Contents

Part II - His Teaching and Work

VI		The Way of the Spirit
VII		Approach to Reality
VIII		The Role of the Guru
IX		Spiritual Experiences
X		The Gift of Liberation

Postscript

Foreword

In the postscript to the previous editions of this book, I have related an experience which led to the writing of this book in 1974. It was the result of what I believe to have been an inner command from my Master, from within me. I shall now try to relate what happened earlier to that, which may explain why the command of the Master was issued to me.

My Master had been seriously ill in the early part of the year 1974, and had to be finally hospitalised in Lucknow, where he lay in deep coma for almost one month. In view of his advanced age - he being 75 years old then - there were deep, though unexpressed, fears that the end may not be long. It was very much of a miracle to most of us when he regained consciousness, and then went on to regain his health.

It was my privilege to have been with him for part of the time he was hospitalised. I also went to Shahjahanpur after he was discharged from the hospital in Lucknow, and stayed with him for many days till he was relatively in better health, after his month long ordeal. It was then that he revealed to me that he had chosen me to be his spiritual representative, to eventually succeed him as the President of the Mission, whenever that became necessary. Those were, for me, very moving days, driving me to tears from moment to moment. Those were the blessed days when his gentle and deeply abiding love flowed upon me, over me, like a spring drizzle under blazing sunshine. Those were also the days of the most personal intimacy between us, when there seemed to be nothing at all between us, excepting our two identities. It was as if he had removed all barriers between ourselves, and we were blissfully together in a oneness that would perhaps be difficult to experience later.

It was a time of the greatest happiness for me, and, rather surprisingly, the time of the greatest sorrow for me too, for it was then that I had to face the certain knowledge that one day my beloved would leave me to go into the brighter world. This knowledge almost broke my heart. He could of course divine it at a glance, and he would gently chide me for such thoughts, saying, "I shall be with you for many more years. Do not worry about it now. Mrs. Davies had told me that I shall live till 2006 or 2007, and others have also told me the same thing. So don't cry now. I shall be with you for a long time. One day we all shall have to go. But I repeat, it is very far off." Thus he would chide me and comfort me. But nevertheless, I could not bear to think of the time when he would not be with me, and thus began for me the hidden sorrow in my heart, which has never left me, and which, in 1983, became the stark and devastating reality that shall haunt me for the rest of my life.

This knowledge made me brood over what I should do to try to show my love for Him, and to express my gratitude to Him, for the gifts of His love that I have received were no small gifts! This made me brood all the time about what I should do, with the result that an inner pressure was steadily built up in my heart, and the need became obsessive. It was in this frame of mind and heart that I was in Madurai - and there the miracle occurred, of His inner instruction to me, resulting in the writing of this book.

It is my conviction that such an inner pressure has to be built up, by our own effort, and then His help crystallises within us, and then all becomes possible. Love for Him alone can make this possible.

Part I

The Master

I The First Exposure

I was drawn into the Mission at the end of March 1964 by Shri Vira Raghavan, preceptor-in-charge of the Madras centre. Before I joined this great organisation I had not even heard its name! Shri Vira Raghavan and my father had become friends through a common interest in homoeopathy. Shri Vira Raghavan used to visit us occasionally, generally to have a medical look at my son and to offer advice for treatment on those occasions when he fell sick. My contact with him then was quite tenuous, being restricted to polite exchanges of greetings. One day in February (a very fortunate one for me!) Shri Vira Raghavan happened to see some of the books I was interested in - yoga, psychology, philosophy, mysticism, etc. He said, "Since you are interested in this sort of thing, why don't you try a practical approach?" I answered that I had done a few things for quite some years but, lacking guidance, I had given up practical pursuit of yogic sadhana. Then Shri Vira Raghavan said, "A few of us sit together and meditate. If you are interested you can join us and try out our method." I accepted instantly. My father joined the 'sitting' the very next Sunday, which happened to be Vasant Panchami day. My induction was however delayed by several weeks since I had to leave Madras on official work.

At that time Shri Vira Raghavan did not make any specific mention of Master, or tell us of the importance of the Master in this system of yoga. All that we saw was a photograph at which I, for one, glanced just casually. There was no particular impact other than a mental idea, "Oh! This is the person who guides the students. Very good!" Shri Vira Raghavan told us that this gentleman from Shahjahanpur had come the previous year, but we were not then made aware of his visit. Shri Vira Raghavan told us that we had been informed, albeit casually, of his visit the previous year. I then recollected Shri Vira Raghavan telling us the previous year that his acharya had come to Madras, and he would therefore be busy for a few days until his acharya left. At that time we had taken him to mean that his Vaishnav acharya had come to pay a visit. Regrettably, Shri Vira Raghavan had not enlightened us fully then, so that one precious opportunity of meeting the Master face to face had been irretrievably lost. Nevertheless, at the time we joined the Mission, this loss was not really felt since we had as yet no idea of the Master. This sense of loss was to come later.

During the middle of 1964 I had to go to Bareilly on official work, and thence to Lucknow. I actually passed through Shahjahanpur but I did not have the address of the Mission Headquarters with me, nor did I bother to try and locate the Mission to have Master's darshan. Thus a second opportunity was lost, this time by my own lack of interest. Within a few months the first sign of Master's grace came in the shape of another call to go to Bareilly, again on company work. After completing my work at Bareilly I proceeded to Shahjahanpur on a Saturday afternoon, leaving my colleagues behind at Bareilly, promising to be back the same evening. I arrived at Shahjahanpur at about 3 p.m., halted arbitrarily at an intersection, and asked for directions on how to get to Master's place. I was directed by the traffic constable to a sweet-meat seller a hundred yards away. The sweet-meat stall owner gave me further directions and I found myself at Master's residence, the 'ashram' as it is generally called, just a few minutes later! It had all been so direct and so simple.

I entered the ashram and requested an interview with the Master. I was told that he was resting, but that I could go into his room and sit down there, taking care not to disturb his rest. I found Master on a low bed, lying facing the wall with his back to me. This was my first view of the Master. He was lying on his right side with his knees drawn up, and looked very small and unimpressive as a human person. My first feeling was one of disappointment. "What?", I thought, "Is this the man who is going to lead me to my goal? It looks as if he himself could do with some help in even moving around physically. How then is he going to help me?" For the next half hour my thought followed this strain. It is no secret to say that I was quite disappointed and wished I had not come so far, alone, to see him. As my thoughts came to this dismal conclusion he suddenly turned round, fully awake, and I saw his face. He stared at me, seeming to look right through me, and I stared back at him, rather impolitely I am afraid. I introduced myself as an abhyasi of the Madras centre. He then sat up, back and head bent slightly forward, his body resting on his two hands which held the edge of the cot. He seemed to be ruminating over some inner thought. He appeared to be absorbed, and his face had a rather sombre expression on it. After a few moments he looked up at me again, and I saw his eyes. They are the deepest eyes I have ever seen. Generally human eyes seem to have a backdrop, a limit to transparency. Some eyes are even totally opaque, and one sees nothing but the outer surface of the cornea. In Master, the eyes are completely transparent, and seem to point the way to another world lying behind them. When one looks into Master's eyes, it is as if one is looking up into a clear, blue sky. The gaze goes on and on, limitlessly and for ever, without an end to penetration. Master's eyes seem to contain all space and all creation within them. That look won me over. I could now well believe the puranic stories of Yashoda seeing the whole world in Shri Krishna's baby mouth! I knew immediately and intuitively that I had found the person who alone could be my Master, and lead me to my goal.

Master slowly stood up and went out of the room on to the verandah, and looked around as if searching for something. He then asked me where my luggage was. I told him that I had left my bag in the car on the main road. Without even asking me about my plans he sent someone to bring the car around, to unload my suitcase, and to put it in the room next to the one he had been occupying, all of was which done, thus making my plans for me! He then asked someone else to get me a cup of tea together with something to eat. After this he went into his inner apartments, the family quarters as I found out subsequently, brought a towel, and laid it on the platform near the well which was, in those days, the only source of water. The well had a hand-pump by which water was pumped out. He put a bucket under the spout and pumped it full of water. After this he came and sat in his chair, smiled, for the first time, and said, "Please have your bath, the water is ready." My first reaction was one of chagrin that I had permitted an old man, far above my years, to draw my bath for me. The next one was of something I can hardly give expression to, even today. It was a conglomerate of emotions, of gratitude, awe, and love all mixed up together, along with a lot of shame in it. Shame because I had stood by and watched him pumping away to fill the bucket, imagining he was filling it up for himself, and had not offered to help him at all! All along I had wanted to go and do the pumping, but my shyness had prevented this. Anyway I had my bath as instructed, just by the well in the open, as the ashram had no bathroom in those days. By then the tea had arrived and I refreshed myself. After this I just sat on the verandah, while the Master kept at his own routine, frequently getting up to go inside the house to give instructions to the household staff and so on. Master also introduced me to the first person I had met when I entered the ashram, Shri Ishwar Sahai, whom I discovered to be Master's personal assistant and permanent companion.

Master had assumed I would stay the night, and I did not tell him I had to go back the same evening. I did not inform him of my plan, lacking the courage to do so. So I just sat and sat, waiting for something to happen. At about 7 o'clock Master went inside the house, and almost immediately came out to ask me whether I ate onions. I answered that I did not. I was puzzled by this question, but assumed that it had some relationship to spiritual practice. He then went in again, stayed away for some fifteen minutes, and then returned to his easy chair on the verandah. At about 8 o'clock someone came and whispered something to him. He immediately got up and said, "Come, your dinner is ready. Please eat it. I have arranged to have some curd brought for you, knowing that South Indians are accustomed to have it at all their meals." I had not expected this but meekly followed him and ate my meal. After finishing dinner I asked permission to leave. Master appeared surprised. He said, "You have just arrived, and you have come from such a long distance. Can you not stay at least another day?" The invitation to stay was so genuine and affectionate that I could do nothing but respond to it. A few other persons had assembled by this time, all local disciples of Master. We sat around him in a loose circle, but were mostly silent. Occasionally Master made some remark and lapsed into silence again. The evening wore on in this desultory fashion until finally, around 10 o'clock, feeling quite sleepy, I went to bed.

