The Sixth Point

Baba’s darshan topic tonight was Shiva’s Seven Secrets of Success.

At its conclusion, I took Baba downstairs, saw Him into His room, and then entered Ramanandaji’s room, just next to Baba’s.

In a few moments I was joined by three or four other Dadas. One sister brought in a huge bowl of round milk-sweets, a small fraction of what had been prepared in honor of Baba’s last darshan in Timmem.

I sat alone, thinking of Baba, and eating slowly.

After eating two of these extremely tasty balls, I was lying on my side, looking at the bowl, contemplating whether or not to eat a third one. In that very moment, I saw the handle of the door turn and in walked Baba! He was dressed in the simple white undershirt and green lungi that He wears only in the privacy of His own room.

He walked over to me. I sat up, smiling.

With a sly grin on His face, He said to me, “And remember … the sixth point is a very difficult point to follow.”

Without giving me a chance to reply, He turned and left the room as suddenly as He had entered.

I lay on the floor, laughing—Shiva’s sixth secret of success was control over food.

Freedom’s limit

This morning, just before our departure from Timmem, Baba called a meeting of Dadas and Didis.

After beautifully reciting a few poems of India’s greatest poet, Rabindranath Tagore, He asked each of us to express something of how we were feeling at the moment.

One Dada mentioned how sad everyone felt having to leave Timmem. Baba replied by telling a story:

“A great sage Kanva lived alone in a forest. He loved to help people. So he often took it upon himself to go to the town, find sick and helpless people, and bring them back to his hermitage to care for them until they recovered. He was well known for this generosity. One day a mother came to Kanva and left her baby girl. Shakuntala, under the saint’s benevolent care. Kanva raised Shakuntala until she was old enough to be married. At this time King Dushyanta arrived, and claimed Shakuntala as his queen. As she was preparing to leave, Kanva found himself gripped with feelings of despair. He thought, ‘I am a renunciate and a yogi. I should be free from the emotions of affection.’”

Baba asked, “Why was he having these feelings? Although he was a sage, he was living in the world, and thus bound by the relative factor. Now all of you boys and girls are doing meditation to be free of bondages. Being here in the world, however, it is impossible to deny bondage.”

A deer devotee

Hannover, West Germany. While driving today, an odd event occurred. I was in the car just behind Baba’s. As the road passed through a field of chest-high grass, I saw a deer suddenly emerge next to Baba’s car.

For about 200 meters it ran alongside of the car. To do this it had to run at a great speed, while at the same time jumping high in the air with each step in order to get through the tall grass.

At the end of that 200 meters, the car turned and the deer followed, continuing to run with Baba for another 150 or 200 meters. Then the car accelerated greatly, and the deer fell back, unable to keep up.

Baba’s nephew, Paltu, was in that car. Afterward I said to him,

“Did you notice that deer?”

“Of course.”

“And did Baba comment anything about it?”

“Not directly. But He was surely thinking about it. For several minutes He had been discussing German architecture, when, without warning, He began to talk about animals. I could not understand why He had changed the topic. And then He was talking specifically of deers. The speech on deers must have been going on for half-a-minute when that deer appeared. All of us in the car stared at it, except Baba, who went on speaking without turning His face in the animal’s direction. I wanted to ask Him about it, but He gave me no scope to speak.”

Will we ever know the cause of this unquestionably mystical event?

In the light of today’s experience and also Baba’s story about Kanva and Shakuntala I am reminded of an old mythological tale. A saint was alone in the forest performing austere spiritual practices.

He had detached himself from all worldly affairs, and was approaching his entry through the gates of liberation when he discovered an orphaned baby doe. Compassion compelled him to rescue and then care for the creature. As months turned into years, the doe grew into a deer, and without recognizing the change in his mind, the saint gradually developed a deep attachment for the animal. One day the deer accidentally jumped off a cliff, falling to its death. The saint’s heart was tom. A few days later his final moment also came and his last thought was of his beloved deer. Accordingly, he could not gain liberation, and instead was reborn as a deer, which passed most of its life in the company of yogis.

Perhaps the story is not so fictional after all.

Revolutionary change

Yesterday, after leaving the cars, we approached a road having no sidewalk.

I said to Baba, “In Germany, Baba, since the cars drive on the right side of the road, it is better we walk on the left, into the traffic, so we can see any danger before it comes.”

