No need to trouble Him

Hobart. Today I delivered a general introductory lecture to the staff and students of a local high school—over 2000 people. While waiting in a separate room beforehand, I was shivering due to the chilly weather (it’s winter here) and also due to my nervousness before the talk. As usual I thought about Baba in order to calm myself.

Then a thought occurred. “Why am I troubling Baba to calm my mind? I should simply think of Baba, give my mind to Baba, let Him speak through me, and not care what He does to me.” I continued to think of Him. but without asking for anything except to be His channel.

I was alone. The vice-principal came to fetch me. Though I was perceptibly shaking, she said nothing. Then I stood before the audience, still shivering. I was determined not to ask Him for anything except the proper words. Throughout the speech I trembled like a song-bird.

Afterward, while returning to the yoga house, a full-timer who was sitting in the audience said to me, “Dada it was an excellent lecture. But there’s one thing I don’t understand…”

Now I was sure that he would criticize me for shivering.

“How could you be so perfectly calm in front of thousands of people?”

I was surprised. “Perhaps we each perceive the infinite Entity only in the way which is suitable for our own evolution. So there’s nothing to worry about.”

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He was satisfied with my answer, even though I meant something different than he understood.

The aura of His love

Perth. Today I gave a lecture to the Parapsychology Club of Perth. When I stood up in front of the audience, I had no idea what I was going to speak about. As usual I thought, “Baba, Baba, Baba…” The flow came, and I began to speak.

After the formal program was over, several people came up to meet me. One lady said, “Dada, before your lecture I was enjoying just looking at you. You had a beautiful blue aura all around your body, like I’ve never seen before. Of course you know that such blue means cosmic love.”

I casually shrugged my shoulders.

“But in the few seconds just before you started to speak, the blue light suddenly became so bright that I couldn’t tolerate it. I closed my eyes but the aura was still there. Could I ask what you were thinking about at that moment?” “I was thinking about my Guru,”

Anandamurtiji…the essence of love.

Auckland, New Zealand. I have a new posting: Wellington Regional Secretary, responsible for New Zealand. The nature of the people here seems as gentle as the sheep for which this land is so famous.

Baba admits a fraction of His knowledge

Christchurch. A newsletter arrived from India today explaining the latest developments in Baba’s court case. Here is an excerpt:

“The judge asked Baba one of his usual questions: Tn what language will you address the court?’ (In India there are forty major languages, so it is often necessary to arrange translation.) Baba replied, ‘As I know over 200 languages, I can speak in whatever language the court prefers.’ The judge was shocked by Baba’s answer, and could not speak. After waiting a few moments. Baba politely offered, ‘Perhaps it will be most convenient for the court if I speak in English: strict Oxford English.’ The judge readily agreed.”

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Though Baba’s statement was surprising, I believe it was modest. Many workers declare that He surely knows all languages. I speculate that His not admitting this vast knowledge is in accordance with His long-standing habit never to directly refer to His own omniscience. Nevertheless He spoke the truth because He said “over 200 languages.”

Nelson. There are some signs that I may soon be transferred to another region. In that light I am happy that before my going, we have succeeded to open the Nelson Sunrise Pre-school. Twelve children are already attending.

An all-violins orchestra

Nandi, Fiji Islands. 1975. Today I’m reminded of Milarepa, the great Tibetan yogi. His guru. Marpa, ordered him to wander continuously through the mountains, never staying in any place more than three days.

We Dadas are not much different. Not only do we constantly travel from city to city, but our postings can change at any moment. One day we are in New Zealand, the next—who knows? Fortunately, I enjoy this sort of life.

My posting is now Suva Regional Secretary, responsible for the Fiji Islands.

Lataoka. At night the mosquitoes are thick as pea soup. Whenever we do evening meditation I have to keep my entire body covered, including a light cloth over my head.

This evening, however, during group meditation, I became fed up with the cloth on my face. It was one problem or the other. For once, why not let the mosquitoes have their way?

