Daughter of Fire

by Irina Tweedie

  Then: “A great man is needed to break a wild and wicked horse.”

  (That was I, presumably—the wicked horse.) Then he asked me with just a suspicion of irony in his voice if I was satisfied with the session. I said that I appreciated that he spoke English, and I keep praying to God that he should be kind to me.

  “Am I not kind to you?” He laughed his young laughter.

  “Yes, but I hope you will be even more kind, and if you like I can put it differently: I pray for more faith, to be able to bear more.”

  “Now you put it correctly,” he smiled. “You can tell me anything.

  I am always the same for you,” he said at one moment in conversation. I nearly answered that after what he said and did to me, I really can tell him anything….

  Was very peaceful in the afternoon.

  “Nanak means the very smallest.

  “A perfect man is the one in whom all desires have dried up.

  Desire itself is designed to remove the sense of personal imperfection in the individual. We naturally revolt against imperfection.

  Only the Perfect can satisfy us.”

  So in our mistaken craving for perfection we want more and more, forgetting that Perfection can only be had from within, I thought.

  “The sense of possession gives pain and sorrow.

  “A Saint is the one who is always, at all times, contented.”

  When I came in the afternoon, I was asked by the wife to go into the room almost immediate! y. He gave me H. ‘s letter. When I asked if the state of bliss she is in will remain, he answered that no state remains.

  “But the Saint surely remains in one state?” He had the faintest smile hardly moving his lips, looking through the mail just arrived.

  “This cannot be told.”

  Had a restful night. It is lovely to be able to sleep on the terrace under the mosquito net, the Indian sky studded with stars above. A gentle breeze is always blowing from somewhere. The sound of a Kirtan across the park of Moti ]heel. Moti ]heel means the “Pearl Lake.” A small lake is in the distance, and two ponds nearby… a great open space with some trees and some flower beds, and an expanse of grass for people to walk and sit on. Dogs are not allowed in, so the grass is clean. It is very much used in the mornings; then one can see fat and elderly men doing their morning exercises, walking briskly with swinging arms and swaying dhoties.

  Woke up about four. The great morning star stood high in the sky in the east. When I was waking up, such a pain of longing was in the whole body that it was even a physical suffering. How well I know this feeling of pain just on awakening! And I kept thinking of Him.

  There was such a feeling of deep surrender. To be like the Teacher… what a bliss, what a glory it must be… serene like him, so wise like him, so… oh, so perfect like him!

  Great love, full of peace, is in my heart this morning. Truly peace can only be had in the most peaceless state, which is love….

  69 Renal Colic

  25th March, 1966

  WHEN I CAME, Munshiji told me to go in. I was informed that he had some difficulties with breathing. Could not help feeling guilty; here he was suffering and I felt nothing—I slept well.

  Again I felt the same tremendous peace. I tried to analyze it. It comes from somewhere, very deep. It does not come from the mind, but the mind is resting in it. The body is very tranquil. The mind too.

  It is like nothingness, like a state of non-being, and I still don’t know if I like it. It seems like the state of Pralaya, a negative state. It was windy in the night. Woke up with a terrible longing. Painful. Like in the days gone by, when I was here….

  It was a fresh morning and he came out. I had no opportunity to tell him about the heat flashes I have when in his presence. Starting in the chest and back and mounting to the head… the whole body instantly perspires. And the tic on the lower lid of my left eye… it disturbs the vision. While writing this I just had one of those flashes … had to stop and fan myself. Rather troublesome, as if the heat conditions were not enough!… Truly I am destined to have it always the hard way!

  26th March

  LAST NIGHT I PRAYED… and fell asleep praying. The nearness to Him is quite impossible to describe. It is as if it were the very essence of my being. The deepest. The nearest. Prayed for surrender without understanding. Just for surrender because of great love. To become Nothing as He is Nothing. Like Him: Nothingness. That no obstacle should remain in the heart of Hearts in the brain of Brains…. And the whole of my being was a song, one single sound of offering. In the morning woke up and began to pray….

