“Training?” he nearly shouted in reply to one of my remarks.
“Nothing was done with you; I did not even begin!” True. Because it is all preparation. Because, clearly I have to surrender first. Then the way will be easy, if I can make it. But the goal seems to recede… it seems more and more difficult to achieve….
I simply must remember that. Why is it that I constantly keep forgetting it: he will do what he likes and it will always be the opposite of my conventional Saint. Kept thinking it all over. Went to him, saw that he was reading my mind. I know by now so well this look he gives me. I also knew that he expected me to talk. He sat opposite me on the divan. But I kept quiet.
2nd July
WAS THINKING A LOT IN THE NIGHT. Must tell him about it. I bet he is already outside waiting for me. He was, and I began to talk immediately. He attacked me in a hard and angry mood.
“I don’t want to listen. You are full of impurities, your mind is,” he hissed at me. “You will never progress, NEVER, NEVER, NEVER progress! I tell you this in the most definite way!” He was really angry. He was hard.
“It will take you years. You are too much for me!” He said with a grimace of disappointment. There was a moment of panic in my mind. There is NO TIME LEFT! Something cried out in me, in such a distress that I became ice cold. The mind worked so badly. I tried to compose myself… tried to explain, but all I could do was stammer.
Ravindra came to sit there and listen. Never can one speak alone, all is in public….
I left at quarter past eight. I thought that he understood nothing at all. He thought that it was an ordinary mind trouble. I could not explain that I have discovered the root of the trouble so it seemed.
Rested at home, kept thinking and thinking… am so confused.
In the afternoon sat there—he was sleeping. His wife kept looking at me in a strange way. I wondered; perhaps she thinks that I am disturbing him? Perhaps I do?
3rd July
THE DAY WAS QUITE UNEVENTFUL He ignored me completely. A Saint cannot be unjust because God is Just. Is He? What about the couplet of Rumi:
“I am the theft of the rogue, I am the pain of the sick.”
And in the Gita:
“I am the gambling of the cheat.”
4th July
TRIED TO TELL HIM QUIETLY my reflections as above, including the couplet of Rumi. His wife was shouting at the servant, children were crying. And he listened in stony silence.
5th July
THINKING DEEPLY and the body is very tired. All I can do is to drag it to Bhai Sahib’s place. Then to drag it to the bazaar. There I look at the vegetables and cannot face the thought of food… don’t know what to buy. Then at last I decide on something. Go home. Cook. Eat or not, accordingly. Often I throw away good food to the chickens outside. Am so tired. Body gets thinner and thinner….
If one looks at it closely, this fact of the mind not working, being switched off, is quite an interesting phenomenon. I clearly remember that once in the past he said that the mind is paralyzed in order that the Buddhic qualities have the chance to come through.
One walks in the street as though drunk. All one is able to do is to try not to be overrun by the traffic. One can see only what is immediately in front, but right and left is as if one had blinkers; one cannot see; all one does is distorted, as if one were drunk or drugged.
I remember vividly, in summer when I was staying in Mrs. Ghose’s flat, in ‘62. Came home, put the key into the keyhole, turned it, opened the gate into my courtyard. Locked it behind me, automatically. ;The courtyard was filled with blinding sunlight, hurting the eyes, as hot as an oven. I stood near the door. Helpless… what have I to do? Ah, yes, I am hungry; I have to eat. To eat? Then I should cook something… cook, cook… looked around. Potatoes… must have some potatoes, somewhere…. I looked at them, but it took time to realize that those were potatoes.
Aha! Here they are! A sense of relief. But I have to peel them… to peel… I would need a knife. A knife, a knife… I was looking at it, but it took time to understand that I was looking at a knife. The mind worked as a kind of slow-motion picture, causing delayed action. And so it went on. It is quite painless, but life becomes difficult. Luckily this acute state never lasted long. Perhaps only a few hours, never more than half a day. And it never happened in London when I was away from him, though the mind was sometimes abstracted as if working at a quite different level.
