Wake up about two every night. And the first thing to do is to listen for the Sound… if it is still there. It always is. Last night I cried, the heart was so heavy. Am so alone… how to reach you, my Beloved? I could reach you in London, when I was with Bhai Sahib, but now, sometimes I cannot…. Bhai Sahib… and where are you?? Cried myself into sleep.
And this morning the depression is great, and the loneliness and the longing…. Yesterday I looked at his photos. They never meant much to me—they were not him. The living man in Bhogoun, full of dynamism, and the dead face of utter serenity, his last Samadhi…. The love flared up like a sudden flame, and a strange feeling went with it, impossible to describe, which is perhaps a memory of this face, alive, dynamic, so deeply engraved within me…. The longing is intense and depressingly constant. And the loneliness… I will cry to Thee, and cry, and keep crying till the milk of Thy kindness boils up… says Rumi. During the conversation the Sannyasi told me that according to the Shastras, three things are difficult to get: A human birth, the desire for Realization, and a Sat Guru…. While he was talking, I was thinking how fortunate I am… I have the combination of all three…. Every Guru can take you to God, he was saying… if… you have enough faith. It is the faith which takes you there.
The famous story of the Shudra (the lowest Hindu caste; an untouchable) woman, the Brahmin and his yagna: A Brahmin was seated on the bank of the Ganga performing the yagna (a fire sacrifice). A Shudra woman approached him. He was annoyed.
“Be careful not to come near me, otherwise my fire sacrifice will be polluted,” he said sternly.
“Maharaj,” said the woman, “I will not approach you, but I see that you are a holy man; please give me a Mantra to be able to cross the Ganga. My son is seriously ill, and there is no boatman in sight to carry me across.”
“Yes, yes,” said the Brahmin, whose only thought was to get rid of her. “Repeat: Ram, Ram, and you will cross the Ganga.”
The woman walked away full of faith, began to repeat Ram, Ram, and walked over the river. Having completed what she intended to do, she returned by the same means. The Brahmin was still sitting on the same place finishing his yagña. She waited till he finished, then she fell at his feet. He was astonished.
“Maharaj,” she said, “you are a great Guru. I did as you have said and crossed the Ganga on foot.” And the Brahmin was ashamed and did many more yagñas to atone for his intolerance. .
25th August
TODAY is THURSDAY. Five weeks since you have gone…. It is strange that I did not suffer very much, strange that I don’t feel that you are dead. You are more dynamically alive than ever… only for the moment there is great separation. I cannot reach you at all….
Was that the last warning when you gave me the hint: “When I put you in the mud, you will try to get out; the more the limitation, the greater the perfection will be…. If you want to commit suicide, show me how you are going to do it…. If HE does not want it, how will you do it?” And he concluded that he was not only once, but very often in such a state…. It seems that all those hints are referring to the present state I am in now…. He disappeared from my sight… but God is near…. And it seems to me nearer and nearer…. I do my Jap. All the time. And the heart activity is tremendous. So much tenderness there is…. His Name is so sweet… and my being, my breath, my body… and my feelings are His.
When I woke up this morning, there was fear. I don’t know why, just primitive fear at awakening. I dedicate it to you, I thought, and I will be free… immediately I was. The fear vanished as I began to do Jap. Everything I dedicate to Him—my pain of separation, my resentment, my longing, my love… everything….
Such peace is with me, and a stream of love welling from the deepest depths of my being.
