Changing into something more comfortable
Patna. 1973. At last, my training is finished! That which was said to be impossible without meeting Baba finally happened: Iíve become an acharya. Of course simultaneous with being pleased at proving the impossible to be possible, I still carry in my breast the unfulfilled wish to be with Him physically. Well, never mindóthe omnipresent, omniscient, omnipotent Guru is in my heart. I donít need to meet Him.
Anyway, my feet have been itching to get on the road where I can get into some real service and spiritual adventures.
And where will that be? The answer also came today: Australia.
Officially Iím already the ìMelbourne Regional Secretaryî. It comes as a bit of a surprise; I imagined my posting would be in Africa or
Asia. But thatís fine with me. Anywhere will be a relief from this training which overtaxed my patience. It will simply be a different sort of
challenge than I expected.
I should add that replacing my civilian clothes with an orange turban, and orange and white robes has given me inexpressible satisfaction.
My robes automatically awaken within me a dynamic spiritual mood.
They feel so natural. In comparison, my civilian clothes feel like a stage-costume, worn only to play a role in the ìnormalî social drama.
This uniform also serves as a symbol, which will constantly remind me to try to serve others spiritually and socially. At the same time it announces to others: Here is someone who wants to serve you.26 THE MASTER OF TESTING, CARING AND HOCUS-POCUS
90 TRAVELS WITH THE MYSTIC MASTER
Baba promises His support
Today Dada Ramananda, Babaís personal assistant, told me a beautiful story. It happened about two years ago, before Baba was in jail.
At that time, hundreds of thousands of people were suffering from
floods. Baba sent Ramanandaji to serve the people. Dada had no resources, so he appealed to the Margis for support. They made a team
which provided daily food for about 500 people. He felt those benefited were like a small drop in the ocean of suffering, and so he constantly worried about how to increase his service.
After a few days, a big spiritual function was held by Baba.
Ramanandaji did not want to leave the suffering people, so he was the only Dada who did not attend. Baba sent someone to fetch Dada. He also informed His assistant, ìWhenever Ramanandaji arrives, even if it is in the midnight, he must immediately come to me.î
When Ramanandaji came to the function, he was told to go to Babaís room. He was nervous that Baba would be angry and punish him due to so little service.
On entering the room, Dada found Baba pacing back and forth.
Baba spoke to him using a strict tone, ìDonít disturb me right now.
You sit in the corner.î So Ramanandaji was put on his guard for an unpleasant experience.
When Baba sat down, He said to Dada, ìOkay, now you call all the
Margis and wholetimers who are near.î
Ramanandaji thought, ìBaba will give me punishment in front of others.î Dada brought about ten people only.
Then Baba, who was wearing His undershirt, told Dada to bring
His shirt. Apparently so that He could further formalize the punishment.
Baba said, ìIn my pocket is my wallet. Give it to me.î
Baba took out ten 100-rupee notes, saying, ìRamananda, this is my physical help for your relief work. I know what you were thinking. But you should not worry. Whoever serves suffering humanity without thought of getting the slightest personal return has my blessing, and will get everything needed for doing that service. It is my promise.î Ramanandaji happily accepted the money, but did not use it, because he felt those notes were something very special, having come
from Babaís hand. He had never before (or after) seen Baba handling money. Anyway, from that moment, donations came in a large flow, 91and he increased the flood relief work such that many thousands were served every day.
[Authorís note: Years later, I mentioned this incident to Ramanandaji, and asked him if he still had the notes. He told me that when the
accident happened in Bhopal causing the greatest leak of gas ever experienced in India, he went there and used that 1000 rupees to purchase
the food for those people in the critical ward of the temporary hospital. All of them finally survived. Many of them believed they
survived because the food had come from a monk. They never guessed the real explanation.]
Selfless determination
Calcutta. I was instructed to come to this so-called worst of cities to await my plane ticket to Sydney. It is a complicated place: overwhelming congestion, filth in almost every direction, noise, business, poverty, a smattering of modern technology, the desire for money, the desire for escape, the desire for development, and the desire to transcend it all. Itís good medicine for whatever remains of my spoiled suburban syndrome.
