Strangely enough I was not worried and went for two hours to see the bazaar. When I came back, my belongings were still standing in the same place; a large bus was beside it, people crowding around to get in. They simply walked around my three suitcases and the bedroll on top of them, clearly obstructing the way; they stood alone, apparently unnoticed; nobody was looking after them….
Things of India… this incredible country, where as soon as I appeared in the bazaar, no, as soon as they saw me approaching, all the prices went miraculously up. And one day I remember after I had asked at least at five places the price of tomatoes, and learned that they were everywhere at one rupee and a half-a-kilo, I bought some.
Meeting Mrs. Ghose, she asked me how much I payed for them.
When she learned the price, indignant, she went back with me to the vendor: she bought the same tomatoes for half a rupee, half an hour ago…. Mrs. Ghose released a torrent of indignation and I got my rupee back.
When the coolie was payed, I had a bath in one of the bath cubicles. Pumped some drinking water from the well with the help of the girls of the Ashram, and had some rest. The latrine was the “jungle,” alias the pine wood; this was not too good… it can present some problems.
The prayers before the evening meal were lovely; they sang the second chapter of the Gita about the man who never gets upset. The bigger girls were spinning while singing, the storm lantern standing in the middle of the floor. The small ones were sitting in a row with their backs to us swaying gently. The darkening sky, the voices of children, the sound of the spinning wheels, it was all very moving… and later the increasing darkness behind the windows and the smell of the pines after the rain. The evening meal was gloomy, all seated in rows on a dirty long straw mat along the floor. Hard cold pulkas (unleavened flat pancakes) were distributed and some vegetables, of which I took little though I was hungry. Then a crowd of girls with a torch conducted me through a thicket to my sleeping place in the wood.
I was lying awake listening to the sound of the pines. And to the stillness. The SOUND was here again… the same Sound which I heard the first time in Harrow in my house. I remember I was very puzzled; then, I tried to get the note of it on my guitar. It took me a long time to identify it: it was the chord of middle D and middle F.
But though on my guitar those were the correct sounds, later, in the Himalayas I heard the same sound supersonically at such a high pitch that I thought that I could not have heard it with my ears… and here was this SOUND again. Each time the wind stopped and complete stillness was reigning, it was clear, audible, loud….
Gradually even the wind subsided, and it became completely still.
Only this sound remained; it was like a lost friend, found again… something which belonged to me. D is the note of the second ray, and F is the sound of the green ray, the ray of the earth, but according to Guruji, green is the best possible color, the color of Realization of Truth….
The peace was complete. But the meaning of the Sound I did not know….
Next morning Sarala Ban came and brought me some kitchery (rice dish with peas). She looked quite extraordinary in her salvaar pinned up and a dirty kurta. She was planting some rugged willow trees near the water tank. They make water, so she was saying, and must be planted while it was raining.
Later I went for lunch which was just as gloomy, only there was daylight and a storm lantern as in the evening, giving so little light in the large kitchen that it was difficult even to see the food. A lovely, grey, very thin cat sat beside me, and I gave it my dahi which she licked up with such speed that it was amazing. In the afternoon there were people at Sarala’s office and she told me that one gentleman, Jiva Bhai Patel, has perhaps the solution to my problem. He is in charge of Anashakti Ashram which was previously a Oak Bungalow situated on the opposite hill and which was given to Gandhi Memorial Fund by the Indian Government. There I could have one room with a bathroom attached to it, and she said: ”Of course, there you will have the full view of the snows and you will be practically alone.” It sounded fine. It was raining heavily. But then it stopped. So I went to see the place. It was just right, on top of the next hill. And the road to it was a good one, a motor road halfway up the hill and a bridle path from there to the Ashram. So, we agreed that I will move the next day, weather permitting. And we all went to Sarala, Jiva Bhai, myself, and a Sannyasi from Shivananda Ashram, who was his friend and who was staying with him, and also another friend from the plains, a little fat man, very jolly and breathless. All was arranged; soon we had tea with Sarala, and I retired early. I did not want any supper, but did not miss the singing of the girls in the evening mingling harmoniously with the sound of the spinning wheels….
Slept well. Cows did not smell much. Here in the mountains, cows are not at all smelly, and cow sheds are not offensive places as in the plains. From time to time I heard a cow moving below, and there was this fantastic stillness, typical of the Himalayas—this stillness which seems so thick and solid that one could cut it with a knife and which is like a sound, a continuous sound of the silence…. Silence…
the absolute silence on windstill days has a sound, a tremendous sound, ringing all around. How still the forest can be on a windstill, foggy night….
Waited next day for Jiva Bhai to send coolies, as promised.
Coolies did not come. It was drizzling on and off. Had lunch in the Ashram. Sarala looked even more extraordinary in a green, roughly woven kurta and shorts of the same material. She was gardening as usual.
