Serenading God

Calcutta. I and about twenty other Margis were singing Prabhat Sangiit to Baba.

Prabhat Sangiit were His " Songs of the New Dawn". He usually composed a few daily. Eventually Baba composed 5018 songs, all within a space of only eight years.

He interrupted everyone to speak to me. Pointing to His throat, he said, “While singing, you should keep your mind concentrated here.”

I was surprised because when I was a child our singing teacher instructed us to project from the chest. Perhaps it is because Baba is more interested in the beauty of the sound than the volume of the voice. Or perhaps He meant that psychic concentration is on the throat chakra, but physical projection should be from the chest and lungs.

A few days earlier He said, “Those who regularly sing kiirtan gradually develop a sweet and melodious voice.” Is the reason simply practice, or is it (as I believe) because the kiirtan singer is not trying to impress anyone—only to serenade God?

Luminous beings

Tokyo. Six of us were sleeping (on the floor as always) last night in the large room of the yoga center.

About 3 AM I sat up, saying, “Where’d they go? Where’d they go?”

My voice woke Dada Ravindranath. “Where did who go?” he asked.

Suddenly becoming aware of him and the other Margis, I said, “You don’t know but there are other beings in this house who are even more absorbed in music than you.”

(Ravindranathji usually plays Prabhat Sangiit several hours a day on his electric keyboard.)

“What do you mean?” he said, his curiosity peaked.

In that moment a thought strongly entered my mind: I must not speak more or I will forget everything I saw. So, I said, “Oh, it’s nothing.”

Dada Nityashubhananda’s voice floated over from the other side of the dark room, “It’s not nothing.”

Unwilling to be deterred from my silence, I laid down and slept.

In the morning, after rising. Ravindranathji said, “Dharmaveda-nanda, what did you experience last night?”

In that moment the memory returned—and with it, a bolt of inspiration.

Funny, I would have indeed forgotten it all if he hadn’t questioned me.

“As I lay sleeping,” I said, “I felt an indescribable vibration which woke me up. I looked around, and saw scores, maybe even more than a hundred little people.

They were pressed against each other, and against these two walls (which join in the corner where I slept). Those persons were far from ordinary.

They were of many colors, sizes and facial expressions. But all had large heads with small bodies. Especially minuscule were their arms and legs. I am sure they were luminous beings.

“I looked at them, and they looked at me for several long minutes. I was super-awake. The ones here were all siddhas or gandharvas (see following footnote). For that reason I said there were some who were more absorbed in music than Ravindranathji.”

Nityashubhanandaji then added, “Just before you spoke last night, a wave of energy rolled into me also, waking me up. That’s why I sat up to do meditation. And that’s why I knew what you saw was not nothing.” 85

5 Occasionally Baba would give demonstrations exposing the presence of such beings. At those times He enabled one or more Dadas to perceive these subtler beings. This was the first time I had seen them so clearly and in such number, though I had experienced them countless times before in other ways. The yogis explain that a luminous being is an entity which has an elevated consciousness like a human but is different because its body is made up only of light, gas and ether. It contains no solid or liquid constituents.) ust as every being is born to fulfill its own needs along its own evolutionary path, so it is with the luminous being. In its previous life, a luminous being was a human who concentrated on a single desire such as the propensity to accumulate wealth (yaksa), or to develop artistically (gardharva), or to gain psychic experiences through meditation (siddha). To satisfy that desire, its primary activity as a luminous being is to intensify the environmental vibration in the field of spirituality or culture or beauty or economics or whatever—according to its special need. Its range of activities is limited compared with humans. Itissaid that spiritually conducive place and many other places of intense activity attract luminous beings who enjoy or maintain or increase the energy. People who frequently practice kiirtan may distinctly hear other voices singing kiirtan. It is so clear that we often feel compelled to open our eyes, turn around and see if someone else has joined the kiirtan—only to discover that no one else is there. But they are there—our physical eyes are simply unable to see them. The reader will remember an earlier entry about this.

1987.1 had a dream last night:

It was set in the future; Baba was an old man. I was together with hundreds of devotees who I didn’t recognize. We were high in the mountains, seated around a small bowl-shaped valley. In front sat the two foremost leaders of Ananda Marga—a man and a woman. I knew neither. Baba sat behind us all, simply looking on without participating. Everyone’s attention was absorbed in listening to the two leaders, whose words I cannot remember.

I too stared at those leaders, until a thought entered my mind: / Ve forgotten Baba.

Turning around, I saw that Baba had already left His seat.

What is this1 Oh, where is He? I thought.

Then I saw Him, off in the distance, together with two or three Margis. He was climbing the highest mountain peak.

What a fool I am! Now I’ve lost this chance to be with Him.

I saw Him pause by an outhouse. It appeared to be occupied, and He waited. As I jumped up to run after Him, I thought, I wonder what is the protocol here. Will anyone try to stop me?

No one noticed me, and I was free. But after running a few steps, I remembered that I hadn’t put on my sandals. So I ran back to look for them among the hundreds of other sandals.

If I don’t find them soon, I’ll go without shoes, or take someone else’s.

In that moment, I looked down, and saw my sandals on my feet. How strange. What was this except Baba’s play?

I ran to the top of the peak but Baba was gone. Thinking that He must have walked down the other side of the mountain, I dashed down the slope with my heart in my throat. On the way I encountered one of the mountain-folk devotees, a big fellow. He grabbed my arm, and ran at double my speed. As I struggled down the path with him, I wondered how I could keep up. Then a second giant devotee appeared and took me by my other arm. I laughed at this further play of Baba’s, as I half-skipped, half-flew downward. They joined my laughter.

Then I saw Baba far below, just as He turned a corner and moved out of view. The three of us went even faster, the branches whipping in my face so that I had to cover my eyes with my shoulder. I knew it was not only His play, but also a test that I must pass before I meet Him. Again and again He appeared momentarily, then disappeared around another comer.

At last I saw Him standing in a fresh green field, surrounded by a score of devotees. The two giants released me, and I ran forward, thinking to embrace Baba. Something made me stop, however, as I came to the circle of devotees. I joined the circle around Him with the others. He wore a heavenly smile, and looked at us in a way that drove me mad.

We are each HisRadha, playing Krishna Liila, I thought. 86

As we danced, a young boy stepped out of Baba’s body, holding a glass of juice. He tossed drops of that juice toward us, which we caught in our mouths.

Then the boy materialized some small milk sweets, which he also threw to us. It was prasad, and I tried my best to catch it in my mouth.

86 A mythical scene of Krishna’s childhood had Him in just this predicament, surrounded by many dancing girls, including Radha, His favorite. The myth represents the idea that the entire Cosmos is the play of God, and that every entity is knowingly or unknowingly revolving around the Cosmic Nucleus. Those who are aware of this gravitate quickly towards Him through the force of mutual love.