The house where Iím living is in South End Park, and itís special
because Baba often stayed here. I suppose it is also a little cleaner than the average, but itís hard to say for sure, owing to the dim lighting, which I canít say makes it any more quaint. Of course anywhere other than the training quarters is an upward move for me
...
During the afternoon I heard a faint knock. When I opened the door, I saw a Dada who Iíd met once before. Thin and pale, he stood on the doorstep seemingly uncertain whether to enter or not.
ìWell, come in,î I said, ìand get out of the sun.î
Suddenly his knees crumbled, and he was lying at my feet.
ìDadaji!î
But he didnít reply.
Shocked and confused, I ran inside the house to get help. I found a boy who had some sort of cleaning duty. Together we ran to the door.
ìDadaji, Dadaji,î the boy cried as he rubbed the Dadaís forehead, which was covered with sweat.
The Dada slightly opened his eyes, and then closed them again. Now I noticed he was still breathing, though irregularly.
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Together we carried him inside and I ran to get some water.
By the time I came back, the Dada was sitting up, leaning against the wall.
ìI must have fainted,î he said weakly.
ìIíll go find a doctor,î I said.
ìNo, donít do that. I think it was just something I ate, or didnít eat.
Too much work to do today.î He struggled to stand up.
ìDadaji, you need a doctor. Please rest,î I said.
But he insisted, and in a few minutes he was gone.
I felt bad for him, inspired by him, and selfish all at the same time.
Whether his behavior was right or wrong, I want to have the same selfless, determined spirit.
A little dirty money
The itch still remains to be on the move and working. On top of that, my financial situation is precarious. The office in Patna gave me only a train ticket to Calcutta and 150 rupees (about US$10). I wouldnít feel so bad spending the money at a miserly pace, but for the feeling that Iím not being properly sociable. Everyday I buy only the exact
amount of vegetables I need, then eat a modest, self-cooked meal alone, consciously ignoring most of the opportunities I have to share it with whoever else happens to be around. But if I share the little Iíve got, the money may not last until my ticket arrives. God knows when that will be. Of course, Iíve got to be practical, even if it looks a little greedy.
...
Today I was alone in the house. Everyone else was out participating in a demonstration to protest Babaís imprisonment and the persecution of Ananda Marga. About two or three thousand Margis were
there. I was instructed not to attend because I might be picked up and questioned by the police, and blacklisted from entering India.
A knock on the door (this time a solid knock). Two youths smiled at me. They were perhaps twenty years old.
The tall one said, ìNamaskar. We are Margis. May we come in?î ìOf course,î I said, happy for the company. I took them into the
main room, and we sat down on the floor (a foregone conclusion, there being no chairs in the house). We talked back and forth about our origins.
They were from a nearby village.
93
I asked them if they knew any devotional songs. They looked at each other, spoke between themselves in Bengali, and burst into a rhythmic song.
Then they asked me to sing something, which I did.
ìNow, how about some meditation?î I said.
ìYes, meditation is good,î the tall boy said.
ìFine. Iíll go for half-bath first, and then you two can do half-bath.î ìThank you.î
After about two minutes in the bathroom, I returned.
ìAh, Iím very sorry,î the tall boy said, ìbut I think we have to leave now. We did not tell our mother that we would be away so long.î ìYes, and it looks like rain,î the other said.
ìWell, thatís too bad. Canít you just stay for a short meditation?î ìNo, weíve really got to go...î
As I stood up with them, I suddenly had a thought: ìMaybe they
arenít really Margis, and they stole my money.î
We walked toward the door. I thought, ìNo, itís impossible. The
money is deep inside my bag in a secret place, and theyíd never find it in such a short time.î
They left. The thought that they might have ripped me off kept nagging me. But I thought again and again, ìI mustnít be so cynical and
negative.î
Finally, just to still my doubts, I checked my bag. My wallet was gone.
