A beggar's life

Because of my positive mental outlook, my health has improved greatly.

I still suffer from dysentery and hepatitis. Most of my stomach pain is gone and I can stand up comfortably.

My sense of humor hasn’t fully returned, but at least I can be pleasant with the other trainees.

Until now I couldn’t do one part of the training due to my ill health: Sadhana piitha training (SPT).

Sadhana means spiritual effort. Piitha means a point which is spiritually charged (like the special meditation spots in Ananda Nagar).

SPT is an exercise in poverty, silence and begging which each trainee undergoes for at least 1 week. The temporary identification with the poorest of the poor is said to beam illuminating power point for spiritual realization.

The trainers were afraid I would collapse if I did.

But I felt that it would strengthen me. Yesterday they reluctantly consented, and today my SPT began.

I use only 2 large pieces of white cotton for clothing. One I tie on like a loose skirt.

The other piece, draped around my upper body, doubles as a bag for collecting vegetables whenever I go out begging.

Deprived of soap, comb, toothbrush and paste, I use ash, dirt and water to clean my body, and twigs from the neem tree to clean my teeth.

The greatest difficulty is the lack of shoes or sandals, because the road is blistering hot.

Each morning I go from door to door, begging for vegetables and flour.

I utter only 4 words: Hari aum tat sat, meaning “The original cosmic Word of God is That unchanging Truth”.

I may speak these words 3 times to any person.

If someone should repeatedly insist that I provide a justification, I may explain.

But after that I may not accept any donation from him. Generally, 2 hours of begging is sufficient.

From the money I receive, I buy a small clay cooking pot and a bit of cow dung for fuel.

Whatever remains is turned over to the trainers. I cook only those foodstuffs which are directly donated.

The experience is difficult, but I don’t care.

I am pleased that I am finally allowed to do it.

A week later, my final day of SPT.

While taking off and burning my beggar’s dress, one thought pounded over and over in my brain: I must not forget the difficulties of our brothers and sisters who live like this.

The work for society’s upliftment is meaningless unless those who are lowest rise up.

I’m more confident now of being able to accept any difficulties due to catastrophes.

Ironically, the exercise was exactly what my body needed.

My diseases go on, but the walking has given me energy which I lacked the last 2 months.

Because of the silence and simple life style, meditation is also stronger.

All SPT trainees complain that the streets burn their feet. But I didn’t feel the slightest trouble.

I remember the incident of one brother said to our guru:

Devotee

Baba, I am weak. Please give me more power so that I may better do Your work.

Baba

There’s no need to ask. First use up whatever power you’ve got.

Then you can be sure the Supreme Consciousness will grant you more.

When your tractor is so broken it can no longer be refueled. He will give you a new tractor.

The force of sweetness

It was announced today that the 4 westerners plus a few other trainees will soon commence “field training”.

We will leave the training center for about one week. Each of us will travel to a different city to hold lectures and meetings on meditation and yoga for the general public.

When I heard the news, the first thought to pop in my mind was. Finally, a chance to get some sweets!

I know I should not think of such things. But the idea of sweets keeps coming and coming.

Truthfully, I’m not really trying to control my mind, because I enjoy thinking of the sweets.

I wonder if such crude thinking is common for people undergoing intense yogic training.

My field training is in Mokamo, a city of about 100,000 people.

It is a half-day’s train ride from Benares. Ananda Marga has a large group of active members here.

When I arrived at the station, I was met by the local Ananda Marga leader, Madhusudan, which is an ancient name of Lord Krishna.

Everyone calls him “Madhu” for short, which means “sweet” or “honey”.

I found this an intriguing coincidence, considering my intense longing for sweets.

Before starting a tight schedule of lectures, Madhu wanted to introduce me to some of the leading Margis in the city.

First he took me to the house of a high school teacher.

As soon as we entered, the man jumped up and said, “I shan’t be a minute. Take rest please, and I’ll be right back.”

When he returned he was holding a small cardboard box, which he placed on the table in front of me.

“Open it,” he said, “and please enjoy the contents.”

The box was full of burfi—expensive milk-sweets! I was so excited.

Pretending to be calm, I first offered the sweets to the teacher and to Madhu.

Madhu said, “Oh, no no no. These are just for you.”

He added in a soft voice so that the teacher would not hear him, “And it is better that you eat them all, otherwise he may be offended.”

I nodded, maintaining my composure, but I was internally thrilled and delighted. Within 5 minutes I finished the box— about a half kilogram.

After some short discussion, Madhu and I left for the house of another Margi, a police officer.

When he saw us, he also stood up and asked us to wait a moment for him. Like the teacher, he returned with a cardboard box and opened it for me.

It contained gulab jaman— slightly different but equally rich milk sweets.

“Am I dreaming?” I thought. Again they refused to accept any for themselves, and I was compelled to eat everything.

Now I felt totally satisfied.

We went to another Margi’s house and the same sequence of events!

Another half kilogram of milk sweets. Too much! But again their custom forced me to finish it.

“Baba, what are you doing to me?”

Now I felt a bit ill, with a heavy stomach and a hyped-up, sugar-stimulated nervous system.

We went to another Margi’s house where I was offered my fourth box of milk sweets.

“I can’t possibly eat it,” I whispered to Madhu.

“But you must.” he hissed. “Don’t cause any embarrassment.”

Strange how biting his tone seemed to be. almost heartless, as if he knew that I had been improperly desiring these sweets, and now must pay the price.

But I hadn’t mentioned these thoughts to anyone.

Slowly I forced myself to eat those sweets also. I felt like vomiting.

After this visit, he insisted we go to another house, but I refused point-blank.

In the future, I must try to avoid concentrating on any crude desires. It seems that meditation causes their manifestation.