Dada Aksayananda's Story

Dada Aksayananda tells another story. It is a long story, but this one will have to win the final prize for experiences showing how Baba preplanned everything.

Dada said:

In 1979, Ananda Marga purchased a house in Lake Gardens, Calcutta for our Marga Guru Quarters. I was then Baba’s second personal assistant.

I frequently had the chance to talk with Him while performing massage. It was shortly after moving into the new house.

I was alone with Him when I said, “Baba, at last there is a house in Calcutta which belongs to us. How would it be if we were to plant the grounds around the building and make a garden on the roof?”

“You can do it,” He replied, “but do you know what the result will be? If you plant around the house, the roots of the plants will damage the building’s foundation. If you make a roof garden, the roof will be spoiled by water draining out of the flower pots.”

We didn’t talk for a few minutes. When I looked at His face He seemed to be sleeping.

Then a thought occurred to me. I started thinking we should get a much larger piece of land than this with a bigger house. Then I could make a big garden away from the building.

There Baba could walk and enjoy the plants and the fresh air.

“Aksayananda, are you saying anything?” Baba suddenly asked.

“Nothing, Baba.”

“No, no. You were telling me something.”

I understood that Baba had been listening to my thoughts, so I replied, “Yes, Baba,” and expressed my thoughts to Him. Baba only smiled and kept silent.

He became reserved and silent for a few minutes. Then Baba closed His eyes for more than ten minutes. I wondered whether Baba was angry at me because at first I had told Him that I liked the new house, and then had started talking about getting another.

Quite suddenly, Baba asked me to come near. I went close to His head, but Baba still did not open His eyes. I said, “Yes, Baba.”

He opened His eyes with a loving smile, and placed both His palms on my cheeks.

“Yes, my son, what you thought may come true some day.” He asked me to sit in meditation pose, close my eyes, and keep my mind concentrated in my sixth chakra. He then asked me what I saw.

I told Baba that I saw a grand house surrounded by beautiful trees and many plants. He told me to go further and see more. Then I heard the sounds of hundreds of birds and saw that they were flying from tree to tree.

Again Baba asked me to see more. I told Him that I saw Him walking under the trees on a narrow path. Some Dadas were with Him.

Baba asked me to go towards the house.

“What are you seeing now?”

“Baba, I see that the building has two parts, one on the east and one on the west. Also there are a few underground rooms.” “Go inside the western room. What do you see there?” “Baba, there are rooms but no one is there.” “Go downstairs to the underground room.” “Baba, there’s not enough light to see clearly.” “Go outside and look around.”

“Baba, I see the rooms in the eastern part of the building.”

“Go inside. Now tell me what you see.”

“Baba, there are many Dadas and Didis there.”

“Go further inside. Tell me what you see.”

“There is a door, but it’s closed.”

“Open it. What do you see?”

“I see You there, Baba, lying on a bed.”

“All right. Come out of the room and go upstairs. What do you see?” “Baba, there is a big function going on with many people, and the room is beautifully decorated. Baba, You are sitting there with some other people.”

“Can you recognize them?”

“No, Baba. I have never seen them before.”

“Is anybody else there?”

“Yes. Two Dadas are doing something. They seem very busy.”

“And what else do you see?”

“Baba, I see a marriage going on.”

“Can you recognize the bride and groom?”

“No, Baba.”

“Now come downstairs. What do you see?”

“A fountain.”

“And now what do you see?”

“Baba, I see you going up in an elevator,” I answered with surprise. “Go inside again. What do you see now?” “Baba, all the Dadas and Didis are weeping.” “Ask them why they are weeping.” “Baba, I am asking them, but no one is replying. They just raise their heads and look at me. No one will answer.” “Ask them again.”

“Baba, they are simply weeping, and not replying.”

“All right. Come out now. Do you recognize the location of the

house?”

“It is somewhere in Calcutta, Baba, but not in Lake Gardens.”

Then the demonstration was over. He said, “Don’t tell anyone about this just now. Keep it to yourself for now.”

Not long after, I was transferred to Kerala State. In January 1983 ,1 made my first visit to Baba’s new residence in Tiljala, Calcutta. There was no way for me to express my inner joy at finding that what Baba had shown me a few years before was now coming true.

Years later, on 11 September 1990, Baba came out of the hospital and at midnight He called for me. While I was massaging Him, He asked me to talk quietly about something so that He would feel sleepy.

“Baba, what you showed me in that demonstration in 1979 has come completely true now to the last detail. I had been wondering if the foun¬ tain would really be built, but it had come just as it was in the vision. Lastly the elevator was installed and reality was completely like my vision. I thought now I could tell everyone.” 105 “You are forgetting one feature of the things I showed you. Try to recollect.”

I tried and tried to remember, but I could not remember anything that was not already there in reality. I asked Baba to please tell me what it was that I had forgotten.

“When the time comes, you will remember everything. You see, whatever happens I planned it all long ago. Whenever I take determina¬ tion for any purpose, that thing must happen and no one can stop it.”

The next month, Baba left His physical body.

Recently I went to Madras to conduct a spiritual seminar. As I gave a talk about Baba, I suddenly remembered the missing element in my vision that Baba had referred to. Yes, after Baba’s passing, all the Dadas and Didis wept in Baba’s quarters for two days. None of us could speak even if we tried. We just looked at each other and wept.

