearl azure.
And later the sun setting in the glory of yellow and gold, the infinitely serene sunsets of the plains, full of majesty, the calm ending of a perfect day…. And when you were all already walking away, I remained behind, and I prostrated myself before His grave, my heart crying out to him…. I did not want to be seen doing it, and nobody saw me; they were all around you talking; nobody noticed that I remained behind. I soon joined you all.”
While I was speaking, he closed his eyes. And such a stream of love, like a current, flowed strongly from him towards my heart.
I knew that he was pleased….
11th January
WHEN THE SERVANT BROUGHT US THE HOT WATER in the morning, he told us that the prime minister Shastri died. Later we knew from Mr. Sharma that the news came through at one a.m. He was in Tashkent, and a good agreement was reached between India and Pakistan. He was due to arrive in Delhi today. He died from a heart attack. There was such a restless atmosphere; people were standing around, and all were discussing excitedly how he died and what will be. I was on edge. How restless it can be in his place… and the horrible orang-utang face was talking his head off…. He did not speak to us at all the whole morning, and in the evening we sat in the dark room and he was with his family in the next room. I could just see his profile, the white beard, looking like a prophet with his grey topi. It suits him.
But about seven, Sharma came with some other men. So, he came out hurriedly. The same story repeats itself again: he will never come out for us. If others are there, we may benefit from his presence. But if we are alone, he lets us sit in the dark room… and he does not care that H. will be here for only two more weeks. And she made such sacrifices in order to be able to come….
58 The First Cloud
I MUSN’T FORGET TO MENTION what happened two days after our arrival. He turned to H. and said: “I want you to go to the post office and get me a few inland envelopes and some stamps. You don’t mind going to the post office?” He looked at her sharply.
“Of course not, why should I mind? Tell me how many you want and I will bring them to you!” I looked at her thinking that she does not know how different the Indian post offices are from the ones in our country. The jostling, pushing crowd of men can be disagreeable to a woman. Very seldom I saw an Indian woman in a post office, mostly servants. As soon as she left, he asked me about her. I told him what I knew about her background, how I met her, that she reached the first stages of Dhyana after being with me for four months in my little room filled with the roar of the traffic of Holland Park Avenue. She used to come every day at four p.m. and stayed until nine or ten… all things I wrote to him in my letters, but probably he wanted to hear it from me.
“And when she comes out of Dhyana, she does it quickly and her mind takes over clearly and efficiently?”
“I think so, at least I hope, but you will be the better judge of it.”
He said nothing. “There is only one problem, if one can call it a problem; she is unable to do it in a seated position.”
“Oh? And why so?”
“Because she has an abdominal condition which prevents her from sitting still for any length of time.”
“Hmm… that should be corrected…. ” He was thinking for a while, his lips tightly pressed, the eyes narrowed to a slit. “How long can she stay?”
“About six weeks, till the end of January. She has her property to look after; it is her living, her business.” He seemed to ponder.
“Hmm… what can one do in six weeks? Six weeks are nothing. I cannot subject her to what I have subjected you—she will go off her head. You will help her in London as well as you can.”
I looked at him. He knew what I was thinking.
“Yes,” he nodded, “I know. It is a great responsibility to guide a soul. And it can be painful to the guide and to the guided. Still, we have to do our duty, and she will be part of your responsibility. You will get help; help is always given.”
I said nothing. What could I say? So I began to tell him how to my surprise the quick vibrations of the traffic not only did not interfere with meditation states, but proved to be helpful. And the day came while meditating, I began to realize why the Spiritual Life, or Yoga, is a question of speed. He said it himself, I remember, one day. “Life in the world, civilization, is speeded up constantly; everything is going faster and faster. Our children for instance are much faster than us; they live quicker. The pace of life, the pressure of it, the blaring of the radios, the noise of the big cities, does not disturb them, but it disturbs us, because we are much slower. New discoveries, the sciences, inventions, follow each other with hair-raising acceleration.
And the day must come when the Spiritual Life and the life as it is lived in this world are bound to meet; they are like two ends of the same stick; they will meet in the middle and become one.”
He listened to me with attention. “Write it down; write down everything. It will be helpful.”
H. returned. He told Satendra to take what she brought into the room and told her to sit down.
He began to talk in Hindi; several men were seated around, listening. After a while I turned to H. and saw she was in Dhyana, seated on a hard, wooden chair (and it was an uncomfortable chair, I knew it, for only too often I had to sit on it and I could never do it without shifting my legs or my body from time to time). But she sat motionless, completely relaxed; her face was serene and she looked very beautiful.
At one moment Jagan Nathji noticed that she was in Dhyana.
“Oh?” He remarked inquiringly, pointing at her, “She is here only for the last two days? And already in Dhyana?”
Bhai Sahib nodded slowly. “When there is faith, everything can be done,” he said. The men were talking now about an incident which happened recently in town.
