Went to Bhai Sahib who sat already in the garden. Last night told Mrs. Sharma that I have found something and will be going. She was clearly relieved. The first guests are already arriving for the wedding.
At half-past-eight went to Nigam Sahib, and he, his wife and myself went to see the room. And where was it? At Mrs. Scott’s where I lived before I came to stay with Mrs. Ghose last time when I was in India. Not the same room I had then, next to it, smaller. It was newly built, the cement not quite dry, and consequently not yet white-washed. I took it and was grateful… had no alternative.
Returned to the Sharmas… she was so pleased that she offered me the car. And by 10:30 I was out. Had tea for lunch at Guruji’s place; brought some bread and butter. And in the evening made for myself some potatoes, and parval (a kind of small gourd). What a blessing to have food without chillies!
29th April
OH, THE NIGHT OF NIGHTMARE, the fan humming its maddening song, all closed in in an ovenhot cement box! For the room was that: a cement box… one door and one window opening into a crowded courtyard… the courtyard so small full of sleeping people…
The sheet under me wet with perspiration… like lying in a pool of steaming water… Had to borrow from Guruji’s eldest son fifty rupees—had no money at all. Because I did not sleep all night, I was tired and listless in the morning.
30th April
DO NOT SLEEP. Sweating. Ovenhot, hot, hot, hot… could not do even jap properly, such was the suffering of the body. At Guruji’s place: unsang and unnoticed.
“You came here to suffer; so suffer…,“he said yesterday when we were discussing the money question. And he said it softly, his eyes full of compassion, dark and sorrowful….
1st May
WHEN I CAME AND WAS WALKlNG towards my usual place, I saw that he was in deep Samadhi. When I was a few yards from him, he opened his eyes and stared at me approaching. When he is like this, he does not see the physical body but something else. He raised his hand in automatic gesture acknowledging my deep salute, staring at me all the time… and closed his eyes. I sat down spellbound; what an expression his face assumes! Soft are the lips, tender the face.
Deepest peace. A face not human in its infinite, eternal, loveliness…. Suddenly it seemed to me that this is the face he will have when he is dead… pale, tender, the nostrils whitish, transparent.
And peace eternal, mirrored in the countenance of his features… and my heart felt small and sad….
He talked much with his wife who kept interrupting his deep state.
With his children. With Meva Ram who came later. And I prayed and did jap. And just looked at him, grateful to be able to see this perfection which one does not usually see in this world, even if I was unnoticed and seemingly completley forgotten…. My heart was sad but full of peace.
At one moment he got up and, still in Samadhi, began to walk up and down in the garden. He had a most beautiful ankle-long kurta of transparent cotton with embroidered stripes on the shoulders and around the armholes and also down the front, and a simple white longhi. Tall, emaciated, he looked like a priest belonging to some ancient rite of long ago. And the face so pale, transparent, not of this world….
In the afternoon I sat alone in the darkened room; he was having a game of cards with his wife in the courtyard. Suddenly he came in and lay down on the tachat. I felt a slight surprise; he never came in like this for my sake alone. Then a great activity in the heart Chakra began. Aha! I thought. Something is being done! He was lying on his back, the eyes closed. I was listening to the somersaults of my heart… the soft hum of the fan, noises from the street. In the room was great stillness and peace. Then he got up and, as quickly as he came, he went out. Not once he glanced at me and not a word was exchanged.
2nd May
DOLLY CAME TO HIM in the morning. She wanted a male child; she was ten weeks pregnant. She came at seven a.m. He made her wait for a long time, talking to people, and in the meantime coming and going in and out. Then about nine her car came to fetch her. He called her into the next room. I hoped to see something, got up and peeped inbetween the door and the curtain. He came into the room to take his towel, saw me standing and, going back, drew the curtain in a way that I could not see anything. I felt hurt and humiliated. The room was made dark, Dolly told me later; he made her lie down, put his towel over her navel and made some passes over it; it seemed to her that he outlined the shape of the baby. His wife was present; she was sitting in the corner. That was all. Then he told her that all should go well now… it will be a boy.
Next day I told him that Mr. Sharma did a bad service to his daughter by telling her that it was all humbug and most unscientific.
He shook his head thoughtfully.
“Faith is needed. If she has no faith, it will be a female child.
Divine Power is not magic; for magic no faith is needed. Also with the Divine Power it can he done if there is no faith, but one has to come down. And why should one come down?”
I said that at the beginning of the training he also must come down to the level of the disciple and he said:
“This is for spiritual purposes and it is not difficult. But for worldly purposes, why should one come down? Sometimes people do. Why? Because they want to serve the public. My Rev. Guru Maharaj sometimes said: ‘Yes? There is no faith? But I wish it to be and it will be!’ Money is never charged for a thing like that. Divine Power can never be sold. Clairvoyance is a worldly power. Magic is.
Yantras have to do in part with the Divine Power. Also NEVER can money be charged for it. It is a service free for all. Yogic Powers, as a rule, also are not a Divine Power. They can be acquired by Yogic practices and will power. Divine Power is a Grace given through a Great Man of the time, who belongs to Param Para. There are not many in the world who can claim that….