After taking the firm determination not to move, I took the cloth off my head.

One mosquito landed on my nose and took his dinner. He called his friends, and they made it a party. “Hey everyone, no charge! Banquet on the nose,” they whined. They didn’t seem interested in any other part of my face.

My nose began to itch tremendously. But I refused to move. My mind flew back and forth between my meditation and the festival on my nose. The violins rose toward a crescendo, while the itch turned

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into a downright pain. I felt like a hundred party-goers in tuxedoes and black evening gowns were dancing on my pink beak.

My mantra was striking like a hammer in my head, while the pain turned into a constant throb. The human snout converted into a vibrating vermin paradise. For all I knew, it might have been flickering between red and blue like an electric clown-nose. The throbbing became so intense, tears came out of my eyes.

Suddenly two things happened simultaneously. My nose turned numb, and my concentration dropped deep within. I became oblivious—not only to my nose but to everything except the meditation.

When the meditation ended, I turned around to give a talk to everyone there.

“Oh, Dada! What happened to you?,” they exclaimed, shocked.

My nose had doubled in size.

I laughed and proceeded with the talk. 33

Tropical fever

An epidemic is sweeping the island. Now Dinkar (our local full-timer) has caught it. The symptoms are high fever and acute body pain. Many have died, and everyone requires hospitalization for at least a couple of weeks. I suggested to Dinkar that he try to cure it in a yogic way. From today he will follow a fruits-only diet, and practice certain yoga postures. Otherwise he is resting in our hut.

In only five days Dinkar was cured. I believe it could have been quicker except that he broke his diet once by eating a few biscuits. In any case, the Margis and other friends are very surprised he could overcome the disease without medicine and in such a short time.

Nandi. Now I’ve got the sickness! Today I ate only papaya. Though bed¬ rest is recommended, I am practicing yoga postures in double quantity, and keeping up with all my normal work. Of course I keep my face far away from anyone else’s to avoid contaminating them. Being

23 19 years later: The most interesting thing is that for many years after that not a single mosquito bit me on my face. In the last few years perhaps four or five mosquitoes have nibbled my face a little, but none have yet dared to prick my nose.

The Master of Testing, Caring and Hocus-Pocus 108

continually on the move makes me sometimes feel very weak, but at least it keep my mind high.

Two days later. Lataoka. Yesterday I stopped eating and only drank lemon- water. And today I observed full fast without water. I almost fainted several times while working but my mind was unaffected. Tonight the fever left me. Though I am still weak, I am sure the virus is out of my system.

One of the Margis is a newspaper editor, and he wanted to print an article about my overcoming the disease in only three days. I told him I didn’t want any publicity until my residence visa was secured.

Indira Gandhi plays her role in the cosmic drama

27 June. Recently there have been ominous developments in India. Two weeks ago the High Court in Allahabad found Prime Minister Indira Gandhi guilty of election fraud. Because it was just a matter of time before she would have been impeached and lost her Prime Ministership, yesterday she declared a federal state of emergency. Martial law was imposed. I fear the worst.

4 July. Today I received a phone call from Sydney. Yesterday Ananda Marga was banned in India. Mrs Gandhi declared twenty-six organizations to be illegal. Of these, one was Ananda Marga and twelve others were organizations directly and indirectly related to Ananda Marga, such as Renaissance Universal (a club for intellectuals) and various Prout groups. It seems that all of our institutions in India were closed, and that all of our Dadas, Didis and well-known Margis have been arrested. Our Central Office is being shifted to Katmandu, Nepal, with an assistant Central Office in Denver, USA.

My own reaction is mixed. On one hand I’m horrified. Many of my brothers and sisters may have to suffer severely. Perhaps some will even die before this episode is finished. But at the same time I feel the banning was inevitable, and will eventually turn to our advantage. Surely it is a part of Baba’s planning. Ananda Marga is a revolutionary movement, albeit a peaceful one and the corrupt will not give up their power without a fight.