  It occured to me how broad-minded he is. Never have I noticed even the slightest narrowness. This, of course, is the line taken by the Nakshmandia Dynasty; they never try to convert anybody. They open the door to everybody, he said once. The Ancient Wisdom in all Religions is one and the same. No need of converting.

  “The human being is trained, and we have devised the easiest way of training.”

  It is like a passion, this longing, this praying… like a hunger, a hunger for Him. Yes, it feels like a tension, like an emptiness waiting to be filled. A hunger for Truth. Restless, unquenchable…. Let me, oh, let me be like him! Never quite like him… how is it possible? But like a small part of him, his devotion, his compassion, his great humility….

  When I came out he was outside.

  “You are well?” he asked, giving me a sharp look. “You sleep outside. No inconvenience of any kind?”

  I said all was well, only the physical body is under suffering; such is the nearness to Him that it seems too much for the physical body. He nodded gravely.

  “One can hardly bear it,” he said softly. Then he began to speak in Hindi to Bandhari. At one moment he said:

  “The physical, the astral, the mental bodies must be made one.”

  He continued again to explain in Hindi. In a pause of the conversation I asked what he had meant.

  “When the body is full of vibrations, once they have stopped, it is most essential to repeat His Name. Then every particle of the body, every atom will echo it.” And smiling, he made a sweeping gesture as to indicate the infiniteness, the all-embracing quality.

  “When you walk or sit here, wherever you are, whatever you do, repeat His Name. But do it silently.”

  “La illaha il Allah? Or just Allah?”

  “Yes, this,” he nodded. “La illaha il Allah should be repeated in the night after midnight. Then when one knows how to do it, one becomes the master of the world.”

  “I don’t think that one should want such a thing. All I want to be is slave of the One and servant of people.” He nodded slowly with gravity.

  “Yes, this is right. One should not want. But one will get it if one wants it or not; it does not depend on the disciple.”

  Then we went into the room. He lay down and went into Samadhi.

  I looked, fascinated. His face was that of a young man. Unlined and innocent, soft as if not touched by life… around his lips played a ghost of a tender smile. A little later he called Ram Singh, the servant, who began to massage his feet. I came to sit at his head and watched that the flies did not bother him. The Sikh who came in with his wife sat down and eagerly tried to speak about his affairs, but he hardly opened his eyes and soon turned his face to the wall. The Sikh, realizing that he cannot discuss his problems, left soon followed by his wife.

  I don’t like this man—he has greedy eyes. I feel he is fleecing Guruji; he does not want to work… and gets money and other help from him.

  28th March

  “I THINK WE ARE ATTHE LAST STAGES of what is called the Crucifixion,”

  I said to him on Saturday, and he nodded gravely with the still luminous expression in his eyes.

  “How long this stage will last, of course, I cannot know, but as things are going, it seems that we are at the last stages of it. From the first of March I am controlling the mind. And I see that it can be done. I cannot say that it is easy. But you from time to tim
e gave me a direction to follow, and if I follow it to the letter, things begin to happen.” He kept nodding slowly while I was speaking.

  “Since Saturday I have been repeating Allah all the time… mentally all day long. Yesterday morning on awakening, my mind tried its tricks on me. It was resentful because it has no time to think of anything else. It becomes dull, it was saying; it will become stupid.

  There are so many interesting things to think about; the world around has so many interests. But it seemed to me so ridiculous that it made me laugh, my own mind rebelling, so to say, against itself.”

  When Guruji went out for a moment, Bandhari told me that he asked him to help him to remember God at any moment of the day.

  “But this only Awwaliya (Persian: Saints) can do,” answered Guruji. Well, I am not a Wali. Let’s see how far I get.

  4th April

  MANY THINGS HAPPENED and I don’t know where to begin. The obvious is just to continue my diary from where I have stopped.