It was, as I found out by later experience of the Master's daily routine, a rather unusual day. Master is generally a charming and vivacious conversationalist, capable of immense humour and wit. He often lapses into periods of taciturnity, but these are few and of short duration. On such occasions he is totally withdrawn, and appears to be far away in another world. But when he speaks he has the gift of presenting his profound philosophical thought in the form of easy dialogue which even a totally unlettered person can understand and assimilate into his being, and apply in his work-a-day life. But all this was yet to come my way in my own personal experience. This first day with Master was to me still something of a disappointment because he had hardly addressed a dozen words to me - and those too of practically no spiritual significance whatsoever. All that he had exposed to me of himself was his gracious courtesy and hospitality as a householder. But one important feature or characteristic I did notice was that in Master this appeared entirely natural, and was patently sincere and fundamental to his nature. There was no ostentation, no sense of unnaturalness, no feeling of being patronised. On the contrary there was a spontaneity in his behaviour as a host that made it as natural as it is for the sun to shine, or for water to wet. For the first time in my life I felt myself to be in the presence of the perfect householder who could be a host to his guest without appearing to be one; who could serve his visitor with humility but without any taint of servility; and who could be a Master to the disciple without the vainglorious and arrogant pomp and bluster that, in India at least, seem to be almost essential prerequisites for the assumption of such elevated positions, particularly in the religious hierarchies. I have been exposed to the presence of many many persons who were reputed to be great souls, sannyasis, saints and so on. My professional career has involved a great deal of travel all over India, and on those official journeys I have had opportunities galore for such encounters. But rarely have I met a 'guru' of even the lowest situation in his own hierarchy where the gurudom had not been tainted by arrogance of manner, ostentation in personal presentation, glibness in making a multitude of promises, and avarice in collecting the disciples' 'gift'. Here, in Shahjahanpur, I had for the first time come across a guru who was simple, direct, unostentatious and unassuming; who made no demands of any kind and yet offered not only the supreme spiritual service of liberation but personal physical service to the abhyasi too. This was, to me, an enigma of shattering proportions and entirely out of tune with the guru of the common run in the Indian environment. So it is not to be wondered at that I went to bed with a welter of confused impressions and thoughts.

I didn't sleep very well that night. There was a large painting of the Grand Master, Lalaji Saheb, on the wall next to my bed, and I had the peculiar impression that he was staring down at me. This made me quite nervous and restless. I kept tossing and turning, and, even in the dark, I continued to feel Lalaji's penetrating eyes boring into me, penetrating through to my very soul, as it were. I woke up early in the morning and was ready by 6 a.m. I found no one about as yet. By the side of Master's easy chair on the verandah a hookah had been prepared ready for him. I learnt that Babuji, as the Master is affectionately called, began his day with the hookah. True enough he appeared at 7 a.m., went straight to his chair, and began pulling away at the hookah. It took some time for the hookah to 'smoke' properly. All this time he was sitting relaxed, completely silent, with a far away look in his eyes. He had a glass of milk half way through. When the hookah was smoked out he went into the office room, opened his medicine kit, and took out a bottle of oil which he proceeded to apply to his scalp, rubbing the oil in with vigorous hand movements. He then went for his bath, returning a short while later dressed in his usual fashion in a dhoti with a hand-stitched cloth banian covering his upper body. When he wants to be formal he wears a kurta. On public occasions he wears a long coat, coming down to his knees, buttoned up all the way to his neck, and sports a white cap. Occasionally he wears pyjamas too. This represents the complete range of his attire.

Master is very fair in complexion and, though short and spare, is extraordinarily handsome with his beautiful beard. His hands are very expressive, and he uses them often in making frequent gestures during conversation. His feet are very soft and the soles particularly so, being as soft as the petals of a flower. Touching them, one can well understand how the term 'lotus feet' came into existence. Master's feet are really lotus feet in their softness and healthy pink colour. Master speaks fluently in Hindi, Urdu and English. His English is direct and exact. I have never known Master use an ambiguous word or phrase, either in conversation or in correspondence. He is one of that very rare breed of persons who say what they mean, and mean precisely what they say. When questioned he gives immediate and considered answers in a most benevolent manner, making the questioner happy that he has asked a question. I noticed that while Master welcomed questions, he preferred them to be such as concern an individual personally. Master generally dislikes purely theoretical questions seeking merely knowledge rather than advice.

Master is a great artist in the matter of avoiding controversy. I found in him a genuine humility when he disclaimed all knowledge of other systems of thought, philosophy etc., but simultaneously, he was as firm as a mountain where knowledge arising out of his own experience of yoga was concerned. Here he was the Master in every sense of the term, prepared to prove his contention or point by practical demonstration rather than by verbose discussion. I had a demonstration of this trait in him when someone asked about a particular spiritual state. Master smiled and answered, "I cannot explain it to you but, if your samskaras will permit it, I can give you the experience of that condition." In making this slight reservation Master was not hedging. This was but one more example of his deep-rooted humility. He rarely claims outright to be able to do anything. One of his stock statements is, "By my Master's Grace all things can be done. After all he is the doer. If Lalaji wishes, this thing can be done in a moment." Even on this first visit I found in Master this deep, personal, spiritual attachment to his own Master Lalaji, and a sense of total dependence on him seemed to be there. At first this was slightly confusing to me. "After all," I thought, "he is a Master. Why then does he seem so dependent on Lalaji? Does it indicate a personal sense of weakness? Or does he merely use Lalaji as an excuse to cover up his own deficiencies?" But I found my thoughts were wrong. In no word or act did Master reveal even the slightest sense of doubt or incapacity to handle his own affairs, whether involving discussion or what he called his 'work.' I found he had an enormous and total faith in Lalaji, and this gave him total confidence and an iron will in carrying out his own work. Even on this first day Babuji remarked more than once, "For success in work an unfailing will is necessary. If there is no faith in the Master then the work cannot be done. Doubt is the enemy of spirituality. Doubt really shows lack of faith in the Master."

Around 9 o'clock Master called all of us, about six individuals, inside and gave us a group sitting. The sitting lasted for about 30 minutes. After this he went back to his hookah and later was busy with some correspondence in which he was assisted by Shri Ishwar Sahai. I was shy and nervous of going into the room and sitting with them, though all the others present, obviously members of the Mission for several years, went in. So I remained alone on the verandah till lunch. I ate my lunch at 1 o'clock and requested permission of Master to return to Bareilly. He permitted me to leave. When leaving I suddenly felt a nameless sorrow gripping my heart, a feeling as if I was leaving my own home for a long journey, and something akin to leaving beloved ones behind, and tears sprang into my eyes, a phenomenon I have rarely experienced in my adult life. This lasted for almost half an hour before the sorrow disappeared. There were moments of almost overpowering sorrow before I got back to Bareilly.

I had come to see the Master and had had his darshan. All the impressions I had in my mind were chaotic. How to judge this man? How to understand him? How to evaluate his work? And the greatest mystery of it all was, what had he done to create in me that feeling of profound sorrow and distress that welled up in my heart when the moment of parting came? I had known this person for barely 24 hours. How, then, could such a strong emotion come into existence out of such a ridiculously short association - and one so superficial and bereft of any sort of intimacy whatsoever? I had arrived as a total stranger and, to my mind, departed a stranger. Or had I? This was the question. True, I may need eons of time to 'know' Master. But did he similarly need a long time to know me and work upon me? No! It could not be so, and the proof was in nothing else but the shattering emotional impact of this first meeting. I felt sure that he had done something in the inner-most recesses of my heart; that a seed had been sown deep down as it were, and that this was the first reaction. So, confused as I was in the superficial level of my existence, deep down a faith was born in me that day that I had found my Master, and that I was treading the right path to my goal. It is Master's divine nature that no one who comes to him goes away disappointed, and I for one found an inner fulfilment from this first contact with what I came to label in my mind as 'Divinity'. "Master's work," I thought, "commences with the moment when the first human contact is established." Later experience indicated I was not entirely correct in this conclusion.

II The Environment

Master's house is a very old one, parts of it being over a hundred years old, while even the newer additions (excluding the recently built overseas visitors' guest house) are more than a quarter of a century old. It is large and spacious, walled round completely, with a main gate on the western wall and a small door next to it. The gate is generally kept closed, visitors invariably using the small door to its left. Immediately on entering there is a large open courtyard, about a third of which is raised and paved with bricks. As one crosses the courtyard one comes up to the verandah of the main building. This is where Master and his abhyasis spend most of their waking hours. Master has his easy chair facing the gate, while the abhyasis sit facing him, with their backs to the gate.

On my first visit to Shahjahanpur I did not notice anything special about this house. But after two or three visits I discovered that as soon as I walked in through the entrance door, I felt as if I was in a different world altogether. The 'atmosphere' within Master's compound is something unique. It has a spiritual quality which is so subtle that it defies description. On one or two occasions I have actually felt a jerk in my heart as I crossed the threshold to enter the compound. The transition from the outside to the inside of the compound is as sudden and refreshing as a dip in a pool of cold water. The more sensitive the person, the more keenly this is felt. On my first visit to Shahjahanpur I came as a visitor and did not notice any difference. On subsequent visits I found that I came more in the mood, and with the emotion, of one returning to his own home. This emotion became stronger and stronger with repeated visits, until it became so powerful that even as I left Delhi the emotional intensity would commence, and would become more and more deep until it naturally and harmoniously melted within just as I entered Master's home. I have often been so shaken by this feeling that I have had to rest a little to regain emotional equanimity before going in to meet Master. Nowadays this emotional onslaught often begins even when I am just leaving Madras for Shahjahanpur. A restlessness begins to be felt in the heart, and this restlessness increases as the destination comes nearer and nearer, at times assuming the proportions of almost a physical heart-ache. I discussed this with Master. Master laughed and said, "Yes, your observation is correct. Many persons have remarked on it. But I tell you it is all a matter of sensitivity. Develop sensitivity and see what Bliss you can experience. Really speaking, a person must create his own environment wherever he goes! That is the sign of spirituality. When you sit near a real saint of calibre you will feel peace and tranquillity. Many people ask me how to recognise a saint. I tell them that if they experience peace when sitting near him, then there is saintliness in him." I asked Master why this intense restlessness should be there when we come to him. Master said, "It is a good sign. Restlessness is good. It indicates inner craving for the goal. Really speaking, in an advanced abhyasi the restlessness is always there, but submerged. Now when you think of coming to me the longing begins to develop, and the longing becomes restlessness until the desired goal is reached. So this restlessness comes into the experience. Now you see the environment here. It is unique. It is the experience of almost all abhyasis that there is something unique. It is Lalaji's grace. In such an environment it is possible to grow spiritually in a very short time. You must create such an environment wherever you go. It is quite simple. Then you will find external thoughts do not disturb you; the outside environment does not disturb you. It is like a diver wearing a special suit. He carries his environment with him down into the depths of the ocean, and so the ocean has no fears for him."

