Daughter of Fire

by Irina Tweedie

  and the maddening hum of the fan…. It is hot, oh, so hot, so hot… hot… hot….

  But how much must he suffer under the heat in his condition. If I could take some of his suffering upon me…. Make that my misery relieves his, at least to some extent….

  Thinking… all the time… I MUST and I WILL get the Truth… at any cost. There is one possible factor—perhaps I won’t be able to get it now while in the physical body, in case he would go. I may get it, when dead. True, I should get it, because I give myself away… but should he die—and people do die, such things do happen. And if it should be the Will of God that he goes without me being able to achieve at least a crumb of it, I will go too…. I will not return to the West—what would be the good of it? I will be a failure.

  Everybody has something to hold on to. His family—they have each other, they love each other. When he goes, it is only a beloved father gone…. It is the law of life that parents should go before us. L. has her attachment to her Kundalini—all the disciples have something or somebody to hold on. Who has his bad health to nurse, who has family, and so on. But I have nothing left. I pointed everything on one card. I gambled; I have lost. The whole world fell away from me… it has no value…. No, I will not return to the West. Will go to the Himalayas, live in a cave, dress like a Sanyasini not to arouse curiosity, go on a periodic fast and starvation diet. Dysentery and malnutrition together with the climatic conditions will see to the rest. I know, it will mean dying by inches; it will be a life of suffering, but I know it won’t last long… what alternative have I got? A failure… I don’t deserve a better fate…. And perhaps because I will do it for His sake, He will have mercy upon me, and when I will come before Him, face to face, He will allow me to be near my Sheikh….

  23rd May

  THINKING… AND THE DECISION cuts deeper and deeper into my mind….

  The night was not too hot. There was a little breeze. Mind very restless. Pray to all the superiors—may he soften his heart towards me…. I saluted him from far away, he being seated in the courtyard, having his breakfast. I think they feed him too much, and all this fried stuff they have for Indian breakfasts. But I can say nothing. I pray that it should not harm him. Sat in the inner room and he was resting in the front room. The life of the household was going on as usual. Breakfast finished… shopping inspected…

  cooking being done for lunch… Durghesh, who is here with the whole family, busily talking to her brothers and sister.

  Then I was asked to go out because he was going to have his bath.

  And when I was leaving and saluted him, my heart nearly stopped its beat when I bowed low, so much sorrow I felt, and so much pity….

  He acknowledged my greeting, and the expression on his face was strange….

  24th May

  YESTERDAY I WAS A LITTLE BETTER in the night. Suddenly remembered that I had some phials of Eucaliptine, so I took some in the afternoon and evening. It had its effect and cut the headcold down at once.

  When I arrived before seven, he sat on a chair, his feet drawn up.

  Several tachats were still standing in the garden; clearly people slept there during the night. When I was approaching, my heart was trembling. He looked as weak as a kitten and deadly pale. He gravely acknowledged my salute.

  “How are you?” he asked hardly audible. I told him that I was much better and sat opposite him on the tachat.

  “And how are you?”

  “Better,” he retorted. He was nodding softly, his head reclined to the right. He was so weak… and he was in Samadhi. So full of light… such a beautiful human being, such nobility in his face. Tears came into my eyes. He soon went inside walking with difficulty; he nearly fell at the threshold of the room. Ravindra sprang by to help him. A few minutes later I went to salute him. He was lying on his back moving his hand as if following an inaudible rhythm or melody.

  I left without disturbing.

  Bought a small melon and a few nimbus. Had a little boiled rice with melon and nimbu. Cannot face food in this heat.

  25th May

  HAVE A HEADACHE, a dull pressure on the top of the head, nearly all the time but especially in the afternoon. Mind is working badly and the body feels very weak. I have no energy left at all. Every afternoon I listen to the song of the boiling fan humming along. Merciful God… I pray. Please help somehow… it is all I am able to think….

  Everything is hot. The key and the door-lock, and my mirror, and the comb, and the water from the shower… I dream of cool rain… of the snow and the drifting mist in the Himalayan mountains… I dream of a bit, of the smallest bit of happiness, a little crumb of kindness… it is so lonely… Merciful God….