I ran to the door. Of course they were long gone, and untraceable.
ìWhat a damn fool I am! What an ignoramus!î I sat down thoroughly befuddled, bemoaning my situation. What was I to do now?
The peculiar thing is that even in the midst of this crisis I kept thinking:
ìHow intricately I calculated my food needs, hardly sharing a leaf
of spinach with anyoneóand now my little dirty money is all gone. Everyone could have nicely enjoyed together with me.î
...
On the plane to Hong Kong. In the last two days Iíve come to the conclusion that the robbery happened as another lesson to teach me to depend on Him rather than on my little self. Having no money, I was forced to depend on hand-outs.
Call it coincidence if you like, but yesterday my ticket to the Philippines arrived. There I will meet my higher authorityóthe Dada who
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94 TRAVELS WITH THE MYSTIC MASTER
will supervise my work in Australia. Without a penny in my pocket I boarded the plane. A businessman sitting next to me asked the meaning of my uniform, and that led into a long discussion about yoga.
At the end of the flight I mentioned to him that I had no money.
Without any hesitation he gave me five dollars, which was much more than the stolen money. Having been poor so long, I was elated with the first donation I ever solicited.
Big task for a small boy?
Manila, Philippines. My posting is the South Pacific Sector27 but
Iíll stay in the Philippines for a few weeks because my Sectorial Secretary is here in Manila with temporary visa complications. As I am his
only subordinate, it means I shall be working alone for some time in the South Pacific sector. If anyone were to say, ìSounds like a pretty big task for a new boyîóI would say, ìIím Babaís boy. Big or small, itís all the same for me.î
...
The dysentery which I caught almost one year ago in Benares is still ravaging my intestinal system. In an effort to clean it out, Iíll be eating only raw fruits and vegetables for at least a month or two.
Urgent and unurgent matters
Iíve been working during these three days with the Southeast Asia
Sectorial Secretary, Dada Adveshananda.28 Adveshanandaji is an interesting man. He doesnít care for anything except maximum working
speed, and that too he does with a smile. A man without a system. I suppose he even races through his dreams at night.
While walking through town today with him and two local full-timers29, I said, ìExcuse me, Dadaji. Part of your turban is hanging out.î
I was running to keep up with him.
27 For organizational purposes, Ananda Marga divides the world into nine sectors. The
South Pacific includes Australia, New Zealand, Papua New Guinea, and most of the South Pacific islands.
28 Southeast Asia Sector includes the Philippines, and the rest of Southeast Asia from Thailand down to the edge of the South Pacific Sector.
29 Local full-timers are volunteers who work full time for Ananda Marga, usually for a specified period of time, and who follow a yogic discipline during that period similar to that prescribed for acharyas
95ìWhatís that you say, my little one?î He seemed always to be thinking a hundred things at once, and one needed to be very direct to get through to him.
I repeated myself loudly in his ear.
ìAcha, I got you,î he said. He turned to one of the full-timers, saying, ìRamdas, youíve got a scissors with you, donít you?î
We were still walking in top gear. Ramdas handed over the scissors.
Adveshanandaji instantly cut off the protruding orange strip, and threw it in a garbage can as he passed. In the next moment he turned to the other full-timer to talk about an urgent matter.
Youíre the program
I asked Ramdas today to tell me something about Adveshanandaji.
He told me that Dada had worked most of his life in India. During a
one-year stint in Europe, he traveled incessantly, often passing the nights sleeping in telephone booths. During that time he initiated into meditation more than 1000 people.
He arrived in the Philippines two years before. He openly stated several times, ìMy main work here is the creation of Dadas and Didis.î One time he instructed a local full-timer to prepare to travel to a distant Philippine island to start Ananda Marga there. That full-timer spent more than a month earning sufficient money for the trip. With Dadaís permission, he went to his posting, taking two days to go there.
After arriving at the island, he found a telegram addressed to him:
ìReturn to headquarters immediately. Adveshananda.î
The full-timer returned as quickly as possible. When he entered the Manila yoga house, he ran up to Adveshanandaji.
