Baba's Death

Not long after, I was transferred to Kerala State.

In January 1983, 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.”

“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:

The marriage of Baba’s adopted son Kinshuk 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, 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

106 Since shortly after Baba’s passing, Pranavatmakanandaji hashad a special duty which I envy. He is incharge of collecting the accounts of Baba-experiences from M argis, non-Margis 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.

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 seventy, 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 Him 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*.

(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.)