But I must tell them that it was not I who did it; people already say that I did a miracle. And I began to tell them how powerful my Master is, how nothing can resist him. I spoke with fire and enthusiasm, but they continued to dress; nobody seemed to listen.
When having my bath, I was thinking that this dream was a mind dream; surely, I need not tell him about it.
It was a windy day. He came out early dressed in white. Nobody was there as yet and he asked me how I was. I said that I was very well.
“A Wali has depressions sometimes; restlessness can be; but we must know how to control it; we must be above it.”
I said I had a dream (taking advantage of the fact that we were alone), but I don’t think that it was important.
“Don’t say so, you cannot judge. Even if it is a mind-dream, it shows the state of mind.” So I began to tell it.
“How old was the boy?” he inquired.
I said five or six.
“Continue.” Then he asked again: “Did you feel a Jinn, or thought that it was one?”
I said that when the child seemed to suffer, I realized that it must be a Jinn. He nodded. When I came to the point of the umbrella he asked again: “You mean to say that the umbrella was transformed into a child?”
“No, rather the boy was transformed into an umbrella.”
“Then it was a Jinn,” he said firmly. “It was a Jinn. It is a good dream. I explain it to you.” And he fell silent. I thought that he will explain it sometime later and was silent too.
“It means,” he said looking attentively at me, “it means that the training of the Jinn world began. Your dream shows that. How to guide them, how to control them—they will obey your orders.”
I asked him what about the second room which was full of women looking like prostitutes?
“It is so; Jinns often come in this shape to the ladies.”
Hosla, the mischievous servant boy, appeared from the door arid Guruji began to tell him off loudly about some mischief he had committed previously. I waited.
“But not to all ladies surely?” I asked, when he ended and Hosla walked out of the gate into the street. “Surely I have no Jinn?”
“With you they come in another shape.” I saw he had no desire to explain. So I kept quiet. “They cannot come unless you allow them to do so.” The old man arrived with his wife by rikshaw. “We talk about it later.” As usual, I thought not without irritation…. At the most interesting moment an interruption comes and I have to wait patiently for an explanation which perhaps will never come….
The drunkard came. Mrs. Vippin came, and we all went into the room. The wind began to increase carrying clouds of dust as it swept along the streets. Later he went to the doctor and I am writing this down sitting in the garden. When in the room, talking vivaciously with sparkling eyes, authority and sense of humor, I could not help thinking that he is a great Master, every inch of him….
19th February
THE USUAL SANNYASI WAS THERE, Vippin came and went, and as soon as he had left the drunkard came. I looked at him with apprehension; what if he harms Guruji again? But he did not come near him but sat on the tachat standing near the large doorway. I saw Bhai Sahib going into Samadhi; nobody spoke. I looked at his face. My God, how young he looked; not one day more than thirty… and the expression of infinite mercy, the lips softly curved in a kind of mysterious smile. As my sunglasses dimmed the colors, I pushed them down a little so that I did not have the glare and still could look above them. If I could paint this wonderful face with its golden skin, I would put brilliant light-blue in patches on the forehead which is the reflection of the sky. And deep green on the cheeks, especially on the left one which has the reflection of the Amrud (guava) shrub, and the shade of the mango tree…. I could not look enough. He was breathlessly beautiful, incredible, how beautiful a human being can be…. And there must be a crowd of invisible people, or Devas present, because he kept looking rapidly from left to right and from right to left, and above, everywhere, and then he quickly glanced at me. I was so fascinated by the spectacle of the split-second change of consciousness, that I did not notice at first that he did something to me.
Then I became aware that the feeling of love and admiration increased and kept increasing in waves. It was of such power that at one time I thought he must feel it. It must affect him; how can he bear it? But he was in Samadhi, and there you bear easily quite other things than just that…. And he did not even notice it, so it seemed… but I felt it, and how…. At one moment I had to press my hands tightly against my chest, deep was the pain in the middle of my chest, and I did not feel my heart beating at all. Then I saw by the expression of his eyes that he came down to the physical plane; he looked at me for a second, then went off again. And he kept looking and glancing at me, with those tremendous eyes in deep Samadhi, like shimmering brilliant light dancing in them. Tremendous eyes.
Not human eyes. Unseeing insofar as this world of matter is concerned, looking at something else, seeing other worlds beyond our imagination…. What do you see, oh, Glorious One? Where do you roam? Then a noise from the street attracted his attention; he came back to his mind-consciousness. How clear it was visible, the change of expression in the eyes—they became human, soft, lovely eyes. A rumbling ox-cart passed by loaded with clattering iron bars.
He turned away and looked above my head and then all around me.
Does he look at my aura or somebody standing near me? I could not guess. At one moment such were the waves of love, that with both hands I clung to the seat of my wooden chair, clutching till the fingers ached. I noticed that the mind seemed to work well. I was sharply aware of the surroundings, of my feelings, and especially of him. At one moment I looked at the drunkard; he seemed to be in Dhyana with closed eyes, or at least he was in a drowsy state, so he did not want or could not speak, or even move. I tried to analyze what was happening. First of all, I knew that it never happened before like this; it was for the first time: was it Tawadje? I wondered. And it seemed not to come from him; it was as if from myself. These powerful waves of love came streaming towards him. Love is the greatest magic; he seemed transformed. What an experience… a thought crossed my mind… of course I understood that it was he who had created the condition or did send some power that something in me responded to it with a resonance like an echo. “What time is it?” he suddenly asked. I tried to answer but could not speak so he asked again.