A psychiatrist told me that those are symptoms of schizophrenia, in this case created artificially by the Yogic Power of the Guru. And she added that spiritual life and spiritual understanding are difficult for somebody who is rational, perfectly normal, standing firmly with both feet on the ground. But if there is something NOT QUITE RIGHT
with the mind, if it is just a little out of focus, so to say, spiritual states are easy. I suppose that’s why the Guru creates this state of “mindlessness” in order to help the disciple….
81 The Pressure Increases
6th July, 1966
“YOU WILL NOT PROGRESS,” he said. The Goal is so far, so far away, and I cannot pray and I am alone….
7th July
YESTERDAY THERE WAS AN AYURVEDIC DOCTOR there; his age is 81. He just took his pulse, told Guruji all that was wrong with him, and gave him a diet. He wants to be admitted to the Path. He will succeed. He has the right attitude. And didn’t he say once that He in His Mercy is so kind to old people? They get every possible help and opportunity.
Bhai Sahib gave me G. ‘s letter which he had received. I read it while at his place. He came out looking stern, chewing something.
When he finished chewing, I asked him if I could read G.‘s letter to him. He said no.
“Only a few sentences I don’t know how to deal with,” and I read the sentences to him. He shook his head when I told him that G. wants a Sadhana.
“But you give practices to so many people. Why can’t G. get one?”
“He will never be able to do it. He is a worldly man and must be treated as such,” he said, his face stony and hard.
“Everybody is worldly at the beginning.” I was perplexed. The worldliest people get the V.l.P. treatment from him sometimes… why this answer? Decided that he wants me to deal with the case, and the harshness is deliberate that I should accept the unjust treatment.
All right. I will deal with it as well as I can. I will get help. And one day God will help me to understand. Will He??? I feel so tired… it is all so hopeless. The goal is further away than ever…. Lovely letters full of hope and faith I receive from so many people in London… and I feel that I am letting them down. I myself don’t get anywhere, nor is it sure that I will. They hope, poor souls, and I am letting them down….
Dear God, will you help me? Dear God, PLEASE!
8th July
WHEN THE HUMAN BEING IS DRYING UP with the terrible longing, crying day and night, Truth cannot be far away…. A few nights ago I was crying: Truth: hurry-up! If you don’t come soon, you won’t find the physical body… I am getting weaker and weaker….
Yesterday I wrote down the sentence: I will accept the unjust treatment. And the word “unjust” gave me a clue; injustice is the worst thing for me. That’s why he is testing me with the emphasis on all kinds of unjust treatments. And I became full of peace…. If I am able to accept it, a great step forward would be made. All became still in me. And the irritation, I noticed, was no more….
Somehow, I felt this irritation was not mine. Probably it was “put on” for the sake of the test. It wouldn’t be for the first time….
This morning he came out about quarter to eight. Looking dynamic and ironical, as I know by a certain crease of his lips in quarrelsome mood. In fact he told Ram Singh off, told Hosla off, and both servants were sent to do something in the courtyard. And he sat there chewing vigorously. The Ayurvedic doctor prescribed a medicine which he had to chew for a long time, so he was sitting and chewing. He is going to test me every day now, I thought, and began
to pray to his father, to his Rev. Guru Maharaj, to Him, whom I wanted so much… Him, the Infinite, the Truth… help me all of you! I hardly have any strength left to go on!
Ravindra just bought from a peddler some aubergine (eggplant) and put them temporarily in the earth to be planted in the evening. I thought he put them in the mud in the irrigation groove, but when I looked later, I saw that he put them in dry earth in full sun. By this evening they will be stone dead, so I got up and went into the courtyard, got a jar from Ram Singh, and passing him to go to the pipe I said: “He put them in full sun. They will be dead by the evening, so I will water them.” He made a grimace. I could not interpret the meaning of it—he was still chewing. I watered them and went to get another jar of water, for it did not seem quite enough.
While I was passing him, he said with irritation: “Why do you meddle with affairs which don’t concern you?
