Daughter of Fire

by Irina Tweedie

  “In this couplet it is said that Love is not found in the market,” he said with a half-audible voice and closed his eyes again. The singer continued for a while, and when he finished he asked Ragunath Prasad to translate it for me. But he refused saying that it was too difficult. I was sad. I would have liked so much to know the couplet.

  “Let’s go out,” said Meva Ram, “he must rest.” And we all went out. While I got up and greeted him, he looked at me with a smile… in it was so much pity, understanding, compassion, love, that I felt my eyes filling with tears and I quickly went out. Outside I asked Meva Ram to translate me the text which the singer gave me. As far as his English goes, here it is:

  Love does not grow on the trees

  nor is it found in the market.

  Saints are seldom found as also lions are;

  not many and not everywhere.

  One must learn how to respect them,

  how to love them.

  And how to increase the longing

  which takes one near them.

  I will ask Sharma to translate it. Perhaps it was meant for me….

  He did not come out in the evening and I spent a serene day. I don’t mind not to see him if I know that he is resting. But to watch a procession of indifferent people go into the room, knowing that they tire him out and not being allowed even to see him, is too frustrating for words….

  A saying of his came into my mind: “Where is demand, there is a lack of supply. If you demand, it must be given to you, because there is the need in you… and it is given at the appointed time.”

  Some heavenly fragrance was coming with the wind from the neighboring garden. Like the one I smelled yesterday when he was doing his mala, dressed all in white, looking frail, and I looked and looked at the light coming from him….

  This morning he came out soon. I did not expect to see him and my heart was glad. He looked weak and ill. When asked, he told me that he felt better.

  “Not in the sun,” he said when I was bringing his chair, so I put it in the shade. He sat down. He began to speak in English and the short time he was out he spoke in English only.

  “It was serious; my heart kept thumping and stopping. I gasped for air. The jiva (soul) is in his place within the heart. When the jiva has to go, all the members of the family stand around and they call the name and all are alarmed and the doctor will give an injection or do something else. But if the time has come nobody can do anything.

  The best thing is to close the eyes and let them do it. The time will come to everyone; we all have to go.” And he looked at me and my heart went quite small from anxiety, so much more because I saw that he was somewhat breathless when speaking….

  “It is a weakness of the heart,” he continued, saying that the man who was there the day before till halfpast ten and the next day till halfpast two in the afternoon, he was drinking before he came to him, and it is very bad for him if people who drink sit with him.

  “But excuse me saying so,” and he smiled at me, “why don’t you go inside?”

  “This man is nothing to you; you cannot help him; but look what harm he did to you and what anxiety it caused all of us!” He nodded kindly. Then he said that he had heard that I told him to be quiet. I repeated the account of what had happened and what I told him.

  Bandhari was sitting there listening. Bhai Sahib laughed.

  “I wanted somebody to tell him; I am glad you told him.” And I was glad that he approved and that Bandhari was there to hear it. I feared that he would be displeased because the man clearly did not like my remarks. He approved, so all was well. .. .

  Then he went inside. I also left with Ravindra by rikshaw. We went to the manager of the Allahabad bank to whom he wanted to introduce me. When I came back, a man was in the room talking loudly and he and his wife were answering. I left to buy some Flittoo many mosquitoes lived in my room—went to see Pushpa for a moment and then went home. I told the Sharmas about his illness and I was deeply worried, and I prayed so much…. If there is any justice, he cannot die, until I am near to him…. Oh God Almighty, help! Listen to my prayers! Such is the longing, such is the pain in my heart! Let him live! But after all, nothing can happen without Thy Will, so Thy Will be done! And I cried… and while I am writing, my heart is crying; a drunken man can obsess him for hours… but I cannot speak to him, neither can I see him, only sometimes….

  He said that Sharma does not believe that anything can be given, and one cannot keep it: “But I put it this way: It can be given, but it has to be given again and again. If you plant a flower, you have to water it. Otherwise it will die. Krishna gave Arjuna in the battlefield—he made him an Avatar. It is the Param Para, the succession from heart to heart. But who will believe it, if in all the books it is said that it is only our own effort which takes us there?