“Ten to twelve,” I managed to say. Then he looked at the drunkard and the man opened his eyes. The man from Mathura was fast asleep; all the time he was snoring softly. Did he give me Tawadje?—this thought crossed my mind again. Now he was engaged in conversation with others. I felt distinctly the power subside, less and less, as the waves in the ocean after a storm come slower and slower and smaller and at longer intervals. One of his young disciples came.
“It will be twelve?” he asked in Hindi. The man assented. I will not move from here until he tells me. God knows if I will be able to walk…. I felt an impelling overpowering desire to fall at his feet. I must do it before I go, I was thinking, so full is my heart, I simply HAVE to do it….
At quarter past twelve he nodded his usual nod which means: you can go now. I simply sat there and stared at him.
“Yes, you can go now,” he said not looking at me. I got up, not quite steady on my feet, and fell at his feet touching his left foot clad in a black shoe with my forehead. I remained so for a second and a wave of deep tenderness crossed my heart.
“One can die of it,” I said softly standing up and dusting my skirt.
“It was difficult to bear… will I be able to walk?”
“You will; walk slowly.”
And it went much better than I thought: I felt like dancing down the street. The wind was blowing directly into my face. Life was good.
And at four when I came, soon he came out.
“I am walking,” he declared laconically, as I stood up. And walking up and down the garden, he g
ave me twice a sharp inquiring look. Probably he wanted to see how I was. In the evening just before seven he suddenly remarked: “Mrs. Tweedie, is the Soul masculine or feminine?”
I will try to write it down tomorrow, when the mind is working better. At home, when I came out on the terrace before going to bed, some distant religious music came from the direction of the temple.
The wind smelled fresh. A lovely, rich, tenor voice was passing by singing something which may have been a love song. My God, life was good!! Imprisoned splendor, imprisoned splendor we are, I thought, and went to bed.
64 Tawadje
20th February, 1966
DEEP AND SERENE IS THE LOVE. Flowing peacefully like a steady stream towards the sea. Like the Ganges here in the plains. Nothing could be more serene, more peaceful; a large river winding lazily amongst the fields…. The mind is very still. I can keep it completely still, effortlessly; just stop thinking; that’s all. The thoughts revolve serenely around familiar objects and activities. Washed a few socks, some underwear. Looked at the crows having a morning bath in the pool in the park, shaking and preening themselves on the large tree on the opposite side of the garden. Unearthly silence within. Does not belong to this world. The mind works little, the memory is weak.
I will try to remember later what he had said yesterday, but I doubt that I will be able. Pity. Perhaps it does not matter much. Somewhere it remains and it comes up later.
Fancy how completely conscious I was during yesterday’s experience. The mind was working well then. Was aware of everything. A few boys passing in the street, laughing merrily, for one moment attracted his attention too; I saw them pass by.
Fragrance in the air. The wind. The birds, and the drunkard sitting there in silence as if half asleep. And him… glorious… unique.
Full of mysterious light, sitting gracefully, one foot resting on the knee of the other leg, in his familiar pose. My Teacher. So great, so aloof, so impersonal and so deeply, intimately near, nearer to me than my very neck-vein…. I remember four years ago—February was perhaps the most difficult month. It is gone….
“Throw it behind you, don’t try to remember.” I will have to remember it though, when I will write it; the book, I mean ….
” Yesterday I could not see you well; is my eyesight failing? Or has it to do with the Ajna (brow) Chakra?”
“It happens like that. I remember, sometimes I was hard of hearing; sometimes it was like a dark cloud and even during day light I didn’t see well. It should pass after a few days. If the eyesight is weakening, then one should see the doctor. But if it passes, it does not matter. The eye nerves have connection with Brahmarandhra.
So have the ear nerves. If there is some heaviness in the Brahmarandhra and the Brow Chakra is also closely connected with it, then it usually happens.”
“Sometimes when I have to ask you something, it is like a barrier within me. I know I should not ask. Now, for instance, I wanted to ask you something very badly. People were coming and going; then when your son was sitting there alone, I said softly, ‘Bhai Sahib.’ I looked at you and got a clear: ‘No!’ mentally. I know you did not want me to speak.”
“The self; this is the barrier. If you want it badly; who wants? The self. If you have no self or the self is diminished, you can ask. There will be always the chance then. But for me,” he continued, “for me you are always the same. I authorize you to ask what you want.”
“But you know that now I will not ask and will be very careful how and why to ask.” He gave me one of his faintly amused smiles. We sat in silence. And the same thing happened as yesterday, only it was less strong, and only for a few minutes. His wife came. The son came. A shopkeeper came. After they had left I asked: “How can you bear it?
It is so strong, such a terrific power, you must feel it, for it has to come through you?”