Always useless talk, useless actions!” He gave me an angry look.
“Yes,” I said meekly, lowering my head not to look at his irritated expression. Smiled faintly, hoping it would pacify him, turned back, went into the courtyard and returned the jar to the servant. Then sat down on a chair not far from his own. He was chewing violently with an irritated absent-minded air. Here we are. A test. I looked at my mind. As still as a mirror… and he is right. Why do I meddle, even if I mean well? While I was fetching water, I was thinking that the fellow is not much of a gardener. That might be true, but still it is not my business, and if! would have pointed it out to him, even jokingly, that he should have watered them, I would have hurt his feelings probably. Soon I asked if I could go into the room. It was unbearably sultry, and flies were sticky, not letting me in peace.
Soon he came in too, rested at first on his back, then he turned his face in my direction. I sat bent in two with the hand covering my eyes. But when I raised my head, I saw him giving me a few rapid glances. Then he went out and I left for home.
9th July
YESTERDAY AFTERNOON THEY PLAYED CARDS in the next room. I sat in the darkened front room sweating under the fan; it was very hot.
Then I heard loud music from the courtyard; it sounded like a radio.
Those were records played by Ravindra, and he and his brothers listened, as well as a few of his disciples. All of a sudden Virendra came running into the room, stopped dead, looked at me and ran out. A few seconds later he came running back, dashed into the room where I was sitting, switched on the light and stared at me in not a very friendly way. I just sat reclining in the chair, looking at him in surprise. He switched off the light and went quickly out. I thought that it was a strange sort of behavior. Later, after seven, when we all sat outside with Guruji, I saw him passing by, staring at me. He went to the pipe where the servant Ram Singh just finished his bath and began to say something about me. They looked at me and laughed, and Virendra was telling him something about my head. I understood it by the gesture he made with the hand around his head.
They both laughed. I must be careful. He often uses his family members as pawns in his game of training people. He did it with L. and with me, many a time. Resolved to be careful with Virendra.
When I was lying in bed before falling asleep, I suddenly noticed a feeling of heat and burning far up in the throat, higher than the palate. Something seemed to run down from the sinus into the throat and the nose. I have no head cold, so what could it be? The burning and the dry sensation was like a cold, deep inside, but I was sure that it was not that. Later I blew my nose and found a slightly painful sensitivity in the left nostril. I seemed to breathe only through the left nostril, but the right one was not blocked, so how was it that it did not work at all? It was strange. It must have to do with the Brow Chakra. At any rate I slept well. But it was a very hot night.
In the morning he did not look well. I waited for a test. We were sitting in silence. My heart was at peace. I keep praying all day calling on Him. Help me, help me to go through with it! And I prayed sitting before him. About eight I went inside under the fan. Helped Ram Singh to make his bed. He remained outside. I heard him talking to the wife and somebody else. About nine he came and sat exhausted under the fan. I left with the remark that he is freer when I am not there; he can relax better; this heat is affecting him.
In the afternoon they played cards. It was dreadfully hot… and not even a little breeze. The air was perfectly still. The worst possible weather for somebody who is not well. He looked pale and very tired. I left soon, could not sit there much longer. He was in the courtyard under the fan. I did not want to go and sit there—only his family was with him; I would intrude. On the other hand, I could not sit in the garden, so I sat in the doorway. It was unbearable. Could not stand it for much longer. Left for home. It was still very early.
10th July
TODAY IS SUNDAY. One week has gone since he spoke to me, since he provoked the crisis. Then came the astounding discovery that it was not an ordinary disturbance; it was due to the discovery that all my troubles are because I made an image of him which was completely wrong.
A discovery is always disturbing. Then two tests came: this time I hope that I passed them both. And I pray, pray, and pray all the time that I may be tested quickly soon—one blow after another, while the iron is still hot… but perhaps he cannot do that. After each test the human being is getting something, something is done to push him on, and on, further on the Path, and one must get time to recover.
When I told him that I had to go home yesterday evening, because it was unbearably hot, he was squatting on the tachat under the fan in the courtyard.