Immediately after lunch I went down. When going up the hill to the Anashakti Ashram, I met three boys midway seated near the roadway who were obviously waiting for me. They began to shout all together that Jiva Bhai has gone out and that they will bring my suitcases. I was perplexed. They were small boys; the suitcases were very heavy. But they said each of them is as strong as a man; so I took them first up to the Ashram; then the Sannyasi did some translations for us, and sent them immediately to bring the cases. I, in the meantime, went down to the village to get some provisions. It took quite some time to trace who has rice, which shop has potatoes and onions, and which one has salt, matches, and flour. I had to walk from one to another, backward and forward. When going up I met the boys, painfully walking up the hill with my heavy cases. I gave them three rupees each. They were satisfied and ran away happily.
Two hours later a heavy rain started.
I was glad. I did well to hurry up in between two showers….
9th August
SO I BEGAN TO SETTLE DOWN. And while unpacking and arranging my things, I was thinking that there would be eight months of serenity for me. Eight months of practically complete solitude. I will escape the English winter and will be sitting here enjoying the Himalayas.
On the 8th in the morning, at dawn, before the sunrise, the snows were clear for a brief half an hour. The pale yellow sky streaked with grey clouds behind the East was a glorious sight…. Himalayas… never expected to see you again, but here you are…. Right in front of me was Trisul. In Abbott Mount, Nanda Devi was right in front; here it is Trisul and the great, plump, enormous mass which has no name apparently.
To H. I wrote on the 7th, immediately; on the 8th to Christine, Ravindra, Joyce and Joan. It is raining every day. Fog. Bad weather.
The pine air is balsam, and since I have been here, already on the second day I had no kidney trouble. Clearly the heat was responsible for it all.
9th August, Evening
AT LAST MY DIARY IS UP TO DATE NOW. In the afternoon went to Sarala Ban to pay the rent. They don’t want to call it rent, but contribution to the Ashram. But for me it is the same, so I settled it. Scraped a bit of club moss from her water tank and got a plant with a large root, of berberis vulgaris. It was for kidneys; one makes a tea from it. Going down it was very slippery, nearly fell several times. And to fall on a steep hill is not much fun, as one can imagine. When I came home, it was nearly dark. I was glad of the man’s shoes I bought in the village.
They are huge, size 8, but very comfortable with thick wool socks.
They are just the thing to tramp about in the hills; they will especially be useful in winter.
It is practically raining non-stop, all day long, and mountain fog is thick and persistent. August is a bad month; in September it should be better.
10th August
EVERY DAY IS THE SAME. Heavy rain and thick fog. The Ashram and the garden are on top of the hill; this is visible; but immediately behind is a thick, grey nothing. When the weather is like this in the mountains, it is depressing; one can see nothing and do nothing. At the moment I have an intense heart activity. From time to time every day, the heart is beating and beating, and I send a mental greeting to Guruji each time it happens. I do my jap practically all the time. And the heart is beating and beating…. Guruji… you left me alone…. Why?
Why, Guruji, my dear… why? I am so alone… the longing, Guruji… the longing for you….
Afternoon
SINCE THIS MORNING, very, very strong vibrations in the heart, so strong that at times it is difficult to breathe. The rain is hammering on my roof. Solid fog outside.
11th August
IT IS EXACTLY THREE WEEKS AGO, on a Thursday, that he died. In the evening after seven, I kept thinking of his last hours. He passed away at 7:20, so Virendra told me. And then the meaning of a sentence he told me not so long ago occurred to me:
“The time comes when love and faith become one and the same.”
It suddenly became clear that when the Master is no more, Love and Faith are one. Beloved, give me the power to remain forever under the shelter of my Sheikh…. And this thought filled me with a strange joy. A kind of security? My dear, dear Sheikh…. So many things became clear to me gradually….
“When I am no more, many things you will understand. Now, you cannot understand, it is impossible for you.” Not so many weeks ago he said that….
Writing letters all the morning…. Good heavens, what vibrations I have, even the breathing causes difficulty. Why did you not take me with you? Why did you leave me alone? I don’t want this world, and you know it…. Him I want. Only Him. And forever….
14th August
IT IS JUST RAINING. That’s all. The heart is so heavy, the longing infinite.
15th August
AND IT IS RAINING… bitterly cold.
16th August
I HAD TWO DREAMS, towards the morning, of which I remember very little. In both he was very kind to me, and in both he was about to die.
In the last one, I remember, I told him:
“How will I live without you?” And he answered, “The king dies and passes it over to the next one; this one dies, and it passes to the successor. That’s how they do it in Windsor.”
“But we are not in Windsor,” I said.
“It is the Param Para; somebody has to remain alive,” he said, getting up from his seat. And the atmosphere of both dreams was of terrible longing which remained with me all the morning. The heart activity was absolutely unbearable. In the afternoon it eased a bit, and there was much nearness and stillness and great peace. And a kind of sorrowful happiness….
18th August
IT IS RAINING HEAVILY every single day with very short intervals. Thick mist is drifting over the hills or sitting tight on them all the time. I noticed that when I do the jap intensely, the heart activity begins.
And when I cry to Him, it becomes unbearable….
20th August
IT IS FOUR WEEKS. It was four weeks yesterday. I went to bed shortly after seven. Suddenly great heart activity began. I got up and looked at my watch which I put into the recess of the window. It was 7: 15.
