Baba
The following is a well-written, devotional portrayal that stands as an excellent example of how a Baba story should be presented. The writer has beautifully described the scene and wonderfully depicted the spiritual vibration of those days with Baba. It is an inspiring account.
I was also present in Ranchi on many occasions those days and can attest to the veracity of this story. Everything the writer has described is 100% accurate. What is expressed is not an exaggeration; nor is there a hint of hyperbole. The below story is a proper depiction of what took place.
All in all, this story rekindled my own sweet and blissful memories of being with Baba in Ranchi. It made me remember those devotional times of longing for Him and running after Baba's car on the dusty road. That was so blissful. I vividly recall attending and participating in those sadhana demonstrations, receiving his blessing, having His divine proximity, getting personal contact, attending general darshana, watching and seeing Him on a daily basis, and receiving His grace, as well as so many other auspicious occasions with Baba etc. After reading this following story, everything became fresh and alive. I cannot forget how His mere presence was enough to bring one into the height of spiritual joy and realisation. There was so much love and devotional longing in the air. This story captures that feeling.
That is why we should embrace and emulate those who can write a proper and spiritually-vibrating Baba story. One such writer is Shrii Ram Kumar ji - a very good devotee with strong literary skills. In the 1960's, he was the publisher of the Hindi magazine, Ananda Du'ta. That was one of the first magazines and he published many devotional and inspiring stories.
This below account also neatly captures the essence of what it was like to be with Baba back in those Ranchi days. Our respects and appreciation to the unknown author and to Dada Maheshvaranandji who included this Baba story in his collection for distribution. Read and enjoy!
At that time, the central office of Ananda Marga, where Baba stayed and directed its entire operation, was in a small town in Northern India called Ranchi. The Ananda Marga “world headquarters” was a small, concrete-block building with about five rooms. To me it looked like a dilapidated little shack, and at first I was shocked inside at its simplicity. It was only gradually, as I did more and more meditation that I was able to realize that the greatness of Ananda Marga did not lie in external trappings of showy prosperity. It lay in the hearts of the Margis, burning with divine love and the indefatigable desire to serve humanity. I realized that the great movements of history have all started like this – not with buildings but with an idea – not with external glamour but with the invisible internal dynamism of its members.
About three-fourths of a mile down a narrow dirt road, that was impassibly muddy during the rainy season, was the jagriti and the Ananda Marga School, where Baba came twice a day to give His discourses and hold His demonstrations. Even as I write about this now, almost seven years later, there is a deep stirring in my heart because those were the deepest experiences of my life. In those days, I was born again. I was irrevocably changed. I felt completely and totally in love fore the first time in my life. Not human love –which compared to this seemed shallow and wavering. But the love that pours into and out of every cell of your body, the kind of love that sometimes feels like rock inside, so solid that nothing – not doubts or fear or pain – can budge it. This love Baba gave me, most undeserving me, who every day as I rode silently to the jagriti on the rickshaw, thought over and over to myself, “Why me, what did I do to deserve this? There must be some mistake!” Twice a day, at about noon, and again about 6:00 pm in the evening, Baba would come to the jagriti for His discourses. The jagriti was a large brick building; inside was a spacious dirt-floored hall with a stage in the front where the large Sunday morning discourses were held. Margis from all the neighboring town and villages would attend the Sunday discourses. There were several smaller rooms that still shine in my memory as one of the most special places on this entire planet. There was a little room about four squares meters in size, with one or two windows and a wooden cot in the front covered by a blanket. Down the path alongside the building, past that little room, Baba used to walk, protected from the burning Indian sun by his bodyguard, dressed in crisp khaki uniform, walking beside Him and holding a black umbrella over His head. Baba’s clothes always seemed so white, whiter than any white I had ever seen before. His white figure was so radiant that sometime my eyes could hardly see due to its brightness. How strange it was that just the sight of that small man walking slowly with measured steps under the umbrella down that corridor would burst my heart with joy and flood tears into my eyes – and make me freeze motionless as tremendous spiritual waves engulfed me, and I could not move or think – only dissolve in bliss.
When Baba had sat down on the bed, various persons were called into the room for personal contact. There was a long list of devotees each day, and the rest of us waited anxiously outside the room, talking softly about Baba or doing meditation. There were different people there every day. The dadas and didis who had come from distant parts of India to report to central headquarters and were now coming to see Baba, just as a calf, frolicking in the meadows all day must return from time to time to its mother to drink deep of her nourishment. There were Margis from different parts of the country and even from Nepal who took special leave from their jobs and packed their whole family into the crowded Indian trains to sit at Baba’s feet for a few days and gain the inspiration and strength to return home and set an example for all the worldly people they came in contact with. There were the local Margis who used to come every day, at lunch and after work, to see their Baba. Then there were the central workers who sometimes were able to take time out from their work and visit the One they were working ceaselessly and tirelessly for. I remember once, one very devoted Didi had come for several days in a row to see Baba, and when He heard that she was again outside, He pretended anger and said, “What! She is here again? Doesn’t she have any work to do?” and so she swallowed her devotion – what a lump in the throat – and returned to her work.