ìDadaji, Iím here!î ìHmm. What?î
ìYour telegram ... so I came like lightning. Whatís the program?î ìAh, yes. Youíre the program. Good work.î
ìDadaji, is there some urgent work for me or...?î But it was too
late for further questions. Adveshanandaji had already turned to some other matter.
Ramdas added: ìRecently that full-timer went to training to become a Dada, so I guess it worked. Dadaji breaks our attachments left and right.î
THE MASTER OF TESTING, CARING AND HOCUS-POCUS
96 TRAVELS WITH THE MYSTIC MASTER
I asked for another example of Adveshanandaism.
Ramdas said, ìOne time about 600 Margis were collected together for an all-Philippines retreat. Two days into the program we were having a 24-hour kiirtan. About half-way through the kiirtan, Dada mounted the lecture stage, held up both of his hands and yelled, ëStop the kiirtan!í Everyone was shocked, but we stopped.
ìAdveshanandaji stood there visibly vibrated. He said, ëDharma Maha Samelan (DMS) will now be held!í Everyone was even more
shocked. Baba personally allocates His representative for this specially planned event. Of course no one had planned that this present program would be a DMS, and so, well, simply speaking, it could not be
a DMS.
ìBut there stood Adveshanandaji, his eyes closed, his hands held up. The room became totally silent, everyone filled with excitement and expectation, as we awaited the ëDMSí speech.
ìInstead of a speech, however, Adveshanandaji began speaking over and over, ëBaba, Baba, Baba...í He became louder and louder, and super intense. Then we were all yelling ëBaba! Baba!í Several Margis collapsed in samadhi30. I never felt anything so strong in my life.
ìI think about ten Margis volunteered to go for wholetimer training after that.î
Baba starts fasting
April. Word came today that Baba has begun a protest fast over the lack of inquiry into the attempt on His life in the jail by Indira Gandhiís government. At present He is taking only two small glasses of orange juice per day. 31
30Samadhi means a state of complete absorption. There are many kinds of samadhi depending on the psycho-spiritual level of the person. In the higher forms of samadhi, one feels oneness with the Cosmic Mind, or an all-consuming devotion for God or Guru.
31 In February of 1973 the prison doctor administered Baba a strong dose of poison which he had passed off as a special ìmedicineî. Baba temporarily lost consciousness and when He awoke, He was blind, His brain seared with pain. This condition lasted for several days, after which He partially regained His sight. Babaís vision remained somewhat impaired until the end of His life. The doctor, who was certainly hired for this nasty work by higher officials of the Indira Gandhi government, soon afterwards gave up his profession, but this did not save him from becoming permanently paralyzed in the same hand by which he gave the poison to Baba.
97
An orchestrated accident
Sydney, Australia. Fresh, young, curious, cleanóall are qualities of this relatively new country and its people. I arrived two days ago in this world which seems open-minded to the ideas of yoga and Tantra.
Ananda Marga is a new and small group here. There are a handful of Margis in each of several cities.
I know Iím going to enjoy this country.
...
Today a letter arrived from Ramdas. He writes:
Something terrible has happened. A small accident happened in the car in which Dada Adveshananda was riding. The driver requested Dada to wait alone in the car for an hour while he assisted the passengers to go home by other means.
Shortly afterward, a man approached Dada and asked him to leave the car.
ìWhatís it to you if I sit here?î said Dada. The man walked away silently.
After a few minutes he again came back and said, ìReally, sir, I think you should move.î
ìYouíre a nonsense fellow,î Dada said. ìLeave me alone.î
And again a few minutes later he came and said, ìIím sorry to disturb you, sir, but...î
ìGet out of here!î Dada yelled. ìIf youíre sorry to disturb me, then donít disturb me.î The man left.
A few minutes later a big construction truck smashed into the car.
Dadaji was thrown out of the car, and dragged underneath the truck.
Dadaji was thrown out of the car, and dragged underneath the truck.