Daughter of Fire

by Irina Tweedie

  The longing day and night causing even physical pain, and it makes me feel so weak. I cry all the time; it is a kind of pathological state.”

  Tears came into my eyes and my voice choked. Somebody appeared at the door, stood there for a moment and vanished. “Cry nearly all the time; cry here before you, cry at home, cry in the night.”

  Somebody else appeared at the door, stood there and vanished, letting the curtain drop. His face was still… a face immobile, of pale marble….

  “I wanted to speak to you because, when I am in this state, it is a relief to be able to do so. I am not complaining. Not at all. Sometimes I pray to God for help, sometimes to your Rev. Guru Maharaj. I know it is a weakness; we don’t get more than we can bear. If I am given trouble, it means that somebody, somewhere, knows that I can bear it. Somebody has faith in me. This Somebody must not be disappointed. So I HAVE to bear it.

  “Then there is this feeling of non-being. You remember perhaps that at the beginning, when it began to happen, I used to get so frightened that I was running away. To get out of your presence, to the bazaar, to Pushpa, anywhere. It was so confusing. I was frightened by it–confusing because the human being is never ‘nothing.’ One is always ‘something,’ the body, the mind, the ‘me’ and the things which are not me. When somebody says, for instance: I am nothing before you, you are so great—it is not that; it is not what I mean. This can be flattery, the self is still there. But in this feeling of nothingness there is… NOTHING! Just that: nothing at all! A void! I cannot explain it better. When I speak to you, as I do now, for instance, of course I know that I am speaking to you. But when I just sit there in silence, at one moment I notice that there is only you—nobody else seems to be here. A frightening experience. I used to pinch my fingers to see if I am not dreaming.” Durghesh and Babu, faces tense with curiosity, appeared at the door. I looked at them, continuing to speak. They dropped the curtain and vanished.

  “I suffer from great sudden fear, a sort of panicky feeling… cannot account for it; it grips me suddenly; it is most disconcerting.

  Please, tell me: is this surrender?” Munshiji came into the room, stood at the door, saw that I was talking and went out.

  “Perhaps it is not surrender, or only partially. I will be so grateful if you would explain.” And I went on like this for a while but most of it I don’t remember now… after a while I fell silent… feeling that I had said enough and should not say more. He remained absolutely motionless during this time. Soon afterwards Satendra came in. Bhai Sahib said something to him and the boy brought the mala. I saw it was the one he used on special occasions, belonging to his Guru Maharaj. Clearly something is being done. When I was full of trouble four years ago, he used this particular mala every day. I think he is praying for me when he uses it….

  He remained in complete, stony silence. Slowly the mala began to slide through his fingers. I am not even sure that he has heard everything or was in Samadhi. I am glad though that I told him. It gives me a sense of relief. The terrible longing, the pain is less….

  27th June

  I HAVE LOST THREE DAYS. A complete blank. A hole in my memory which is getting too hopeless for words….

  This morning his breathing was difficult and his voice raucous. He caught cold, he is so unreasonable! He never wants to listen to anybody. This morning, for instance, he stood in the doorway in full draught, clad only in a thin singlet and a very flimsy longhi.

  Later I sat in the doorway because it began to rain once more. He was inside the courtyard on the tachat reciting his prayers, the pale green jade mala sliding noiselessly through his fingers.

  My body feels very weak.

  28th June

  YESTERDAY WHEN I CAME, he was resting turned to the wall. My torturer, I thought sitting down. Heart was aching unbearably. He turned on his back, and I was just thinking, shall I get up and salute him, as he seems to have awakened, when the chair on which I was sitting made a few jerks sideways, like a ship. An earthquake! flashed through my mind. He quickly sat up.

  “Did you feel it? An earthquake!” I said, getting up and saluting him.

  “Open the door!” he ordered. His wife came in. She felt nothing apparently. We all went outside where he squatted under the mango tree. The brother came. He also felt it; people arrived; everybody was discussing it. But he was immersed in thought; he was not interested.

