Master of Testing, Caring, and Hocus Pocus

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: I’ve 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 mind—the omnipresent, omniscient, omnipotent Guru is in my heart. I don’t 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 I’m already the “Melbourne Regional Secretary”. It comes as a bit of a surprise; I imagined my posting would be in Africa or Asia. But that’s 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 “normal” 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 orange color represents fire: the fire of sacrifice.

Baba promises His support

Today Dada Ramananda, Baba’s 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, “Whenever Ramanandaji arrives, even if it is in the midnight, he must immediately come to me.”

When Ramanandaji came to the function, he was told to go to Baba’s 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, “Don’t disturb me right now. You sit in the corner.” So Ramanandaji was put on his guard for an unpleasant experience.

When Baba sat down. He said to Dada, “Okay, now you call all the Margis and wholetimers who are near.”

Ramanandaji thought, “Baba will give me punishment in front of others.” 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. “In my pocket is my wallet. Give it to me.”

Baba took out ten 100-rupee notes, saying, “Ramananda, 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.”

Ramanandaji happily accepted the money, but did not use it, because he felt those notes were something very special, having come from Baba’s hand. He had never before (or after) seen Baba handling money. Anyway, from that moment, donations came in a large flow.

and he increased the flood relief work such that many thousands were served every day.

[ Author’s note: Years later, I mentioned this incident to Ramanan-daji, 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. It’s good medicine for whatever remains of my spoiled suburban syndrome.

The house where I’m living is in South End Park, and it’s special because Baba often stayed here. I suppose it is also a little cleaner than the average, but it’s hard to say for sure, owing to the dim lighting, which I can’t 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 I’d met once before. Thin and pale, he stood on the doorstep seemingly uncertain whether to enter or not.

“Well, come in,” I said, “and get out of the sun.”

Suddenly his knees crumbled, and he was lying at my feet.

“Dadaji!”

But he didn’t 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.

“Dadaji, Dadaji,” the boy cried as he rubbed the Dada’s 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.

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.

“I must have fainted,” he said weakly. “I’ll go find a doctor,” I said.

“No, don’t do that. I think it was just something I ate, or didn’t eat. Too much work to do today.” He struggled to stand up.

“Dadaji, you need a doctor. Please rest,” 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.