“Yes, yes,” he said, hardly glancing at me. But there was for a split second a fleeting expression of such deep tenderness and compassion that it was like a stab right into the heart. And I cannot forget it. I don’t remember that I have seen it before… never… and it was so quick—it was, and it was not—that one could easily think that one is mistaken. But I knew that I was not….
This morning he looked tired. Seated opposite him I kept praying.
He wore his devic expression. I just looked and looked… how deeply noble, inhumanly dynamic his face becomes… of unearthly beauty… and my heart was crying to him in an endless stream of loneliness.
Later I went into the room. He was talking to his tenant about some arrears of rent. It was unbearably hot again and I went home.
The night was hot.too, but I slept not too badly. While I am writing this down, there is a strong vibration which began after lunch. And the feeling of nothingness, so difficult to bear… it makes the body feel so weak, so tired. Seated before him this morning, I was thinking that I have three helpers: Love, Longing and the Feeling of Nothingness…. They are my stand-by. And I need only to sink into Nothingness to be able to bear anything and everything. But who will bear? There is nobody to bear surely, if Nothingness prevails… it is a familiar feeling somehow. I seem to have known it always… only for the personality it is new…. It must become familiar for the personality too, otherwise how can one surrender?
And it is of such sweetness…. At first it was neither pleasant nor unpleasant; later it was like a sorrowful happiness, a stillness, a peace in it. Now it is bliss; it begins to be glorious… to be not… for ever and ever… not to be myself, but a part of him forever…. It is a transcendent feeling, a kind of ecstasy perhaps? Difficult to know. There is a strong vibration. Something is brewing??
10th July
IN THE AFTERNOON THEY PLAYED CARDS and I sat sweating profusely under the fan in the dark front room. Later they finished and all went into the courtyard. I was very thirsty. So I opened the side door and went to the pipe and had a long drink. When I returned, my heart stood still for a second; he sat on the tachat looking bad-tempered. I did not expect to see him there; a moment ago I heard his voice in the courtyard. I felt apprehension, a sort of dark fear… went in closing the door behind me.
“Why do you close? Leave it open!” he said irritably. I opened the door, pulled the chair o
n which I was sitting in line with others, and turned the seat cushion.
“Why do you turn it?” His voice was harsh.
“Because I was sitting on it, I thought I had better turn it in case somebody else would want to sit here. But if you wish it, I will not turn it.” I put the cushion back as it was before, went to the window near the front door and opened it because I know that at this time of the day he wants it to be open. Then I pulled the armchair nearer to the fan, but he gave me an irritable look, so I put it back again and came to sit on the divan. Looked at his profile for he was sitting sideways. My heart was burning with sorrow and pity. He was transparent; he seemed not to be here, so weak he looked…. At one moment he turned his head and gave me one of his deep, long looks, right into the soul. I was watching my mind. It was very still, and I continued to pray all the time thinking that he will continue to test me, but he turned to the wall. Three tests in one week, I reflected, The pressure increases—he tightens the screws… hmm. The most surprising thing is that it did not hurt at all. Not so long ago I was desperate when he was angry with me: the world seemed to crash to pieces—the sky was falling with fear quite disproportionate to the occasion. And now, nothing! Some help must have been given; how much, I will never know. Has the feeling of nothingness something to do with it? There is simply nobody here to be upset. Or perhaps I am more detached since I have understood that I have made a sort of idol of him, a kind of illusion which does not hold? So all in me crashed, went to pieces… I hope it will last….
When I walk to his place, I pray. I seem to pray all day long….
11th July
“LIKE A TREE struck by lightning, I crashed before Thee; Like a star which falls from the sky its light spent forever, So I spent myself before Thee like this star….
Like a stone thrown into the lake by the playful hand of a child Goes down into the utmost depth never to come up again. So I went down before Thee, once and for all…. “
Have been reflecting upon those lines of this Persian poem, sitting before him; he was resting face to the wall….
Daughter of Fire Page 87
