A few days later, something strange happened. Somebody was building a house at the foot of the hill. The coolies at work there started screaming suddenly, ‘Catch it! Kill it!’ Ammaji went out to see what was up. She learnt that the coolies had seen a huge cobra coming out from between two huge rocks and disappearing behind some other rocks.
The frightened coolies were chasing it to kill it. The local people also joined the hunt.
Baba said, ‘Man is the enemy of man, not the cobra. Many times, cobras have crawled into the cave while I have been doing intense sadhana. I just tell them gently, ‘Don’t disturb me. Please go away.’ They always obey, though some animals are as dangerous as humans and don’t go unless you threaten them. But why should these idiots want to kill a cobra that happened to crawl past them? It has not harmed anyone. This is the guru’s place. Even animals are safe.’
Baba sat with his eyes closed, absorbed in meditation for two hours. Ammaji finally came back and reported that the cobra had escaped. Baba heaved a sigh of relief. ‘Is it so easy to take a life, particularly when it has the guru’s blessings?’
He proceed to tell me a story. ‘There used to be a woman who lived in Hebbal. Once, on Shivaratri, she came to ask me to bless her grandchild, who had just been born. Her daughter-in-law was Kumbhakaran’s sister, by which I mean that no matter how loud the baby cried, she would not stir. In those days, there were not many houses in this area and there were plenty of cobras about the place.
‘While she was sitting here, I heard the screams of the baby. Through my inner vision, I was able to see that a cobra had slithered down from the ceiling and coiled itself around the cradle. It had spread its hood and was hissing. I sent my subtle body to the place and persuaded the cobra to leave. The baby was not harmed. I didn’t even tell the woman what had happened. When people come to the guru’s durbar, even their kith and kin receive the guru’s blessings.’
Many people would come to Baba in times of distress. Once their problem was sorted out, they would not return. According to Baba, this was not at all odd. He said, ‘Most people are not through-seat people. They come, sit for some time with you, collect their dues and then leave. Only one or two will stay with you in the compartment for the length of the entire journey; others will get off at their destination.
‘I am telling you all this because you’re a through-seat person. You will be with me in some form or the other throughout the journey. This information is only for you and not for the world. Never put all this into a book.’
Obviously, I have disobeyed him. But I’m sure the saint who gave protection to a cobra will look after me.
Baba was a great mine of stories and anecdotes about Bangalore, and even the local people were unfamiliar with many of these tales. He had fascinating tales about his master, Akbar Shah Quadri Wali as well as Tomato Baba and Madake Swami. He was particularly fond of a yogi called Kempe Gowda. According to Baba, Kempe Gowda was the reincarnation of Kempe Gowda, the king who founded the city of Bangalore. In this incarnation, he had made a dungheap his throne. He often said, ‘In my last life, I was in a palace; in this life, I am in the dungheap.’
Kempe Gowda would give his blessings through a volley of abuses, blows or kicks. This would happen at the most unexpected times. Oddly enough, whoever was scolded or beaten by him would soon have a stroke of good luck. So there was great competition among people to get his ‘blessings’.
Kempe Gowda’s behaviour was rather unpredictable. At times, he would just break into a hotel and eat up whatever was there to eat. Initially, irritated by his mad act, the hotel people would beat him up because he looked more like a madman than a guru. However, after these incidents, the hotel would begin to prosper. As a consequence, other hotel owners started inviting him to come and eat. But he was in the habit of going where his heart called, and did not bother to respond to these invitations.
One night, he was engaged in a spiritual conversation with Akbar Shah Quadri Wali. Suddenly, around 3 a.m., he exclaimed, ‘You bastards! Why are you killing so many people?’ He immediately rushed towards the market. In those days, the hotels in that area would open only at 6 a.m. Kempe Gowda went into one particular hotel and rushed to the kitchen. He headed straight for a huge vessel and gave it a hard kick. It tipped over and milk spilt all over the floor. The owner and the workers were horrified. Kempe Gowda shouted. ‘Come and see, you idiots!’ A huge lizard had fallen out along with the spilt milk. This was how Kempe Gowda prevented the deaths of many people who would have been served that milk the workers had been boiling.
