Determination

Stockholm, Sweden. 1976. My new posting is Regional Secretary for both Stockholm and Oslo Regions, otherwise known as Scandinavia (Finland, Sweden, Denmark, Norway, Iceland and Greelland).

It is already clear to me that the people here are more gentle than North Americans, Indians and Australians. In my experience, only New Zealanders compare. The Scandinavians are also extremely open-minded and interested in anything new.

I have 4 full-timers in my office here in Stockholm to assist me with my work.

I don’t think I’ve ever met a person as sincere as Suresh, one of my full- timers. Whatever he does, he does wholeheartedly, with full concentration. Since I introduced the daily schedule for the full-timers in the office, he has followed it strictly—to the minute. While doing yoga asanas, he carefully refers to the clock, and when the allotted time is finished, even if he has not, completed his exercises or the final deep relaxation, he jumps up, puts on his clothes and begins the next scheduled work. Likewise, at the end of meal time, even if half of his food is still on the plate, he gets up from the table. With work, meditation, sleep or any activity, he maintains the same punctuality. Needless to say, it was beginning to get on everyone’s nerves.

A couple of days ago I walked into the bathroom while Suresh was taking a bath. He had his clock there also. When the scheduled time was up for bathing he put on his clothes even though he hadn’t dried himself yet. I think there remained a bit of unrinsed soap on him as well.

“Suresh,” I said, “the schedule need not be followed exactly to the letter. It should rather serve as a guideline, which maybe adjusted in minor ways throughout the day to suit the needs of our work or meditation.”

“Really, Dadaji?” As he stood there, soaking wet, staring at me for several seconds. I felt like he was inputting this new attitude into his brain, deleting the erroneous elements of the old one.

“I understand clearly.” he said.

From that very moment his timing has became, well, perfect. Yes, I can say ‘perfect’ because his schedule adjusts with everyone, without wasting any time. Quite amazing!

Suresh continues to amaze me. Since I first arrived, he’s done everything with complete concentration and seriousness. Never laughing, never showing any mood. If he makes any mistake, including mental mistakes unknown to the rest of us, he punishes himself by doing fifty or a hundred tic-tics (stand-and- squats while holding ones ears), or by pressing his forehead to the floor. 34 I’ve been wondering what I could do to encourage him to be more human. Yesterday, unable to think of anything more subtle, I just told him bluntly , “Suresh, you needn’t be so serious all the time. It’s good to laugh sometime.”

“Really, Dada?” Again staring, re-programming.

“Humor and happiness” I continued, “often help us to communicate, help us to be in His flow.”

A pause. Then he started to laugh. “Ha, ha, ha! I got your point, Dadaji.”

From that moment he’s become a thoroughly pleasant, smiling person.

A unique devotee. Who’s helping?

Oslo, Norway. I’m surprised that there are hundreds of homeless or otherwise impoverished people in this wealthy country. The Margis

34 “Tic-tics” have a wonderful place in the history of Ananda Marga. If any Dada or Didi committed a mistake, they would often be instructed by Baba to perform some number of tic- tics in front of H im. At such a time, He sometimes commented, “This rectification exercise will not only exhaust your negative reactive momenta, it will alsc be good for your health.” Later, when Baba began correcting the mistakes of M argis they too could enjoy this novel method of recovering one’s mental balance.

organized a weekly soup kitchen. The very first day, a few of the recipients actually danced with joy to receive the vegetarian food from us.

Copenhagen, Denmark. For the last three weeks, sister Kunti, a full-timer, has been searching single-mindedly for a suitable house to rent for our yoga center. This morning, though disheartened by her on-going failure, she set out to try again.

She took a bus into the city. After a few minutes, an old lady boarded, walked directly to Kunti, and sat down next to her. The lady’s face was full of both wrinkles and tenderness.

“Nowadays many young people are misusing their energy,” she said. “I am happy to see that you are a different type.”

She spoke in Norwegian, which is Kunti’s mother language. It was odd, even bizarre. How could she know that Kunti was from Norway when Kunti had not yet spoken a word?

“The task is elephantine,” the old lady continued. “The speed must be accelerated. Don’t you also think so. my dear?”

As the woman stared in Kunti’s face, a transformation occurred inside the bus—it seemed to billow like a river. Instead of waves of water, however, the air itself and the colors around were rippling, vibrating. An unidentifiable mixture of sound waves inundated the atmosphere. Kunti could no longer comprehend what was happening. She also joined the sea of vibrations.

At last the lady said, “And I think you are looking for something. Isn’t it, my dear?” The bus stopped. “Perhaps you will find it here. Let’s get down.”

Her ankles barely able to support her legs, Kunti stepped outside with the lady. Without speaking a word, the lady, smiling sweetly, pointed at the building. Still lost in the cosmic current, Kunti entered the building.

“Is there a flat to rent here?” asked Kunti.

“Yes,” said the manager. “But how did you know? The ad has not yet appeared.”

“Ah. one moment, please,” Kunti said. She walked back outside. The old lady was gone, never to be seen again. The flat was perfect, and we took it.