The jasmine flowers, which I plucked from the large shrub at the back of the house and put all over my bed and under my pillow, smell sweet and heavy. The snows, since yesterday, are covered with a curtain of mist…. Not white fluffy clouds, which assume the shape of the mountains, but just a screen of grey, a curtain of nothingness. But the days are sunny and warm. The Ashram garden is ablaze with marigolds, zynnias, cosmos. In the mornings and in the evenings at sunset, somebody on the opposite hill is practicing the flute. How lovely it sounds amongst the thickly wooded hills in the fresh mountain air…. A boy was waiting for Patel this morning, sitting on the veranda, and he began to sing—a devotional song it was. I listened, looking at the hills, the blue distances—so much sunshine, clouds, the azure sky, and the voice of the boy… and the heart was melting with the tenderness for Him, for His beautiful Creation. ‘… Every movement of my heart ‘ to You…. All I think. All I feel. Enjoy through me… I am here for You, going back to You, wanting nothing but you, willing to do Your Will only take my heart! It is full to the brim with tenderness for You!
26th August
LYING IN BED AFTER SEVEN, kept thinking of his last hours. And it occurred to me that I was the only disciple present at the moment of his death. I think it has a great importance. Only his eldest son was in the room; he was sitting on the bed supporting his father who actually died leaning on his arm. And Virendra, his youngest son, stood with me at the door. At that moment only his two sons and myself were there, nobody else of his disciples. Once, I remember that he told me how his Rev. Guru Maharaj died.
“And I was the only one present at that moment, neither my brother nor the others could come; they were away.” And he smiled, obviously pleased, while telling me that. Naturally so, it was very human, for his Guru gave him everything. Actually, while dying, his Guru did send him away. And he saw him again after he died. Bhai Sahib did not leave a successor officially, nor did he leave anything in writing. But a few days after his death one of his disciples asked me: “You were present at the very moment of his death?” I said that I was. “It is a great Grace of God,” he said, and there was much longing in his voice and in his eyes. “It is a great satisfaction.” I wondered why it should be called a satisfaction…. But now I begin to think that it might be a satisfaction, in some way. His last deep look… and the physical being which he was… I saw it go… the man was no more…. Was there a definite intention that I should be the only one stranger apart from the two members of his family? Was it the will of the Guru, or the Will of God? Of both I suppose.
To what extent did he get orders… how does it work? Who knows?… But there is a certain resentment in me, that he left me alone; he went, and I got nothing… nothing? I begin to wonder….
27th August
A SPIDER WAS SITTING ON THE WALL above the bathroom door. And it did not move for about three hours, all the while I meditated. It was so lovely. Sitting on the wall, head down, all the eight legs spread out so symmetrically as to look like a perfect painting, or a piece of jewelery, not alive, almost too perfect. I moved during my meditation, sometimes my hands, or my head, or my legs. It did not stir. And I began to meditate on it… on the wonder and perfection of Him who created him so perfect, so beautiful, so rational. On Him whose substance manifests as a spider in this case. It was a large thing, with all its legs spread out, easily two inches or even more. The body not so big, perhaps three-quarters of an inch. And he was slender. He did not eat for a while, it was obvious. Perhaps he was preparing to hybernate, who knows? My heart was so full of his Creator, I had to share it with someone…. Patel’s and Sannyasi’s voices came from the veranda. They were discussing Vedanta. I opened my door and asked them to come into my room and see the spider. Patel was spinning as usual in the mornings, but the Sannyasi came in. Looked at the spider with a tender smile.
“Yes,” he said, nodding slowly. “The loveliness of every manifestation of His…. ” And he turned and went out. They picked up the conversation where it was interrupted.
28th August
I DREAMT THAT I WAS WRITING some verses. When I woke up in the night, I remembered them and wrote them down. The Sound was with me loud and clear….
“Into my li
fe you came like a storm of monsoon banging down from the eastern sky.
And you scattered me, like the wind disperses dry grass and the petals of flowers.
Out of myself you scattered me into Nothingness, Beyond the Nowhere, beyond the Beyond….”
Outside all was still. Some dogs were barking suddenly, and then silence again. Then a haunting voice of the barking deer… where barking deer lives, tigers and leopards are too, so I was told. Dogs began to bark in chorus down in the village. Then silence descended.
Only the Sound remained.
29th August
SORTING OUT MANY THINGS within myself. Thinking a lot and remembering. How he was always pointing to the Truth, how in every way he was helping us all….
