His invisible hand

Oslo. Talk about no experience. It’s one thing to start a food cooperative; but it’s an entirely different ball game to open a public printing press without the slightest knowledge.

There lies the faith of the devotees. Bhagirath and Arjuna are confident that their enterprise will be successful. Isn’t it wonderful that all of our projects offer on-the-job training? And most of them do so without any trainer! Unless you count the Supreme Trainer.

Copenhagen. Soup kitchen opened for poor people.

Stockholm. Service projects are multiplying like rabbits. Today Akashi opened a health-food cooperative. It has an atmosphere that could be created only by such a refined lady.

I haven’t physically seen Baba yet. Neither have most of the Margis. Still, I know Him intimately and so do most of the Margis. Part of that comes from kiirtan and meditation, but honestly I think that it’s mostly through service that we really get to enjoy His company. I see Baba in my work, in the eyes of the people I meet, in the constant helpful ‘co-incidences’ that occur every day. in the struggles that test me and help me grow. After all what else do I have?

Though He insists on depriving me of His physical presence, I still have the right to demand that He shows Himself to me in my daily life. Of course, I would forego all that in a moment in exchange for letting me just once have His personal contact.

An embassy becomes a guerrilla theater

Copenhagen. Due to the imposition of martial law in India, Baba’s case, which was already a travesty of justice, has turned into an unambiguous farce. Not a single witness from Ananda Marga’s side was permitted to testify. By kangaroo-court. Baba has now been declared guilty of all charges. At first the judge declared the sentence to be the death penalty. Later, fearing Baba might be seen in the same light as Socrates or Christ, he changed his mind, and converted the sentence to life imprisonment. In a way this alteration allows us to feel a certain sort of comfort . 35

My spiritual father is unquestionably suffering while fasting for years in a cell devoid of all conveniences. At the same time, thousands of my Indian brothers and sisters must also be undergoing daily agony in scores of other prisons as they refuse to give up their commitment to Ananda Marga’s cause . 36

In the face of this horror, however, I remain calm, even inspired. Though it may seem heartless, I’m convinced Baba is causing the whole drama to take place according to His plan. Sometimes great suffering is necessary though it is difficult to accept and even more difficult to live through. Despite the horror, despite the difficulties, I have faith that everything will turn out for the best.

Rather than give into despair or anger, it is far better to keep a cool mind, and actively protest the conditions in order to help the public to become more conscious. For Margis, the norm these days are public demonstrations, letter-writing campaigns, and meetings with influential figures throughout the world. Even though respected and sometimes famous individuals and organizations have investigated our cases, and have objected in detail to the flagrant injustices taking place, the Indian authorities remain unaffected. The Canadian representative of the International Commission of Jurists made a lengthy report spelling out how appalled he is by the bias against Ananda Marga. And a high-ranking Queen’s Counsel from England pointed out over 200 loopholes in the prosecution’s position in Baba’s case. We have unquestionable evidence that the Foreign Office in Delhi sent several anti-Ananda Marga information packets to Indian ambassadors and embassy staffs of the world. The embassies have been instructed to distribute these packets to government officials in their respective countries so that Ananda Marga’s development may be impeded. Accordingly, we continue to protest every way that we can.

35 A few years later, both hands of this judge became permanently paralyzed.

36 Two years later a book was published entitled Tales of Torture, which documented scores of cases of Dadas, Didis and Margis who were severely tormented physically and mentally by the jail officers. The twenty-two months of emergency in India were notorious for innumerable human rights violations.

Today we had a special meeting.

We informed a reporter of the biggest Danish daily newspaper of our intentions. Seven of us gathered this morning at the Indian embassy. The reporter also came, but he refused to come inside with us. He said he would get the news after we came out.

It was chilly weather, so we were all dressed in full length coats. The first Margi entered alone, and began reading an Indian newspaper in the reception room. After a few minutes, a second Margi went inside and studied the visa application forms. Gradually, one by one, the rest of us entered and engaged ourselves in inconspicuous behavior. The usual staff were there, together with a handful of other people.

Then one of us gave the signal. In a flash, we all jumped up, pulled signs from under our coats and launched into a long series of chants, like “Out with martial law!”, “Arrest Indira Gandhi!”, “Free Baba now!’’, “Release political prisoners!”, “Ananda Marga demands justice!” and so on.

The staff was shocked. The lady employees began screaming at the top of their lungs. Some dove under tables. Clearly they thought they were under some sort of attack — perhaps that our continuous chants were the prelude to a spray of machine gun bullets or something. They screamed non-stop.

I was really sorry for them, but I knew they would recover within a few minutes. Well, to be honest, while one side of my brain was in pain, feeling compassion for these hapless souls, the other side, excuse me for saying, felt like laughing. I wonder if God often feels something similar when He views our melodramas.

In the midst of this, the Indian ambassador himself appeared at the top of the stairs. I feared for his eyes which looked like they might dislodge themselves from their sockets. Before that could happen, however, he and two or three of his aids galloped down the stairs and with a roar, started raining their fists on our innocent bodies. One of the Margis deftly pulled out a camera, and snapped it again and again. When their attack failed to stop our parade, the ambassador flew into a rage at our camera-man, and tried his level best to expose the film by seizing the camera and throwing it to the floor. Though we were quite civil, I should even say polite (considering his discourtesy) in fulfilling our task, he pushed Kunti toward the door, utilizing every drop of the adrenaline which was pumping through his bloodstream. Perhaps worrying that some harm might be done to the door, a male staff member opened it, and the ambassador succeeded in tossing Kunti out. The reporter was standing there. Catching just the right moment, he snapped a photo.

I am sure that the ambassador must have rejoiced to see the photo on the front page of the newspaper this evening. His face wore a frozen vicious scowl while he was thrusting Kunti onto the sidewalk. Of course, she had on her best expression of childlike astonishment at his uncouth behavior. The article was perfect, nicely detailing the injustice perpetrated by the Indian government on Baba and Ananda Marga.

One day when the unscrupulous Gandhi regime has its downfall, the embassy staff may even feel thankful to us.

Fate twisting

Verona, Italy. All the Dadas and Didis of Berlin Sector are gathered here for several days of meetings. A visitor is also here: my father. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since I left home over four years ago. These past few days we’ve taken every chance we could to get away from the others and talk.

Today I initiated him into meditation. We were sitting on a blanket, under a bright sky, getting ready to begin when he started laughing.

“What makes you laugh in this serious moment?”

He swallowed his mirth and said. “I’m sorry, sonny boy. But the irony is too much. In all truth, I admit I came here to convince you to give up this life, and return to America. But here I am, perched like a holy Hindu, about to acquire the esoteric knowledge from you. I thought I would convince you, but instead, you’ve convinced me.”

Scandinavian zeal

1977. During this period I have been initiating up to 200 persons monthly. An immense amount of new service projects also started, including three free kitchens, a touring art exhibit, a touring drama group, yoga classes in three prisons, two kindergartens, a herb farm, and regular publication of two magazines.