“So if she has no faith, it will be a girl.… “He was silent for a while; and then with a beautiful smile: “But she has faith; it will be all right…. “
He came out in a singlet and blue and white chequered longhi.
There was laughter in his eyes. He began to walk up and down.
I slept on the roof with all the members of the Scott family; it is infinitely better than in the room. Just the sky above, ventilation, and it becomes cold towards morning; one even needs a light blanket.
Saw the dawn rising. The street below looked romantic in the bluish semi-darkness before the dawn, the street lamps still on and the sky just getting rosy. I looked in the direction of Guruji’s bungalow; it is quite near from here, hardly five minutes to the east. There was great peace. The atmosphere is much better here in spite of so many people living crowded together. They are a large family, Mr. and Mrs. Scott, their sons and daughters all married with children. They are Christian Indians, like Mrs. Ghose. They will have their worries and problems, of course, and they seem to quarrel too, but it is all far away from me. Here is no atmosphere of suspicion created by the minds of those where I stayed previously. Even the servants were resentful. Here are no servants. It affected me so much, and though the physical conditions are here much more difficult, in every other way it is easier for me. I told him so and he smiled and agreed.
DREAM: I was walking towards him; he was talking to a man. How kind he can look when talking to others, I was thinking with some sadness. Then I saw him lying on the naked earth and I knelt beside him. His body was buried in the earth; the ground was completely level; none of his limbs was showing above—they were hidden underneath. Only his head was above the ground and he was small of stature, had no beard and delicate Chinese features. How beautiful he looked even like that!
“But who put you here into the wet mud!” I exclaimed. “You will get ill and catch your death!”
“It is entirely my own responsibility,” he answered, suddenly sitting up, “I alone am responsible for that!”
Waking up I thought that they will give him plenty of hot water to wash all this mud down. That was all.
&nb
sp; When he came out, only Sageji was there. I asked if I could tell him my dream. His face was aloof and severe; he nodded gravely. Told him how this dream disturbed me and filled me with a kind of fear, and that I hoped he would tell me the meaning. But he made an indefinite gesture as if to say, who knows? and went into Samadhi.
He remained in this state until 9:30. People came, sat there quietly.
I went to the market for a moment, came back; he was still sitting in Samadhi. How unearthly he looked…. After ten the Vippins came and he began to talk with them. They soon left and I asked permission to go home too, said that I was disturbed because of the dream and felt like fainting all the time. Must be something wrong with my nervous system.
“What?”
I repeated.
“Some dreams have no meaning; why be disturbed because of a dream?”
I left rather puzzled… didn’t he say some time ago that dreams have ALWAYS a meaning?
SOME SAYINGS:
“Help is always given to the human being; we humans are always surrounded unknowingly by the Help of God. The question is to realize it; when it is not known, it is of not much use…. “
“The rose does not say: I am fragrant. The fragrance reveals itself; it is its very nature. The God-Realized Man will never say: I realized God; it is NEVER done. All he needs to do is just to be. His very being will reveal what he is…. “
When I told him that I cannot remain standing when lecturing he said:
“I also cannot stand. I can speak extemporary for hours when seated. But standing is troublesome for me…. “
“You don’t get the Beloved with smiles; you get the Beloved with tears…. ” (Persian couplet).
“If He wants to give you something and you don’t want to accept it, you will have to accept it through whipping” (Hafiz).
“If you want to know the secret of bravery, you must learn from the mosquito; it makes a sound before it bites” (Persian saying).
“Sing not the song the others have sung; sing what you yourself have realized in your heart. And it takes only a great man to break a wild wicked horse.” (I think the wild horse was supposed to be me; he sang this couplet to us after he conquered one of my acts of rebellion.)
“When the Master makes the Disciple like himself, he takes a deep dip and the Disciple not so deep…. The Ocean is limitless; by and by the Disciple learns how to go deeper… by and by…. “
(Thinking it over, I am sure it is a hint. He is referring here to the state of Dhyana. He never does a thing without giving a hint. One can follow the steps the training will take by noticing the hints he periodically gives in advance.)
“When you remember Him every moment of the day and don’t forget Him even for one second, then you are there, you have arrived…. “
“The three doors of Maya: Money, Sex, Property…. And still there are people who live in the world but are free from all those things. Only apparently they seem to be subjected to Maya. And to know that they are not, one has to remain in their presence for a long time; only then one comes to know and understand.”
“Cruel to you? Unjust? Why do you say so?I am never cruel, never unjust. It is your mind which makes you see so…. I change my mood, that is all. When I seem cruel, I am most kind to you….
You see it crooked. That’s why you speak so. When people come to me I am always polite. Otherwise they will say: we come to him and he injures our feelings. I change the mood; this is another matter.
And it is done for some extraordinary training. But cruelty? No! A Saint cannot be cruel! Never!”
73 The Test of Hunger
5th May, 1966
UNSUNG AND UNNOTICED… and I must admit that I admire the control he has over his eyes…. I was sitting opposite him in the room; he was lying on the tachat facing me; I was scarcely three feet away from him. Not even once, not even by mistake did he happen to glance at me… it is very difficult. How often had I decided not to look at somebody in the audience when lecturing, but for some reason my eyes wandered there to my annoyance…. I was often quite angry with myself because I did not remember to be careful.