With You in Your room

Tokyo. I miss Baba so much, that there is a constant ache in my chest. Early this morning, however, He relieved it slightly by a dream— my first dream of Him after His passing:

105 The marriage of Baba’s adopted son K inshuk had also been held.

After having fieldwalk with Baba, I was with Him and several other workers in His room in Calcutta. A few minutes passed in normal dis¬ cussions, during which He smiled and joked. Then He turned to speak confidentially to me.

He said, “What do you dearly want?”

I looked up and saw my answer written in three-dimensional letters suspended in the air. I read this reply to Him, without understanding what I was saying.

Understanding carries no weight, I thought. Only feeling matters. Only love matters.

Baba spoke intimately with me, “But there is someone else, isn’t

there?”

“There’s no one else for me, Baba,” I said.

“What about that lady in your class?” He asked.

It took me a moment, and then I knew whom He meant. I almost laughed, because my feeling for her was simply as a student.

“No, it’s nothing,” I said. “Only You.”

He smiled. It was only playful lovers’ talk, and of course He knew the truth. He hugged me tightly, and I began to cry, feeling I would again soon be separated from Him.

“Please post me in India or anywhere that I can be close to You,

Baba. I want to be with You in Your room.” Now I remembered that this is what the three-dimensional letters said. So I added, “This is what I want more than anything else.”

He didn’t reply, so I embraced Him more closely, completely, and went on crying.

In this state I woke up, and indeed I was crying. My pillow was soaked in tears. I rubbed my face in those tears, and felt Him inside of me.

And I knew this was His strange way of comforting me—for, though my throat swelled and tears flowed, the top of my head throbbed rhyth¬ mically and all the cells of my body quivered with His blissfulness.

Our case with Amnesty temporarily rests

1991. The woman from Amnesty International called me, saying, “I’m sorry, we have not yet received a reply from our London office concerning your case. I’m very concerned about the persecution in Ananda Nagar, so I intend to give London a big push. I thought to ask if you have any more information or documents you’d like to add.”

“I’m very thankful to you,” I said, “but there’s been a change. You see, in October, P.R. Sarkar, the propounder of Ananda Marga, passed away.”

“Oh, I’m very sorry to hear that.”

“No need to be sorry. There’s benevolent purpose in everything.

Since then, the daily attacks at Ananda Nagar have ceased. It’s now completely peaceful, and we are free to engage in purely constructive work.”

“Oh, well, that’s a great relief to me.”

“I might add that the violence stopped, I guess, because the com¬ munists believe Ananda Marga will crumble in the absence of Sarkar. But we always gain strength out of adverse conditions. The annual gath¬ ering in Ananda Nagar, which was concluded a few days ago, was even bigger than usual. More than 20,000 people attended. Many were new people who had not even seen Sarkar. So, I wouldn’t be surprised if, after watching our development for a few months or so, the communists recommence their attacks against us.”

“Well, I sure hope not. In any case, I’ll keep your files safe. Let me know if the trouble starts up again.”

“You will see it. But I will not.”

Taipei. A few days ago, Dada Pranavatmakananda interviewed Mr N.C. Ganguli, an old colleague of Baba’s from the Jamalpur Railway accounts office. 106 He never learned meditation, though he held Baba in highest esteem. Ganguli said that daily after lunch many of the staff would gather around Baba’s desk for discussion. Sometime in 1952,

Baba was talking to them about communism. He said it was an inhu¬ mane philosophy, and therefore would not survive for long. It would eventually completely disappear from the world. Not only would com¬ munism face such a fate, even the Soviet Union itself would disintegrate.

At that time Stalin’s nation was a powerful force, so the statement was in every sense surprising. (Even now that communism is in trouble,

106 Since shortly after Baba’spassing, Pranavatmakanandaji hashad a special duty which I envy. He is incharge of collecting the accounts of Baba-experiences from M argis, non-M argis and workers. The amount of material has so far been enormous— already hundreds of video tapes. We can guess that hiscompleted reports will contain sufficient new information for writing scores of booksabout Baba.

it does not appear likely that the USSR will collapse.) So Ganguli asked, “Prabhat Ranjan, will we see all this within our lifetime?” Baba replied, “You will see it. But I will not.” 107

Pranavatmakanandaji also told me of another incident from that Jamalpur office. One of Baba’s colleagues clearly remembered that around 1959, Baba told him, “In my family the longevity is not more than seventy years. My grandfather and my father both died early. So there is very little chance that I’ll cross seventy. If I were to cross sev¬ enty, then I would personally show the world the power of my ideology. But there is very little chance of that.”

Baba died at the age of 69.

Why He didn’t allow me to meet H im in jail

Komsomolsk, Russia.

Some part of the first Vedas were composed in central Russia 15,000 years ago.

Those Aryan people migrated southeast, where they mixed their Vedic culture with the Tantric culture of northeast India.

The Aryans were an aggressive warlike people. Yet they were knowledgable on spiritual philosophy.

The effect of those days seems to remain here, because many Russians are extremely thirsty for psychic and spiritual experience.

I found them intelligent, dynamic, and usually responsible. They are enthusiastic about anything having an occult flavor*.

*I should mention that I later worked in M ongolia. Though most M ongoliansare not so desperate for spiritual knowledge like the Russians, they have a greater tendency toward a spiritually-centered lifestyle. Before communism took over M ongolia, it was nick-named " Little India" because of its affinity for spiritual culture. The people seem as simple as the renowned devotees from K rishna’s time, who were cowherds.

(That my picture of them should not appear over rosy, let me add that they also have a tendency toward over-argumentation and over-intellectualization.)