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Furthermore, Tantrics must be able to undergo any sort of trial. And nothing teaches better than direct experience.

That’s why I remain not only optimistic, but am, indeed, positively inspired by these events.

Money: a mere game for Him

Nandi. No matter what happens in India, our normal work everywhere else must continue.

Whenever Dinkar and I run out of money here, we are unable to look to the Margis for assistance because most of them are very poor. So we resort to taking the rounds of the shops, requesting donations. The shopkeepers usually each give a dollar or so.

Today when we entered the city center, imagining how our piggy bank would soon be bulging, a shopkeeper approached and said:

“Please don’t mind my words. Haven’t you noticed that many of the merchants have started to avoid you?”

“Do you mean…?”

“Yes,” he said, “they’re tired of giving you donations.”

I thanked him, and he left us.

Both Dinkar and I were stunned.

“The last thing we want to do is offend them,” he said.

“Sure. From this moment we won’t ask a dime from them.”

“Then how will we exist?”

“That’s Baba’s problem. We just have to do the work.”

There was an uneasy silence between us. Then I exasperated Dinkar further by saying, “And today’s the day we have to send our monthly five dollars to the sectorial office in Sydney. It’s our duty, and no matter what our own situation, we must send the money.”

“But we’ll then be really stranded!” he said.

“From my side I’m going to send $2.50,” I said.

“Well… I tnink we better save my $2.50 for emergencies,” he said.

“Suit yourself.”

Half an hour later when we got to the post office he had changed his mind and we sent the whole five dollars.

We have $4.20 remaining which we’ve decided to use only on bus fares and other organizational expenses. And there is no food in our little hut, isolated halfway between Nandi and Lataoka.

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Two days later. Having not eaten since yesterday noon, we visited our only relatively wealthy supporter, Senator Sharma. He was kind enough to donate large sacks of rice and potatoes.

Four days later. In our hut in the countryside between Nandi and Lataoka. I was working on an article for our first newsletter when Dinkar interrupted me. “Dadaji, do you expect the money to simply fall from the sky?” He was feeling desperate, with only $2.60 in the cigar box.

“Maybe. It’s up to Baba how He wants to solve this problem. I’m not worried.” The truth was, I was also getting pretty tired of our starchy diet. When would this test end?

Ten minutes passed as we worked in silence. My mind drifted to Baba. Suddenly a thought entered: Sell advertising in the newsletter.

I told Dinkar. He was skeptical. I said, “It was not my idea. I’m sure Baba put this thought in my head, so I’m sure it will work.”

Within five minutes we made the plan: first we’ll quickly finish and print ten sample copies. These will be shown to prospective advertisers. The ads will be in their own separate section at the end. Dinkar can also draw illustrations upon order. We’ll tell our clients that five hundred copies will be printed.

Five days later. Baba’s advertising scheme was successful far beyond our expectations. We made enough money to fully support us for the next few months and even pay for our plane tickets back to New Zealand when our visas expire.

We have the duty to work as sincerely as possible. And He has the duty to provide the means for getting it done. Sometimes with a dab of extra whipped cream on top!

My will against His

Wellington. Our visas expired in Fiji, so we are back in New Zealand.

We are receiving reports verifying that all of our workers and outstanding Margis in India are either in jail or in hiding. I continue my work, confident that everything will happen according to His wish.

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Christchurch. On the bus today I thought, “What is the use of working like this unless I can see Baba? If I can’t see Him in India, then I’ve got to make Him come here… I’ll fast until He comes to me. I know He’s got the mystic power, and if He wants to use it, He can easily do so.” So I stopped eating or drinking from that moment. If I die or get sick it’s His fault. I have every right to see Him.

But I will continue all my normal work, and not tell anyone. If my higher authority comes to know, he might order me to stop the fast, and I would be compelled to comply.

Nelson. The first day was a normal fast. But the second day was heavy. Today, my third day, the body seems to have adjusted a bit, and it’s not so bad. Of course I’m damn thirsty. Anyway it’s no problem for me. Let the suffering come, let sickness come—it will just speed up His coming to me.