  On the 29th I went to Bhai Sahib, in the morning as usual. But immediately after lunch I felt great discomfort in the bladder. While I was wondering what it could be and what I shall do, while lying on my bed, all the windows open and hot wind sweeping through the room, I suddenly felt a severe pain in the right side. The pain increased rapidly to become unbearable. A liver attack .. . the symptoms seemed to indicate it. It was two p.m. I could not go down to Mrs. Sharma for help for I knew that she was resting. So I bore the pain, did some jap (repetition of a sacred word), but could not keep it up… the pain was too severe. It slowly increased in spasms and it was really unbearable. About four I went downstairs. Mrs. Sharma was surprised. I got the hot water bottle; she phoned the doctor. I spoke to him on the phone. He said he will come in the evening; it is the end of the financial year, so he has much paper work to do, but he will send the medicine in the meantime. I was installed in the bedroom next to the Sharmas, to wait for the doctor. The medicine arrived—tablets of Spasmidon to be taken every hour, and a red liquid. But soon I discovered that one tablet of Spasmidon did not ease the pain, so I took another and felt a little better. Then repeated one every hour. But the effect lasted only a short time and I was in pain. Finally about eight the doctor came. And he said immediately that it is not the liver but a kidney colic—the symptoms are very similar. I protested, telling him that I never had anything wrong with my kidneys. I am not so sure of it now. Perhaps many things which I attributed to liver conditions, were due to kidneys after all….

  Told him that the tablets have a very brief effect and he gave me an injection which practically knocked me out. I was like paralyzed. But the pain began after eleven. I was trying to do my Jap, listening to the pain inside me. If it increases, to become like in the afternoon, what will I do? But it did not. It remained stationary. In the morning when I collected urine for analysis in a jar which the doctor left me, I noticed at the bottom a small dark object; thinking that an insect fell into the jar, I fished it out with a stick. It was a small stone with very sharp edges. Well, if I had this thing inside me, no wonder that it created such a havoc…. The urine analysis showed blood and traces of albumin. Clearly the doctor was right: it was a case of renal colic. I stayed in bed in the room downstairs and Mrs. Sharma sent a peon (message) to Guruji to let him know. His son came in the lunch interval (he works in the bank opposite) and told me father wants to know what is the cause of the complaint. I told him and about five he came telling me that his father was coming in about half an hour. The car was sent for him. He came. Looking splendid as usual, all in white. And he stayed nearly until nine p.m. They all were sitting around my bed. The eldest son brought his children, but they were like little lambs, did not even move… they just stared with enormous eyes… Babu was also there. The neon lamp was shining into my eyes, I was full of dull pain, and I began to wish that Guruji should go. His presence is always difficult to bear for me physically. I get so tired, and when the body was ill it was even more difficult, could hardly endure it… but he was sitting and talking as was his usual. I looked at him and my heart was very still. Kept thinking that in the night when I was lying half-dazed and in pain… there was such love in my heart. Such peace, no fear at all. I offered my pain to Him with all my love, and that was all….

  Next day, already, I went to Bhai Sahib in the morning. Gave him thirty rupees for the transport tomorrow; we were going to the Samadhi. Stayed only half an hour. Was resting all day long and the next day was at his place with Sharma’s car. We left in two cars before eight. Sitting sideways, squeezed between his wife, children and the door, I began to think that in March ‘63 I also went to the Samadhi. I cried so much then, thinking that I never will see him again. And I prayed so much to his father, and the friendly old Saint helped me. I came back after all…. And I will pray now that nothing should remain in the heart of Hearts…. May he help me that his son should be kind to me. And suddenly I began to cry… I did not know why I was crying… it was as if my very heart was wrung out of my breast in terrible agony of pain.