For instance, I remember, it must have been sometime in January ‘62 that gradually I became aware that I was “seeing things.” The world seemed transformed, full of light. The trees, the plants, every object had light around it—vivid light, sometimes static, sometimes dynamic and alive like in trees, plants, animals, but especially in people.
And the colors were of a purity, of a dynamism, luminous, like prismatic colors, and at the same time infinitely delicate, changing, flowing into each other, breathlessly beautiful. I saw an egg-shaped orange thing—its size must have been about two feet-jumping with lightning speed under the trees all around Guruji’s garden. It could have been a nature spirit; I don’t know. I saw lovely beings in the air: some had dragon shapes, some had a vague human semblance, but all were of wonderful colors, shimmering, made of light itself. But on the other hand I could see also black, horrid shapes, lurking in the dark corners or dirty places, sometimes attached to human beings or following them.
The world became a very interesting place to live. I came to know the thoughts of people, the reasons why they came to Guruji. I used to tell one of his disciples who sat near me: this one comes because his child is ill; this other one because he has a court case and wants some help and advice; that man on the right is ill and hopes that Guruji will heal him, and so on…. Of course I was delighted. Bhai Sahib did not take any notice of me, was talking to others, and I sat there full of wonder and delight, observing everything around me.
Then, one day, when he turned to me and said something, I took the opportunity and told him how pleased I was that only after such a short time with him I was progressing so fast.
“Oh?” he lifted his eyebrows, “and why so?”
I told him, describing in detail what I saw and telling him that I knew the reason why each one came to him.
He listened. His expression was that of slight irony; then he gave me a sideways look and turned away to speak to others.
I did not notice anything at that moment. Many interesting things always happened in his presence; people came and went, so I was not immediately aware that I didn’t see anything else, except things of this physical world. Going home, I expected to see something as of late and watched carefully, but in vain. Thought that I was tired this was the reason—and it will be all right tomorrow.
But when I woke up next morning and expected to see everything bathed in those wonderful colors, I was disappointed very much… the world was grey and ordinary… no more of this quality of wonder and beauty about it.
I waited. Not in his garden, not at home. Nothing. My disappointment was terrible. Then after three days of fruitless waiting, when he happened to look in my direction, I said: “You took it away from me!”
“Of course!” he answered quickly. “Just look at you! You were blown up like a balloon! Are you after Absolute Truth or are you after illusions? How will the self go if you continue like this?”
I said nothing. But I remember well that I was resentful and sorry for myself.
I think, two or three weeks later, the fire began to flow in my body, and the ghastly visions which went with it and the suffering which it caused obliterated everything else….
Yes. He tried to help every one of us…. And remembering it all now, a saying came into my mind. The mother of a friend of mine used to tell her when she was a child:
“From people to people, from Saints to God. And the Saints don’t hang in the calendars on the wall, but are here with us, living with God and in God amongst people, helping them.”
And didn’t he say once that the Grace of God flows through a human being?… comparing God to a power house and the Saint to a transformer of this power.
5th September
HOW LOVELY IT IS when the sun is shining through the mist; it is like a painting of Turner. So many colors are in this misty, opaque light, and the deodars and the pines, here on the slope of our hill, look ghostly, unreal. It has just stopped raining. It was coming down heavily all night. It is clearing in the south already; patches of blue sky are appearing in between the clouds, and a slight breeze coming from the direction of the snows chases the mist down the slope, weaving it in and out between the pine trees. What a lovely place is Kausani…. And suddenly the sun comes out; the last patches of mist hurry past as if trying to clasp and clutch with long ghostly fingers the branches of the pines, and hide and linger in the crags, in the clefts between the hills…. How blue and clear are the distances… and now, now, as though by magic, the mass of Trisul appears as if suspended, resting on the white, soft mist… and vanishes behind the veil. No, not quite. Dimly it is visible, like in a dream. Just the outline, just a promise…. It is blinding white.