  And the physical heart keeps being painful… feel like vomiting all the time. Merciful God…. “Unbelievable suffering of the mind and of the body are necessary in order to become a Wali,” he said a few weeks back. “Absolute Truth is difficult to attain”… and: “In a subtle way the Master will put one against himself and then puts the Disciple under a severe test. And if he accepts it, thinking he cannot do more but die, then he is ready for a high state.” The test of hunger, then the acceptance of death… like in the story of the Upanishad. Life is the dearest thing for every living thing. If one can renounce that too, one is ready…. Merciful God… how lonely is the Road….

  26th May

  YESTERDAY AFTERNOON WHEN I CAME, the room was full of people, all his sons, the son-in-law, and the garrulous Pandit and the Pandit Batchly. All around him, all talking. But one by one they began to leave, and his son-in-law told me to sit in his chair.

  “I go into the next room,” I suggested.

  “No, you sit here.” He also got up and went out. So, I sat at his feet. The ceiling fan was gently humming; his feet, so thin now, were only a few inches from me. I stretched my hand out and very very gently touched his right foot… the Lotus feet of the Guru….

  He was lying on his back. I took advantage that he didn’t take the slightest notice of me. His body was restless, I noticed. I prayed all the time…. Merciful God… make that he has time to help me to be able to reach him when he is no more…. He obviously is going… but what’s the use of crying to the Merciful God? If I didn’t get the Truth, it means that I didn’t want it badly enough.

  Hundreds of times I told from the platform the story of the Upanishads, that if you want it as badly as a drowning man wants air, you will get it…. I must want it terribly, like a fever, and I must pray… to God, to all the Superiors, I must pray…. All the time I was praying. I wondered if he was conscious enough to know what was going on in my mind. But he gave not the slightest indication that he noticed my presence at all. I left after seven, when he was already installed in the middle of the courtyard.

  And I prayed so much in the night. Woke up after one with the feeling of some calamity, and prayed and prayed. It was not too hot; clear was the sky. I did not see his face this morning. But they say that he is all right, though his blood condition is deteriorating. The anticoagulant has been increased to a double dose. How very, very worrying…. Remembering what it did to Andree…. Oh Merciful God… I don’t see it good at all! He is going… and so will I…. What’s the use of living without him? He was my only hope to reach the Truth…. Nothing is left. If I cannot reach him, I will go too. Perhaps there, somewhere, by his Grace, I will be able to reach him.

  I left about ten a.m. All flocked in and sat down in the room where I was sitting. I felt they wanted me to go. So I left. I will cry to Him till I will get Him, no matter if I am dead or alive….

  27th May

  WHEN I ARRIVED BEFORE FIVE yesterday afternoon, they played cards.

  The wife made me a sign to go into the next room. There I sat under the fan; Poonam was sleeping on his tachat. From where I was, I could see him well. Noticed that he was not sitting (probably doctor’s orders), but reclining, his back supported by several pillows. How pale and noble he looked… how the Divinity shone clearly in him… and a su
dden gladness sprang up in my heart… I will be a fool not to surrender. I could not do better than to do it completely, unconditionally, without any reserve, without the slightest regret… to be nothing before him. And it seemed easy at that moment, the easiest thing in the world. God knows how many weeks he has to live… it will not be many months, I am sure….

  And they feed him the wrong food and I can say nothing….

  “Badam (almonds) are good for me,” he would say, and “badam is useful to old people; badam was very useful to my parents; I gave them badam milk every morning till their death.” Perhaps it is good. But he is getting all fried stuff, pokoras, and so on, every morning because guests are here; his daughter and her husband, and everybody likes it, and they always did it. At midday puries are fried, so he will eat puries in spite of the prohibition of not only the one doctor, but of every doctor….

  But on the other hand this practice went on in India for thousands of years, and probably they dispatched each other to the next world much quicker in this way. Is what we do in the West better? To keep a body alive indefinitely? My worry will not change the custom… and he definitely knows what he is doing, so he will do what he likes.