Later, after a few years of personal association with Master, I began to visit him at some of the places where he was camping. Here too I found an atmosphere of peace and tranquillity, but the atmosphere changed when he left. When I asked him why this happened, Master laughed and said, "Yes, the change is there as you have seen. But it is not my fault. I create the same atmosphere wherever I go, but what can I do if the people destroy it after I leave? To retain the same atmosphere we must control our thoughts. Thoughts create the atmosphere. If you go to some of the holy places you will find peace there. Why? Because there people come in a spirit of worship and remain calm and prayerful, and so the atmosphere is moulded accordingly. Now if someone should build a cinema or a dance hall in the same place you will find the atmosphere changes immediately, because people now come with other thoughts which modify the atmosphere. So in such places, I mean holy places, we must control our thoughts and guide them in the right direction. Temper and anger must be avoided. Also passion. Because these things can destroy the atmosphere. But even if this happens, the thing can be changed again by meditation and right attitude. I am telling you another thing. It is a very valuable thing. You can 'read' the atmosphere of a place and see what sort of events have taken place there. It is very easy. Just concentrate, and the reading will appear before your eyes. If you go beyond this you can even concentrate on the atmosphere in a general way and 'read' a country's history in it. What happened, when, everything is there. The records of everything are there, clear as anything, but it needs only one who can 'see' to read all this. You would have experienced that sometimes when you enter a new place you feel disturbances. It may be fear, it may be passion. This is automatic and becomes second nature to a sensitive person. Then by Master's grace, if the power is given, you can 'clean' the place. Just imagine Master's grace is flowing through the place and washing away all the impressions. That is all. You see how easy it is! But faith must be there, and a firm will."

I asked Master how to develop sensitivity. Master said, "Develop awareness. Always try to be alert to what is happening, and sensitivity will develop. Many people meditate. But I am sorry to say many of them don't know what is going on in the system during meditation. Why is this? Because they do not watch for what is going on. One has to be alert to the transmission and its action on the system. Then the real joy of meditation begins. Now I tell you one thing. Whether a person has experiences or not, the transmission will work and complete the job. But the real happiness comes when we know what we have got. So sensitivity is necessary. Another benefit is that as you become more sensitive progress becomes faster, because when you know what is being done you can co-operate with the Master actively. So this is a great benefit. But I tell you one thing. Sensitivity is also a curse in another way, because you become 'open' to everything. Everything affects you. I tell you it can cause much suffering and misery. Imagine looking anywhere or at anything or at any person, and immediately the whole thing is before your eyes. How can you remain unaffected? Such a person will be compelled to share in the joys and miseries of all those around him. Sometimes I go to a new place where the atmosphere is so bad that I am almost suffocated. Then I have to clean it, otherwise I could not live in it. So we have to do this cleaning wherever we go. That is why I tell my associates that a Master is really a sweeper, doing a sweeper's job. He attracts all the dirt and uncleanliness, and has to clean them off. That is why they say that for a whole country a single saint of calibre is sufficient. He acts like a big cleaner, cleaning the whole country, because all the grossness is attracted to him. You see this 'tamasha' (joke), a Master is really a cleaner! That is why I say that a saint is a target for the world's sorrows. So sometimes we have to control sensitivity so that we are not too much affected. Otherwise a sensitive person will become a victim of his environment."

I recall a visit Master once made to a city to visit abhyasis there. I had accompanied him. We were accommodated in the residence of an abhyasi. All went well the whole day, but at night Master was extremely restless, and slept only in fits and starts. When I woke up next morning I found Master quite restless and exhausted. The second night we moved to a nearby hotel, and I was happy that Master slept deeply and continuously right through that night. When he woke up, Master said, "Look here, we are in a hotel where thousands of people come and go, but the atmosphere is better and purer here than at that place. Is it not a shameful thing that the atmosphere in a house should be so gross and dirty while a hotel room is cleaner? What to say of the people who live there in that house. It is a shameful thing that people mould their lives in such a way that their environment is completely polluted and spoilt. Really speaking our minimum duty is to leave the world at least as we found it when we came into it, not spoil it and destroy it. We should really try to leave the world a better place than we found it. Right living becomes very important. We must tune our lives in such a way that everything that comes in contact with us is improved. Everything we touch must get divinised."

I have visited Shahjahanpur very many times and stayed with Master. One thing I have noticed when I am with him is that for the duration of my stay all thought and worry about my home and family evaporate away even as I enter his residence. It is not something that I try to achieve, or pray for. I am not even conscious of it. Yet the effect is that all thoughts of home, family and indeed the whole world outside the ashram seem to leave the mind, to find entry again only when I am finally out of the ashram. This total lack of care, or care-free attitude of mind, is a boon and blessing which one is not aware of when it lasts, but one only feels its absence when this mental state or state of consciousness departs. On one grace-saturated occasion when I had the unique privilege of being with Master for three months continuously, I felt this all the more. A letter from home would suddenly make me conscious of the fact that I indeed had a home and a family somewhere. Momentarily I would be back in that other world, perhaps worrying a little about how things were out there, but as soon as I folded the letter and put it away, I would be back in the 'here and now' of Master's Divine Presence, and the memory of all else, briefly awakened, would fade away, leaving me in peace, enjoying a tranquillity that is entirely out of this world. I have often pondered over this and felt that this is a spiritual condition that will bless us at death. We do not forget, for there is no effort on our part to forget. But a state of mind or consciousness comes into existence as a divine gift which transports us to a different level of existence where everything else ceases to be. In this condition one exists in a blissful state of nearness to the Divine, and this proximity has a healing quality about it, a gift of grace, which makes an unconditioned existence not only possible but a fact in our own being and consciousness.

On a lesser level I would like to record one more personal experience of the effect of Master's environment on me. On one occasion I stayed about four weeks continuously at Shahjahanpur with Master. Several more abhyasi brothers and sisters were present, along with Master's own household. One day I had to go to Bareilly for some urgent shopping. As I entered Bareilly I saw a large advertisement put up, advertising a cinema currently showing in the city. The advertisement showed a well-known cinema actress in a suggestive pose, and the idea of sex came into my mind. It was at that moment that I became conscious of the fact that for the last four weeks there had been no consciousness of sex at all in my mind even though there had been men and women all around me! This was a rarely revealing occasion, displaying vividly the capacity of my Master in moulding the environment and the mind of the aspirant.

I have attended the Vasant Panchami celebration at Shahjahanpur as often as I could. This is the only formal celebration the Mission members celebrate annually. It is the birthday of Lalaji, and the celebration is spread over three days. I have found that the atmosphere in Shahjahanpur is something out of this world during those three days. It is quite different from the normal atmosphere. Master confirmed this. He said, "You will not find this atmosphere when the utsav is over. I tell you, during those three days it is as if a blanket or covering is put over this house. And at the end of the celebration, Lalaji seems to catch one corner of the blanket and whisk it off. It is a divine atmosphere during those three days. It is Lalaji's grace. It is so pure and so highly spiritual, it is like living in another world." The only occasion when I have felt the atmosphere to be even more transcendentally pure and glorious was during the three day celebrations at Madras in February 1973 when abhyasis from all over India, and from many centres abroad, congregated to celebrate Lalaji's Birth Centenary. The celebrations were held in hired premises usually let out to celebrate marriages in. The hall is one of the largest and most beautiful available in Madras. I remarked on the special nature of the atmosphere during those three days. Master confirmed my observation and laughingly added, "By Lalaji's grace this place has been so fully charged that it will last for many years. All those who come here will benefit by merely being present here." Yet, when the celebrations concluded and I went to settle up accounts, the place looked so forlorn and empty that I felt like weeping. The life had gone out of the place, and what remained was a mere shell. That special atmosphere of absolute spiritual purity had evaporated.

We were once assembled in the house of Shri Umesh Saxena, Master's son, at Besant Nagar in Madras. It was an informal gathering consisting of about half-a-dozen local abhyasis and two overseas abhyasis. We were all seated on the floor while Master sat on a sofa. The overseas abhyasis had been asking Master a series of questions on a variety of subjects. Somehow the subject veered round to that of the atmosphere and its influence - what we call, in a rather restricted way, environmental influence. Master explained how the atmosphere can change depending on how people think and how they conduct their lives. Master said that all this information was stored in the form of richas which a competent saint could read when necessary. Master went on to explain how such conditions could be re-created if and when necessary, how the conditions could be 'drawn down' as it were. The overseas abhyasis were eager to have a practical demonstration of this. Master smilingly agreed. He said he would re-create the atmospheric condition that existed in very ancient times, when man was just emerging into life as a separate class of life. Master sat up straight. His expression became serious. His eyes seemed to concentrate on a point about six feet in front of him, at about the same height above the floor. He sat thus for about two minutes. Suddenly he moved forward and downward thrice, while making a peculiar noise like hmm...hmm...! He then sat still for a minute. Then the tension relaxed, and he smiled and asked us what we felt. I told him I felt the atmosphere to be very gross, heavy and oppressive, and I felt it to have been saturated with primitive terror. Master said this was the correct reading. The overseas abhyasis were somewhat sorry that Master had only allowed this experience to last for barely a minute. Master laughed and said, "Do you think you could have borne it for a longer period? As Parthasarathi said it was charged with terror and very gross. If you were surrounded by it longer, then it would have affected you adversely. So I just gave you a taste of it. You see from what levels human life has evolved? But all this is not enough. When the divine atmosphere is created then you will really enjoy it. By Lalaji's grace you will also experience that when you are ready for it!"

All yogic teachers have advised their students to set apart a room specially for their prayers and meditation. The idea behind this of course is to have a room where the atmosphere is kept pure, uncontaminated by normal life routines. Master's teaching expands this to the ultimate dimension of a pure and holy universe, where the whole universe becomes a prayer room. The older idea is restrictive. It seeks to enclose purity into a small place, implying that the rest of the home may be impure. Master says this is not sufficient. We may begin at one point, our own hearts, but the seed of purity sown there must be nurtured and made to grow in such a manner that it radiates beyond the confines of the individual human system, radiates beyond his home and beyond his small world until, finally, the whole universe comes within its divine embrace.

III Tolerance

Master is a living example of his own credo that a human being must fly, like a bird, on two wings, one of spirituality and the other of materiality. This is one of the most fundamental and far-reaching lessons of Sahaj Marg. This teaching simply means that a person must not neglect either his physical and material existence or his spiritual life. It is a revolutionary message that Master is broadcasting to the world, and has come when most needed. Indian yogic teachers have, by and large, tended to disparage the physical life as something nasty and unclean, from which an aspirant should run for dear life. The procedures of training prescribed are so complicated and rigid that it is well nigh impossible for an individual to subjugate and control his physical existence within his own span of life. When, therefore, is he to go on to spiritual progress? The only answer possible would seem to be, "In the next life or lives!"

