Daily Dramas

My regular daily schedule is:

• an early morning meeting with the security volunteers
• checking meal arrangements for Baba and the Margis
• organizing the Personal Contacts of different Margis with Baba
• checking the program in the main hall, seeing to the security at the houses of Margis/workers/Baba, etc.

The greatest meticulousness is demanded in the security for Baba’s twice daily field walks and darshans. My own meditation time is abnormally short, but I don’t care because I see Guru directly many hours a day.

As for eating, there’s even less time, but the Didis in Baba’s kitchen usually save two or three big spoonfuls of prasad 50 for me which more than suffices.

Having almost nothing else to eat, I have near-perfect conditions for gauging the phenomenal power of prasad.

Today while driving to the field walk I listened to the following conversation between Baba and Bodhishvar, who is a leading Swiss Margi:

BABA (pointing to a vineyard): Bodhishvar, what kind of grapes are those?

BODHISHVAR: I’m sorry, Baba, I don’t know. BABA: Well, are they red grapes or white grapes? BODHISHVAR: They are white grapes, Baba.

BABA: Are they good for making wine?

BODHISHVAR (smiling): I don’t know. Baba.

BABA (speaking gently): Why don’t you know? You should know everything. Yes, they are excellent for making wine. Their name is (a German name I don’t remember). They are grown primarily in (about four or 5 areas with German and French names that I don’t remember). They have a specially sweet taste, as opposed to (about three or four types of other grapes that I also didn’t know). Is it not a fact, Bodhishvar?

BODHISHVAR: Well, I’m not an expert like you, Baba.

BABA: No, no. Your Baba knows nothing. (Looking at me also) You boys are the ones who must know everything. What do you say?

(In reply, we simply smiled as charmingly as we could.)

50 Food touched by a spiritually elevated person is called prasad , In the physical contact of any two entities some energy is always exchanged. This is especially so between human beings because their consciousness is easily altered by environmental circumstances. The effect ismore noticeable when one of the parties is the guru, whose only purpose it to uplift the minds of others. If the guru touches an object which is afterward touched by his disciples, they derive benefit. Food is the most powerful prasad because the disciple ingests it and metabolizes much of its energy. Prasad can also be created by keeping it for a certain length of time in the middle of a kiirtan/meditation program. Though prasad is well-known and accepted among yogis, it is only recently that scientific experiments began to verify its effects. These experiments, however, now come under the category of microvita medicine rather than prasad. Generally microvita research is performed with simple water. Later in this book the idea of microvita is elaborated. By the way, the opposite of prasad is easily recognized. The reader may also have felt it—when a cook is angry or depressed, the diners may become uneasy or sick after eating that food.

Every day I choose three or four brothers to enjoy the field walk with Baba.

The sisters often protest but I am under instructions from Ramanandaji and other Dadas to only permit brothers according to the Indian system. The sisters have requested that their desire be expressed to Baba many times, but the Dadas refuse, considering such a change impossible. It’s my opinion Baba prefers that new initiatives come from our side, rather than by His direct suggestion, so He has had to manage this problem in His own unique way…

Today, halfway through the field walk. He was resting in a chair with a few brothers by His feet (the security and myself remained standing). I thought everyone was entranced by the talk, but then Baba turned to Bodhishvar, saying, “Bodhishvar, you are feeling sad about something.”

“Yes, Baba.”

“What is it? Say, say.”

“Baba…”

“Yes, go ahead.”

“It’s my wife, Anchala….”

“Yes, don’t hesitate,” Baba said. “Say what’s on your mind.”

“Well, Baba … every day I go with You for field walk, and she cries and cries. Baba, because she also wants to go … Can’t she also come?”

Without the slightest hesitation, Baba said, “Why not? 1 ‘, and beamed as if He were just waiting for this question.

Ramanandaji and I immediately looked at each other with a mixed expression of surprise and delight.

“Thank you, Baba!” said Bodhishvar.

Later we met with the Didis and set up a new system where the number of sisters would equal the number of brothers on field walk. We also made plans to add sister volunteers to the security arrangements.

Hiding His knowledge

This morning, on the way to the field walk, I asked Abaniish of Norway, who until five days ago had never before seen Baba, “Brother, what do you think of Baba now?”

“It’s funny,” he said. “I don’t know why… He hasn’t done anything at all special… He looks and acts just like a sweet old man… I don’t know why, but I love Him.”

He gave a big smile like a child. “I feel… I feel love for Him—just like a father. No, even more than for my father.”

“It’s a normal reaction,” I said. “Absolutely normal.”

We drove high into the snow covered Alps. While walking, Baba said:

After walking in silence for a few moments, Dada Abhidevananda asked,

“Baba, is it possible that life came to the earth from another planet?”

Later He commented that the first human civilization was also in the Alps.

We returned to the cars and started back. Just after turning a corner, we saw several uniformed persons putting away a big parabolic-shaped machine. One of the Margis in my car, an engineer, said. “That’s a sound-detection device used over long distances by the secret police to pick up conversations.”

Another Margi added, “Do you think it’s possible that Baba specifically intended that interplanetary talk to be overheard by them?”

During evening darshan, after a devotional song, one brother suddenly stood up in the middle of the crowd. In the otherwise silent room, his words in Italian had a shocking effect.

Before he could complete even one sentence, Dada Japananda rose, pointed his finger at the man, and told him forcefully to sit down.

Obediently the man collapsed to the floor. Parimal from Parma. He was previously a brilliant physicist, tragically struck by a disease which had necessitated an operation on his brain. Since then he had turned abnormal.

In the momentary excitement. Baba looked at Dada Ramananda and me.

(Ramanandaji was sitting next to Baba, while I was standing. After the security fiasco at the airport, I had decided to remain close to Baba whenever He was out of His room, directly rather than indirectly supervising the volunteers - though admittedly I took this decision not solely out of consideration for security.)

He looked at us and asked, “What is it? What’s happening?”

“Nothing, Baba,” Ramanandaji said. “The man is crazy.”

“What do you mean ‘crazy’?” Baba said. “Let him come to the front. Come on, my boy,” He said, waving Parimal forward.

As he hobbled forward, everyone could see his balding, deformed skull. He launched excitedly into an Italian soliloquy.

Baba knows all the world’s languages. We should be able to see first hand how He replies to a tongue that He hadn’t been exposed to before.

But it was not to be as we hoped. Instead, Baba spoke to the Dada posted in Italy:

“Japasiddhananda, give me the translation in English.”

Though everyone was silent, many looked disappointed. They may have been thinking. Was it only fiction, this story that Baba knows all languages?

Japasiddhanandaji started the translation, “Baba, he says the title of his story is titled Baba with the Baby on the Farm.”

Parimal appeared inspired as he spoke, enthusiastically dramatizing his discourse. I observed that some of the Germans and Dutch looked disillusioned, seeing Baba’s apparent dependence on the translation.

But the Italians and those who understood Italian (including me) could not help but notice that each time Parimal spoke a humorous line. Baba smiled before the translation was delivered.

[Author’s note: Some months later when I visited Parma, Italy, I found a changed Parimal. Previous to this experience with Baba, he had been in a near¬constant state of confusion. While I was in Parma, however, I saw that he was still excited about Baba—that he was always talking about Baba. Instead of being in a state of confusion, I felt he was in a spiritual state. A few months after that he died.]