“I can bear so many things,” he smiled. He did not look human, but a delicate being from another world. He is so much thinner now, transparent sometimes.
In the afternoon we have been discussing the male and the female aspect of the soul. I quoted the theory of Inayat Khan: when the Ray comes into Manifestation it touches first the angelic plane, etc. He confirmed that it was correct.
“First is the Sound, then the Light, then Love. Sound is the Akasha. Sometimes during the discussion something is concealed, not the whole Truth is told. Now the moment has come to say it!
There is the right moment for all things!
“Surrender is twofold: Absolute faith, plus a conscious contribution (or effort) from the side of the disciple.”
Otherwise why should he have told me: throw everything behind; forgetfulness is the greatest qualification; and, be courteous and polite always, otherwise the self will never go.
“You will not digest it if the self does not go.” Meaning, one cannot absorb what is given if the self remains.
“One should only give a hint and NEVER directly. Direct hint is never given, otherwise the feeling may be hurt. If one feels that one should give a hint, one gives it in a way indirectly, and if the person understands, it is good, but if not, the hint was given just the same.
You did your duty, and sometimes the hint is given again.”
I asked that once long ago he told me that his Rev. Guru punished the people, that the Saint has the right to punish. How does this statement tally with the remark of not injuring the feelings?
“It works this way: if one comes to the Saint and the Saint is pleased, he will clean your room. What is your room? Your heart.
And the cleaning means that the Samskaras are being pushed. This will cause great suffering. People then will say: he is punishing her.
But in reality it is not so.”
21st February
JUST BEFORE AWAKENING in the early morning, I clearly saw him sitting in his chair, while I was walking up and down. He was attentively looking at me. Then I knew that he was looking at my mind. When awake it was clear to me that he knows about the resolution I took last night.
1. I will not ask any questions anymore. “When you begin to ask questions the mind formulates another, and there is no end to it.” What he tells me I often forget; so why ask at all?
2. Surrender is the acceptance of everything WITHOUT exception.
Ergo: I ACCEPT. I will go to the end of the bitter road. Will sit, endlessly sit, and ask nothing anymore. And now because I accept it voluntarily, the mind will not give me trouble and restlessness anymore. Not from this side, anyway. Acceptance of “everything”
means: acceptance of falsehood and cruelty, to which he treats me freely; “everything” would mean in spite of all appearances which are sometimes deliberately distorted, in one word: the lot. Did I not tell him once, long ago, I could not understand the meaning of complete surrender unless he does evils and I am able to accept it?
Only then it would have a meaning for me. Otherwise it is only half a thing. And I will never be satisfied with half a thing.
And so, this morning I was alone with him and asked nothing. And he looked friendly, as if to encourage me to speak. I kept quiet. There were no vibrations, only a deep peace. And a very faint nearness. “I am sure you know the poem of Jalaluddin Rumi which begins: We are sitting in the garden Thou and I,
Two bodies but one heart, Thou and I.”
For one split second he closed his eyes and nodded slowly. I kept quiet again. Then some people began to arrive including the drunkard, and later he said in English:
“Books are all mud. It is us who create books; books do not create us. Everybody reads and they say it is written in this or that book.
Only they don’t agree amongst each other. Secret things cannot be communicated. Secret remains secret. How can it be told? It is like trying to explain the taste of sugar and its sweetness. Therefore if one has a good Spiritual Guide, one must stick to him and forget all book-knowledge.” And discussions are also mud, I thought.
Amen ….
And now it occ
urs to me that he gave me a hint. He said the other day: “I am not of such a nature, but I throw sometimes your mind into confusion. If I would not do so, how will you get the pearl?” I thought then that he meant the actual conversation we had at that time and said that he tried to confuse me twice. He laughed. Actually he twisted and perverted my question on equality of feminine and masculine principles, then gave an answer on a completely different topic concerning Sufism and the training and the Chakras. He evaded the answer of the theory of Karma, then denied it completely, and then spoke in such a way that I did not know where I was.
And this conversation which caused confusion was the hint to give up everything.
How difficult is this fact of the hints .. . how subtle. This time God helped me; I did the right thing first and then remembered the hint….
22nd February
THIS MORNING A SIKH CAME, the same who came yesterday for the first time. Bhai Sahib told me that three years ago he had a hotel and was a proprietor of two trucks. But he came into the hands of some Brahmin Gurus who advised him so badly as to make him penniless.
Now he has no food, neither he nor his family, for days sometimes.
Guruji gave him breakfast.
“I will give him five rupees,” he said; “the family shopping is done for today, this money is over, I will give it to him.” Then he gave him kurtas, pajamas, trousers and clothes for children.
“You see, Mrs. Tweedie, this is my life. Always has been like this. I cannot take food if there is somebody who approached me for help and is starving… People see me dressed like this (he pointed to his snow-white kurta and immaculate narrow trousers of the type one saw Nehru wearing on all the photos, his clean black shoes), and they think that I am perhaps a wealthy man. It is good that they should think so. If they would see me miserably dressed, or gloomy, nobody would come for help. Let them come…. “
Daughter of Fire Page 69