Master teaches that there is nothing wrong with material creation and with a human's material existence. Once a spirit has become embodied, it is committed to living out the physical existence whether it likes it or not. There is no option in this. It is not just the law, but it is a basic fact. This life is the only life we can really be sure of. It is here. We are living it. "But," adds Master, "one can regulate one's life so as to normalise all the functions of the human system so that the person develops into a perfect human being." The word 'normalise' is most important in this context. One does not aim, and is not expected to aim, at super-normal powers of the body which hatha yoga so lavishly promises. Nor is one to aim at the attainment of siddhis - such as the power to materialise objects, clairvoyance, levitation and the like - for these too are not normal to the human existence. I repeat, we are not to 'aim' for these in sadhana. Under the Sahaj Marg method of yogic sadhana Master offers precisely this training of how to normalise one's life in all the details of its functions. Master has stated that most humans start life as animals, and to humanise them becomes the first step in sadhana. The animal man becomes a real human by the practice of meditation which regulates mental functions, and thereby makes it possible for the regulation to percolate down to the physical level. It is with the mind that we have to begin. Any process which starts with the body is then obviously putting the cart before the horse. Meditation is the abhyasi's part, the part he has to play in this divine adventure. The Master's work is to clean the abhyasi of past samskaras and to transmit to him. I will not elaborate on this further as details are available in Master's published works. One important aspect I would like to emphasise is that there is no control of functions, or elimination of any of them. All that is done is to seek to normalise each and every function without atrophy of any of them. Master bases his teaching on God's wisdom. God created the universe. When he created a material universe, He must have had good reason to do so. If the material life is leading us astray and away from our goal, then obviously it is our fault in not living the material life in the appropriate fashion. So all that we have to do to get back on to our path is to restore the proper 'balance' to our life whereby the two halves of existence are harmonised and in equilibrium. The humanised man can then proceed to evolve to the state of the perfect human being.

Master is, as I said earlier, the living example of this way of life. He is a householder who has married and shouldered the arduous responsibilities of family life. He has experienced all the joys of love, and sorrows and miseries of separation that we suffer in our own narrower lives. It is surely a matter for wonder that he has so completely lived the life of the householder while simultaneously developing in himself the divine capacity to be a Master of spirituality too. His life is centred naturally around his own family. But whereas the centre and the circumference of our own lives have both merged into one single point which rests in the family, for Master the centre is the family while the circumference embraces the whole universe. This is the difference between his life and ours. And when Master, by his divine transmission, helps us to 'expand' into cosmic levels and super-cosmic levels of existence, he separates the shrunken circumference of our existence from its centre, setting the circumference free, or liberating it, so that it can expand wider and wider until it, in turn, is afforded the possibility of becoming universal. Thus, progressively, the individual self- centred human soul and consciousness develops and expands until it becomes a universal person possessing a universal consciousness similar to the Master himself.

Master was born in a well-to-do, well-known and highly respected family. His father was certainly rich by local standards. The family background is one of high culture and deep respect for traditions, the former nurtured by his father and the latter by his mother. Master, in turn, has led his own life on the very keel of these solid foundations laid down by his parents. Master's culture is so profound that it will not permit any undue or wanton criticism of other ways of life. To Master, everything has a place in the universal hierarchy. He teaches that other teachers are also doing God's work, each one at his own level. Tolerance, as taught by Master, is not a virtue but a definite duty enjoined on the abhyasi. No system can ascribe to itself exclusively either total importance or total effectiveness. If a mountain has a summit, it is because it has a base to support it!

Some of our abhyasis have spent very many years practising yoga under other systems of training. When they finally came to my Master, they were inclined to weep over their 'lost years,' lamenting the fact that they did not come to Master's feet earlier. Master's invariable advice is, "Do not regret the time spent on the other method. It was necessary for your development. It has prepared you for this path. Be joyful that you have now found the path that can lead you onward." Master teaches that while there are innumerable gurus, the real guru is none but God himself. It is the duty of each guru to lead his disciple to the next higher one when his own work with the disciple is finished. No guru should hold his disciples to himself possessively. A guru is for service to others and not for building up possessions, power and prestige for himself.

Tolerance must be extended to all facets of one's life. After many years of close personal association with my Master, I have come to the conclusion that tolerance is perhaps the most important spiritual quality as it seems to embrace, and emanate out of itself, the other virtues such as understanding, charity, and even love itself. I have often been told that love begets tolerance but, perhaps, the reverse that tolerance begets love, is true. It is an accepted psychological axiom that only those who have hatred for themselves in their hearts project the hatred on the world. Such hatred is self-hatred, and comes out of an inability to accept one's own qualities. In the widest understanding of the word, tolerance implies that everything has a place in the universal hierarchy, and it is the understanding of this basic truth of creation that tolerance reveals. Tolerance thus reveals the correct perspective in the universal scheme of things. We have been taught that good and evil co-exist, that they are nothing but different facets of the same reality. So too have we been taught to regard vice and virtue and all the other opposites of existence. Where one exists, the other must exist. There is no choice. Who, then, are we to revile at the negative (as we label them) manifestations? We are often haunted by the apparent antithesis in persons' characters - a rich man being miserly; an honest man indulging in secret thievery; a virtuous person having a hidden, seamy side to his existence; a religious person with a dark and unsavoury personal life. All this perturbs us and, what is worse, frustrates us in our search for knowledge and understanding. Tolerance can give us that quantum of time which will permit us to probe below the surface and see the underlying truth. This is a minimum benefit that tolerance confers - time to study and understand things. And inevitably when the externals are ignored and we penetrate deeper, then understanding, true understanding, comes and we find that persons are other than what they appear to be. If we are earnest in our endeavour and zealous in our pursuit, a time will surely come when we can see the saint inside the sinner! This, to my Master, is a permanent vision. He sees nothing but the true Reality within.

We were once discussing the presence in our satsangh of a person known to be highly immoral. Some abhyasis were wondering how such a person had been admitted for meditation. After considerable debate it was decided to approach Master for clarification. His answer was simple and direct. He said, "I do not look into the lower aspects. My eyes do not go there." He ignores all these things. Master sees what is best in a person, while we, at the ordinary human level, tend not only to see, but to look for, the worst. This is the difference.

To my personal knowledge Master has rarely criticised a person for anything. He also offers advice very very rarely. I asked Babuji once why he did not offer criticism when he saw something wrong. Babuji answered, "Lalaji Saheb never offered advice in a direct manner. Yes, he would give hints; but how many are capable of understanding such hints? We should never offer advice unless asked. As a trainer it is the duty of the guide to bring about change by creating the proper conditions for it. That is the work of the trainer. This is the positive approach. If you criticise, then the abhyasi may begin to worry about it, and this will interfere with his progress. There is another thing I am telling you. Suppose I advise an abhyasi to do something and he does not do it. Then I am adding to his difficulties by putting upon him the sin of disobedience of the Master. So instead of helping him I have done him a disservice. Do you understand why I avoid direct advice? I do offer a lot of advice, but it is given out as general talk when all are with me. The intelligent person will take it up and apply it in his own life. Then progress is faster for that person because now he is co-operating with the Master." We see from this that Master's attitude is not merely one of tolerance, but extends far beyond this to taking up responsibility for the abhyasi's progress. As Master has emphasised again and again, this is the duty of a trainer in spirituality.

I remember an episode a few years ago when I was sitting with Dr. K.C. Varadachari and several other abhyasis at his residence in Tirupathi. We had been talking for some time. A person, obviously a new abhyasi, entered the room and prostrated before Dr. Varadachari. He then sat close to him and started to talk to him. He was quite agitated. After some time he said, "Doctor, I am a miserable sinner." Dr. Varadachari became indignant. He asked in a voice of passionate emotion, "What sins have you committed? Some petty offense? A bottle of wine? A love affair? Come to me when you have done something original. Which fool has not committed these sins?" Later he became very soft and affectionate, and went on to calm the troubled soul of the abhyasi with his wise words.

The point I am trying to make is, what is so original about sin, and what is so unique about our own sins that we are ever preoccupied with them? Master teaches, very importantly and significantly, that there is no such thing as sin or virtue. All is samskara. Any action, whether it is good or bad, which forms impressions in the mind is creating a samskara and, in the spiritual sense, is undesirable. Sinning would appear to be certainly not as bad as the brooding over the sin, because brooding drives the impressions deeper and deeper into the mind, where samskaras of such hardness are formed that much subsequent effort is required to clean the system. Master advises us to forget the past. The past should not worry us because it is the past, and we can do nothing to change it. What should concern us is the future which we can affect by our present action. It is in this direction that our endeavours must lie. The immediate past is of no more consequence than the more distant past. "So," Master says, "think all past actions to be those of a past life. This will make it easy to ignore them and to concentrate on laying the basis for future spiritual development." This is an important teaching to us as abhyasis.

How does prejudice develop? How do we evaluate a person's character? By what are we conditioned in our interpersonal relationships? The answer to all these questions is that a man's antecedents are what guide us. If we can develop the ability to look on a person at this instant as a fresh, unknown entity, unconditioned by any past, then we will develop the capacity to see the real person, and not merely the external, tortured, human being that everybody sees. Then an objective ability develops, which penetrates beyond the external veils and sees the truth within. A person's past may have been anything. What is he now? This is the most important thing. But we, most of us, rarely ask this question because we are preeminently worried only about the past antecedents. Thus we miss the real person and see only a tangled and superficial web of trivialities enclosing the individual like a fly in a spider's web. That is why all new acquaintances are so glamorous, so welcome, while old friends are the ones with whom we quarrel and from whom we often part. Living in the present unites us, while living in the past can tend to separate person from person and, as history records for us, even nation from nation.

Prospective entrants to this system invariably ask one question. "What are the qualifications required to be a member of this system?" Master's only answer to this question is, "Your willingness is the only qualification needed." And invariably people wonder how this can be so. An element of ego is also present in this bewilderment. After all, who wants to join an association of persons where such an apparently trivial qualification is all that is needed? Before we get into an organisation we like it to be as easy as possible. But if it is too easy doubt begins to emerge as to the worthiness of the organisation. Also, we like barriers to be just large enough to enable us to cross over into the chosen ground comfortably, but sufficiently large to keep out the rabble. But in a yogic system where the present is the only criterion, what other qualities can there possibly be which are important? Willingness alone is in the present. All else, breeding, education, qualifications are over and done with. They have limitations and, in any case, do not last forever. They serve merely to lay foundations. Willingness denotes a very important mental state. It indicates that a person has evaluated himself and sees the need for change, and that he is prepared to act to bring about such change. So persons with this state of mind are ready to act and, more importantly, to be acted upon. They are the real raw material for Master's work. In thus defining the necessary qualifications, Master does no more than voice this inner truth. He once told a visitor, "What you have been is of no importance. What is the use if your grandfather was a maharaja, but you are a beggar now? It would have been better if your grandfather had been a beggar and you a maharaja. So try to see what you can do to grow in yourself. For this you must begin now. And I am prepared to help you!" Thus, at one stroke, Master destroys the edifice of social snobbery by saying class is unimportant, social eminence is unimportant and alas! even education is unnecessary. All that is essential for success is contained in the abhyasis' willingness to accept guidance from the Master, and to pursue the path inexorably.

