Global water crisis

Ananda Nagar. June. During a workers’ meeting, Baba said:

“A water crisis is soon to strike the earth. Due to overuse of underground water resources, the water-table is sinking. At some point that water will become so polluted it can no longer be processed for drinking.

This problem will dominate over most other problems in most countries of the world. It will be the direct cause of millions of deaths. In many areas people will become dependent on rainwater. International commerce in water will become more than commerce in petroleum. This crisis will come to a peak in the year 2000. Will you remember that? 2000? (So saying, Baba used His forefinger to draw the numerals 2-0-0-0 in the air.)

This is why on our Master Units, next to every building, a pond should be constructed to catch the rainwater. Our Master Units should not depend on underground water sources.”

The most powerful mudra I ever felt

Baba’s DMC varabhaya mudra (gesture of blessing) was scheduled for today. In the moment that we all expected Him to give the mudra, however, He brought His hands down on the couch—so forcefully that it made a dull noise.

There are all sorts of speculative explanations. But no one really understands Baba’s strange behavior.

The crowd of about 30,000 was disappointed.

Two days later. There was no darshan this morning; the program was clearly finished, and most people arranged to leave. We faced the usual problems of secretly removing the overseas Margis. The police want to catch foreign Margis and blacklist them from reentering India. In the past, we hid them inside large trucks. But this time the trucks were delayed, and hadn’t come.

Two or three workers made a plan to hustle the overseas Margis into a train during its stop in Pundag (the closest station). This plan was neither announced nor clarified, even when it came time to rush the first batch of Margis to the train. At that time, about two or three thousand Indian Margis were also boarding.

The police spotted the non-Indians, and took up the chase. While most of the foreigners escaped, they succeeded in capturing three sisters and one brother. In the process, they ripped off some of the women’s clothing in a most disrespectful manner. In India such behavior toward women is considered outrageous. Within moments the Margis were taken off to the nearby policebox.

The Indian Margis were so angry about the behavior of the police that they pulled out one of the track railings, rendering the train im¬ mobile. The Margis declared they would not permit the train to leave until the captured Margis were released.

The few hundred innocent passengers already on the train became the victims of this drama. Two Margis gave them a mass lecture to explain the problem, and all became sympathetic. The Margis brought water and snacks for the stranded passengers.

Meanwhile, back at Ananda Nagar (about two kilometers away), all the overseas workers had long before changed from their orange robes to civilian clothes. Hearing that the police and local communist thugs were preparing for a confrontation, we engaged ourselves in planning and constructing a defense. We began shifting the women and children into more central buildings where they would be safer.

In this way, several hours passed. The tension increased, and still the train remained. Because it was a fasting day, the strain was not only psychic but also physical.

At 10:00 p.m., someone yelled, “I see Baba’s car! It’s headed toward the darshan tent!” Since the DMC program seemed finished, and as we were in the midst of a dangerous crisis, we could not believe that Baba would give darshan. But better run to the tent to see!

By the time I entered, Baba was already seated, and a program was indeed underway. For the first time ever, I sat in the middle instead of the front for darshan. Being in civil clothes, I preferred not to attract the attention of anyone, including Baba.

Because many people had already left, and the tent was half empty, the feeling was strange. But Baba was in a fine mood, joking and speak¬ ing casually. When He finally started the formal darshan itself, the air became energized. By the time He had half finished, I was so concen¬ trated on Him that I unconsciously shifted from my normal cross-legged position to a strained kneeling pose. Even though He spoke in Bengali, I became excited. I didn’t know why. And then I thought, “Perhaps He’ll give the mudra. How odd if it’s so, but…” A few moments later He began singing the chant Samgacchadvam, which always precedes the mudra. We all sat forward, astounded, waiting, tense.

And He gave it. A varabhaya mudra as I had never before experienced. He used to hold the mudra for perhaps five seconds or less.

