While he is away, I thought much and took stock of my situation. On the 2nd of July I have been here nine months, and it seems to me that I am further away from him than ever… nine months… the time to produce a child. What kind of a child did I produce? None at all, so it seems ….
Two days before he left he was explaining a bit about his seeming rudeness. “If one chooses the Way of the System, if it is done according to the System, then it takes a long time. If one chooses the Way of Love, it does not take long, relatively. But it is difficult. Life becomes very sad. No joy. Thorns everywhere. This has to be crossed. Then all of a sudden there will be flowers and sunshine. But the road has to be crossed first. There is nothing which can be done about it. People will hear one day that you have been turned out; and not only that, but other things too. And it is not the disciple who chooses which road to take; it is the Teacher who decides.
“There are two Roads: the Road of Dhyana, the slow one, and the Road of Tyaga, of complete Renunciation, of Surrender: this is the Direct Road, the Path of Fire, the Path of Love.”
“But will you not treat a woman differently from a man? A woman is more tender; the psychology of a woman and of a man is different!”
He shook his head. “The training is somewhat different. But it does not mean that because you are a woman, you will get a preferential treatment.”
“But don’t you see that I have more odds against me than your Indian disciples?” I exclaimed.
Again he shook his head. “No, it is always difficult. For everybody. If it is not one thing, then it is another… human beings are covered with so much conditioning…. “
6th July
HE WAS BACK THIS MORNING looking weak and having an eye swollen with a painful stye. I left soon; nobody was there, so he went to have a rest.
Fire is back in my body. The old body is weakened by heat, and I discovered that the symptoms from which I suffer, i.e., extreme tiredness, fatigue, giddiness, vomiting condition, great and constant depression, are an effect of emotional fatigue. I am under a severe psychological pressure, and the heat does the rest. In this temperature the body reaches a state of a kind of ring-pass-not; it just cannot go on… I remembered what he once said to us: “My Rev. Guru Maharaj did not give to me because I was the best, but because I was the strongest. A strong constitution is needed if you want to progress on the Path of Spiritual Perfection.”
May God give me this strength… to be able to bear those extreme conditions. “To fight the fatigue one needs a strong stimulus; keep the Ideal before your eyes: the Goal. It will help to fight exhaustion. Stick to your purpose. Refuse to accept frustration.
Will-power will see you through.” I repeated that to myself aloud to give me courage, many a time….
8th July
LAST NIGHT he was sitting outside the door of his room when I came.
His wife came and did some fomentation to his eye. His stye is a bit better but still very painful, and quite a lot of pus is coming out. It gives him much suffering. The wife went back to the kitchen, and he began to tell me how all Muslims, even the least educated ones, are polite, and have a very polite way of speaking. There are many regards to be payed to the Master; in the olden times there was quite a ritual in this respect. I asked him to tell me at least some of the rules; I would like to follow them. He shook his head in his habitual way.
“At your age you cannot do it; it will make your life even more miserable; the times have changed; now humanity is different. Who is disposed to make so many sacrifices? And who is disposed to accept the complete surrender, all the difficulties of the Path? There are people who sit here for the last sixty years; they have been already my Rev. Father’s disciples. But are they eager? Nothing of the sort!
There is no eagerness, no power of sacrifice. But if somebody is found to accept the difficulties, then the Master acts accordingly. I have the intention to ask permission of my superiors to change some things in the training, to adapt it to modern times. My father and my uncle changed something too. I will do the same. Something ought to be changed to make it acceptable to the mentality of the people not born in this country. Not the fundamentals, no, those cannot be changed. They have to remain. How can one change the Law of God?”
“But the presentation of it—that can be changed, because, believe me, some things do put the modern, especially the Western mind, against some aspects of the Tradition.”
“Yes,” he said, “I understand that.”
Then he went inside, to do some more fomentations, and told me to come in too. I sat in the courtyard and was surprised to what extent the atmosphere was peaceful there. I never had the opportunity to notice it before; though I passed through the inner veranda sometimes, I never sat there for any length of time. When I told him so, he smiled. While he was talking to his wife who was applying hot pads to his eye, I looked at the reflection of the fire in the kitchen dancing on the wall, and was thinking that it seems to be like my home now… and to think that I even hated the look of it, when I arrived here first. Like home… it was strange, how I felt like coming home when driving to this place from the station nine months ago. It must have been a premonition, of things to come, perhaps of my long stay here. Who knows… I left soon. He went to bed and did not come outside to sit with the people who began to assemble—he was not well enough.
It was hardly 8 p.m. when I went to bed and prayed, felt serene and nearly happy. Somewhere in the north an enormous thunderstorm was raging, three lightnings per second I counted… then fell asleep. Still not a drop of rain.
“You don’t need anything, no Sadhana, no discipline,” he said last night. “My father and my uncle emphasized love, and love only.
Just love, whatever happens, and in a few years you will be… “he made a jesture of a bird soaring into the sky….
Love whatever happens…. What will happen? Sounds ominous….