But it never happens to him. Even if I sit in front of his very nose, so to say….
He does not speak to me. Nor does he ask about my financial situation. On Monday after having spent two rupees and four annas on the rikshaw—I had to bring the fan from Mall Road, he wanted his fan to be serviced, and one rupee was bad which was given to me in a shop—four rupees remained. Today is Thursday; I still live on those four rupees, and it looks as if I will go on living on them if the money does not arrive tomorrow.
There was a question of me touching the water jar without taking off my shoes. He remarked on it rather severely and then began to tell me off when I took some water for drinking. I was puzzled. “But I did not come with my shoes even near the jar!” I protested. Could not understand what sort of hygiene it is when the servant, when he fills the jars, keeps his dirty fingers in it… but I cannot have a glass of water standing as far as possible and not touching even the brim.
“This is our Aryan culture,” he declared, throwing a card on the table. I saw that even his wife gave him a disapproving look and made an impatient gesture. Even she seemed to think that he was too hard on me. They were playing cards, as usual, in the afternoon at this time of the year.
In the evening I told him that I will come later, tomorrow, because I have to go to the Sharmas to see if the registered letter is there.
“And if not?”
“Then I will have to go another time, later.”
Stretching himself comfortably on the tachat in the garden—it has all been watered for it was dreadfully hot—he began to talk to me kindly. I came nearer to him on an empty chair and told him how lately I have strange feelings when I am with him or even just thinking of him.
“And what precisely are those?” He was drawing the words out, ironically. Told him that it becomes more and more difficult to look at him. I have a sinking feeling in the stomach and feel like fainting… it is a kind of not-being, very bewildering….
“This is quite good,” he said slowly, “it is rather very good, it is…. “He stopped and sat up.
“It is excellent,” I mentally completed his thought.
And he began to talk to me for one and a half hours. On the importance of time. On wasting the time. Who wastes time? Those who don’t catch the thread, or those who love not.
“If you have adverse ideas, what happens? The thread is cut completely. Even if the wiring is in order and the bulbs are good, the connection with the Power House is cut.”
I tried to explain some states I am in lately, but the mind was void. I stammered and could not formulate the sentences properly. And he talked about so many things….
“Did you get the idea?” he kept asking. At that moment it seemed to me that I got it and said so, but already at home in bed, when I tried to remember, I could not.
“If a golden chair is put on auction, what happens? People will bid for it, and whoever offers the highest price will get it.” He was alluding to the training, of course.
“When you are before the audience, you are the master, you are the sun—nobody can shine before you. Before my own Guru I was an idiot,” he smiled, looking at me closely.
I complained that I cannot speak and cannot think two coherent thoughts in his presence, and he laughed.
I know he gave me a few hints, but I don’t remember them….
6th May
WENT TO THE SHARMAS IN THE MORNING, but the letter was not there.
She promised to send it with the peon to Guruji if it should arrive.
Sat there alone till ten a.m. Bhai Sahib was in the room talking to his tenant… asked his permission to come in and sit under the fan.
It was so hot already. They all went out and Guruji went inside. But soon he came back and sat on the tachat. I felt the pleasure of the cool air on my skin and sat there in stillness and peace.
; “No letter?” he asked after a long while. For a while we talked about the Sharmas and things of not much importance. Again I attempted to express what I felt.
“Bewildering. This perhaps is the best definition of it. Rumi describes some sort of bewilderment, but it seems of a different kind than this one. The mind does not understand. It seems to be gasping and gets hold of this and that like a drowning man. It is the nearest state to dissolution. And after all you are a human being (true, to me you never were a human being, but something much more )—still you look like a human being and behave like one. Why I should feel like this before you is beyond my understanding.”
All the while I was speaking in disconnected hesitant sentences, he kept nodding quietly. And suddenly I knew that I am not afraid because somewhere he is holding me…. I should have fear, but I have not because there is faith. Dissolution, non-being, is death for the mind. The mind should be afraid, but it is not… strangely enough….
Then the wife came. Then Tasseldar came but soon went, and he told me to close the door and the windows which I did. He turned his face to the wall and went into Samadhi. And watching him closely I saw that he did not breathe. Then I remembered that he said lately that breathing sometimes disturbs and prevents one from going into a deep state.
“So I simply stop it. It is called Ghat Pranayam, the ‘inward breathing.’ I sometimes don’t breathe for hours. The heart goes on beating….”
Still was the room… a Yogi in deep Samadhi… and I, mindless, bewildered, but full of great peace….
“Yes?” he said suddenly, sitting up and turning to me: “Please, open the door!” As I went to do so, thinking that he probably heard somebody outside (though I did not hear anything), he said: “Collector Sahib.” But nobody was outside. I went out, looked around; empty chairs stood in semicircle in the sun.
“The garden is empty, nobody is here,” I said returning. He sat crosslegged, blinking in the light which came through the open door. At this moment a car stopped; Collector Sahib got out. I laughed.
“You knew it before it happened,” I said.
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