At first, neither L. nor myself understood the meaning, and he said that it was meant for me. I gathered that, but still could not get it. But looking in between his eyebrows, and quickly down again, as he told me to do when I want to know his thought, I got the meaning: it flashed into my mind: “You see me like this, unwell, weak; I am in disguise. Soon you will see the real me; soon you will see my power!”
He only nodded, and L. agreed that this must be the right interpretation.
22nd January
THE NIGHT WAS EVEN WORSE than the first —if such a thing is possible at all. It was unbearable. Beyond myself with desire, half unconscious, I suddenly noticed in the dark room around me, some kind of whirling, dark, grey mist. Trying to focus on it, I detected strange shapes moving about, and soon I could distinguish most hideous things, or beings, leering, obscene, all coupled in sexual intercourse, elemental creatures, animal-like, performing wild sexual orgies. I was sure that I was going mad. Cold terror gripped me: hallucinations, madness—no hope for me, insanity —this was the end. Buried my face into the pillow not to see—oh, not to see—perhaps it will go, will vanish. But the aroused desire in my body forced me to look.
They did horrible things. I did not even know, not in this life at least, that such disgusting practices are possible—with dogs, humans, men and women, horses, the most ghastly spiderlike creatures obscenely exposing their private parts, a grotesque ritual all moving around, all leering at me, dancing, grey shadows…. Things I never knew could be done, could exist—the most lecherous filth, I had to witness—I had learned this night. Never knew? if I did not know it, how COULD I see it? It must have been somewhere in my depths, or else how, how could I see it? It must have been in me. I was sure I was going mad. I never suspected that anything like this darkest vice could be experienced by a human mind, for it was NOT WITHIN human experience. Such helplessness, such black depression came over me; I was a prey to some terrible cosmic forces unknown to me.
After a completely sleepless night, the body shaky, I was so weak in the morning… and full of shame.
Went early to his place, and sat in the chair in the garden, thinking nothing, just being so weak that I could hardly lift my head. He came out unusually early, shortly after 9 a.m. Without looking at me, he sat down and began his prayers. All was still. It was a lovely sunny morning. The sounds seemed muted to my ears—the click of the beads sliding through his fingers, the traffic outside the gate, a sudden chattering of a chipmunk. My heart was beating like mad, my head was spinning. I got up, my legs trembling. I stepped forward, fell at his feet, clasping them with both hands and pressing my forehead into the dusty soil.
“Why? Why? What is happening to you?” As if he didn’t know… could not help feeling bitter.
Got up, went back to my chair, and sat down with bent head. My heart felt like jumping out of my chest. He did not seem to understand… or DID NOT WANT to understand. It was a silent cry for help; for how COULD I tell him? Could not even look at him, could not speak to him. What could I have said? What can be said in such circumstances?
At his place I saw nothing, no shadowy shapes grinning devilishly in derision; but I knew as soon as I went home, in the night, it would be quite another matter…. Oh, God, help me! I just sat there, half dead.
L. came. She said that she felt happy and slept well.
“Ask Mrs.Tweedie if she is happy!” he laughed. It DID hurt.
“I cannot,” answered L. “Mrs. Tweedie is up in the air and down in the depths; I cannot follow her!”
I shook my head: “It is finished; no more ups and downs for me. It is the end.” I had tears in my eyes. Will the torture NEVER end? She looked at me in surprise, and while the Guru was talking to the young man who just came in, I told her briefly in French my distress. Her astonishment was great.
23rd January
ONCE MORE THE NIGHT was a perfect hell. The creatures were nearer now, all around my bed—so near, that I was forced at times to dive under the sheet in sheer terror. The room seemed to be full of them in constant movement, in absolute silence—not the slightest sound, just the ghostly dance of obscene shapes and activities. Was this what is called the “Dweller on the Threshold?” All those evils must have been in me! Merciful God, help me! There is no escape for me but the mental asylum in India. A padded cell! That will be the end of the story of my quest for spirituality! I came to the dead end of my “spiritual” aspiration!