9th July
IN THE EVENING when I came, he was in the inner room sitting with an Indian lady under the fan. He asked me if I remembered her, and it seemed to me that I had seen her during the Bandhara. I asked if she spoke English, but he turned quickly to me before she could answer: “She will not speak before me; Durghesh will not speak before me; my son-in-law will not speak before me. This is the way to show respect to the Elders.” I pricked up my ears. This is a clear hint. Hm… something is preparing… be careful, old girl. Later in the garden during the conversation he said: “And of course, neither my father nor my uncle were ever allowed to speak before my Rev. Guru Maharaj.” Now I know for sure that it is a hint. So, later in the evening, after some opening sentences from his side, I said to him:
“Bhai Sahib, you gave me a hint tonight.”
“What sort of a hint did I give you?” I told him. “It is not for you,”
he said.
“But I intend to follow it,” I answered.
“If you can do, do it. If you cannot, leave it. Do what is easier and execute it.”
It will not be easy, I was thinking, but I will try, for it seems to be his wish….
28 The Terror of Love
11th July, 1962
I AM DEFINITELY SURE that I am in a much happier place when asleep than in my waking state, such a life of misery I am leading.Just in that moment when I was waking up, there was such a pain as if the whole body was crying out in agony, in supreme pain, a kind of panic, as if the whole of my being was screaming: No! No! and whoop!… the physical consciousness takes over. It is all as before—the white walls of my room, the veranda, the sky above, the pain in the joints, and the mental and the emotional misery….
13th July
FOR THE LAST FEW DAYS a kind of re-orientation has been taking place.
At first I had a kind of peace—not a peace in the real sense of the word: for that there was too much pain in my heart, but a kind of stillness. Is it a hush before the storm? Or simply a kind of numbness due to too great a stress on my physique? This morning I woke up deadl
y tired and weary. The whole body was aching. Dragged myself to the kitchen… aspirin and black coffee helped a little. The sky was serene as ever, and still no sign of rain. Dragging myself painfully along, trying to do the few necessary jobs before going to his place, a bit of washing, tidying up my room—another large cup of very strong coffee… kept thinking and thinking.
When going to Pushpa’s for lunch today, was so acutely aware of the suffering of Nature, of so many little things dying in the drought… the air boiling, the soil powdered, Guruji’s garden withered, leaves hanging from the branches getting brittle and yellow… and in the country it must be even far worse….
Still, I was aware of a kind of peace. A heavy, leaden peace, joyless, dark, and nonetheless it was peace. There was much heartache…
much pain. And still there was peace too, in spite of the most severe separation for the last few weeks. Even the feeling of love is no more.
Such is the Maya. Nothing remained. Only the pain in the heart is here; but this is a permanent feature nowadays. Still, in spite of all this, the feeling of peace is endless, eternal and, it seems, will last forever.
At Pushpa’s place got feverish once more. Went to Guru’s place, but could not sit there, felt awful. Asked Satendra to tell his father that I went home because I was not too well. At home felt even worse. Measured my temperature—it was 40.l° C. Took aspirin, turned the fan off, and slept very badly.
14th July
HE ASKED HOW I FELT, and I said that I was better. Told him about the feeling of peace, so deep and seemingly lasting, an unusual peace, heavy but great, a kind of sorrowful Pralaya.
“Love assumes many forms; sometimes it is peace, sometimes it is happiness, sometimes bliss or joy. Restlessness or sorrow. Love is the Root, and like a tree it has many branches spreading around…. “
He made a wide gesture with both hands to illustrate spreading.
Later he said: “When we are ill, then we know that our body is not us. When we have a headache, who is going to help us? If we are amongst the crowd, or alone in the forest, who can help us? Nobody!
If the mind is not there, if the body is not ours, what remains? Only the Soul. Only the experiences are ours. Only those are true.
” ‘Like the wind, who carries the perfume of blossoms from bough to bough,’ says the Persian poet. This only will remain.”
He also is not well. I wonder if he took my feverish condition, but I knew I couldn’t very well ask him. I already know him sufficiently well to abstain from certain questions….
15th July
THIS MORNING AT SUNRISE, when I opened my eyes and looked up into the sky—the first thing I always do on awakening, for my charpoy is standing in the middle of the courtyard—I saw a large, pink cloud, striped with delicate mackerels. A mackerel-sky means water, at least in England. Told Bhai Sahib this morning: we might have rain.
The mind is not working at all. It feels as if I was given an anesthetic… sort of funny feeling in my head, similar to giddiness. If I turn my eyes either to the right or to the left, then there is definite, strong giddiness. Understood hardly anything. Cannot remember either.
“How are you?” he asked, when I came in. He was standing in the middle of the garden, clad only in the pale blue longhi I gave him this winter. His torso was bare. He looked like Surya (the sun) himself, his skin emitting golden light.
“Physically I am O.K., but something is happening to me; there is a change somehow, but I only feel it—I cannot describe it.” He smiled.
Of course he knew what was the matter.
“I would be a fool not to know: for I am giving it to you,” he said once on a similar occasion.
He did not speak to me. Looked so magnificent… a Deva, I thought, and could not take my eyes off him. He soon went in and fell asleep. I was sitting all the time outside.