Auckland. Fifth day of the fast. Baba’s very clever. The more I want to suffer, the more He protects me. Five days now without water or food. Some people would have died by now but I don’t feel bad at all. It’s impossible.

Though my body’s okay, my mind is wild with thirst. I’ve been having uncontrollable visions of waterfalls during meditation.

What’s He doing? Why doesn’t He come?

Anyway I’ll fast to death if He refuses me. That will teach Him nicely not to play with me.

Due to my traveling, nobody knows I’ve been fasting so long. Everywhere I go, the Margis think that I’m doing only a one or two-day fast.

Wellington. Eight days now. You’ll be in big trouble. Lord, if I die. It will cause all sorts of complications here, and I don’t care. You’re to blame.

You have to come and see me.

But there’s one problem: I’m not suffering enough. Though my head constantly hurts and all the parts of my body have shrunk, I still don’t feel anywhere near to death. Actually it’s a bit of a drag. Just at the time that 1 don’t want protection, that Trickster is somehow fortifying me.

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But I’ll out-trick Him in the end.

Next day. I was wrong. He’s the master in hocus-pocus. Of course.

The full-timer answered the doorbell this morning. The person at the door said, “Namaskar. I don’t know why, but I suddenly got a strong feeling from Baba to fly here for a surprise inspection.” He laughed and entered the room where I was sitting.

It was my higher authority who had been in Australia for the last nine months. On seeing me, he was shocked. He immediately understood that my state of mind and body were far from normal.

“So … my Lord … you’re the cause. You must be the reason why He told me to come here.” His voice was sharp. “What are you doing to yourself?”

I smiled without replying.

“You’re doing long fasting, aren’t you?”

My shiny, shrunken head nodded.

“How many days already?”

“Eight,” I said.

“With or without water?”

“Without,” I smiled.

“Baba! You’re crazy. You could’ve died. What’s the purpose of this?”

“That’s my own matter.”

“Buddha fasted 40 days, and he still couldn’t get realization. You idiot. You won’t get anything except very sick.” He asked me to please stop. I refused. Then, as I feared, he formally ordered me to break the fast.

I didn’t get exactly what I wanted. But I did confirm for the umpteenth time that He does have omniscience, and He does have power, but He uses it as He sees fit. Not according to our wishes or demands.

And I did find out that this body has the capacity to fast without water much longer and much more easily than I expected. Contrary to Dada’s forecast about my getting sick, I feel completely healthy—better than in a long time. This may be useful information for the future when different catastrophes hit our little planet, and we cannot get the food or water we think we need. Even then, those of us who have sufficient mental power can continue serving humanity.

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The violins test a new (already strong) Margi

Tonga Island. My responsibility in the South Pacific Sector is coming to an end. I will be transferred to another sector. In the meantime, I’ve been directed to travel through the South Pacific islands, ending up in Hawaii, where I will be sent a ticket to Denver.

Since the Emergency began in India, Denver has been functioning as our temporary Central Headquarters #2.

Two days ago I arrived in Tonga, which is less touched by “civilization” than any other place I’ve visited.

I’m staying in a thatched hut with a family of 13. Usually one member of each large family has a job. The rest enjoy their simple life at his expense.

And enjoy they do. Many of the adults are child-like, playing games all day.

They have no sense of personal property. If anyone leaves a bicycle outside a shop, he can expect a new caretaker will assume responsibility for it by the time he comes out of the shop.

If a car is parked for a few minutes without a guard, all of its removable parts will be efficiently removed by the time the driver returns.

Almost every evening they ceremoniously pass around a coconut shell filled with a slightly intoxicating liquor made from a root like cassava.

The ceremony gradually breaks down as singing, dancing and other sorts of pleasures take over. Their songs are sung in four or five part harmonies, the dances are rhythmically perfect, and as to the other pleasures—well, that’s when I always go for a stroll.

Though the people are simple, some are interested in meditation.