Concluding that story, Baba said, ‘The calculations of the world and that of the guru, are different. Sometimes the guru’s behaviour may seem strange or funny but you will see the reason for it much later. Don’t pray to God for wealth or pleasures in your namaz. Pray instead for a true guru to come to you and stay with you forever. The guru takes care of his disciples like a pregnant woman carrying her unborn child. I’m telling you all this because my time is up. I dreamt the other night that a tall minar was collapsing. This body will also collapse soon. Whether you have learnt from me or not, the Guru will always be with you.’
At this point, I want to talk briefly about Ammaji and how she and her son came to live with Baba. By the time I met Baba, Ammaji had been living with him for about two decades.
Many years ago, Ammaji had wanted to become Baba’s disciple but her husband would not let her leave him; he was outraged that she should even consider such a thing. He soon died in an accident. Their daughters were married and living in different parts of the city, so when she became a widow, Ammaji started living in the cave with her youngest child, Mahmood.
Since his wife’s death, Baba had cooked his own food. He used to say, ‘Shivayogis cannot eat food cooked by just anyone.’ But Baba allowed Ammaji to cook for him, and he loved her cooking. He used to say that her sambhar was ‘framous’, by which he meant it was very good.
Mahmood was a little slow mentally but helped his mother with the cooking and washing. One day, I had exam duty at 9 a.m. at the college. However, since early that morning, I had been hearing Baba call me. I wanted to finish my exam duty and go to him. I happened to be five minutes late reaching the college, so the exam duty was assigned to someone else. I immediately took a bus to Hebbal.
Baba was waiting for me outside the cave. He said, ‘So you got my telegram? I was sending you a message to come soon. Mahmood left the world this morning.’
Mahmood’s body lay in one corner of the cave covered with a white sheet. He had not even been ill.
Baba said, ‘As you know, he was God intoxicated. He got the call three days ago. He kept telling us, “Shiva is calling me.” After eating his dinner last night, he complained of pain in the chest. In a few moments, he was gone.’
I had seen Mahmood laughing and talking to himself very often. Even now, I could hear him chanting, ‘Ya Allah, Shiva Shiva!’
Baba needed money to spend on the funeral. I went to the bank and arranged the money for Mahmood. And so it was that Shiva’s innocent devotee passed away.
Baba had the ability to surprise me often, but one day I was rather taken aback when he said, ‘I want you to convert to my religion.’ I was not ready for this. I hated all organized religions. Though I didn’t feel like refusing him, I knew that this would not happen.
The reason Baba wanted me to convert was because he believed that a new convert to Islam would reach greater spiritual heights than one born a Muslim. Though he was highly evolved, he did have several superstitions like this one. He also believed that there could be no liberation without marriage for unless a man exhausted his debts to the women in his life, he could not be free.
When I encountered his superstitions, I sometimes questioned his spiritual abilities. It took me many years to realize that one’s inner evolution does not always correspond to one’s intellectual growth.
Evolved beings can become rather pliable in the hands of manipulative or selfish peo
ple because they are pure and innocent, and vulnerable as a result. I had seen how a vegetable vendor from Gangenahalli used to exploit Baba. Whenever he got to know that Baba had received some money, he would come and start weeping. He would spin stories about the debts he had or how his wife and children were starving. Baba would believe him and give him money. Yet, Baba’s innocence and superstitions gave his profound spiritual wisdom a certain humanness.
To come back to the matter of my conversion, there were only three days to go when I dreamt about Swami Satyananda, my kriya yoga guru. In the dream, I asked him about the conversion. He pointed to a huge book in front of us and asked me to open a page at random. I did, and saw a sentence printed in large red capital letters on that page. It directed me to find all solutions within myself. The message was clear.
A day before the conversion, I went to the cave to ask Baba what time I should reach the next day. He sighed. ‘The Guru is not letting it happen. You have already entered the inner path of marifat.’ Baba was referring to the inner dimension of spiritual practice as contrasted with sheriyat, external observances. ‘My guru tells me that you don’t need any external religion. Both Hindus and Muslims can get freedom only from the Guru and not from the temple or mosque.’