I was watching H. I did not know when it began, for I did not look at my watch, so I did not know how long it lasted, but I think it must have been at least one hour. Then Guruji gave her a sharp look, and at once she opened her eyes looking at him with those soft brown eyes of hers, this wonderful look I know so well; the Soul returning from far, faraway…. She kept looking at him. For the first time she could do it seated, I was thinking; what can a Sat Guru not do?
And the lovely quotation came into my mind: ”… and the Prophet loved perfumes and lovely women, and the shining of eyes in prayer.” The shining of eyes when the Soul looks through them, ·just returned from the Spiritual Plane… its own domain… a look of Divine Purity.
Great is your might, Bhai Sahib. Wonderful is the power of a Sat Guru…. He looked at me quizzically.
“What is the difference between a bad Teacher and a good Teacher? A bad Teacher will always behave how his followers expect him to behave. The conventional idea of a spiritual Teacher is that he is always kind, benevolent, compassionate, dignified, wearing robes, or garments which distinguish him from the ordinary mortals, uttering at all times wise, profound sentences. So he will behave accordingly… because he is after personal prestige, or worldly possessions, or even money or honors. But a good Teacher obeys a law of which the world
has no notion. Do you know what is Swadharma? It is a Sanskrit word and it means a Dharma, a duty which is innate in the thing itself, imbedded in its Swabhave (true nature). For instance the Swadharma of the water is to be wet and fluid, that of the fire is to burn and to consume, of the wind to blow.
They cannot help it; it is in their nature. And so it is the Sat Guru; he just IS. He may do things which people don’t understand, or may even condemn. For love does not always conform to the conventional idea people have made of it. Love can appear in the shape of great cruelty, a great injustice, or even calamity. In this respect, one could say that the Sat Guru is similar to God. He cannot be judged or measured by worldly standards. Shamsi Tabriz was said to be rude and abrupt; he used to address his audience as ‘oxen’ and ‘asses.’
Nevertheless, he was a great Teacher and Rumi dedicated a whole book of poetry to him.”
He was silent for a while, following with his eyes a sparrow hopping along the brick elevation. Then he said: “My kindness will not help you, but my severity will.”
I sat very still, listening carefully. So, it looks as if my tribulations are by no means over. At that moment the future seemed to be very dark. But no, there is, there MUST BE a light at the end of the tunnel, however black, however long it may be…. A Light, so glorious, so much longed for, so much mine, mine alone, but only because it must be shared, given to others….
12th January, 1966
“I AM LAZY,” said Mrs. Sharma this morning. “What prevents me from repeating the Name of God? Nothing. But I prefer to think of something more pleasant.” What can be more pleasant than the Name of God?, echoed my heart, as she was saying it…. And in that moment I suddenly realized something important and I told H. about it while we were walking along to Guruji’s place.
“Mrs. Sharma said that she prefers to think of something more pleasant than the repetition of the Name of God. Here lies a mystery.
Unless the Name of God becomes the sweetest thing to us, we are nowhere and nothing will happen. If we repeat it as a unpleasant duty, we are nowhere. Like myself, I was repeating it and repeating it, and it had only a meaning of a hard duty. But later, gradually, from time to time, it became sweeter and sweeter. This feeling came and went. And when it went, I stopped to call on Him and waited till it came back, and then began the repetition once more… and now it is the sweetest thing in the world. And my heart goes there automatically, when I am alone, at any moment of the day, when it has the chance to do so. And then one can pray tremendously, as never before, and the nearness is there, more and more…. To put it differently: if our Religion remains on the surface, we are nowhere.
Only if it becomes part of us, of our innermost being, then we draw nearer the Infinite Truth. The Soul of man will not do anything in which it is not interested; it is useless to force it; the mind will prevent it. It will create a barrier. And the Interest is an Act of the Grace of God. It is given by the Guru as an act of Grace. Through Love you repeat the Name of the Beloved which is the sweetest thing in the world!… “
I was like you Mrs. Sharma. I got bored by repeating His Name endlessly. I preferred to think of something more interesting. Life has so many interests… but then the moments of great nearness came from time to time…. Then to repeat His name was of greatest sweetness. So I used to wait for the nearness in order to enjoy repeating His Name. And now it is the sweetest thing in the world; nothing could be sweeter. And now things do happen. And as soon as I begin, such peace is there, and my heart is only happy when I can do it….
“If you come to know something about people, either the future or the past, or sins, or other things, help where help is needed, and then forget, throw it behind you. And do not disclose it, otherwise this knowledge will be taken from you. People will be afraid of you; they will not follow you. They will say she knows everything, and it is frightening to have to deal with somebody who knows so much.
Perhaps intimate, perhaps secret things… knowledge comes through the heart… from the heart to the mind. Knowledge is always good. But if one discloses it, discloses the good things and then the bad things, because one comes to know both, and speaks about it to others, in the absence of the person, one becomes used to it. And the self will never go. And if the self remains, there can be no spiritual life. But by throwing away, you are not the doer.