  All I can do is to pray, pray desperately, because if he dies, nothing will remain for me but to die too….

  Gazing at him, I was wondering how can a mortal look so divinely perfect, while he was thinking, looking at his cards, or throwing one on the table in the course of the game, or studying the situation, knitting his brows in concentration. I prayed. Yes, there is ignorance, and one may wonder why and how a man at this stage of evolution should submit, or even apparently partake of this ignorance….

  He alone knows. He has to fulfill his destiny—he knows… and he will live his life in full knowledge of its purpose…. I will never know….

  Then when the garden was being watered, I went out because tortured by thirst. Went to drink at the pipe of running water. Not very cold, but water, and I drank a river, so it seemed to me, endlessly, from my hand as small boys do or thirsty wanderers on the dusty, sun-baked roads. Tachats were put out in the garden. He was to sleep outside. He came out slightly unsteady on his legs and as pale as death. Not looking at anybody, he went directly to the tachat and lay down. I went home.

  In the night it was not so hot. I slept well, was very tired in the morning. Prayed much before falling asleep… and I have increasing peace now, as the days go by. The more firmly my decision takes hold of my mind, the stiller inwardly I become…. He dies?

  So will I. And it sinks deeper and deeper this resolution. And becomes quite natural. I know, it seems strange, but it is so….

  He told me that the time will come when I won’t live either in my physical body or in my mind. It means that neither does he. That’s why he is apparently involved in this physical life; but it is deceptive; he is not. I know that he can listen and talk and answer, and he himself is not here at all, and nobody notices it. He is a very great man, all right….

  28th May

  HE WALKED A WHILE, but he is unsteady on his feet. The!l he was in the other room in deep Samadhi. At one moment he opened his eyes and saw me. I stood up and folded my hands in salute. A sudden, beautifully kind smile lit up his pale face like a swift ray of sunshine.

  That was all. But it was enough for me… I had peace. Deep peace. I shall watch him die and then go to the mountains and do the same.

  There is no worry for me anymore… I was alone with him. All those people, the whole world was a small insignificant thing. I was with him alone in eternity forever… it was a beautiful feeling….

  In the afternoon they played cards. Stayed less than one hour.

  Bought some sugar, a few vegetables in the bazaar. Was so full of peace, just went home. There was nothing else to do… I am at the end of the road. I can put a full stop at the end of this incarnation… everything was all right. Such peace, such peace… how can such peace be possible? It was….

  29th May

  LAST NIGHT LOOKING AT THE STARS, I had the feeling that glittering peace, like Manna, was raining on me; all the stars were showering me with their glory. But it was a terrible night, so hot it was. The Scotts installed a fan on the roof, but it did not bring any relief. Hot.

  But it mattered little. Since last Wednesday (today is Sunday) the temperature exceeds 49° Celsius in the shade. Poor Guruji… they do what they can to make it bearable for him; still, in his condition it must be terrible. Never, not a word of complaint, from him. He is practically all the time in Samadhi.

  There was heart activity; it usually means trouble. I wonder, what is coming? I have very few vibrations nowadays. So this heart activity could easily mean trouble.

  30th May

  YESTERDAY AFTERNOON I went there as usual at half past four. They played cards. The wife made me a sign to go into the front room. The room was in darkness. I sat there doing my jap. Suddenly the servant came in and barred the outer doors and the windows. I could not comprehend what was happening. I heard Guruji’s voice ordering to close everything, and in the next moment I felt the impact of the storm on the bungalow. The building was hit as if with a bang and trembled; in a moment it became quite dark. Tropical duststorm, I thought. I wanted to watch it outside, so I went into the next room hoping to get out. But the door was closed and they sat and played cards. I stood there uncertain what to do; to my good luck Ravindra came in.

  “Did you see? It became as dark as in the night!” I said that I saw nothing, but I very much would like to see it.