Like a child. Baba complied.

This morning a similar situation arose. Again I started to explain where we should walk.

Baba interrupted me, saying, “I am an excellent student. If I hear anything, even once. I remember it forever. I clearly remember each and every perception since the moment of my birth. So, thank you—no need to repeat yesterday’s lesson.”

This afternoon Baba was speaking about society. “As long as there is animality in man. there will be war. War is the blackest spot on human character. Fight is the essence of life, but war is something brutal…. You may expect some change in collective psychology from after the year 1980, and a revolutionary change by the year 2000.”

Heaven in hell

Rotterdam, Netherlands. A light rain was falling this evening as our entourage approached the apartment building which houses our three-story Rotterdam yoga center. While still standing on the street, momentarily waiting for the local Margi to come forward to unlock the door. Baba muttered something which undoubtedly was meant only for my ears.

He said softly, almost unnoticeably, “What hell is this?” It was not the sort of question to which one tries to reply, so I was left wondering about His meaning.

Next day. I believe I now know a little of the meaning of Baba’s rhetorical question yesterday. To begin with, the stairways in this house are winding, narrow, and insufficiently lit. As the two snake-like streams of Margis continuously ascend and descend, they unavoidably press against each other. Though about one hundred of us squeeze and adjust in inappropriately small rooms and hallways, no one minds. There is too much excitement in Baba’s presence for anyone to care about such matters.

Nevertheless I am constantly reminded of the spiraling passageways entering and departing from the different levels of Dante’s hell.

Then there was the water. It stopped in Baba’s bathroom. Since He did not complain, it was only discovered when a Margi cleaned His room. For a man who bathes three or four times daily, this was a great inconvenience. Yet He politely tolerated it.

After the water was repaired, He commented, “This is the first time in my life that I had to use a bathroom without water.”

His silent patience with the clumsiness of our arrangements deeply affected me.

Today Baba mentioned that tandava (Shiva’s dance) should be done with proper paraphernalia. In the left hand there should be either be a skull or a snake to represent the force of destruction or death. The right hand holds a dagger or burning torch to represent the power of discrimination or life. He specifically added that the snake should be a living, poisonous snake. We took this as a cue. Two hours later Melvin was purchased—a beautiful, healthy, poisonous snake.

The next darshan proceeded smoothly until it was time for the brothers to perform tandava. Viirabhadra (whose name means “the bravest face of God”) jumped fiercely up and down and side to side. In his left hand, Melvin violently twisted and spit.

Some Margis were thrilled while others were horrified as they watched the snake bite Viirabhadra’s hand again and again. Rather than holding the snake just below the head as he should have, he was holding Melvin in the middle.

Blood began to drip from his hand. Still the dance continued, the room reverberated to the chant of 6 aba Nam Kevalam and the rhythmic thumping of the dancers’ feet. Meanwhile Baba entered one of His powerful Tantric moods.

He looked on with a calm intensity. The snake must have bit Viirabhadra thirty or forty times; blood flowed like water dripping from a tap.

At last the chanting stopped and the dancers halted. Though Baba’s words, “Very good. Very good,” were normal, His voice was deep and penetrating. Afterward He said nothing about the snake, but we were sure He was pleased. I was concerned for Viirabhadra, but he was inspired to the depths of his being. Fortunately the snake’s poison sacks had been removed.

I shall carry the snake with us everywhere from now on. The blood was a wonderful touch, but as Tantra has nothing to do with masochism, I will instruct the dancers to hold our undulating friend by the neck during the dance in order to avoid its fangs.

On field walk one sister asked Baba, “We have so many complexes like fear, shame and so on. How can we get rid of them?” Baba said, “Shall I tell you the secret? Kiirtan.”

Next day. Since most of the volunteers here are totally inexperienced, I personally had to stand guard-duty just outside the door to Baba’s room while He was giving Personal Contact. Anchala (the wife of Bodhishvara) was hovering around the door, clearly agonized over the impossibility of her entering Baba’s

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room/

At one point I had to use the upstairs bathroom so I requested another Dada to cover for me. A few minutes later I heard a loud yell, followed by continuous shrieking. The sound came from downstairs. Alarmed, I sprinted forward. The screech became louder. Someone ap

peared at the top of the stairs, running toward me. It was Anchala! And the scream “Baba! Baba!” was coming from her. She dashed past me.