After that, Baba never mentioned conversion. He would reiterate, ‘Find all solutions within.’ He told me once that there was a colossal book in the Universe that contained everyone’s life stories, spanning all their incarnations. When permitted, he was able to access this book and get information about people. However, he cautioned me again and again that worrying about the future indicated a lack of trust in the guru.
One night, Baba and I were having dinner together. As we finished the delicious food Ammaji had prepared, he suddenly said, ‘You remember the dream I had where I saw everything being blown away? Nothing will stay forever. All these places, Gangenahalli, Sultan Palya and Hebbal were dense forests in my childhood. The tomb of Yakin Shah Wali near Vidhan Saudha was also surrounded by a forest. The forest has now disappeared and the city has replaced it. The city will also disappear one day.
‘We should focus only on what survives all these changes. This is akshara, what is indelible within one’s self. Nothing else matters. We are sitting here after a good meal. You’re smoking a cigarette and I’m smoking a beedi; even this is the Guru’s grace. In the next moment, a bomb may explode or there may be an earthquake, and everything will be destroyed. Whoever is at peace with himself, in spite of this knowledge, is the true guru. Gurus who tell you they will perform this puja or that ritual and change your destiny, are fake gurus.
‘There was a great Shivayogi among our Muslims. Her name was Rabeya Basri. It was she who was reborn as your Akka Mahadevi. She was always chanting ‘Allah-hu-Akbar’, much the same way you Lingayats chant ‘Om namah Shivaya’. Rabeya Basri only ate the alms people gave her, else she would simply fast as her guru had told her not to demand anything from people. One day she received no alms. Before she went to bed, she said, “Thank you, God.” Another beggar overheard her and found this remark very funny. He said, “What are you thanking him for?” She replied, “For his mercy that made me starve the whole day. If you say thanks only when you get food, you’re thanking the food, not the shahenshah of the Universe.” She was a true child of the Guru.’
Baba took pains to explain the concept of maya to me. In doing so, he also taught me about love. ‘What is maya? It is sleep and forgetfulness. Yoga is the opposite; it is keeping vigil. Your Bhagavadgita says that the yogi is awake when the world is asleep and the yogi is asleep when the world is awake. The day is the rule of the shaitan, when people are busy wringing each other’s necks. When they go to sleep at night, the divine powers and the great Shivayogis and walis, men of God, descend and go round the world. It’s easy to see the light at night. Open the door of your heart and let the divine lightning bolt enter. Keep waiting for this to happen.
‘There is a story of an old woman who had been living in a fort for many years. She wanted to leave but was blind and couldn’t find her way to the gate. She asked passers-by for help. They would say to her, “Sorry, we can’t accompany you. But there is an easy solution. You just walk along the wall, feeling it with your hands. The place where you don’t feel the wall with your hands is where the gate is.” Now, each time she would reach the gate, she would get distracted and take her hand off the wall. Then she would forget where she was, and would have to start her round all over again.
‘This is forgetfulness; this is sleep; this is maya. This is why we should avoid distractions and be attentive all the time. If our eyes are closed when the Guru appears, he will go away. Then we have to wait again for many lifetimes for that opportunity to return. This watchfulness, this attentiveness, is called zikr. Your Hindus call it “jagaran”.
‘We should always be awake and focused. But we cannot think of something all the time unless we love it, unless we have ishq. My mind is focused on you because I love you; your mind is focused on me because you love me. Majnu’s heart was so full of Laila that there was no place for any other thought. The story of Laila and Majnu is the story of the cosmos. It’s about the guru and the disciple, no one else. Ignorant people think that the story of Laila and Majnu is a teenage love story!
‘We cannot move ahead, not even an inch, without deep love for the guru. And the test of love is our ability to put up with suffering; we need to forget our own comforts for those we love. Majnu wandered about, starving and covered in rags; Parvati ate leaves when she was doing tapasya for Shiva.’
