Fighting Samskara

Ananda Nagar. 1985. Dada Yatishvarananda told me a story from his days as a regional secretary in India. Baba was making a tour of south India, and Dada was accompanying Him. Many local Margis came to meet Baba at an airport where His flight was in transit. In an informal mood. Baba asked one mother to pass her young son to Him.

Baba took the boy in His lap. Dada was standing behind Baba, and was very curious because he had never seen Baba treat a child in this way. Baba smiled, then gently grasped the boy’s lips, and sweetly said, “Yes, yes, my boy.”

The child became excited and shouted, “Baba! Baba!” Immediately the mother and most of the other Margis began softly crying.

Dada said that he thoroughly enjoyed the scene, though he had no idea what caused their tears.

Shortly after, Baba and Dada were called for their flight. Baba’s security guard delayed slightly and then met them inside the plane. When he sat down, he said to Dada, “Do you know what really happened back there?”

Dada said, “No. Tell me.”

The guard said, “Afterward, I asked the mother and other Margis, who were all completely thrilled. They told me that even though that boy was 4 years old, he had never uttered a single sound. They believed he was completely mute.

Though it seemed Baba made no special effort, He made the child speak.”

At this moment Baba turned His face toward Dada, and said, “Do you like it, my boy?”

Fighting samskara

Tokyo. Virendra from America is here. He is one of only 10 non-Koreans in the world who have the top black belt of a Korean martial art called Kok Sulwon, the traditional self-defense method used by guards of the Korean royal family.

Before becoming a Margi, Virendra had a job as a bouncer in a California bar. He had to deal daily with tough rowdy drunks.

When I worked for Spiritualists’ Sports and Adventures Club in Europe I often arranged self-defense training at our weekend camps. Over the years I experimented with different martial art systems. I searched for an instructor who could teach enough in a few days to be of practical use for our students, but I was unsuccessful in that search.

I put the problem to Virendra, and he worked out a series of movements covering the most common situations which arise during confrontations on the streets of our violent world. Of course I asked him to teach me the course.

This is the first time I’ve been able to really learn self-defense.

One month later. I have been practicing Virendra’s defense techniques. As a consequence, I’ve been itching for a situation to test my new skill. But I thought it unlikely; I’ve had no need to physically fight anyone for many years.

Today, while passing through Shibuya, I ran into a Margi who sells paintings on the street. He had to go somewhere so he asked me to watch the paintings.

Soon after he left, another street-seller appeared. He was a French fellow, and a head taller than me.

“Get your stuff out of heere,” he said. “This is my place.”

“They’re not mine,” I said. “I’m just guarding them for a friend. He’ll be back soon.”

“I don giive a damn! Move iit, or I’ll destroy all these paintings.” My heart start beating faster. Would I get a chance to use my new Skill?

“I’m not moving, brother,” I said, staring him in the face. “And you’re also not going to touch the paintings.” “You wanna fight, huh?”

“No, I don’t want to fight,” I fibbed. “But if you’d like to fight. I’m ready.”

He rolled up his sleeves, flexing his muscles. I stood motionless, and centered myself as Virendra had taught me. Suddenly he rushed at me. He lifted his hands to grab my shirt-front and throw me on the ground. But as he did so, I raised my arms in between his, caught his wrists, stepped to the side, and pulled him forward in the same direction as his momentum. He fell in a heap on the ground, skinning his hands and knees. Fantastic! It was so easy!

He jumped up, clearly shocked that such a small guy could trip him like that.

“So! You reeally wanna fight, don’t you?” he shouted.

A crowd began to gather around.

“I told you,” I said evenly. “I’m not interested in fighting. It’s up to you.”

His eyes shifted nervously as he said, “Are these paintings really not yours?”

“Of course not. My friend will come back soon.”

“Okay,” he said softly. “Let us wait for him.”

The crowd dispersed. I offered him a seat.

The Margi took a long time to come back, so the Frenchman and I got to know each other. He had many personal problems, and ended up by asking me to teach him meditation.

I admit I shouldn’t have desired this sort of confrontation. But sometimes the wild child inside me gets the upper hand. I was lucky this time that Baba didn’t punish me for my foolishness. 80

80 The physical world directly reflects the needs of one’s mind. A seasoned spiritual aspirant usually remains busy in dealing with responsesto very old needs. When such a person createsa fresh strong desire for anything, that desire is bound to get fulfilled. Usually it happens sooner rather than later. Conscious desire is dangerous, however, because it is contrary to the path of selflessness.

Unstoppable devotees

Calcutta. Among the different gifts I brought for Baba this time was a bottle of chocolate Horlicks powdered-malt mix. 81 Today I was happy to see Dada Keshavananda prepare a big glass of the Horlicks for Him.

A few minutes later, Dada came out of Baba’s room. He put the half-empty glass on a table. “Did Baba enjoy it?” I asked. “Of course.”

“Did you mention my name?” “Of course.”

“Thank you. Now, how about a little prasad (spiritually vibrated food)?”

“What?” he said. “Don’t be silly. You know wholetimers can’t take chocolate.”

“C’mon, Dada. It’s prasad. No problem.” “Noway.”

Starting to advance toward the glass, I said, “Please, Dadaji.” “No. You’re not permitted.”

“Well, I’m just going to take it,” I said, moving closer to the glass. “No. Don’t touch it.” “I’m taking it.”

“No! It will… what are you doing?” “Drinking it of course!” “You drank it!” “Of course.”

Even in the case of Dadas, boys will be boys.

[Author’s note: This reminds me of an incident that occurred when Baba was in Germany. At 10:00 a.m. on a fasting day. Dada Karunananda and I were waiting for Baba in His house. We were alone when we noticed four glasses, each with a small amount of orange juice. Obviously this was the remains of a pre-dawn drink Baba had taken in preparation for fasting. We grinned at each other, and, without exchanging a word, each picked up a glass and bottomed-up. Then, laughing with glee, we proceeded to the third and fourth glasses—merrily breaking our fasts. Actually, I didn’t really feel as if I had broken my fast, since the orange juice was pure prasad— not food. I didn’t feel the slightest twinge of conscience. To the contrary, even now looking back so many years, I still derive a certain pleasure from the simple devotion that guided us. ]

81 Dadas and Didis are not permitted to eat mildly stimulating food like chocolate, non-herbal tea, coffee and Coca Cola. Baba, however, did not follow such a restriction because He wished to provide a living example not only for renunciates but also for family people (who are permitted to eat such things in moderation). For the same reason. He also shaved. However, He fasted 4 times a month like a renunciate, and of course completely refrained from consuming such foods as meat, fish, eggs, onion, garlic, mushroom, alcohol and narcotics.