Body was trembling, head was empty, felt like vomiting, went to his place late. He was not well this morning. It was obvious. He came out late and sat with us in the sun. It was chilly this morning. Looking so frail, his face was full of inner light. He is not very dark. North Indians are much fairer than the Southerners. And some are very fair-skinned, like Pushpa’s husband, for instance, or her father-in-law.
He sat crosslegged in his chair, dressed in his dark-brown overcoat. After a while he sent L. away to get some biscuits, for he couldn’t digest anything else for the moment. Took advantage of her absence, and thought that it was better to tell him—it cannot go on like this. Perhaps he will know how bad it is; he will help me. Only one man was sitting with us, but I knew that he did not understand English. I told him.
“Yes, yes,” he kept repeating, as if full of uneasiness. “Is it very bad?”
“Terrible!” I said. “Unbearable!”
“It will be better,” he said. “Be patient.” That was all… and he went inside.
24th January
IT WAS BETTER. The night was not too bad. Each time I woke up, I was conscious of some vague presences, but was too tired to bother.
He came out looking still very weak, but said that he felt a bit better. He is coughing much, but he said that the vomiting had stopped, and he could eat a little.
I asked if it is fair to him that I should sit not further than five feet away from him with this Shakti (power) in my body; will it not disturb him?
“You are still not quite there if you think that you can disturb me.” He shook his head in disapproval. “To stay away will be worse; the imagination will work”.
I was glad. To stay away would be hell. I am terrified to be alone by myself.
“Tell me your dreams, but do not tell them to L. Otherwise the Path will be taken away from you.”
25th January
“BEAR IT,” he said. “Control it; if you cannot, you have to confess it to me.” I felt like sinking into the earth, chair and all on which I was sitting.
DREAM: I was in a hospital. A nurse came into the waiting room and said: “Your heart has to be examined before you leave this place.” I saw the heart specialist passing by in the corridor together with Bhai Sahib in conversation. He was tall, good looking, a pointed, black beard, Muslim fashion, and was elegantly dressed in a well-cut European suit, but he clearly was not European; he looked an Easterner. He wore a knee-long doctor’s white coat over his European suit, had a handsome, fair complexion; he could be from the Middle East. I was already undressed, and had only a short garment reaching down to the knees. He put the stethoscope to my heart. I hope that he will not notice that my heart is missing beats, I thought. Bhai Sahib stood on the far end of the room.
Later, I went into a room with a large window on the opposite wall, through which a section of blue sky was visible, and a garden full of trees. Many people sat on the floor; the room was full; all were facing the window with their backs to the door where I was standing. All were in deep meditation.
“Interpretation is not needed. The symbology is quite clear; your heart is being examined.” His face was hard and expressionless. I did not dare to ask further. He looked thin. He is not well, I thought, looking at him with concern. Cough was bothering him. Soon he went into a deep state. My heart went out to him in deep pity. L. did not come. I left after a while.
26th January
“NOT EVERY SHISHYA comes here for the highest state. Not every Shishya is supposed to get to the highest state. Shishyas are se
lected.
How many disciples had my father and my revered Guru Maharaj?
Perhaps not hundreds, but many. And how many have been selected? Only two. The Shishya has to follow the Guru step by step.
Go on pleasing the Guru, and he will see to the rest. It is called ‘Guru Krepa,’ the Grace of the Guru.”
L. said that there is a beautiful passage in the book of Abinavagupta, which says: “The Shishya reaches the highest state using the mala of the Guru as his ladder.”
This morning, when he came out, the first thing he said was that his daughter, Durghesh, was delivered of a little girl. “She is so beautiful,” he said with a radiantly happy smile.
We all congratulated him. He must have been in a very deep state last night; the atmosphere in the room was beyond words. I told him so, and he confirmed—yes, he was in a very deep state, and he did not sleep at all.