  Arrived at Samadhi. I sat at my usual place opposite him. Kept crying, could not help it, could not stop, before the eyes of everybody… was just sitting and crying. It was a cool morning, as lovely as usual were the bluish distances, the cultivations, the pale morning sky. The smell of the sun-drenched Indian plains. Help me… wept my heart, and tears were running down my cheeks. Help me to become nothing… and I cried all the way back without being able to stop. The car stopped at his gate; all went out, but he came to the car window, stood still, looking distant. I cried hopelessly looking at him, not understanding why I was doing it. He nodded reassuringly, then told the driver to drive on. And I still cried when the car brought me back home to Sharma’s place. As soon as Mrs. Sharma saw me she said: “You are full of Guruji ‘s Krepa (Grace).” I thought it was a fine way of putting it. I just thought that I was full of misery….

  Next morning I went to him as usual. His wife asked me into the room. He soon came, looking very weak and severe… had his stony face. He can look very hard when he chooses to do so and usually when my heart is breaking and I want to speak to him. I asked what did happen, what was done that I had such a crying fit. Could he tell me—perhaps it may help the understanding? But he shook his head. And all the time I was speaking he was in half-Samadhi with stony face. I told him that I repeat the Name of God all the time and I can do it now. Clearly, things must be done at the proper time; when in London I could not do it constantly—such vibrations started that it was difficult and I had to stop it. Others also cannot do it, Bandhari . for instance. He, without changing his severe expression, said: “It is because they have no faith in the System; that’s why they don’t do it, and don’t understand.”

  Here was a pointer for me: I only need to listen carefully and follow to the letter; it is quite easy. It is clear: think of all the Superiors while you are doing jap; once more he is pointing, as so often, in the direction to follow….

  70 Blessing of a School

  IN THE EVENING MRS. SHARMA gave a literary party. But in the afternoon Guruji and myself were invited to a performance of Ramayana in a girls’ school in a poor district—cotton mills and mostly children of the workmen. Pandit Butchly founded it four and a half years ago. The car came to fetch me and we drove first to Bhai Sahib’s place. He was not ready; we had to wait in the garden for quite a while and it was very hot. My body felt very weak. Finally he came. The school was very far at the other end of the town. The dust on the road was frightening, whipped up by the hot wind. A large, low, red brick building—all school rooms of raw bricks, but full of air… fans in every room and dimmed light filtering through windows protected from the glare. The building stood in an empty waste ground, clouds of dust were milling and dancing about. The singing was already in progress when we arrived. We were garlanded with red roses—they smelled sweetly and fresh—and were led into the room by the head mistress, a young woman with shining eyes, dark intelligent face. We took off o
ur shoes.

  In front of a picture of Ram a large crowd of children were sitting on the floor chanting the Ramayana. It was the usual kind of Kirtan, with tabla, harmonium, and small cymbals. For a few seconds Guruji stopped at the door, with one sweeping glance took in the whole room, smiled and went to his chair… and immediately plunged into Samadhi. I saw him looking at the group of singing children with unseeing eyes. It was evident… he was blessing them all, and the school, such tenderness was in his expression. I was sitting at Guruji’s left, the photographers came, and we were photographed. I thought with amusement that, garlanded as I was, I felt like a prizecow at an exhibition. I was tremendously aware of his deep state. I had better try to look as saintly as possible I thought, as this situation seems to demand, but I don’t think that I succeeded; later, when I saw the photo, I found that I looked only old.

  Then I was asked to go and sit amongst the children; they squeezed together to make room for me, and we were photographed again. I enjoyed the atmosphere, and when I turned my head and looked at Guruji I saw him staring at me with those terrible eyes in deep Samadhi, and such light, such power was in them that I had to look away quickly.

  We were served Coca Cola as a refreshment. When I saw ice in the glasses, I asked to have my Cola without ice (knowing what treatment ice gets in India), so the ice was thrown out and the little boy who, with a flourish was opening the bottle of Cola with a small bottle-opener, had his little, very dirty, finger inside the bottle and then wiped the neck of the bottle with the hem of his shirt. I winced mentally and only prayed silently that no dysentery germs were present just then at the time….

  We went home by hired car as we came. And though I had to sit practically squeezed against him, there was not the slightest feeling of nearness… for this nearness has nothing to do with the physical vehicle ….