  The longing, the longing for Truth… it was burning unbearably in the night… and the body was on fire again…. Rain began to pour down like yesterday. Slept in my room as in the last few days.

  During the night my left eye was itching very much, and in the morning it was so swollen that I could not open it. What could it be? I felt no pain. When looking in the mirror this morning I was thinking that I was looking dreadfully old. The face quite wrinkled, tired, the skin sagging around the mouth, and the neck scraggy. Old, old woman of eighty…. What six months with you did to my body, my Sheikh…. Poor old body. Felt sorry for myself. But chased this idea away; it is of no importance, not really. Other things are much more important; this is nothing. Still, felt a bit sorry; could not help it. It was raining heavily when I went to his place. The door was open, the room empty except for Ram Singh, the servant, sweeping the floor. Sat down when he finished. He came in. Got up and saluted. He distractedly nodded. Pointed to my wet raincoat which I had hung near the door.

  “This,” he said, “outside.” I took it out and hung it on one nail of the chik outside.

  A young man came in. He is quite new, has come only for the last few days. He seems to be very nice, educated, clean, and has the right attitude of a good Indian disciple before the Guru—of silence and recollection. When for the first time he came, Bhai Sahib, who was talking to Durga Shankar, suddenly interrupted himself and then said in a very friendly way:

  “Come in, come in!”

  This morning the young man came in, quietly touched his feet and sat down. Bhai Sahib who sat on the tachat began to talk to him. The wife came in, offered tea to the old Brahmin who lives next door and who was sitting there too. He accepted and got a glass. She asked if I wanted some. I declined because I had two cups already at home.

  “Just look at this,” I said to her lifting my face. She looked at the swelling and said something to her husband.

  “What, what?” I got up and knelt beside his tachat so that he could see for himself, telling him that it does not hurt at all.

  “It will go away by itself; it is probably a poisonous insect bite.

  You can consult a doctor,” he added.

  “I will consult nobody. I consulted you,” I smiled.

  He continued to speak to the young man. By the few words I understood in Hindi, he was explaining the Path; the word Atma occurred frequently, and Abhyasa and Sadhana. I listened, trying hard to understand at least something. Alas! My Hindi was too poor to understand a conversation of this kind. My heart became too heavy for words. For me there was nothing of the sort. So few explanations were ever given… all I got was stern silence, and heartache and all kinds of trouble… and darkness, and so much suffering, and this is going on for years… and I began to cry. The despair I felt was so boundless, inexpressible… it never seemed to end…. He glanced at me while talking.

  “You should consult a doctor. Dr. Bannerji will give you a dose of homeopathic medicine. It will cure you; why suffer pain?”

  I swallowed heavily with tears.

  “There is much pain, but it is not in my eye.”

  “One should use a remedy when there is a possibility,” he said, glancing at me and looking quickly away. He continued to give explanations which seemed to be so interesting because the young man was quite agog with attention.

  Left about ten a.m. I am a fool. I should stop trying to understand.

  He does all this deliberately, because I am still after knowledge. I should forget about it, should not want it even. But I still do….

  29th June

  WHEN I CAME HE AS
KED about my eye.

  “You had said that it will become better by itself, and so it will be. I am not worried.” He murmured something which sounded like assent.

  Told him about a letter I received from London about a friend who is so ill-treated by her husband. He nodded slowly.

  “Sometimes ladies suffer too cruelly. A woman can never be so cruel as a man. A man can be terribly cruel to a woman.” He fell silent, sighed and turned to the wall. The nice young man came and sat there looking at him in silence. The wife came in, asked if he was in pain and began to massage his head. Later he went into the other room and had some food. Then he came and I went because it nearly stopped raining. At home had only one chappathi and some tea. Had a restless night, full of longing and waking up each time my heart cried to God. It was raining heavily non-stop. In the morning it became a drizzle.

  Went as usual at seven a.m. Sat in the doorway. Later I noticed that he was in the courtyard, went to the half-closed door and saluted. After a while Poonam came and said: “Father calling.”