If we examine this concept of 'willingness' carefully we find that ultimately it points to the need for total surrender to the Master. As Master has repeatedly emphasised, surrender is necessary on the part of the abhyasi if Master's work is to succeed. In one of Master's writings he has given a pointer to this. What should be the ideal abhyasi's attitude? In Master's own words, "He must be like a dead man in the hands of the dresser." That is, the abhyasi must be like a corpse, devoid of personal desire, personal opinions, and completely denuded of all resistance. Such an abhyasi is ideal material as he offers no resistance whatsoever, either physical or mental, to Master's spiritual powers. Master has used another illustration to emphasise this point. He has stated that a carpenter can easily fashion whatever he desires from timber, but if he is given a chair as raw material to work with, what can he do? With timber he is free to do as he pleases, and to fashion what he has decided to create, whereas with a chair he is faced with severe limitations which cannot generally be overcome.

Once Master clarified this point with a third illustration. What do we do when we go to a doctor for treatment? We accept all that he says. We abide by his regimen of diet and medication. We follow his prescription on what we are to do and what we are to abstain from doing. If surgery is necessary we allow ourselves to be anaesthetized into a totally inactive condition so as to permit him to operate upon us. We have to do all this if the doctor is to succeed in helping us. Does this not imply a surrender to the doctor's will and method? Can we question his method? Can we ask for a guarantee of success? Yet without all this we are prepared to surrender ourselves to the will of the doctor. Why, then, cannot we duplicate this attitude in our spiritual life? In spiritual life we ask for proofs first - proof of the existence of God, let us say; proof of the system's efficacy, and so on. Master said this was not only wrong but illogical. Master added, "Suppose I am willing to offer proof, how many can understand the proof? Look here, suppose you ask a scientist to prove certain abstract ideas, how many can understand the proof? And the higher the work the more difficult it is to understand the subject. So we should try the system, and our own experience of the work will furnish the proof from within ourselves."

There is another very vital point to be considered in Master's offer of help and guidance. He merely asks for willingness, forgetting all the past thoughts and deeds of the abhyasi. Why? Precisely because it is past. The abhyasi can do nothing about his own past. We are literally the products of our past, but we are not the mute and impotent participants in our future which we assume ourselves to be. The past has brought us to the present. Beyond this it has no power to act. The future will be what we make of it now, in the present. So, by changing our way of life now the future can be changed. Master therefore teaches us not to think of the past at all, but only to think, and more importantly to act, in the present. Extending the medical analogy, the doctor looks into the past merely to seek causes for present illness. His action, remedial, healing and creative, is in the present. There is no use in a doctor blaming the patient for the past actions which have brought on the present illness. A doctor worth his name studies the patient and quietly goes on with his task of healing. This is what Master does in his spiritual work. Our past may be important to him, but to us it has no importance. On the contrary our brooding about the past will only serve to strengthen our impressions and drive them in deeper and deeper, forming solid samskaras which are more difficult to clean. Herein lies the vital importance of surrendering up our past to Master, and forgetting it, but living the present as he guides us, so that our future can be what he wills it to be.

All that we consider desirable and covet are thus thrown on the dust heap, and we are asked to make a new beginning in which we come to Master as a soul entombed in a human body, seeking the highest goal open to mankind. Immediately and miraculously the possibility is opened up of creating a brotherhood of man where all that is asked of us is that we be human beings. As Master destroys the false edifices man has created around himself, of power, wealth, eminence, education and so on, we too are required to destroy all this in our own mentalities. What he does, we in turn must do. What is thrown to the winds must be thrown away once and for all. So this great tolerance for mankind as a whole, and for each of its units as a human being, is inculcated and practised. And in thus reducing all human-kind to its grass-roots, Master is most benevolent and god-like. This is the greatest gift of his divine wisdom where, to the creator, all are one. Can a man differentiate between individual ants in an ant hill? To us all ants appear the same. Perhaps they have a government, a social structure, a class stratification, but to us all this is non-existent. How much more must we humans all look alike to a Godly vision from above! When we emulate Master and learn to see all as one, then we too aspire to this godly conscience, to the development of such a divine consciousness in us, and the mere aspiration lifts us up and opens up the possibility of its actualisation.

So, coming back to tolerance, we see and understand how it is not merely one of the virtues, but is the cardinal virtue; and not merely this, it is the perception of the truth of creation that all men are created equal in God's vision, and we do nothing but destroy the basic value of such creation when we seek to classify and divide what has been created as one. So tolerance is conforming to God's intent and design, and such conformity enables us to swim in the same direction as the current, thus making our journey not only trouble-free but doubly fast. In this lies the possibility of a speedy evolution to our goal within this life itself.

The ultimate benefit of this training is that a person is able to see himself as he really is, shorn of all attributes; and the ability to live with oneself develops as we grow to like what we see. After all, which of us really knows himself? But to know oneself one has perhaps to start by knowing and understanding others. Then this trained gaze must be turned from outwards inside. And as we see human beings swayed hither and thither by their attributes, we gain a deep insight and understanding of the mysteries of existence, followed by a tenderness and love which develop spontaneously from such a deeper understanding. Then there is no revulsion, no abhorrence, no villification - because all is as it should be, so long as men and women continue to be as they are. Here begins to dawn the wisdom which says that all change must begin with oneself. As I change and grow, so does my vision, my consciousness. And with this growth a parallel possibility is given, that of helping others to strive for and achieve change and progress in themselves. So, all reform must begin, like charity, at home.

The traditional or familiar type of reformer who raves at a patient and long-suffering public, preaching hell-fire and damnation, is merely raving against himself, but using the public as a vicarious target. The true reformer is a silent worker who preaches against nothing, who reviles nothing, and who condemns no one but, having worked upon himself silently and in secret, sets out to do the same with and for others, in the same secret and silent manner. This is how my Master works, silently, without publicity and propaganda. His work is backed by Nature's infinite resources of power and wisdom which have been placed at his command without reserve.

IV Duty

Master's interpretation of such concepts as charity, renunciation and duty is radically different from the usual ideas or meanings attached to them. We all think we know what they mean. Indeed our familiarity with these ideas is so thorough that we would be astonished if someone told us we do not know what these terms really mean. Most persons have the feeling that they have also been practising these ideas in accordance with the dictates of society and religion, occasionally of conscience too. And our own understanding so coincides with that of those around us that it is difficult to see how there could possibly be any other way of understanding these ideas. In any case we continue to do as we have always done, in the confidence that we have the religious tenets to back us up.

We are all familiar with the institution of religious charity, which I would call 'ritual charity,' practised by well-meaning men and women all over the world, whatever be their religious affiliation. The coin in the plate or special receptacle! Donations towards special causes thought up by pious persons; offerings in kind, all these are only too familiar to us. Then there is the coin dropped into the hands of a beggar outside the place of worship. Such charity is held to be a pious act, capable of elevating the giver, and earning for him the blessings of the Almighty. Eastern religions are beset by this apparent virtue to a greater extent than their European counterparts.

What does the giver give away? Often it is nothing but a single copper coin of the lowest denomination, and that too generally to the accompaniment of admonitions and chastisement of the poor beggar for being a beggar. When this gift, supposedly prescribed by religion, has been bestowed, the donor's face glows with a self-righteous glow at having fulfilled religion's behest. Often this is the first of a series of expiatory and propitiatory acts when entering the place of worship. Another aspect of such charity is to give away left-over food. It would be laudable if this was done while the food was still edible, but the charitable individual, in general, prefers to ensure that he is not depriving his family. So the left-overs are left over till nobody can eat them, and then, and then only, is the food given away to a poor beggar who is too starved to worry about the quality of what he eats. Again this charitable act is accompanied by much good and pious advice, and very often by abuse too.

Then there are the gifts given to abide by the advice of astrologers. Such gifts can often be very expensive depending on the degree to which certain planets are afflicted. In such cases the gift of jewels, silks, silver vessels etc. are made to other members of the family circle and not to really needy persons. This is designed to spend money while keeping it within the family. There are also instances of what I call, for lack of a better term, the 'final' hypocrisy. This applies in the case of individuals embarking on the most pious and righteous act of renouncing all wealth and possessions, preparatory to entering the holy state of sannyasa. In rare cases, certain individuals do give away their wealth to the needy, but more often such people apportion their wealth suitably among their kith and kin before donning the yellow robes. This, too, is charity! Many sannyasis go on earning 'gifts' and 'donations' which they send back to their erstwhile families. In such cases, not rare or uncommon by any means, the sannyasi often becomes a better provider than in his former incompetent role of householder.

I am not giving these examples to criticise existing ideas or to decry existing practices. After all, people can only behave as they are taught to behave. And when such teaching is the product of religious thought and precepts as interpreted by the care-takers of religion, the priests, there is very little people can do but obey blindly. The majority of mankind know no better than to superstitiously follow the instructions of the religious scriptures as interpreted by the priesthood. Superstition, and the fear it generates, are the compelling causes underlying such charitable acts. If people could be made to see the light of truth and shed superstition, much of this religious hypocrisy would automatically vanish. In India religion has a firm and tenacious hold on an individual's life, and almost all aspects of life from birth to the final disposal of the dead are governed by rules of ritual and procedure. The interests of the priests, who officiate at each and every one of these ceremonies, whether for the living or for the dead, are zealously guarded by prescribing fees at each stage of the ritual, euphemistically called 'offerings.' In such a society the people have no choice but to suffer in silence and part, outwardly cheerfully, with a portion of their hard-earned income. The more hardy and experienced individuals bargain with the priesthood to limit their loss while making the ritual as all-embracing as possible, while the meek suffer the most. The only compensation these poor sufferers have is that of putting on a virtuous face - which they do to the best of their ability!

After saying all this I must, in fairness to all religions, add that religions themselves are not responsible for this state of affairs. All this is nothing but the rapacious hold that a greedy priesthood has on a very gullible and illiterate public as we have in India.