I’ve initiated a few, and have been watching to see their sincerity.

Late in the afternoon I went to the beach to meditate with one of the new initiates, a 19 year old.

During our meditation, the sun set. Mosquitoes came upon us in huge swarms.

Though tolerating their attack, I briefly opened my eyes to see how my friend was doing. His nearly bare body was now clothed with a layer of mosquitoes, yet he sat stock-still. We remained another half hour.

As we left the place, I asked him, “How was your meditation?”

“S’was allrait. S’was verry good.”

“What about the mosquitoes?”

“Dem was sommmm probalam. B’ God was greater.”

The king pushes his weight around

Today being Sunday, I went to church.

I had heard the king regularly attends a particular church, so I chose that one, hoping to get an eyeful.

Until then, the closest I’d got to him was the sound of his daily motorcade, that is, the sound of scores of car horns blaring. Wherever he passes, the people make the same comment: “Da kiin’s gonna i’spect ‘is pigfaarm!” Then they roll on the ground with laughter.

I was able to get a front row seat, immediately below the royal balcony.

Shortly before the service started I got my eyeful alright. He’s renowned as the fattest king in the world, well over 400 pounds. He was so big it seemed he could not support his own weight.

While walking and huffing and puffing, he was assisted on either side by attendants.

The king is a devout Christian. He noticed me last Sunday because I received today an official notification that I must leave this island within 24 hours because the king wants only Christianity propagated in his land.

Though I’m not teaching religion, my turban and orange uniform do create a sectarian appearance.

He’s clever. He waited all week to have the notice delivered to me at 6pm today.

It’s Friday and all government offices are closed tomorrow so I’ll have no opportunity to appeal within the allotted time limit.

All of my new friends are outraged but are helpless. The king is stubborn. No one knows what to do.

Out of desperation, a radio interview was arranged for me tonight, to publicize the injustice of the leave-order.

The disc jockey himself was upset with the king, and gave me a full hour on the air. But when the program finished, he shrugged his shoulders, then embraced me and wished me well in my travels.

A nice Vice

Western Samoa. While traveling to teach meditation and yoga, I never stay in hotels. If I have no place to stay, I remain in a congested public

spot, and wait for a sympathetic person to offer me a spot in his house to spend the night. Even if someone wants to donate money for a hotel room, I gratefully refuse. One way or another, I eventually meet a noble person, and it invariably leads not only to a comer on the floor for my blanket, but also to someone keenly interested in spiritual development. And he or she usually introduces me to others with similar interests. My real purpose, which is not to eat and sleep, is thus automatically fulfilled.

Facing such a predicament here, I took my stand in the midst of a busy crowd in the central marketplace. After two hours a young lady approached me. She was about twenty years old.

“Sir, is there any way I can help you?” she asked. The quality of her English showed she was well educated.

“I am a teacher of meditation and yoga,” I said. “I want to meet people who are interested to learn, and, as I’ve just arrived, I also have no place to stay.” Usually I come right to the point.

“My father has always been interested in such things. Let me introduce you to him I’m sure he’ll also offer you a room.”

She led me to her car. So she was not only educated, but also at least a little wealthy.

Her house was so big I could not see where it ended. Walking past the servants and through several rooms, we reached the library, where a large, bulky man sat reading. He looked up as she entered and smiled. When he saw me, his smile broadened.

“I’ve brought you a yogi, Daddy,” she said.

He rose and offered his hand, “1 am thrilled to meet you, sir. I’ve been waiting for your visit.”

Introductions were made. Among other things, he mentioned that only two years ago he had completed his term as the Vice-president of Western Samoa.

These three days were packed with engagements. My host introduced me to scores of the country’s upper-echelon who were keen to learn yoga. Most of them had health problems, for which I prescribed yoga asanas and appropriate diets. Some of them, including my host, are already improving.

The most exciting programs often come last and then end prematurely. Today I received a telegram ordering me to leave immediately for Denver, from where I shall travel to my next posting: Europe.