“And how are you? Any trouble?”
“Plenty! I try to cope with it. I think that I will not go mad after all.”
“No, no danger of that,” he said, and his face was very still. “No, I am here.”
My heart went out to him. I was in good hands. There is no need to fear.
“Is there any fire without smoke?” he asked in the afternoon. He sat in the big chair, the light of the sunset from the open door on his face.
“No,” I said.
“And what is smoke?”
“The impurities which are expelled because they cannot be consumed by the fire.”
“Correct,” he nodded briefly.
27th January
HE WAS LATE this morning. Many people were sitting already, and he did not speak to us. Later L. was asking questions about Kundalini. I was sitting in the sun far away from them, not wishing to be indiscrete. L., after all, is his disciple for so many years, perhaps they would like to talk about things not intended for beginners.
The nights are a constant nightmare. I dread to go home every evening… lying still for hours, trying to control this body of mine, shaken by forces almost too powerful to be controlled. Am shaky in the morning; my knees give way, can hardly walk; a strong feeling of vomiting. I eat very little and often wonder, how is it that all the other functions of the body go on seemingly normal. A wonderful resilience and strength has the human frame. But how long can it last?
How long will the body hold out without getting ill?
He looked so tired this morning, and as weak as a kitten…
looking far away, his face dark, as if full of pain. “Yes, yes,” he said distractedly, in answer to my thoughts. “You can ask!”
“Is there a difference between the Souls of men and women? It seems to me that, on the spiritual level, there can be no difference.”
“Yes, a Soul is a Soul, Atman is Atman; only on the physical plane there is a difference.” He fell silent. I too was silent. Felt very weak, could hardly think, and had a sickly fainting feeling in the pit of the stomach when he happened to look at me. I think it is caused by fear….
Everybody present was in deep Dhyana. The Indian disciples were seated crosslegged on a few tachats, standing around, or on chairs.
L’s face was so very peaceful. He began to speak quietly: “If guests come to you, you will entertain them, even lavishly, if you can afford it; but do you give your property to them? Certainly not. Your property is for your sons and heirs. A Guru can have many Shishyas. Not all of the Shishyas are expected to reach the high level. Human beings are at different stages of evolution. Not every Shishya comes here for the highest state. The Guru is dutybound, he gives what is demanded, according to the need. The Guru always makes a selection.”
I sat very still. My heart was melting in gratitude.
“Something was done to you which I usually don’t do so easily.”
He fell silent for a while. “But you came from so far away, so I did it.
The relationship with a Master is once and forever, and there is no divorce.” He was silent once more. All was so still, so peaceful. Even the garden seemed to listen. Some leaves were stirring in the light breeze high up in the mango tree… the poignant feeling of meaning, of some lost, long forgotten bliss.
Two men came in, and he spoke to them in Hindi, and then began to sing in Persian. But he did not translate. I was reflecting on what he was just saying to me .. . a warm feeling of deep gratitude in my heart. I MUST bear everything. I MUST. Even if it should break me. He knows what he is doing. I must not fear, must hold out… not to be a disappointment to him.
30th January
COMPLETELY STIFF, lying there, pulling in the muscles of the lower abdomen as much as possible; only so does it bring some relief to the unbearable tension in the lower region of the body. So I lie for hours, controlling the body, trying to control the mind not to run away with imaginings. Burning currents of fire inside; cold shivers running outside, wave after wave, over legs, arms, abdomen, and the back, along the spine, making all the hair rise over the body. It is as if the whole frame is full of electricity. Gradually, all the muscles of the thighs and the tummy begin to ache with tension. But this pain, gradually increasing by prolonged effort, somehow helps to relieve the desire. The ghastly shapes are here, sometimes clearly visible, sometimes indistinct. Strangely, I am getting used to them. Usually, out of sheer exhaustion, I manage to fall into a heavy sleep, at least for some hours, waking up with a dry mouth and a head as heavy as lead. Strong coffee and aspirins help after a bath.