The rain came in the afternoon… and it became cooler. So, mackerel-sky means rain, also in India….
18th July
WHEN I TOLD HIM that I could not pray for the last few days because it is like a dark curtain between myself and his Rev. Guru Maharaj, he answered:
“Yes, sometimes it happens like that. It can be like a dark curtain or sometimes like a curtain of light. One can pray and then one cannot. It is good that it should be so. Otherwise how could one progress? Doubts, and fears and anxieties… I myself have them.
Now, for instance, I don’t pray for over two months; to whom should I pray, I ask myself.”
It took my breath away: “Bhai Sahib, what a glorious state!”
“Oh, no, this is my pride,” he said with emphasis.
“But you have no pride! You, for sure, are beyond that!!” I exclaimed. He smiled his still smile.
“That is what you say because you are so devoted. But on the physical level, some imperfection will remain always.”
It made me think. I still believe how wonderful it must be not to be able to pray, for such is atonement—that no difference remains, and one has to ask oneself to whom one should pray….
Fell asleep full of such longing. When it is so strong, it is terrible.
Woke up in the middle of the night with such a tremendous feeling of love, so full, so rich, so deep, that it was like a sharp pain, unbearable. My first thought was: if I have it for a few moments longer, my heart will burst! I woke up completely trembling, the heart beating wildly. Good heavens! That’s how love is experienced on some other plane. If I had it to such a degree, even for a short time, surely the body would not be able to bear it and would go to pieces! I only had time to think that, then had a definite feeling that I was like a candle snuffed out with a bang, and fell asleep immediately.
In the morning on awakening, there was the usual aridity of late, hardly any feeling of love at all. I remembered that I had the same experience before, though less intense, which shows that somewhere there is love to such an unimaginable degree… only the brain knows nothing about it. I have the sneaky feeling that I was deliberately cut off, abruptly; perhaps I tuned into an experience I was not allowed to remember… quite possible. So, better not to speak about it, nor ask anything. It must be the state of love on the Atmic level. It was a split-second memory slipping somehow through the density of the mind, and a complete memory of it could kill.
That’s why it is better not to remember; one cannot bear it. I am sure it will take a long time, many years perhaps, to train the mind to be able to bear it without damage….
Yesterday was Guru Purnama (the day when the Guru receives presents, according to tradition). I did what he told me to do: brought some sweets, some fruit, and a few rupees in an envelope and, offering it to him, touched his feet for the first time in public. I found it easy to do. Don’t mind at all. It comes natural, and I never cared for the opinion of others at any rate.
20th July
WHAT IS THIS STILLNESS? Could it really be peace? Isn’t love the most peaceless state? I don’t remember having ever experienced such deep, uniform state of stillness and lasting so long.
“I call it the natural state,” he answered. “Why should I say that I am giving it to you? It is given; that’s all. And it is the natural state, but one does not always realize it. The Soul is covered with so many sheaths, veiled by many curtains.”
“One curtain has been withdrawn?” I suggested. He nodded. “But there is so little understanding left… I am puzzled…. ” But he was in Samadhi.
The money arrived from Australia. It hardly hurts that it vanishes so quickly… only a little….
21st July
WHILE HAVING MY CUP OF COFFEE in the morning, I suddenly realized in a flash that love cannot increase in quantity, cannot grow bigger. It is given from the beginning in the exact quantity the Master wants to give, according to the size of the cup the Shishya brings with him. If the cup is large, more love can be poured into it; some containers are larger, some smaller. The quantity—let’s call it quantity x—is always the same: only the Shishya learns to respond t
o it better and better, so it seems to him as if it would grow. The love at the beginning and at the end is the same. I was astonished at this piece of knowledge, for the mind cannot even think properly. Philosophically it must be correct—I know it. The beginning and the end from the point of view of God is the same always; it is a complete circle. I know it from books. But now I experienced it as my very own flash of knowledge into a mind which is sterile…. Strange… and wonderful. My work will be the same as before: I had to work with people trying to help them to come one step nearer to the Truth.
When I leave this place (may this day never come!), I will continue on the same lines as before, though the conditions will necessarily be different (or perhaps not?), but the work itself will remain the same.
We are given work according to our capacities. I will never be asked to work in leper colonies, for instance, for I am not trained for this kind of work. Neither will I be asked to work with children, because I never had anything to do with education. But I could give lectures in philosophy, help with meditation, work for the Theosophical Society in London.
He smiled when I was relating all this to him, and when I asked how is it possible that any glimpse of knowledge can come to the brain which can hardly function, and with the greatest difficulty can put thoughts together, he said:
“If the cup is empty, it can be filled. It is the Knowledge of the Soul which comes through. It comes to the physical mind and then it becomes the Real Knowledge, the integral part of you. If I would tell you, and you would have faith enough and believe me, then the faith and the knowledge would be two things, is it not so? But like this, nothing is told. You will realize it yourself; it becomes part of you; there is no duality…. You see how it is done, how easy?”
Daughter of Fire Page 29