Seeing God

We are staying at the home of an Indian lawyer, Ranjan Dwivedi, and his American wife Parashakti, both of whom are great devotees of Baba.

Early this morning, Parashakti told us the Baba-dream she had last night.

“I was sitting in an auditorium in the middle of an audience, and just next to me sat Baba. On the stage, different spiritual groups were demonstrating their techniques of meditation.

“The man representing the first group closed his eyes and began meditating. Within moments, his body was vibrating, rotating in circles, and making slight jumping movements. At the same time he made grunting sounds.

“I turned to Baba, and said. Baba, why can’t we experience that with our meditation?’ He didn’t reply, but only smiled at me with a glint in His eyes.

“The next man began meditating, and soon he was levitating high above the table on which he had been sitting.

“I looked at Baba and complained, ‘Baba, that never happens to us in our meditation.’ Again, no response except a glint in His eyes.

“The third man breathed rapidly, shook violently, and fell backward, banging his head on the table. He lay there in a trance. Several persons carefully picked him up and carried him through the aisle of the audience, moving toward the exit. Before they could take more than two or three steps, the man awoke, sat up and exclaimed, “I’ve seen God! I’ve seen God!”

“I said to Baba, ‘This is too much, Baba. Why can’t we have such visions?’

“As the group carrying the man passed by us, he was still saying, T’ve seen God! I’ve seen God!’ Then his eyes suddenly lit up brightly as he said, ‘And there He is!’ He pointed at Baba, again saying, ‘There He is!’

“That’s when I woke up. Well, Dadas, what do you think of that?” she said.

We smiled glintingly.

While Baba was in jail, Parashakti met Him many times. She had also spoken to most of the other visiting Margis and workers. We asked her to tell us about some of the extraordinary incidents that occurred during those visits. One of the stories went like this:

A Margi from Africa was in a visiting group. He had an intense desire to hear Baba speak his native language, Swahili. Baba talked in turn with each of the Margis present in His cell. When he came to this brother and asked a question, the brother replied in standard Swahili.

Baba said, “Eh? What did you say?” The brother had to change his reply into English. After more conversation with everyone. Baba asked him another question, and he again replied in Swahili. Again Baba feigned not to understand. Finally, when the guards announced that the time was finished and everyone was offering their respects to Baba, the Margi approached Baba with folded hands, begging, “Please, Baba say something in Swahili!” Baba smiled at him and said in that brother’s exact local dialect of Swahili, “I am a stupid person. How can I speak in Swahili?”

Mental yo-yo

Yesterday morning the General Secretary told us, “Wait at the Dwivedi’s house. It is likely Baba will call you for kapalika initiation today.” Today was the last possible day remaining for us to learn the kapalika, because it requires at least three days practice after initiation, and we must leave for Europe in four days.

We did nothing but wait all day. The clock struck 7:00 p.m. Soon Baba’s evening darshan (spiritual talk) would start, and if we went on waiting we would miss that also. We put on our turbans and were preparing to leave just as a motorcycle roared up the driveway.

“Where have you good-for-nothings been?” yelled Dada Ramananda. Baba’s personal assistant. “Baba has been requesting to see you since 5:00! Nonsense! Now it’s too late.” And he was off before we could even comment.

Of all the injustices! We had simply followed the order of the General Secretary, and now were being severely penalized.

“What shall we do now?” asked one Dada. “Go to Baba’s darshan?”

“Baba’s darshan is every night,” said another. “But as long as there’s the slightest chance that Baba might teach us kapalika, I think we should still try.” We all agreed and set out for His house.

Just as we arrived at Baba’s house. He came out of His door, walking toward the car. We ran up to Him, and did prostration at His feet.

“Oh it’s those scoundrels. I waited for them since 5:00. They wasted my valuable time. The buggers.” The car-door slammed, and He drove away.

“At this rate we’ll never receive initiation,” said one Dada.

It’s just His game,” I replied. “He’ll play it however He likes. There’s no value in being anxious.” I can’t explain why, but I did not care when or whether we might learn the kapalika. If He wanted to teach me I wanted to learn— otherwise not.

We were still talking in this vein when again we heard the sound of His car.

“Strange!” someone said. “The darshan’s over so quickly.”

The car parked, and Baba stepped out. He spoke in Bengali to those with Him. As He came a little nearer to us. though He pretended not to be speaking to us four. He changed to English and said, “A completely unacceptable arrangement. Due to this carelessness the darshan had to be canceled! A most pitiable condition. A shame and a sham.” The others walked with their heads down, playing the embarrassed role.

When He was close enough, we again did prostration, and He said, “What, these boys are still here?” Our hopes lifted…

“Have they not done enough harm?” …and then shattered. “I waited for them since 5:00, and they didn’t even have the common courtesy to respond to my call. Wasting my time. Nonsense, nonsense.”

We were still laying there when He entered the house.

“We’ve got no chance,” said one Dada.

“On the contrary,” said another, “He may have canceled the darshan and disappointed 700 or 800 people just so He would have time to teach us.”

A minute later we were called into Baba’s room. He lay on His bed, being massaged by a local family-acharya.

After we did our prostrations, Baba began to speak in a serious tone. “I summoned you boys here for the purpose of telling you I won’t be able to teach you the kapalika since you were so undisciplined not to come at the scheduled time.”

Now up, now down—He was playing our minds like yo-yos. There was an awkward silence as we hesitated between leaving and … and what? I struggled hard to think how to get us out of this quandary.

One Dada spoke slowly, “Ah … Baba, excuse me …”

Baba sat up slightly, as if He were waiting for this, saying, “Yes, yes, what do you want to say?”

“Ah … I don’t mean to put anyone else in trouble, but we were instructed to wait in Ranjan Dwivedi’s house until a messenger conveyed your call. No one came until 7:00.”

Now even Baba looked hopeful, saying, “Yes, it may be, it may be. Perhaps Ramanandaji was so busy that the matter passed him by.” He turned to the acharya massaging His feet, and asked, “What do you think? Shall I believe them and instruct them the kapalika?”

Coming out of a deep concentration on the right foot, the acharya, eyes misted by his mood, said. “My thought. Baba? Oh, I think you should not teach them.”

I was shocked. Though I highly respect this Dada, at that moment I felt like grabbing him by the shirt, shaking him hard and yelling, “What kind of stupidity are you speaking?” But I did nothing. Meanwhile, he calmly scrutinized us.

“Perhaps you are correct,” Baba said. “Perhaps. But we should be sure. Hold the big toe of my right foot.”

The acharya complied.

“Now what do you think?” Baba asked.

“They are telling the truth. Baba.”

“Alright,” He said. “I accept your judgment.” He turned to us. “But you boys here, are you interested to learn?”

We gave the obvious reply. He dismissed the acharya from the room and we got down to business.

As to the initiation itself, there is little to say—it is secret. I can only comment that for the next two hours that room, for me, became transmuted into the infinite macrocosm saturated with mystic potency, outside of which nothing existed.

Baba told us that during the initial three days’ practice we would burn 50% of our reactive momenta concerned with fear, shame and hatred; after which we would have to work on the remaining half—which explains why those who learn kapalika appear undeniably brighter from the very first week

We performed our first kapalika meditation at midnight. When we came back, Dada Ramananda was waiting for us. According to Baba’s instruction, he gave us our new names. I am now called Acharya Dharmavedananda Avadhuta.

Veda means “deep knowledge”. So, as Baba later told me, Dharmavedananda means “he who attains the supreme beatitude through deep knowledge of the path of righteousness.”