What does my Master teach about these matters? Firstly, no person has a right to indulge in charity until his family needs are fully satisfied. No person has a right to give away money or gifts until he has made absolutely sure that such gifts are coming out of available surplus in the family's means of existence. Otherwise it is merely a case of robbing Peter to pay Paul. On superficial examination this looks to be a very very selfish approach. I had a long discussion with Master on this once. Master said, "Look! suppose you want to give away a sum of money as charity, and your family will suffer because of it, can you call this charity? I would only call it foolishness. What is your duty as a grihastha (householder)? When you married and accepted the responsibilities of a family existence, you accepted to fulfill certain duties by the family. These duties are totally obligatory. Therefore, if your gift is going to make the family suffer, then it is not a gift at all, it is not charity. You are really robbing your own family. Look here! How can this robbery be called charity." I then asked Master whether such an act of charity would be justified if the other members of the family agreed to it. Master answered, "No! It cannot make it right. Which Hindu wife will go against her husband's wishes? And in the case of religious performances or ceremonies they will not oppose it. It is for you to decide what is your duty, and then it is your duty to follow that correctly. If you consult others you are only trying to shift the blame and responsibility on others." I asked a third question. What about the negligible gifts made to beggars etc.? Master laughed an ironical laugh. "Do you call it charity?" he asked. "To feed the poor and to give some rags to your brother human beings is not charity. It is your duty. It is our duty as human beings to look after our suffering brothers and sisters. It is a shame that this is thought to be charity." This dialogue made it amply clear that unless a person can really afford a gift, he has no right to make one in any form. Master's interpretation is from the standpoint of duty.

It is an anomalous fact that poor people often seem to be able to afford more for charity than rich people. The sacrifices that poor people have made not only during normal times but during times of national disaster, natural calamities and so on is something to be wondered at. Master's interpretation which differentiates need from want explains this curious anomaly. Master, in my experience, has never used the word 'want' but always sticks to the use of the word 'needs.' This emphasises the fact that there is a basic difference between the two terms. Needs are basic to existence, whereas wants are those which are created by desires, and superfluous in one way or the other to existence. This is why poor people are able to afford charity because their needs are very few, since their lives are simple and in tune with nature. Therefore, however small their income, and however low their level of existence, it seems to be possible for them always to scrape up some quantum of surplus from their own existence which they can offer whole-heartedly to alleviate the miseries of their brother human beings. In the case of the rich, who are burdened with what is sophisticatedly called higher standards of living, the wants are enormous in terms of luxury, in terms of unnecessary paraphernalia so that whatever be their level of income they seem always to need more and more money to meet the expenses created by yet new desires, and this goes on ad infinitum. When this has gone on sufficiently, some of the rich often start feeling guilty, and then it is not uncommon to find a few of them giving large amounts to charity. But their mind is so befogged that often the money is wasted on conscience-placating ventures like building temples, rather than in helping the poorer section of humanity to live a better life. Such persons often waste their enormous wealth in doing what they consider to be charitable acts. It is common for them to turn away a beggar from their door while, under priestly instructions, being willing to spend minor fortunes on a single occasion in placating their family deities. It is rare to find an inner change in such individuals which will lead them to the right path. Their fear of retribution for the evils committed becomes merely a superstitious force driving them from pillar to post in a religious way of ritual propitiation. There is no change of heart but merely a fear-motivated unburdening of ill-gotten wealth, similar to the frantic bailing out of water from a sinking boat. If the rich would simplify their lives in accordance with Master's basic teachings, the surplus that would be released would be simply enormous. We find the same law working even at international levels where certain nations are saturated with economic abundance but are yet unwilling, and often unable, to divert their surplus to the more needy nations. This calls for universal understanding by all human beings as to how to guide their individual lives in such a way that the gifts of nature's bounty are made available to all rather than to a mere few. I remember a discussion in a Western capital which centred on the issue of lowering birth rates in underdeveloped countries. Some well-meaning friends were trying to prove that if only countries like India would drastically reduce their populations, then the land would flow with milk and honey. The argument came to a rather abrupt end when an Indian gentleman present pointed out that a UN Commission report had given statistics to show that the amount spent on bringing up a Western baby in the first year would suffice to feed and bring up 500 babies in an underdeveloped nation. This points to the gross over-consumption by Western nations, and the need for such people to curb consumption if the people of the world, as a whole, are to benefit from available world resources. A significant fact worth noticing is that poverty creates charity whereas affluence breeds selfishness.

Master strictly enforces this with his abhyasis too. I have seen him time and again refusing to accept donations offered by his abhyasis. He invariably asks the abhyasi, "Where are you working? What do you earn? Are you married? How many dependents have you?" And after all this, if the answers satisfy him, he may accept the donation. In certain cases he has refused donations even after all this clarification. I asked him why he refused certain donations. He said, "Some people sincerely want to help the Mission. If they can really afford it then I accept what they give. There are others who offer me a donation only to impress me with their generosity (laughing). The donation does not come from the heart but only from the purse. In such cases I refuse it." To Master a donation by itself means nothing. He cares nothing for the money. But it is an indication of the abhyasi's love for Master and the Mission. Master therefore accepts donations only as tokens of the love of the donor. I have known Master refusing really large donations on two occasions. The amounts offered were so very large that a lesser person than Master would have instantly accepted them. On the other hand I have known Master to be deeply moved when an abhyasi, with tears in her eyes, offered very humbly, shyly and with great hesitation, an incredibly small amount as a donation. Master was overjoyed with the offering and instantly accepted it, and kept on talking about it to everyone for months. I asked him why he made such a fuss over such a small amount. Master said, "If Birla were to give me a crore of rupees it would be as nothing to Birla, because it is a small fraction of his wealth. But what this abhyasi has given, though such a tiny amount, has been laboriously saved over many months, and represents the entire savings of the abhyasi. You see the degree of sacrifice, and the love behind it? Therefore I value it greatly."

Once at Shahjahanpur an old man, aged more than 70, came to see Master. He was quite active, well dressed and with an enormous turban wound round his head. Master agreed to meet him and give him some time. Master set the conversational ball rolling by asking him where he was from, and what he did. The person answered that he was from a nearby town and that he was a social worker. Master said, "Is that so! I am very happy to hear that you are a social worker. It is what our country needs. What do you actually do?" The aged person was gratified to have this reaction, and said that he organised meetings in villages where he distributed clothes to the needy, and also did mass poor-feeding. Master said, "Oh! You call this social service? This is not correct. As a human being it is your duty to your brothers and sisters to clothe the naked and feed the hungry. It is unfortunate that you should call this social service. The real social service is not this. When you can do something to raise up your brothers and sisters to the true goal of realisation, then that can be called social service." After this person left, Master remarked to me, "See how our values have degenerated. Our country has always been known for its spiritual values and for the great hospitality of our people. But now this is what we have become. But still I am telling you, nowhere in the world will you find such hospitality as you find in India, even today. By Lalaji's Grace India will rise again to be the spiritual leader of mankind."

In Master's own household one can see his principles being applied exactly. It is an instruction in itself to observe how Master is the living example of his own teaching. The accommodation provided for visitors is of the simplest, while being comfortable. Luxury is not provided. Similarly, the food offered to visitors is wholesome and nourishing but of the simplest variety. There is no ostentation, no impressive variety, and no pandering to taste. I have found that this is akin to Nature's way of service. Such food helps us to get what we need from it, nourishment, and prevents greediness and over-indulgence. Taste, artificially created taste, only creates greed and leads to unnatural living. Simple food helps us to live as Nature intended us to live, eating what the body needs for its healthy existence and no more. This is a very valuable lesson which Master teaches us by direct example.

Once at lunch at Shahjahanpur, one of the abhyasis was very critical of the quality of the food, and particularly the monotonous repetition of the same preparations day after day. He was quite vocal in his criticism. He said he wished there would be some variety in the menu, and wondered why something could not be done to make the food more tasty and appetising. After completing lunch we all came out of the room and went to the verandah where Master was sitting in his usual easy-chair. Master could not possibly have heard the abhyasi's remarks. Yet, as soon as we came near him, Master got up from his chair, walked a few steps to meet us, and told the disgruntled abhyasi, "Look here! I give simple food for the body but I give Divine food for the Soul!" He then went back to his chair and his hookah. A few minutes later I chanced to be alone with him, and Master said, "Look what people expect of me. I have told them that I can take complete responsibility for their soul, but the body they must look after themselves. I try to give good food. We must eat enough to keep the body fit to take us through life. Food is not for taste, it is only for nourishment. I think I give good food, enough for this purpose. I am here to serve people for their spiritual needs, but if they think I am here to provide tasty feasts for them too, then what can I do."

Many families have been ruined by putting up a false front on borrowed money. Ego is the cause of such behaviour. We live and entertain beyond our means merely to impress others in our circle. But good opinion, so bought, is very very expensive, and one has to pay for it bitterly in the end. True seekers of Reality cannot indulge in such hypocritical behaviour. We must take Master as our living example and conduct our lives as he does his.

Ever since the Mission was founded in 1945 there has been a steady influx of visitors into Shahjahanpur. In the beginning it was but a trickle. Now, with the growth and expansion of the Mission, the trickle has become a flood. And yet, all these years Master has been entertaining his guests out of his own personal resources. His resources have always been very slender. How he has been able to feed the thousands of visitors who go to see him each year, and often clothe quite a few of them too, is a matter for wonder. Those who know him know that while in service he occupied a humble position in life, one which could hardly have offered any scope for savings of any magnitude. But by studying his way of living it is clear that if we can simplify our lives, and eschew all ostentation, all unnecessary paraphernalia and luxury, then even a small income can be made to stretch a very long way. Master's call to modern humanity is, "Be simple and in tune with Nature." He lives the life that he asks others to live. Master considers all artificial ways of living as unnecessary, harmful and often hypocritical. Our hospitality must be geared to our means. Hospitality, flamboyant hospitality on borrowed money, can only be hypocritical as it seeks to impress others, and is untrue and unreal and opposed to Reality. This is a moral lesson which we need to learn and to disseminate.

I have had long discussions with Master on one condition most religions seem to prescribe: to give away all wealth and property before embarking on a religious way of life. Some even prescribe total renunciation of the family, and adoption of asceticism. Master is quite definite that such prescriptions are unnecessary, and some may even go against Nature. He said, "What is wrong with wealth as long as it is rightly earned? When a man works he is entitled to the fruit of his labour. Yes! There is a right way of using wealth, as there are innumerable wrong ways. Wealth is only a power. And all power is good so long as it is used constructively for the good of humanity. Every person has a right to earn money lawfully. I see nothing wrong in it. But we must not be attached to wealth. It must not become the aim. Our Goal must always be fixed, and there must be no straying from it. Anything may come on the way, but we must go on and on towards our goal. You must treat wealth like a river. Take as much of it as you need, and then use the rest for the benefit of your brothers and sisters. That is the right way. Now look here! They say you must leave your family and children and run away to the jungle, or to the Himalayas. What is the use? It is not easy to do it. It is against Nature. It is also a cowardly act as you are running away from your duties and responsibilities. When you are in the jungle your thoughts will be only of the home and family. How can you do tapasya under such conditions? Then what is the correct way? I am telling you it is better to bring the jungle into your home, rather than carry your home into the jungle. How is this to be done? Really speaking it is quite simple. Think that in your own home you are only a guest. You will find all problems evaporate. Treat your wife and children as trust property entrusted to you by God. They are not yours. They are not your wife and not your children, but they are under your trust, under your care. You understand this? All sense of possession must go. It is only when you think 'this thing is mine' that loss also comes. When it is in trust you can administer it objectively and very correctly. You will be able to do for them what they need, what is necessary. Really speaking you learn correct performance of duty only in the family environment. Lalaji used to say that the grihastha life is the most important training ground, for it is here that we learn true charity, true love, true renunciation. Only in the life of the householder do we learn to think of others before we think of ourselves. So it is very important. And I tell you it is really very easy. Just divert the mind!"