But this one, how long did it last? At the time it seemed interminable. Everyone, absolutely everyone, including the small children, were blasted. Shouts of “Baba! Baba!” came from all sides. I also shouted uncontrollably. My hair seemed to stand on end. My eyes felt as if they would pop out of their sockets, and my skin as if it would explode off my body. My heart burst with feeling for Him, and my mind stopped functioning, except to think Baba! Baba!

At last He closed His hands, and did namaskar. Perhaps forty sec¬ onds had passed. The crowd sang Prabhat Sang!it or something, I don’t remember—I remained absorbed in looking at Him. Then everyone stood up to dance kiirtan. I stood but could not dance. I could only stare at Him. As the kiirtan continued, Baba slowly walked off the stage.

Without thinking, I ran toward Him. The tent was so big. I did not know where He had gone, but I lifted up one wall, dove under, and kept running. Sooner than I expected, I saw Baba entering His car. Volunteer guards were protecting the area with their sticks. Paying no attention to them, I rushed toward Baba. The guards didn’t react quickly enough, and I was soon past them. I rushed up to the window of Baba’s car without any concern for the impropriety of my clothing. I was crying.

The car drove away before I could touch it. I ran alongside it. I could clearly see Baba, though He did not see me. Weeping and running. Oh, Baba! It went on a long way like that. Then the car sped up, leaving me behind.

I walked slowly toward our quarters. Someone came from behind me and took my hand—Dada Nityashubhananda. He was also deeply affected. We walked together without speaking, tears welling in our eyes. When we arrived at the hostel, I excused myself and went up to the roof to be alone in the darkness. Everyone else was still at the darshan tent. As I sat for meditation, I heard powerful, booming voices speaking to the crowd over the PA system.

The mudra had invested everyone with such energy that an immediate return to normality was impossible. Remembering the stand-off at the train station, the Margis became even more excited.

They could no longer tolerate the injustice. Hundreds poured out of the tent and raced toward the station.

Silence returned. I slipped deep into meditation and paid no heed to my surroundings. I was unaware when the overseas Margis returned to the hostel. Unaware when, some time later, a great hubbub stirred.

Someone ran onto the roof. “Dada, we’ve been looking for you! Come quickly, there’s an emergency!”

Uninterested, but compelled by duty (I have been the main organizer for overseas Margis during this DMC), I rose slowly to my feet and made my way downstairs. Three or four workers rushed up to me. “Dharmavedananda, where’ve you been? There’s been an attack!”

My senses returned. “Where? What happened exactly?”

“The police went mad at the station area! They fired their rifles ran¬ domly in all directions! Many people were hit, and some may be dead!”

I looked at my watch. After midnight. Margis and workers were running here and there. A Dada told me that he was going to the hospital by motorcycle to check on the extent of the injuries and asked me if I wanted to come. I nodded. Within minutes we were there.

About 20 men were lying in beds, groaning from bullet shots.

One in particular was screaming in pain. Not long after, he died. The condition of four others was critical.

The police had fired indiscriminately. Though many women and children were in the crowd, none were hit. It seemed that only divine dispensation had spared them.

The suffering was very real. For some reason I was inspired. Their stolid manner in the face of agony, the history in the making of which all were aware, and the fact that Baba chose this moment to give His mudra—l felt, I had to feel, that a noble purpose was behind us. I held someone’s hand here, touched a forehead there—what more could I do? The doctors and nurses were caring for them, and I had still to think for the overseas Margis.

We went back to constructing more defenses, still discussing how to escape, taking care of some Margis who were inexperienced, helping others to adjust who were physically ill—it was late, 3:30 a.m.; we had been fasting in the heat all day; Margis were collapsing, closing their eyes, sleeping. It was enough already. I informed the guards that I, too, would rest until the sun rose, and to wake me if there was news.

Dramatic education

At sunrise, I awoke. A few workers were talking.

“Has anyone spoken to Baba about all this?” I asked.