Samskaras don’t remain. Throw away everything.”
“It is frightening to the mind—the mind likes to know why and how, especially the Western mind.
“There is no such thing as Western mind and Eastern mind.
There is only one mind. And how can it understand the how and why if those flashes of Intuition are not from the mind? The whys and hows are in the mind. By and by you will understand. For such things the Master is necessary.”
So, I began to understand while walking down the street of Aryanangar, after having bought him a small cake. By throwing things away—resentment, knowledge, everything the self will go. There is the past and there is the future, he said, the present is nothing. I must try to understand what he means.
Throwing away means to be completely in the Hands of God… relying on Him completely. Sometimes this feeling of bottomless abyss is frightening to the mind, when I think of it….
To throw it behind… how simple. So simple that I wonder how is it that I didn’t think of it myself…. Now I will practice it. But to be able to understand it, to practice it, one must be ready for it, one must be ripe. If the memory of the resentment, of the offenses, is thrown away, where would the resentment be? One would live without the memory… one rejects it. It would mean to live in the NOW in the Hands of God… a tremendous thing, difficult, if at all, to be understood. I looked at him when he came out and saw that he did not want to speak to me. So I kept quiet.
Earlier, speaking of clairvoyants he said: “They are at the lowest level; they don’t even go beyond the mind.”
Leaving with the Vippin ladies who were giving us a lift in their car, I remained a few steps behind, thanking him with my eyes. He bowed slightly with a smile; deep understanding was in his expression and his smile.
“I really know nothing, but I will say or do the right thing for every occasion.”
That’s why he is constantly repeating, since I am back, that forgetfulness is the greatest qualification—not in the sense of forgetting what one knows or needs to know, but in the sense of forgetting what ought to be forgotten. Will I be like him then? Heaven knows….
In the evening he sat there as serene as eternity. Cranes were returning from the Ganges, as I have seen them so often in the past years…. A large bluish star was hanging in the west, on the fading pale-yellow horizon. Perhaps it was Venus. It became dark quickly. I saw his face, his eyes light up, as he was talking to a man sitting beside me. We were only four in the garden, he, this man, H. and I, and nobody else. My heart was singing to him. Great Teacher. Gently he guides us. Each time a little more, a little further… This morning he pointed to the next step: Throw behind you… everything. For this is the Way….
13th January
HE HAD A SEVERE VOMITING CONDITION in the night, so he told us. It was like death. He could not catch his breath for several minutes. We did not see much of him. Went to the bazaar with Mrs. Sharma.
What a waste of time. H. was choosing some saries.
59 What is Nearer—the Source or the Delta?
14th January, 1966
HAD A BAD NIGHT… bad dreams which I could not remember. Kept worrying about his condition while awake. The mind was restless.
“Some very pleasant things are going on in unpleasantness,” he said, and added that he felt much better today.
“Last night you both remained for a long time with me. Others were here too, but you both remained for a long time…. Day and night, things do happen in dreams, in experiences, and the mind knows nothing about it.”
“You say that we remained with you for a long time. But if I understood well, Sufis work f
rom the Atmic level—that’s why they are so powerful. And on that level there is no time or space, only oneness, so how can it be said that we remained somewhere, and for how long?”
“Yes, it is so. When one remains in the Heart of Hearts, one is nowhere. It is said that when the disciple is ready the Master appears. What does it mean? It means that when the disciple is ready, he is with the Master. And the other way round: the Master is with the disciple. That is the Law. We are all on different levels.
Some are not at all on the high level. They cannot reach there. So the Master will come down until the disciple can go higher.”
“It cannot be that now I am further away from you than I was at the beginning; it is just not possible after more than four years.”
“It is so, you are right,” he said.
“So, how can it be that I never know that you suffer? The night before last you vomited and suffered so much, and I slept and felt nothing. L. feels, Ragunath Prasad feels and always knows, and I know nothing. Does it mean that it is done this way, that I shouldn’t know?”
“Oh, no!” he laughed. “But we approach the Great Trunk Road from different directions. Now imagine the Great Trunk Road: some come to it from the plain, some from the hills, some from towns, some after crossing the rivers. Who can say who is nearer and who is further? But we all have to go on the Great Trunk Road to arrive at our destination. Here is the river Ganga: the river Jamuna joins it at one point near Allahabad. Jamuna is lost in the Ganga. Its name is not mentioned anymore. It has disappeared. The water of the Ganga is changed; it is fuller, deeper, but Jamuna is no more; it is merged into the Ganga. Who can say that all the rivers which join the Ganga are further or nearer? What is nearer—the source or the delta? Our roads are different, as I say. If you don’t feel the physical condition of the Teacher, as some others do, it only means that perhaps you did it sometime in the past, or you are on such a level with the Master that you cannot know the physical condition. If you knew sometimes, and sometimes not, then you could be blamed.
Daughter of Fire Page 63