Master continued, "Really speaking I have not much opinion about sannyasa. Yes, there are a few genuine sannyasis who have adopted that way of life out of a true and genuine spirit of renunciation and longing for the Divine. But the majority are only those who have run away from the responsibilities of life and are living off society. Some of them are quite bad too in their ways of life and moral behaviour. But our people have been taught to revere them, and many suffer for it."

According to Master the ancient traditional ways of renunciation of wealth and family can be exceedingly harmful, spiritually, and can block an abhyasi's spiritual progress, sometimes through several lives. I was told the spiritual case history of an abhyasi under Master who had been practicing Sahaj Marg meditation for nearly 15 years. However the person had stagnated at one point, and all progress had stopped there. Master had made several attempts to initiate further progress but had not been successful. At this stage Master decided to examine the abhyasi's past life and see whether there was some cause there preventing progress in the present life. Master examined the past life during a special meditation sitting. He found that in the previous life this abhyasi had been a woman, married and with several children. She was a lady of deep devotion and sincerely desired to pursue the ancient goal of obtaining mukti, a limited form of liberation under which there is no physical rebirth. She had felt irked at having to lead the life of a housewife. Being desirous of adopting sannyasa, she one day stole away from her home with her children, took them into the jungle, and abandoned them on the bank of a river there. Then she ran away. The frightened children set up a wailing which followed her as she ran away. Unable to hear their lament, she closed her ears with the palms of her hands and ran on and on. Master found that the wailing of the abandoned children had created a very strong and profound impression on the mind, leading to the formation of deep samskaras. This had prevented spiritual progress of the abhyasi in the present life. Master said, "Look here! She thought she had done a virtuous thing which would earn her mukti, but really it was a cruel and heartless act. So Nature punished her in this life by denying spiritual progress, the very thing for which she renounced her family life!" Then he added, "Since the abhyasi is very sincere and has real craving for progress, I cut that impression. Do you know what happened? The person immediately moved up three points! I call this spirituality. It is Lalaji's Grace that this is possible. Where can one find a Master like Him! But for Lalaji's Grace I do not know how many more lives that poor woman would have had to take before she could move forward. We must not go against Nature. See how much evil has been spread by people who know nothing. I tell you, unless these wrong ways of approach are given up spirituality is impossible."

This case history has profound implications for us. Asceticism is NOT the right way. It is as wrong, and as anti-nature, as a totally materialistic way of life is. They are but two extremes of the scale, and neither can succeed. Then what is the correct way? Master says that the balanced existence, one in which all aspects of human existence are balanced, is the only correct way of life. In such a life material values and spiritual values go side by side, and one should not be neglected for the other. We must devote equal attention to both sides of existence. The two sides of existence are like the two wings of a bird. No bird can fly on one wing. It needs both. Similarly we have to live both the material and spiritual existences in a balanced way, using them as instruments to take us to our Goal. They should not become ends in themselves. Some persons make the mistake of taking the spiritual life or pursuit to be an end in itself. It is only a means to an end. Our goal must be a fixed and definite one, that of achieving the perfect human condition. In this there must be no wavering, no faltering. The material life, the life of and in the body, offers the possibility of seeking and attaining this goal. So, to that extent, our life in the body is essential. It is in this life, in this existence that we can and must seek our goal. The spiritual life too, is merely the way to be trodden, and not to be mistaken for the goal. It is in this confusion of the way for the Goal that much human misery lies. It is also the failure of religion, because a religious or pious life, by itself, is incapable of leading us to the goal. When people mistake the way for the goal then life becomes meaningless, and ritualistic and mechanical. Then stagnation sets in, in the individual, in society, and in a whole nation. Master repeatedly emphasises this crucial aspect of his system, that the two sides of life, the material and the spiritual, are both necessary to help us reach our spiritual destination, and the degree to which they can be normalised and balanced will determine the degree of our success. I have referred certain personal problems to Master, seeking his guidance to achieve perfect balance. Master's reply was terse but illuminating. "Perfect balance cannot be achieved in the human existence. If perfect balance is achieved then this life will end immediately. We must aim for proper functioning of all our faculties. This is itself a great thing. Such proper functioning of all our faculties I call saintliness. Perfect balance can exist only in Him!"

In India we have been hearing a great deal about non-violence all of our lives. Non-violence, or ahimsa as it is termed in Sanskrit, would appear to be one of the vital aspects of Hindu dharma. One of the important statements relating to this says ahimsa paramodharmaha, non-violence is the highest duty. In one of the religions this practice of non-violence is carried to the extent of walking bare-foot so as not to crush any insect life under the feet, and pads are used to cover the mouth and nostrils so that life-forms carried in air should not be breathed in and destroyed inside our system. The enormous number of useless cattle to be found all over India also endorses the widespread practice of this system. But there are curious reservations in this practice. The ahimsa practised is not a universal ahimsa. That is, it does not embrace within its scope all life, but only those selected for protection by the religion concerned. To Hindus the cow is sacred, so the cow should not be slaughtered. Sometimes the question of cow slaughter assumes such exaggerated importance and publicity that it gets blown up into a national debate, with political and religious leaders joining in the fray. But the same protagonists of ahimsa are prepared to destroy, with violent gusto, other life-forms for which they have no regard. There is a deep antithesis between precept and practice. And unfortunately the ahimsa principle seems to find no place in interpersonal relations at the human level. Tragic and ignominious examples of this crass and inhuman disregard for life can be found in the wanton and wilful destruction of hundreds of thousands of innocent human lives during inter-religious or inter-communal feuds.

I have had occasion to discuss this question of ahimsa with Master, and his explanation, as always, is very simple and easy to accept. Wanton destruction is himsa or violence. I asked for clarification. Master laughed and said, "Suppose you are going out at night and you have some money in one pocket, and some more in another. A thief holds you up with a gun or knife and asks you to give up your money. You take out money from one pocket and give it to him. He, being afraid of coming too near you, asks you if you have any more. Will you say "yes" and give him the money from your other pocket? Certainly that would be very foolish. Why? Because your duty is to protect your possessions, and anything you do to protect them is right. Suppose somebody comes violently into your house, some rowdy, and tries to molest the women of the house. Will you keep quiet and practise ahimsa? That is only cowardice. Your duty is to protect those for whom you are responsible, and if you have to beat him and throw him out, it must be done. I would say this must be looked at from the point of view of duty alone. Doing your duty is right conduct, dharma. I am telling you one thing. This idea of ahimsa is a good idea, but if it is applied wrongly it can make people weak and impotent. How can soldiers practise non-violence? It is their duty to kill the enemy. In the Gita Sri Krishna tells Arjuna the same thing. He tells him to go and destroy the enemy, otherwise it is cowardice. Take the case of a doctor. When he cures a sick man he does it by destroying the germs in the body. Strictly speaking this is violence too, but would anyone be prepared to die to save germs? (Laughing.) We have to see what the destruction is for, whether it is necessary for correct performance of duty; for creation. Restoration of health is a creative act. There can be no creation without destruction. So destruction is not wrong or bad in itself. The motive behind it is what is to be examined. In the mind there must be no destructive thought or emotion. That is bad. A soldier kills impersonally. He does not know whom he is killing. He has no hatred in his heart for the individual he kills. His actions are not motivated by personal greed or hatred. He is merely doing his duty. Similarly a doctor has no hatred in his heart for the germs which he destroys. But to preserve life he has to do it. Suppose a snake comes to bite your child, will you keep quiet? Such ahimsa is mere foolishness.

"In spirituality obedience is the highest virtue. When a person surrenders to a Master, it means he has surrendered completely in all ways. He has become merely an instrument in the Master's hands. How can such a person even try to decide what is right or wrong? Here obedience alone is correct. There are various levels of existence, and duty is different from level to level. The soldier obeys the captain's orders; but in ordering his troops the captain, in turn, is only obeying the orders of his immediate superior officer - and this goes on up the scale of authority. In spiritual work there is no question of personal preferences or of personal opinions. The Master guides us in all ways. And if Nature wants destruction, it has to be carried out. We are merely instruments. If one instrument turns out to be blunt and useless, the craftsman will throw it away and take up a better one. You understand this idea? So obedience is the highest virtue. After all Master, who works for Nature and carries out the orders from above, knows what is to be done." On this note the discussion ended.

At a subsequent discussion session both the topics of obedience and destruction were again raised by me. I asked Master why sincere people should be blamed for obeying the religious teachers. After all they were only doing what Master himself was saying was most important. They were obeying their preceptors. Master agreed that there was some justification in thinking like this. He however added something which made this subject very clear. He said, "Obedience is good. I agree they obey, maybe only partly, yet the spirit of obedience is there. But I tell you, suppose they obey a dacoit, is it correct? No, it cannot be. A dacoit destroys life only to loot the wealth of the people. There is no other motive behind it. Similarly people may obey others who tell them to do something or other. Behind all this obedience there is only the selfish greed for personal gain. Why do people make large offerings to priests or astrologers? It is only for personal gain. So this is one thing, one aspect. Secondly, there may be sincere people who obey without any selfish desires. In their case what is the fault? You will find some highly sincere and loyal chelas with even robbers and dacoits. They almost worship them. Why is this? It is because they have not come to any judgment regarding the person they have become attached to. I have written in Reality at Dawn about the importance of seeking the right guru. If you obey the right guru it is good and will lead you to your goal. But if you have the wrong person to guide you then obedience will not help you at all. So you see the importance of having the right guru? In my opinion this is the most important thing, to find the real Master. Then when you find him you should never let him go! If you don't find such a Master then it is better to pray to God to send you a real Master. He will surely come. But there must be no compromise in this matter. I tell you it is better to have no guru at all than to have the wrong guru. Without a real Master we may not move forwards, but it is better than going backwards with the wrong guru. So I tell my associates we must be very careful in this matter. It is very vital. People ask me how they can judge a Master. It is easy. Your heart will give you the answer. I have told you that when you sit near a real saint you must feel peace. This is one sign. If you find a person who you think can guide you, then follow his teaching for some time sincerely. Continue if you find progress. If not, look for another guide. People have been taught that we cannot change our guide. But this is not correct. We take a guide for our benefit, not his. And we have every right to change the guide until we find the real Master. Then our job is over. Once you have handed yourself over to such a person, your work is over."