I was puzzled when Baba talked of absolute love. If absolute love was the aim, why was Lord Krishna so attached to Radha? He had such brotherly love for Draupadi that he did not mind turning so many Kaurava women into widows. Why was Jalaluddin Rumi, a liberated saint, completely focused on his guru, Shams of Tabreez? Even Lord Buddha, who said that the purpose of his dharma was the happiness of all beings, loved his first five disciples more than others. Jesus also had twelve special disciples.
I asked Baba for an understanding. He explained thus: ‘For a real guru, his entire life is an act of tapasya. He resonates with everything and is therefore responsible for the whole cosmos. But though he regards everyone the same way, he has a special place for his dearest children. It is important to love some people more than others for if you want to love everybody, you end up loving nobody. Love for all needs to be routed through one person or some people. Sheikh Muslih-uddin Saadi Shirazi says that before loving God, you should train yourself by loving a human being.
‘Coming back to the disciple, he is like the five pativratas (virtuous women) of the Puranas. For instance, Savitri and Anasuya worshipped their husbands as though they were gods. The disciple needs to have absolute love for his master. You as a disciple can love the cosmos only if you can have such a love for one being. For love to crystallize, it needs a specific form. We cannot love the nameless and the formless. By focusing on one, we can focus on all. If we try to grasp all directly, we can grasp nothing. Trying to love the cosmos otherwise is like trying to drive a car that is always in the reverse gear.’
After saying this Baba picked up his ektara and started singing passionately a composition by Purandara Dasa: ‘Guruvina gulamanaaguvatanaka doreyedanna mukuti…’ (Unless you become a slave of the guru, you will never get liberation…).
Sitting with Baba one morning, I noticed his tummy bulging; it seemed to be filled with gas. His appetite was poor. I was concerned about his health. Upon inquiry, he said, ‘This body may fall sooner than I think.’
Around this time, the number of people visiting the cave also dwindled.
Then someone introduced me to a rich Arab woman who had moved to India from Saudi Arabia some years ago. She had made Bangalore her home, though her ustaad lived in Saudi Arabia.
While she was fanatical about her faith, this woman did not obey the rules of her religion. She wore Western clothes, spoke mostly in English, chain-smoked and drank alcohol, which
was forbidden to pious Muslims. One day, she accompanied me to the cave. Baba welcomed her and wanted to know why she hadn’t remarried after the death of her husband. He told her that she still had to clear the debt of the senses. After learning that she had lived in Bangalore for eight years, Baba asked her why she hadn’t learnt Kannada.
She replied, ‘I know Arabic, the language of the Koran. Why should I learn another human language?’
Baba said, ‘There are many kinds of candies. Though they are all sweet, they have different flavours. You cannot taste the sweetness of the Divine directly; you have to savour it through various manifestations. There is only one sun. Its light is received everywhere but it changes its appearance according to the place and season. For instance, the scorching sun of the deserts is different from the mild sun of the high mountains; the early morning sun is less fierce than the midday sun; sunsets have different hues in different seasons and places. Nonetheless, all sunlight is an expression of the sun. Just as the sun has a million rays, there are many languages and cultures. The way we enjoy sunlight wherever we are, we should also enjoy the local language and culture.’ This became a lesson for me on unity and diversity.
Meanwhile, as the days went by, Baba’s health worsened. One day, when I returned from a long trip to north India, I found the door of the cave locked. I was gripped by a strange fear. When I went back home, Baba’s disciple Muniappa was waiting for me. Baba had been admitted to Shivaji Nagar Hospital. We dashed to him.
Baba lay on a bed with his belly swollen like a balloon, but his sense of humour was intact. He said, ‘Shivaprakash, three days ago, my guru appeared in a dream. I asked him, “Why are you putting me through all this trouble?” My guru pointed to the huge curls of smoke that were rising into the air, as if from a railway engine. I asked, “What train is it?” The guru said, “It’s not the engine smoke. It’s the smoke of all the ganja you have been consuming! You have to pay for it.”’
Everyday Yogi Page 9