He was just dying, then… and I did much jap. And I thought of him much. You promised, Master, you promised… and I am alone…. Please, keep your promise, Master, keep your promise!
Felt much suffocation and I cried. And while thinking, all of a sudden I realized that, though it is only four weeks since his death, it all seems so far away… and even his death is already far away… and all I went through begins to lose its importance; the sting is taken out from it. After all, most troubles and sufferings were physical happenings only. It was the preparation for the future. The future could be now… now the Reality, the Effect of it all, will begin to emerge…. The Longing will take me to it, the ceaseless Jap. What he did was to clear the way. Only for that there was time. This was the only important thing, for time was short. The rest will be done now. I feel it. There are signs; the tremendous vibration in the heart is a harbinger of something. I keep remembering his words: “When the Master makes the disciple like himself, the Master is in a deep state and the disciple…. “
“Is also in a deep state,” I said.
“No,” he answered. “How can it be? The disciple has to learn how to go deep.”
And years before: “You will see what vibrations will be when one realizes the Self. It is difficult to bear…. “
Yes, he only cleared the way. There was no time to do more than that. All the suffering is far; it is moving away. And his death is far, and somehow not even important. He is alive. He is in my heart. My faith is taking me to him. Faith and love are the same thing now.
And before falling asleep and in the night, the longing was tremendous; so terrible were the vibrations I seemed to suffocate.
And even now while writing it down I can hardly breathe. The heart is wild, going, racing, missing beats, stopping… racing again. Like waves in the ocean, on and off, coming and going, all the time. The reality is the jap. The Longing. The Faith. The sweetness of resting in Him in deepest peace…. The physical world with its happenings is not important. To be in peace with Him is the only important thing.
“The destruction of the body cannot be something to grieve over.
The Spirit is indestructible. It is an unbroken ever-flowing stream.
Many bodies settle on it for a while and then disappear” (Vinoba, Talks on the Gita) . .
“The Self is impatient to pervade the world. It wants to encompass all creation. But we shut it up in a cell. So, we are not conscious of it.
From morning till evening we are busy minding the body. Day and night we worry how fat or how thin our bodies have become. One would think that there is no other joy in the world…. but even beasts experience pleasure of senses” (Vinoba).
Yogic training is designed to release the Self. Gradually. Imperceptibly.
It is a slow process. And don’t I know how the changes take place, how the consciousness expands, the understanding grows, since I came to my Revered Teacher!
“The mind can be utterly serene; though action rages without: the heart can be tuned to produce unbroken music… (Vinoba). How very, very true…. And I know that this serenity, the peace, will remain with me—of this I am quite sure. It was his gift to us at his parting….
86 Himalayan Retreat
24th August, 1966
THE DAYS PASS QUICKLY. Once again they pass quickly. When Guruji died, those two weeks before I left never seemed to pass. They dragged along with leaden boots, slow and heavy…. Now, once again, the time flies….
I get up about six. Have my bath, then tea, and usually one pulka (roti-chappathi, a flat pancake) for breakfast. Watch the mist around the hills, always hoping to see the snows which sometimes are partly visible for a few minutes only, once here, once there, covered as they are by clouds and mist. This morning they are hidden completely by a thick curtain of fog. But the day is sunny, with a thin, sickly sun, like in England, seen through thin mist or high cirrus clouds. I read, write letters in the forenoon, and twice weekly go down to the village to do a little shopping. Cook something. Then a simple lunch. One cannot buy much in the village. Now I have nice tomatoes for at least one week. A tomato salad and rotis make a good lunch. Sometimes I have a grated radish to go with it… those large, white, very long radishes, so strong that tears come into one’s eyes.
They are very good for
the kidneys and the liver. After lunch some rest. Then read or meditate. Then carry some stones for the Ashram garden wall to be built soon. Then read again or do something, mostly meditate. And then after six go out on the veranda and sit with the Sannyasi and Mr. Patel, and we have a chat until seven. Then we warm our milk and go to bed to our “Beloved.” This is my day.
Last Sunday we went three-and-a-half miles to see a friend of Patel who has an apple orchard. It was seven miles return, a lovely walk through the pine forest, part of it on a very steep hill. The Sannyasi and Patel walked on quickly, and I was breathless. Am not so young anymore, out of training, and weakened by the heat of the plains. We returned before dark. I was not much tired.
The longing is great. There is some resentment in my heart…. I hoped so much…. Prayed and longed and suffered, and… I am alone and I am nowhere…. There was a promise, Bhai Sahib but it was not said that it should have been kept right now… perhaps sometime in the future… who knows?…
“The time will come when Faith and Love are one. And then even Love will remain behind and only One will remain, and later this also will go, and nothing will remain.”
Keep thinking and pondering…. I see the time coming when the One only will remain. And then it will go too…. I pray so much and do jap all the time. God is much nearer than Guruji, like in London. One only will remain; it must become a permanent state, not on-and-off as it is now….
Daughter of Fire Page 92