“Just now one Dada came with that news. Baba said, ‘I’m very pained by the suffering of these boys. But why did no one check with me before rushing in front of the police? It was inappropriate.’”

Soon after, the trucks finally arrived. We prepared to leave in our normal secret manner.

And what about the four imprisoned overseas Margis? After hearing Baba’s comment, we decided to deal with their cases through the courts.

Ranchi. The evening papers ran headlines stories about the attack. Photos of the dead Dada and the four severely injured workers appeared with long articles condemning the behavior of the police.

Though this conflict may have technically been inappropriate, I feel it was a part of the Cosmic plan. The Margis now understand better the injustice of this government and the general public has gained further evidence of the persecution of Ananda Marga. We have experienced and learned many things through this incident.

Maybe I have no right to make the following comment. Nevertheless: Though Baba’s words condemned the Margis’ action, I feel He knew it would happen, and perhaps on the psychic level caused it to happen. It was obvious that Baba should have been consulted first; I think He speeded up their minds and made them forget to ask Him. In order to create various circumstances for our growth, the Tantra guru often causes us to commit mistakes, without which the necessary conditions would never develop.

Some people may consider my opinion a heartless one. For me, however, this idea is full of love. I remember Baba’s explanation as to why Krishna engineered the Mahabharata war: “It was meant for popu¬ lar education. If Parama Purusha (Cosmic Consciousness) accom¬ plishes everything by mere thought-projection, the lessons would go unnoticed and unlearnt by others….Hence, events like the battle of Kurukshetra had to be conceived and dramatized….Nobody was spared— even Abhimanyu, the nephew of Krishna and son of Aijuna, was not spared. For in war between virtue and vice, the sparks of the fire spread out on all sides.” 101

Conversation on a train

New Delhi. While coming here by train, I overheard an interesting conversation. Several educated men were discussing world politics. They spoke in English. When their conversation turned to the predicament of communism, one of them said, “The strange fact is that many years ago the guru of Ananda Marga, P.R. Sarkar, predicted in detail the collapse of communism.”

Another man made a few comments about Baba, and finished by saying, “Yes, in every age at least one such great intellectual is there.”

101 Namami KrsnaSundaram, Ananda M arga Publications, 1981.

“But he also prophesied the demise of capitalism,” said a third. “I don’t know about that.”

“Well, none of us knew about communism’s downfall either. Let’s wait and see. If I had to wager, I’d bet whatever Sarkar said is correct.”

They all nodded their heads. I was about to stick my neck out and say something, when they changed the topic.

The university

Tokyo. A Dada returned from India today. The latest news is that Baba has started a new program. A university is being created in Ananda Nagar.

Several times daily, jeeps and motorcycles arrive at the Central Of¬ fice piled high with books to be used for the university library. The books are perused by a full-time staff of workers and Margis. One of the largest rooms in the office is being used for planning the university’s architecture, courses, staff needs, budgets and so on. They are hoping to open the university before the end of the year, and so, an enormous amount of preparation is required. 102

Amnesty cooperates

A few days ago, while teaching meditation at Waseda University, I met a few student members of Amnesty International. On their initiative, I was introduced to a local Amnesty leader who spoke fluent English.

I explained that Ananda Nagar workers are facing almost daily attacks from thugs and police. I also explained that Amnesty never helped us when Baba was in jail, because His case was then classified as a criminal case. She was sympathetic and requested me to show her proof of my allegations.

Since then, we have had several meetings, and I have presented all the newspaper clippings, court decisions and other documents related to the persecution of Ananda Marga in Bengal.

Today the Tokyo Amnesty office formally took up our case and began correspondence with their London headquarters. The woman in-charge told me they would insist on a proper investigation, though it may take a few weeks to get the ball rolling.

102 Together with the Master Unit program, the university is one of our most important Central projects. It isconcerned not only with academic study but also with practical research on new scientific inventions and agricultural systemsat Ananda Nagar.