I then reverted to the subject of destruction which had been worrying me somewhat. I asked Master how destruction could ever be justified. Master answered, "Yes, you have some doubt. But it is there only because you are thinking in a narrow way. Think of destruction as change. What happens when you cut down a tree? The tree is destroyed. But the carpenter makes furniture out of it. So the wood is used. The wood is still there, the form has changed. When a person dies we think it is the end. Death is final, that is our view. But it is not correct. What we see as death is only the rebirth into another life. Similarly what we see as birth, when a baby is born, must be death in another life giving birth here. You understand this? It is only a change of form. The life goes on and on, but the form keeps changing until a fortunate person finds a Master who can grant him his liberation. This comes out of higher understanding. There can be no progress without change. Without change there is only stagnation. This is an important point I am telling you. Without change no progress is possible."

Master then added something very important for the clarification of our abhyasis. He said, "Even in our abhyas we must remember this. The condition, that is the spiritual condition, must keep changing if there is progress. Often we find that an abhyasi has a good experience at a particular level, which he likes to be repeated at subsequent sittings. But I always tell them that if they have the same experience again and again, then they should run to the preceptor, because such repetition of experience shows stagnation, and requires correction. So change is necessary because without it no progress is possible."

V Love

All religions preach Love. It has formed the major theme of the world's output of great poetry. At the individual level everyone seeks it in his or her own life. Love has been responsible for heroic deeds, for acts of great courage and valour, and for much of the world's artistic output. It is probably quite true to say that behind every act of human endeavour lies this search for love. And its glorious working of unsurpassed beauty is in the manifestation of faith - faith at all levels culminating in the spiritual life where love finds its supreme flowering and glory in the search for the unknown Ultimate.

My Master too frequently refers to the need for love in one's life. One of his most revealing ideas is that love is a godly or divine thing, and therefore not to be spurned. Love is to be diverted to its proper and natural object, God! What the human individual is required to do is to divert his mind so that the love in the heart can be diverted to its real goal.

My Master's personal life is the expression of his inner love for all mankind. His is a pure and divine love, universal in its scope and yet individual in its manifestation. Anyone who has closely observed Master would have found, as I have, that he is the most loving, charitable and hospitable person one can find. He is all this, but in a manner so quiet, so subdued and so utterly natural that the significance of his actions are generally lost in their simplicity. Few onlookers penetrate his external simplicity to perceive the inner significance of his words and acts. In fact Master's simplicity is highly deceptive - and the only thing about him that deceives people. Once when Master was talking to one of our overseas preceptors he said, "Look here, I never deceive anybody, but what can I do if they deceive themselves? My simplicity is the thing that deceives most people. Few persons are able to go beyond it. My simplicity is so much that all my life people have thought me to be a simpleton." Master laughed when he said this, and continued, "Now look here, many people come to see me but who really sees me? Most persons only look to the external appearance. It is a pity that few are able to go beyond and penetrate to see the inner Reality. So many people come to see me but few really see me. They go back as they came. So you see my simplicity is really a deception, and today I am revealing it to you!"

On one of my visits to Shahjahanpur about twenty of us were gathered around him in the open courtyard, Master in a deep canvas deck-chair, the others clustered around him, some on chairs, the others on charpoys or rope-cots. It was after dinner of a late summer evening, not cold but extremely balmy and pleasant. From 9 o'clock the number of persons around Master steadily declined as abhyasis went off to bed, one by one. All slept out in the open on the charpoys. By 11 p.m. there were only three of us with Master, the others by now soundly asleep all around us. Master was answering our questions and revealing many profound things to us, when suddenly and abruptly he arose, went into his room and came back with a blanket in his hands. He walked to the charpoy of an abhyasi sleeping farthest from us, draped the blanket over him, tucked it in under his feet, and then quietly came back to his seat to resume the interrupted conversation. I surmised that the abhyasi must have been feeling cold (he was, I discovered next morning, one of my young colleagues from South India) and somehow Master had divined this, and lovingly covered him with a blanket. Otherwise why should that particular person, and he only, have been singled out for this special attention? No one was more surprised than the abhyasi himself when he woke up next morning to find himself with a blanket over him.

On the three days during which Vasant Panchami is celebrated there is generally a large gathering, with people sleeping around in all the rooms and covered areas. The surplus is accommodated in other buildings nearby. The days are full of activity, and they are long days too as we get up at 4 a.m., and go to bed around midnight. Irrespective of where the abhyasis stay, meals are arranged at Master's residence. Because of the large number present they are fed in batches, and the total service lasts several hours. One evening, on the first occasion when I attended the Vasant Panchami celebrations, I was feeling a bit tired and out of sorts. The first batch for dinner was nearly through but there were so many waiting that I decided to go without dinner, and went to bed. At about 10:30 p.m. I suddenly found Master coming into my room where I had so far been alone. He called me by name and said, "You have not eaten yet. Please come with me. I have prepared a special place for you inside where you can eat. Food has been placed ready for you." I did not know what to say but quietly accompanied him inside. He sat with me while I ate. The significant thing is he did not ask me whether I had eaten or not. He told me that I had not eaten yet and took me inside. People were too busy to have noticed me, but yet Master, with all his preoccupations, had not been too busy to divine that one under his roof had not had his dinner! It was a matter of wonder to me how he had singled me out as perhaps the only person who had not had his dinner. Such episodes, which I have wonderingly seen repeated again and again, have confirmed me in my opinion that Master feels within himself everything that all those around him feel - and responds whenever response is necessary. The response may be a physical act as in the episodes related above, or may be a transmission of his own spiritual essence. Master's empathy with others is complete and natural, so natural in fact that he may be said to be a mirror which reflects what is in its presence.

The Vasant Panchami celebrations are held in winter, and winter in Shahjahanpur can be, and generally is, very cold. It is cold enough not only to astonish European visitors but, on occasion, to cause them considerable discomfort too. South Indians unfamiliar with the North generally do not appreciate the severity of the cold, and it is therefore quite normal for one who is on his first winter visit to come totally unprepared to face the climate. Master keeps a small reserve stock of blankets for such visitors. Some of our sisters also knit woolen pull-overs all the year round to keep a small reserve supply available at Mission headquarters in Shahjahanpur. Yet the demand often exceeds the supply. On one occasion Master was seated in his usual corner in the sunny part of the courtyard, his usual winter station. We were a small group around him, on this the day prior to Vasant Panchami day itself. It was about 11 o'clock in the morning, but even out in the sun it was quite cold as the winter that year was rather severe. Master was dressed in his usual fashion in a dhoti and kurta, acknowledging the fact that it was winter by adding a sleeveless woolen pull-over, quite inadequate for that cold, to his attire. He had a blanket covering his knees. His main weapon against the cold seemed to be his hookah, which he was smoking with great relish and visible satisfaction. At this time a South Indian abhyasi walked into the compound, carrying his sole piece of baggage, a hold-all. He was wearing just cotton trousers and a terylene shirt, and was shivering in the cold. He came up to Master and greeted him in the traditional fashion and sat down with us. Master said nothing. He took off his pull-over and asked the abhyasi to wear it. The abhyasi accepted it gratefully. Immediately all of us expostulated with Master, each one of us offering his own pull-over. Master refused our offer, and sat down with a quiet child-like smile on his face. I, for one, felt ashamed that none of us had been able to think of a brother abhyasi's distress, but consoled myself with the thought that Master is unique, and none can be like him in his quick perception of the needs of others, and his immediate and active response to that perception. I have seen this same small but significant drama played over and over again, but to me it comes as a new revelation every time, and the wonder of Master's love never fades by repetition. It is a pity that a silent witness to this drama is often more touched by it than the recipient himself, who often prefers to take away the pull-over as a souvenir.

On another occasion, again at Shahjahanpur, I was lying in bed, tired out and with an ache in the lower limbs. I was alone in the room. Master came in unannounced and I quickly sat up to greet him. He asked me what was wrong and I told him about the pain in my legs. He immediately sat down to massage them. I fiercely remonstrated with him and prevented it. Master said, "Why do you feel it is wrong? Have you not massaged my legs and feet so many times? Now when you are in pain it is my duty to serve you to the best of my ability." I told Master that as a disciple of his I could not allow him to massage my legs. Master laughed in a rarely beautiful way. His eyes which are ever dry, even they became a little moist. He was lost in reminiscence for a moment. Then he said, "Look, I will tell you one thing. Once I had bad pain in my legs. I was lying alone in bed. Suddenly I heard Lalaji Saheb asking me why I was in bed. At that time Lalaji Saheb was already in the Brighter World. I answered him that I was suffering from pain in my legs. He offered to massage them but I remonstrated with him, and Lalaji became silent. Yet a few seconds later I felt a wonderful vibration in my legs. Look here! What my Master was doing for me. He was actually massaging my legs for me. Where can you boys get a Master like him? My pain left immediately." And strange to say, as Master concluded this revealing episode of Lalaji's sacred love for my own Master, my leg pain seemed to vanish too.

On yet another occasion I was a witness to what has been, to me, one of the most moving experiences of my life. The experience of those few moments left me shaken, moved to the very foundations of my being, and in tears. It was just after dusk on a long summer day at Shahjahanpur. A senior preceptor from the South had come on a visit. Master asked him to have dinner, but he declined, saying that he generally ate only one meal a day. He offered to have a glass of milk instead. Master asked one of the younger abhyasis to fetch two glasses of milk, one for this gentleman and one for my father. The glasses of milk arrived after a few minutes, and these two walked away with them, deep in some discussion between themselves. I was left alone with Master. I asked Master whether I could fetch him a glass of milk too. Master smiled infinitely sweetly and, with a look that had profound compassion in it, answered, "I cannot afford to drink milk." I was shaken to the core by this simple, loving utterance. I did not know what to say or do, but merely sat there in his benevolent presence with tears streaming down my face. This secret drama of Divine hospitality has become such a cherished memory, and so much a part of what I know of my Master, that even now, as I write this, I am profoundly moved by that memory. Alas! How weak and puny we are who, seeing all, are unable to emulate Him in even the least of his gestures.

These, and similar unnoticed dramas have sown the seeds of love for the Master in many many hearts now scattered all over the world. Every new expression of Master's Divine love strengthens us in our love for him. This is the secret of Master's magnetic hold on all those who come into contact with him. Time and again I have seen strangers come into his presence who, when they leave after even a brief chat with him, leave as lovers of the Master. Many have confided that even after a few minutes with Master they have felt as if they have known him all their lives. My Master's spiritual aid is his invincible love in its purest, holiest form - and what is there that can stand up to it and be unconquered? Others may use power, fear, or temptation as instruments to bind their disciples to themselves. My Master's sole instrument is his Divine love for all mankind which demands nothing in return - or if he at all asks for anything it is nothing but our hearts.

I remember one occasion when Master was visiting one of o