31st January
I WOKE UP about 2 p.m. with a mental picture receding into the background: a clear picture of him seated cross-legged, the white blanket which I gave him some months ago wrapped around him, the brown, woolen cap on his head. It covered half of his forehead… only the shining eyes were seen. He was smiling at me.
Woke up with this picture vividly in my mind, and as soon as my thoughts became clear, I realized with surprise that my body seemed to be singing… literally so. Singing softly and resting in Him, in deepest pool of peace. It seemed to me that I never felt such a tranquil bliss in all my life! Stretched out comfortably with a sigh of relief; no torture, no tension, just stillness, and a kind of SOUND in all the tissues, as if the whole frame of the body was vibrating in gladness, to its own inner music… every cell, every particle happy in its own right. All my being seemed to be streaming forth in steady flow, but softly, gently, full of unearthly peace. It lasted for quite a while. Tried to think, tried to analyze, to grasp what was happening. Was that the feeling of Perfect Love, of Surrender? I could not know. And it did not mattter. Not really. All that mattered was that the dreadful tension was gone. But can I be sure that it will not come back?
As soon as I came, he asked me how I was. I said that I was much, oh much better! The trouble seemed to have gone away. He gave me a quick look and continued to walk up and down, mala in his hand. He looked very ill. L. told me later that he did not eat at all for days, and suffers from much vomiting. His skin seemed grey, and he looked old and worn out.
I was thinking of the reception at Professor Radesham’s home the other day. I was invited together with L., Pushpa and her familyonly grandfather had not come. The guests were mostly high government officials, their wives, one M.P. and his wife, university professors, lecturers,etc. It was all very elegant, a lovely home, and the food was superb. I felt so out of place. Here was the world with which I was familiar, the environment I was used to, the world I knew… my world until now. What a difference between this world, which was mine not so long ago, and the world of the Master!
Looking at them, I was thinking how similar they were to us Westerners in their mentality; only they were dressed differently, the food was different and, though they were Indians, Orientals, deep down their humanity, their mentality, was so similar to the one I knew in the West. But the Master’s world, obscure, disturbing, was still unknown to me, a dark terra incognita, full of enigmas, a disquieting mystery, and God knows what secret suffering. This was my world from now on. I mys
elf have chosen it. More than ever before, the life of the world, as I knew it, seemed empty, devoid of all meaning… an empty shell. And I understood why, once on the spiritual path, one can never go back: not because there are such secrets which cannot be revealed, but simply because there remains nothing to go back to. A sentence from the Mahatma Letters to Mr. Sinnett came into my mind: “If you want to come to us, you must leave your world and come into ours.”
16 Curriculum Vitae of Sins
1st February, 1962
“YOU MUST WRITE DOWN all the wrongs and evil deeds you have committed since your childhood. It will serve as a confession, a kind of curriculum vitae of your sins. Otherwise you may be called by God one day to account for it; but when the culprit confesses, he becomes free. Everybody has to do it. L. had to do it also. You must do it if you want to be taken into the Arena. There is no other way. Confession must be; there must be no secrets before your Teacher.”
I went cold. That was an unexpected blow. How can I remember all the wrongs of my life!? What a dreadful task! But I understood the value of it.
He was sitting on the tachat, knees drawn up to his chin, the woolen cap he wore in the night covering nearly the whole of his face.
He looked so stern; his voice was tired. Went home and cried for a long time without being able to stop.
It is a kind of traumatic state: crying, and sometimes even without apparent reason, forgetting things, being assailed by dark, terrible fears—all not normal reactions, obviously—magnifying certain happenings which are of no importance, and neglecting important duties, on the other hand. It does not look good; let’s hope it will end without a permanent damage to my mental state.
Daughter of Fire Page 14