  Those who have the Succession are not many in the world.

  Fortunate are those who find them…. “

  15th February

  HE BEGAN HIS TERRIBLE WORK ON ME giving me this great worry… it WAS a heart attack. He is very weak, and we can lose him just like that at any moment, so the doctor said. I don’t believe it: a Saint of his calibre KNOWS when he will go and will arrange his work accordingly…. Still… perhaps it is the Will of God that my training should not be finished…. Who knows ?… And now I have this fear in my bones….

  The whole afternoon I was sitting in front of his door; a few people were there too. He was inside, resting. And when at home, waiting for my supper which the servants were late to bring because Mrs.

  Sharma was not at home, I sat on the steps of the veranda, facing the dark garden fragrant with night air. And I was thinking and thinking…. And in the night I cried, repeating the Name of God so desperately till I fell asleep. Woke up about three. Began to think and such fear was in me that I began to cry out loudly; such was the agony that I HOWLED like a wounded dog to the moon….

  I knew nobody could hear me on the top in the room on the flat roof. It seemed to relieve a little the agony to hear myself cry out. All the time this agony remained, though at last I had to stop howling out of sheer exhaustion. I went to him in this mood and he soon came out and he talked and talked in Hindi. I kept thinking that he will get tired. His son told me as soon as I came that he was dusting his room and doing all sorts of little jobs. He thinks that it does his circulation good to be active. And he never stopped talking. The thin arguing man came, he who was the other day in company of the drunkard.

  And he talked and argued and how! Guruji kept answering. At one time he began a lengthy explanation about Nakshmandia and Chishtia and their practices. I kept praying. Oh, God don’t let me be sorry for myself! Let me only want the Truth! To want the Truth as badly as a drowning man wants air, let me only want the Truth! To want it. Every moment of the day… this is the essence of Bhai Sahib’s Teaching…. At one moment I could not hold back any longer and I said to Bandhari that Guruji will be tired….

  “Shall I tell him that he had a heart attack?” he asked. I nodded. He told him in Hindi, but the man folded his hands, respectfully bowed to the Guru and continued to talk more than before. Guruji himself seemed to encourage him, telling him that it was nothing, that he is well. My heart fell… they went on for a while. Bandhari said again that he should rest.

  “What time is it?” he asked me.

  “Quarter to twelve,” I lied—it was half past eleven.

  “Right. I stay until twelve, another quarter of an hour!” and he continued.

  Then he said suddenly in English: “Evil does not exist; we have to throw the evil out. All the evils are in the self. Be courteous and polite at least, as you are to yourself.” (I am not polite to myself, I thought quickly.)

  “Be always courteous,” he repeated. “It is like that that the self will go. If you want to get rid of the self, throw it behind.” Then he continued to speak Hindi. His wife kept appearing at the door time after time; seeing that he was talking, she went out again. Finall
y his eldest son came out. I winked at him; he nodded and told the father to go and rest. When Bandhari and the thin man began to talk to each other, I got up and went to Guruji’s chair and said to him: “You say evil does not exist, but you were a victim of evil; an evil drunkard came and you got a heart attack and nearly died. And I was thinking that evil can NEVER affect you, that you are beyond evil.”

  “This,” he said with a slight impatient jerk of his head, “this we can discuss another time.”

  I sat down. “I am very perplexed, you know,” I said in a very low voice, but he did not hear me; he was talking Hindi. His tenant came… more discussion with loud voices.

  “You can go now.” Bandhari left and the thin man got up. But he was still talking to Guruji standing there when I was walking away.

  And I just saw his gentle profile, his gentle expression he had all the time while he talked to this man the whole morning.