  I went into the room. He sat in the big chair. I sat down near his pillow. We sat in silence. Bhai Sahib was resting. Ravindra came in. I heard how he asked Ravindra to arrange an overdraft for me. My postal orders cannot be cashed because of devaluation. They discussed it for a while and Ravindra turned to me and said that he will do his best. I told him that my position is serious; I have arrears of last month rent to pay, the rent is due again, and I have to eat. He promised to get me 150 rupees. I hope he will. When he left, Bhai Sahib began to tell me about the difficulties of maintaining such a large family.

  “The trouble is that your children seem to think that you get money quite effortlessly.”

  “They are right, I could. But we don’t use such means. There is a way to attract money from all corners of the world, but it is improper to do so.” Then he said that some of his disciples helped during the crisis of his illness, and then told me not to worry; my situation will be arranged. I was grateful, and told him so.

  “I am in every kind of difficulty since I left Mrs. Sharma.” At this moment Babu came in to listen to every word.

  “But it is better for you now, since you left her,” he said kindly.

  “This is true, only the physical conditions are difficult, but I am getting used to it by now, and people with whom I live are so kind to me.” He leaned forward, took his diary from the recess in the wall and began to write. Babu was drumming with his fingers on the armrest of the chair. He raised his head and looked at him. Babu stopped. After a while he went out. It was very still in the room… the scraping of his pen, an occasional movement of the chik caused by the wind.

  “Hard times,” he suddenly smiled, “in one way or another are passing away.”

  My heart gave a quick beat of joy.

  “But it seems to me that hard times are only beginning…. This increased longing is leading somewhere… this terrible longing which is drying up my body. And it is not the climate. The climate was responsible for it to some degree, but no more… now it is all right, it is less hot; besides, the body gets used to climatic conditions.”

  A quick, kind smile passed over his face, like an unexpected ray of sunshine. He began to talk in Hindi to his son who came in from the garden. Then a discussion began with his wife and Munshiji who joined him. I left. The rain had stopped. Could it be? Could it be, that really hard times are passing, as he said? Seems too good to be true…. Joy filled me…. Streaks of first light of dawn are showing on the bleak sky of my destiny. Still pale, livid, very faint, but my heart was telling me: the dawn is not very far off….

  Strange how he always finds the right word. Yesterday and this morning I lost all hope. Was thinking out some means to force him… it seemed all so hopeless going on endlessly…. No change at all….

  The street was full of noise, traffic, people, the pavement very wet, every puddle reflecting the colors of the sky. Tried to avoid being splashed by passing cars. But it was all lovely, so full of life. I felt so deeply happy…. In the west the sun was setting in the sea of shimmering golden clouds. The whole world seemed to be illumined by this vivid gold, was transformed by it. ‘l had to cross Chowraha (circus, where six streets were meeting) to get to the baker’s shop. I very rarely have bread, mostly make chappathies for myself, but today I hoped to get some brown bread. Before entering the bakery I stopped and looked back; this lovely golden light—the Great Painter delighted Himself to paint the busy streets with His magic. And I saw that right across Chowraha was a magnificent rainbow… so clear, vivid and bright, against the golden sky, and I must have walked right under it. I must have, if it is right there where I was passing… I stood for a while enchanted. There is a Russian saying: when one walks under a rainbow, it means that if one has a wish or a desire it will be fulfilled. I could not believe it… passed under a rainbow… and my Master told me that my troubles are passing away….

  What an omen…. I don’t think that I ever was so happy in my life… with this special happiness, never experienced before… passing away…. Passing away… and I had difficulty to fall asleep out of sheer happiness.