  “Come out with me!” and he held the door open against the impact of the wind. In the courtyard, already covered with dust, it was completely dark, and the sky was strangely deep red—a threatening dark-red light which very soon became bright yellow. In a moment I was covered with dust; my eyes were smarting; I had difficulty to breathe; clouds of thick dust were whirling so dense, showering my skin with grit and sand. I was thinking that I had washed my hair this afternoon… will have to wash it again…

  this here is too beautiful, too unusual to miss. Ravindra, myself, and a few others went into the front garden. The impact of the storm on the trees was tremendous. The Ashoka tree was bending and shaking dangerously; so dense was the dust that the houses opposite were invisible. The whole world was a madly whirling grey chaos. It was difficult to breathe—the skin inside the nose seemed to split, hurting and burning with dryness. Beautiful and very frightening is a tropical dust storm. Ravindra was telling us that he was in the garden, the sun was shining brightly, and it came in a matter of seconds, without any warning. I was so fascinated that I didn’t care how covered with dust I was, only I remembered that my window was open, and how my room will look, heaven knows…. The storm seemed to subside a little. The gusts of the wind came in intervals as if in waves. Durghesh and the children came out too. We were watching it together and everybody was hoping for a cooler night.

  I left about seven, half choked with dust, but glad that I saw it.

  Quite an experience… it was the biggest storm I saw until now in India. The night was cooler. But I had no benefit. When I wanted to go on the roof, the storm was still raging, though much less, so I stayed in the hot, hot, room under the song of the fan. About two a.m. I got up to drink some water and saw that the night was still, cool, and full of shining stars. Regretted not to have waited and gone up with the others… now it was too late.

  When I was leaving, he was in the front room squatting on the tachat, clasping the sides of his head with both hands as if in pain.

  When one is not well, all those upheavals in nature are felt much more. I was worried for him and hoped he will sleep well.

  When I arrived, he was in the courtyard. I saw him through the open doorway passage. His face was stony, ironical, hard, when he lightly acknowledged my salute. This expression, so hard, made the longing in my heart leap up. Oh, Sheikh, I thought… have mercy on my poor old heart…. And I did my jap….

  Children came out. An airplan
e was circling low which caused a lot of shouting and great excitement. I went into the room. He was resting in infinite peace, in deep Samadhi, lying on his right side. His face was deeply serene. I sat down, resenting the noise outside. For some reason my heart was so terribly sad that I began to cry. Mrs. Sharma came.

  “Are you upset?” she said, and sat down in the big chair, asking Guruji how he was and telling him and the wife the latest news about her own children.

  They all come for worldly purposes… they are all satisfied…. I alone, who am here for the Truth, I alone, perhaps, will go away with empty hands…. This is not possible! cried out my heart in agony. And I cried more, full of longing, so much, so much…. She left soon, asking me while she was passing my chair what was the matter. I put my finger to my lips and she quickly went out….

  I left soon. The brother, seeing me pass by, asked why I was upset.

  “Sometimes the longing is too great for a human heart,” I answered, and he said that he understood. We exchanged a few words on my midday meal and the food prices in general.

  76 Resigned to Die

  31st May, 1966

  WHEN I CAME YESTERDAY he did not even respond to my salute but continued to play (they were playing cards in the courtyard). I quietly passed into the front room where I sat down under the fan.

  Later the post arrived, and I heard Ravindra reading a letter to him in English. I wondered if it was one from France. And the fact that he didn’t give it to me to read or to answer showed that he did not want to speak to me at all. It made me glad. It means that something important is going to happen; the bolts are being tightened more and more. Since his illness he hardly spoke to me and most of the time ignored me. But I am glad—it does not hurt me as it usually did before. Do not speak to me, do not treat me kindly and humanly, but tell me the word one day, the only word which is my whole desire….

  Later, about quarter to seven I went out into the garden. In the next room the wife just finished chanting the Ramayana. I switched off the fan and quietly passed by without looking at anybody. In the garden the brother and his family members discussed yesterday’s storm: apparently eighty miles per hour, and in some places in the province it reached ninety miles per hour, and it caused plenty of damage.