  63 Training of the Jinn World

  16th February, 1966

  IN THE AFTERNOON PROF. BATNAGAR’ s huge bulldog bit me while I was passing in the street. I went inside and told him what I thought of him to have such a dangerous animal running at large in the street. Then I went to Guruji and asked Virendra to put some disinfectant on my leg. He rubbed it with alcohol. The skin was not perforated; there were a few scratches and teeth marks. But the huge thing nearly knocked me over jumping at my back. Guruji came out after a few minutes and was standing in the courtyard while Virendra put alcohol on my leg, but he did not say anything, neither did he seem to notice me. He was talking to his wife. Then he came out. I told him.

  He said that nothing will happen to me, but the dog is dangerous and should be kept away from the streets; this dog bit Gandiji several times. In the night my mind was so restless. So much anger is still in me, hatred, resentment…. How much I dislike everybody….

  To throw it all behind me, to be polite always, seems hopelessly difficult. Help me, oh Infinite God, I cried out after my mind was so full of restlessness and confusion for many hours. I was awake since two a.m. But there was darkness around me and I knew God did not hear…. As though wounded I was lying alone in the darkness…. Then, later, there was suddenly like a wave of light, and it carried me along effortlessly. It did not depend on me; I did not cause it; it just came. All the confusion was gone. Oh, Infinite One, help me to see the Light, I thought gratefully. It was all over, my darkness, the helplessness, the restlessness. The light within which is His Light helped me, and my heart rested in a clear pool of serenity.

  Mrs. Sharma told me when I said to her that it seems to me that all evils are in me, every possible evil, that once Guruji told her that before the doors are closed all the doors are thrown open.

  Bhai Sahib came out dressed elegantly in sandy beige kurta and narrow Indian style trousers. The topi was of the same color. He asked me how I was. Told him that I was quite well but my mind was restless last night. When I told him that it was like a stream of light and all the restlessness was over, he said with a smile: “You see, the door opened. This is the way of progress. How would one progress if there is blockage? It is cleared away like this.

  Go on praying. And do the practice of La-il-llillah. Even when you walk or sit here in the garden.”

  Later in conversation he said: “My Father was so surrendered, as I have never seen anybody else. Not a shadow of doubt, ever. And he never injured anybody’s feelings. Only to me he spoke roughly: ‘he knows nothing,’ or: ‘you don’t pay me the due respect.’

  “I sometimes injure people’s feelings. But never for my own benefit. Perhaps I am made like this, I don’t know. But I never injured anybody for my benefit.”

  I told him that perhaps it is a question of temperament; he has a lot of fire in him.

  “My Father had more fire, oh much more, but he conquered it all….”Then he got up: “I am going to have my bath, now, after my massage. You please, remain seated, if you like. And never think that you are here alone. I am with you.” I only folded my hands; could not utter a word. Too full was my heart. I knew what he meant.

  And when he left, there was peace. And the heart was singing. The longing was over. The nearness was here….

  When I told him that by practicing La-il-llillah with the last utterance of La!, with breath one throws the self with all the evils out of the heart, he said: “La-nothing, it means that in Arabic. When there is a heart attack, the jiva goes out, then it is returned. I was hinted to keep my eyes closed though all my family members wanted me to look at them. My father kept having heart attacks for eleven years…. But before the last one he said to me: .If I have this trouble again, this time I die,’ but I did not believe it. I thought he is such a great man, he will not go yet.”

  “I will die if you go. I cannot imagine life without you. I will lose the will to live.”

  “Then pray that I should stay,” he laughed.

  I asked him how it was possible that the drunken man could affect him so much with his evils. I thought that he could not be affected by any evil whatsoever.

  “You see,” he said, “I have a physical body, after all, and it can be adversely affected. Bad smells make me suffer very much (me too, I thought); a drinking man smells badly. Smokers too smell very badly. My Rev. Father and My Rev. Guru Maharaj used to smoke, but either there was such a faith in me that I did not notice any bad smell from them, or they did not smell.”

  “Probably both,” I remarked, and he nodded quietly.

  “Do La-il-llillah when you are walking, but so that nobody should notice what you are doing.”