  June 30th

  SLEPT FAIRLY WELL. Woke up about four a.m. It started pouring with rain. We all hurriedly, clasping our bedding, scrambled downstairs into our rooms. Began to think about my financial situation—the rent which was due tomorrow—and wondering if Ravindra will be able to arrange to get me some money. I was lying on my left side, knees drawn up. All of a sudden I felt a very strong vibration at the base of the spine. I didn’t have it for a long time and it was unusually strong. Thinking that perhaps I am mistaken, and it is the air from the fan blowing in my direction which is causing this impression, I got up, switched off the fan and lay down in the same position. Sure enough, after a few seconds the sensation repeated itself. And it was so strong, as it was when I had those troubles four years ago. I was lying still, fearing to move in case it goes away. I wanted to study it.

  Yes, at a few seconds’ intervals it kept repeating itself. Then I turned over on my back and it was gone. Well… unusual. The activation of the dangerous Chakra… very strange. Had a cup of coffee. The body felt weak and tired. Later while I stood under the shower, the water running over my body, the vibration began again. Strong. And this time it stayed with me. There was no feeling of heat nor feeling of pain, but this usually comes after the Chakra had worked for a while.

  Even sometimes for days. I was a bit alarmed. Went to him. It was raining softly. It was like an English summer day. Sat in the doorway; the room was still closed. The nice young man came. He also sat in the doorway and I gave him some additional hints about the Path.

  Some days ago the young school teacher was there, and Bhai Sahib ordered me to talk to him. I did. Difficult to speak in Guruji’s presence. At one moment I noticed that he stared at me with those tremendous eyes which don’t look at the physical body but at something else.

  “I cannot speak further,” I said helplessly… Guruji… the mind went completely… complete blank. He looked away. I managed to continue, starting from the point where I stopped.

  Later this young man came, and Bhai Sahib told me to acquaint him with some aspects of Sufism. He went out then, and I talked to the young man. Later he came back and lay down face to the wall. We continued to talk in a low voice. This morning he wanted some additional explanations which I tried to give him as well as I could.

  Later we were called into the room. He was praying and we sat still.

  Then I saw him looking at me.

  “I think I will die of it,” I said, meaning the longing and the vibration. He shook his head in a very definite way.

  “Hard times come, sometimes are necessary, but they pass, are passing.”

  Feel great nervous tension. Had only mangos and water. The longing is very great. Some uneasiness at the base of the spine. Is something brewing??

  1st July

  HE CAME OUT DRESSED in white kurta. People came bringi
ng flowers, money and fruit. When I asked if there was some kind of festivity, he said that it was the Guru Pooja day. He began to talk to me. The opening was a statement of how difficult it is to achieve on this Path, to become a Deputy. I kept thinking why is he talking like this. Lately the mind was tranquil; all went well: will he begin again? To apply pressure? Sure enough, he began the old story of my bad behavior, how I don’t know how to respect the Teacher, my ignorance, and so forth.

  “But, you said it yourself, that you don’t remember evils, so why do you keep repeating those old stories of years ago?”

  “No, evils are not remembered, but faults are always remembered and pointed out.” What? I thought, but in this moment the mind went and all I could do was try to follow as well as I could what he was talking about. Satendra sat there as though glued to his chair. Then he went inside and fell asleep face to the wall. I went to the bazaar, tried to get nice fruit, but only mangos were available. He will get plenty of those today, so I bought a box of glucose bisquits; they will keep and he can eat them when he is not well. Went back, gave him three rupees and the box of bisquits as an offering. Touched his feet like all others, then sat down and cried bitterly. The road seemed so hard, the goal so far, so immensely far away, and he has no pity on me. He always will say or do something to arouse my mind against him. Now he is trying to appear revengeful. What a statement that faults are always remembered… and I got such a fit of despair. My heart seemed to burst. Unbearable. What is the matter? Why is it that the mind gives trouble always? Because it looks to me that I have created a conventional image of a Christian Saint, and if he did not conform to this image, the mind rebelled. And it is the same story for years and I still fall into the trap. He WILL put all the appearances against him; he will appear full of faults and all kinds of defects.

  He shows himself to be just the opposite of the ideal I created of him.

  If I don’t destroy this image, this idol, the mind will give trouble forever. He will do everything he thinks necessary for the sake of training.