Confused, I went down to Baba’s room. Immediately several workers jumped on me saying, “You fool! You idiot! How could you be so incompetent?” and so on.

“Stop, stop!” I said. “I don’t know what this is all about. What happened?”

“Playing innocent, huh? As if you don’t know that Anchala forced her way into Baba’s room!”

“What?” I was shocked. I turned toward the Dada to whom I had passed my duty.

“I’m sorry. She was too fast…or, rather, I never expected…”

“Just tell me what happened.”

“The brother who was receiving Personal Contact finished, and came out. I… I wasn’t paying proper attention.” “Obviously.”

“Suddenly I heard Baba yelling—so loud that I think my hair stood on end. He shouted, ‘GET OUT OF HERE!’ I turned to look through the open door and saw Anchala still lying there fully prostrate with her head and outstretched arms under Baba’s bed. She jumped up like a rabbit hearing a shotgun, and ran out.”

“I saw the rest,” I said.

Could this be the last episode in the “Escapades Of Anchala”? Lingua franca

Amsterdam airport. The corridors in this airport seemed exceptionally long. Yet Baba avoided using the moving sidewalks and escalators.

I asked Dada Ramananda if there was any special reason that Baba walked up the stairs rather than using the escalator? .

“He said that escalators make people lazy,” Ramanandaji replied.

While waiting for our plane. Baba told me to sit next to Him. We discussed several subjects. One of these concerned some hearsay about which I had wondered.

“Baba, is it true that You will make a world language in the future?”

57 Until this date, Baba had never given Personal Contact to a woman. It was only some months later that He started Personal Contact for women in small groups.

“A language suitable for all citizens of this globe will be constituted, yes,” He said.

“Then is it any use for us to learn Esperanto ?” 58

“There is no need to study Esperanto, because the global language we make will be superior. It will be convenient for all peoples. You see, the founders of Esperanto, though well-intentioned, committed two major errors. First, it is based primarily on European language roots. Asians and others thus feel it burdensome to learn. Second, it was propagated mostly among the intellectual community.

“Our lingua franca, on the other hand, will have its roots both in both Occidental and Oriental languages, including Sanskrit. No one will feel difficulty to assimilate it. It will first be popularized among famous leading personalities, so its spread around the world will prove relatively easy.”

The key to our hearts

Stockholm, Sweden. Since that first chaotic experience of Baba’s arrival in Geneva when the security went haywire, our other airport arrivals have been relatively calm and orderly—that is, until Sweden. A few hours drive south of Stockholm lies the only wholetimer training center outside of India and Nepal. Considering that these young men and women trainees pass all their time in the depths of a serene forest ashram, who could imagine that they would go so berserk when they saw Baba?

My security forces were completely unprepared for the wild and rapid advance they made toward Him, shouting, “Baba! Baba! Baba!”

Again Dada Ramananda went into action, his whirling arms creating a mean defense. But this time it was far from enough. It looked like Baba would be swamped in the mad rush of His devotees. Suddenly, as if on cue, though indeed it was totally spontaneous, all the workers in the entourage encircled Baba, joining hands.

Only by a fierce muscular effort were we able to keep Him from being swamped. His smile was particularly maddening for these trainees, most of whom had never physically seen Baba even though they had already fully dedicated their lives for His mission.

58 Esperanto is a language made by philologists, who hoped it would serve as the language for international communication.

Two days later. To a normal mind. Baba’s actions often seem illogical. But there is a purpose behind every word He speaks, every flicker in His eyes, every tilt of His head. What is the explanation behind His odd conduct here in Sweden?

Due to the presence of the trainees, the devotional wave has been high—yet Baba has refused to give darshan for three days. Every morning and every evening their hearts pound with anticipation, only to fall into frustration and despair each time Baba fails to appear.

Finally this evening, at the time of His last scheduled darshan. He directed His car to drive to the big hall where all the Margis sat. Their happiness when they saw Him enter was so strong that many of them wept uncontrollably.

He keeps the key for releasing our devotional longing by constantly varying His behavior in unexpected manners, and by secretly and silently touching our hearts, even when we are totally away from His physical presence.