  17th February

  I WENT OUT ON THE TERRACE this morning at dawn. The sky was of an ominous dark red color in the east, like an underground fire of a volcano beyond the horizon. The dome of the sky was deep purple full of stars. A young crescent moon was shining unusually brightly in the east against the deep red and not far from it was an outsize star like a large diamond. It could be Venus: probably Venus is a morning star this month…. Fresh wind was blowing from the west. Soon this same wind coming from the deserts of Pakistan will become Loo…. Blissfully I sniffed the air. Oh, the glorious smell of Indian plains in the mornings, at dawn… exhilarating freshness in the air, the smell of coal fires and the slightly bitter, pungent smell of burning cowdung cakes which they use here as fuel.

  Last night he came out looking a little tired and frail. And as usual I lost myself looking at his wonderful face full of light…. Then he began to speak in English after a while and mentioned a name of a well-known writer who wrote many books. He said that this man in 1943 wrote a letter to his Rev. Father asking him if he could come and see him. But his Father said that he did not want to see this man, so he did not answer. I said that this man was last year in England and people say that he is a God Realized Soul.

  “Is he still alive?” he remarked, “and as to be God Realized, such and other things are said about so many people. But how could they know? This gentleman,” and he pointed to the thin pandit sitting beside him, “this gentleman said that he met in Bareilly a Sufi by the name of Jelebi Baba. I also know him. Many young men were sitting with him; he was teaching a special kind of Pranayam: La Ilaha il Lillah, to take the breath from the navel right to the mind and to the Brahmarandhra if possible, then to the right, and then to throw it out through the heart. It causes vibrations. Vibrations must be; they purify the vessels. If the vessels are not pure, how can one see the Light? My father used to practice this Pranayam very much; he believed in it. One day some people annoyed him greatly, so much so that he did some things which he thought were not right, after which he did much of this Pranayam. But then My Rev. Guru came to know about it after a long time, and he said, one Tawadje would do it, and he did it and my Father was all right. It is all gymnastics. The one who could say it 101 times without taking breath becomes a Wali at once. The Teacher says it once and the Shishya does it and becomes at once a Wali. But only a very young man and a completely innocent one can do it.”r />
  “It must be very difficult,” I said, thinking how long one must hold the breath in order to do it.

  “Difficult, yes, but not impossible,” he said thoughtfully. “But the one who becomes a Wali through his own effort is not complete.

  Complete, one becomes only through the Grace of the Guru (Guru Krepa). Either the Guru loves so much or there is complete surrender…. Of course, if there is complete surrender, the Guru must do it; he cannot help doing it.” He smiled looking at me. “I think it was St. Augustine, if I remember well, who had said that the Kingdom of Heaven must be taken by storm. God must be forced; such must be the attitude that he cannot help to grant His Grace to the Devotee.” He kept smiling. “I am not such a great man as he was and I cannot put it in such a way. I said it in my own way. The meaning is the same,” and he smiled again.

  I had a dream about four a.m. A strange one. I was together with a child; at first it seemed to be a little girl, then it was a little boy. We went to a room which looked like a dining room, and the boy sat in one corner facing the wall which was covered with dark blood-red wallpaper of some brocaded design in darker color. I noticed a strange, dreamy expression in the boy’s eyes, full of bliss at first; he was staring at the wall. The boy is seeing something, I thought. Then his expression changed into a deep suffering; he pressed his hands to his body murmuring: No, no, as if in anguish. It is a Jinn! I thought, and he is trying to do evil to the child! I became suddenly angry, and pointing my finger at him I said with emphasis: “Go in the Name of my Master!” As I was not sure that it would obey immediately, I repeated the order: “Go in the Name of my Master!” And then I said to the women who were in the room: “See, the child is sleeping! The Name of the Master is the greatest Magic, nothing can resist it!” And I looked at the bed covered with a white sheet where the child was laying, but I saw to my surprise that instead of a child there was lying an umbrella. But I knew it was the child and I continued to speak.

  Then I saw myself in a room full of women, dressed in gaudy, colorful, Oriental garments and jewelry; they were dressing, putting on perfumes, lipstick and cosmetics, and I was thinking: I have cast out a spirit in the house of prostitutes! What power has my Master!