Fresh snow fell on the heights. Near, so near are the snows…. For many weeks I was waiting for you to appear… like the Beloved you were obstinately hidden behind the veil… and like the Beloved you are suddenly, unexpectedly near… clear… sharp. So near, only to stretch out the hand to touch you…. Fifteen miles in direct line, as the crow flies, is not much. Now I wish I had a camera with me to photograph you in all your glory….
Sannyasi is leaving today, and he was telling us about the tantric practices in a place near Calcutta where dead bodies and human bones are used for meditation and for all sorts of practices. He stayed there for a while, but he did not like it, so he said. I don’t blame him….
Am still thinking of the snows appearing like in a dream after the rain in the night. Now they are covered up once more. So completely, so thoroughly, that if one does not know that they exist, one could think that behind the nearest hill is nothing at all….
But the fragrance of the pines is inebriating, and the rain hammering on the roof is a lullaby of the mountains… to be endured and accepted.
8th September
WOKE UP THIS MORNING with His Name on my lips. How imperfect I am… I still have interruptions, forget to call, to repeat His Name all day long. And when I remember, then I bow and ask His forgiveness. How tender is this feeling of love for Him… the loveliest, the softest feeling….
It was raining all night. And this morning it is still pouring down steadily, as it can pour down in the mountains, unwaveringly, ceaselessly, and stubbornly, and thick mist is sitting tightly on the hills.
Wrote many letters during the last few days. Will go to post them if it stops raining. If not, they have to wait. Keeping a list of all to whom I wrote. Suddenly it is important; this represents now my work.
By repeating His Name all the time I am getting myself into a deeper and deeper state of peace. Nearness or not, the love seems to deepen, and somehow SOMETHING seems to change in my consciousness; but WHAT?… the mind cannot assess as yet. Later, perhaps I will know…. One usually comes to know later… or not at all.
There is such a deep inner joy in repeating His Name with breath. It will become part of my being, I know….
“First you do the mantra, then the mantra does you,” and, “and the time will come when love will remain behind and only One will remain, and then even this will go; nothing will remain….”
9th September
BY CEASELESSLY DOING JAP one is really the whole day in meditation.
And it deepens and keeps deepening. Each repetition leaves a sweetne
ss in the heart, like something infinitely dear… and becoming dearer, more precious all the time.
He prepared the Way and he went…. And now I just go to God—there is no other alternative. There is no other way at all to go (Yajurveda) …. So simple really. Simple it is because the Way is clear….
There is nothing but Nothingness… Nothingness in the triune, triple sense: Nothingness because the little self has to go; one has to become nothing. Nothingness, because the higher states of consciousness represent nothingness to the mind, for it cannot reach there; it is completely beyond its range of perception. Complete comprehension on the level of the mind is not possible, so one is faced with nothingness. And in the last, most sublime sense, it is to merge into the Luminous Ocean of the Infinite. I think this is how one has to understand it; that is how Bhai Sahib had meant it, when he spoke of Nothingness and of the One.
And then I see it increasingly as the consciousness expands and the understanding deepens: one begins to see Him in all and everything.
There is nothing but He; one is surrounded by Him everywhere.
… So one begins to surrender to life, to people, to things, as being Him, and Him alone. The tremendous implication of it is that one feels oneself to be part of it, but a tiny part of it, smaller than the smallest grain of sand… and still, this little grain of sand is necessary. To quote a great Sufi, lnayat Khan: “The world would not be the same if you were not in it—a little note in the great Symphony of Life.”
A note, just a note, contributing to the Harmony of Creation. So let us all be pure, ringing notes, never out of tune, singing His praise forever….
87 Scorpion and Caterpillar
10th September, 1966
lT WAS VERY FOGGY THIS MORNING and it was raining until noon. l woke up with such a longing that I began to cry out of sheer, terrible longing, a kind of despair….
Daughter of Fire Page 93