In that small room, as we all (only about twenty of us then) sat crowded and motionless before Baba, there was a vibration unlike any I have felt before or after. When Baba paused, it was so silent you could hear your heart beat, and even on dark and cloudy days it seemed as if a brilliant radiance filled the room. When I sat before Baba I had a deep feeling that I am at a loss to explain. I felt as if I were sitting in infinity. As if all space had dropped away from around me, as if all time had disappeared; the past was forgotten and the future did not exist. I was sitting on the eternal present, bathed in an indescribable peace and happiness. It was as if I had always been there, and would always remain there, and everything else was a flickering dream that had disappeared like the colors and sounds of firecrackers falling from the sky. The feelings I have for Baba are too deep to flow out of the pen. You who have felt, know. You who have not felt, will one day feel, and then you will know that it is this you have been waiting for all your life, all your lives.
As we watched in awe, Baba would perform one amazing demonstration after another, describing each one like a science professor in a laboratory. First, though, Baba would become very serious and scan the whole room, looking at all of us – probably seeing our mental colors to see if we were in a sufficiently sensitive spiritual state to appreciate his deep teaching. Then He would say sternly, “Sit in a proper asana!” and everyone would snap their backs up straight. Then Baba called a devotee to come forward and sit in front of Him and say, “Sit in padmasana and do meditation.” After a few moments Baba would reach down and hold the devotee on the back of the neck, just at the base of his brain, where the spinal cord enters the all-knowing mind, which knows past, present and future. By His touch He was awakening that devotee’s deepest layers of the mind, and through that devotee, usually, Baba would perform the demonstration.
In this way it was clearly shown that it was only Baba Himself who could have infinite knowledge and infinite powers, and that He could awaken them in people by His grace. The words He spoke about Parama Purusa, about divine love, about unity and divinity of all beings – sank deep into my heart like a sound vibrating in a deep well and I felt as if He were speaking my own heart’s echo. There were hundreds of demonstrations in those days – every morning and evening for months, but often no record was kept of them. Who felt like writing anything in Baba’s presence, in His powerful vibration. In fact many people present did not even see or hear these demonstrations – the spiritual energy in the room was so high they just closed their eyes and were lost in deep meditation, until they felt someone pulling at them to stand up as Baba was leaving the room. Often the next day Baba would ask a devotee to describe what he/she had learnt the day before, and the devotee would smile embarrassedly and answer, “I don’t know, Baba.” And Baba would laugh and say, ‘Never mind, never mind, sit down, sit down, he did not see! All right, who can tell..…”
Fortunately during one period Baba asked one dada to take notes and keep a record of the demonstrations. After the demonstrations were over, Baba would arise from the wooden cot and, doing namaskar to everyone, slowly walk out of the room. Everyone would rush to help Him as he walked through the door. Sometimes He would pause a little and look into the eyes of a devotee whose face was gleaming with spiritual purity and love. Baba would look at the devotee with His look of love and say simply, “Tum kaesa ho..(how are you)” or perhaps pinch the devotee gently on the cheek like a father pinches his child. But these simple words and that simple affectionate touch conveyed tremendous spiritual blessings, and afterwards you could see light radiating from the head of that devotee. He had been transformed by Baba’s touch, by Baba’s love.
After Baba had left to do His noon sadhana and take His lunch, usually we would all sit for meditation because the spiritual waves were so strong no one could move. Sometimes as I left that holy place, as I gradually returned to normal consciousness, I would look around me at that little room in that old brick building with lumpy dirt floor at the end of a narrow dirt road in one of the smallest cities in one of the poorest countries in the world, and feel like I was in the nucleus of the universe. I used to laugh aloud and think of the wonder of it all – in this insignificant little corner of the world, the greatest miracles on the planet were being performed! Here in this plain little room tremendous forces were being unleashed and harnessed, unknown and deep mysterious knowledge was being revealed, and hearts and lives were being changed irrevocably. All this by drops of grace of our Baba!
Note: Here concludes the story from Dada Maheshvaranandji's collection.
At His lotus feet,
Anand
== WELL-WRITTEN BABA STORY OF RANCHI DAYS ==
Namaskar,The following is a well-written, devotional portrayal that stands as an excellent example of how a Baba story should be presented. The writer has beautifully described the scene and wonderfully depicted the spiritual vibration of those days with Baba. It is an inspiring account.
I was also present in Ranchi on many occasions those days and can attest to the veracity of this story. Everything the writer has described is 100% accurate. What is expressed is not an exaggeration; nor is there a hint of hyperbole. The below story is a proper depiction of what took place.
All in all, this story rekindled my own sweet and blissful memories of being with Baba in Ranchi. It made me remember those devotional times of longing for Him and running after Baba's car on the dusty road. That was so blissful. I vividly recall attending and participating in those sadhana demonstrations, receiving his blessing, having His divine proximity, getting personal contact, attending general darshana, watching and seeing Him on a daily basis, and receiving His grace, as well as so many other auspicious occasions with Baba etc. After reading this following story, everything became fresh and alive. I cannot forget how His mere presence was enough to bring one into the height of spiritual joy and realisation. There was so much love and devotional longing in the air. This story captures that feeling.
That is why we should embrace and emulate those who can write a proper and spiritually-vibrating Baba story. One such writer is Shrii Ram Kumar ji - a very good devotee with strong literary skills. In the 1960's, he was the publisher of the Hindi magazine, Ananda Du'ta. That was one of the first magazines and he published many devotional and inspiring stories.
This below account also neatly captures the essence of what it was like to be with Baba back in those Ranchi days. Our respects and appreciation to the unknown author and to Dada Maheshvaranandji who included this Baba story in his collection for distribution. Read and enjoy!
MEMORIES OF THE YEAR OF DEMONSTRATIONS
The period 1969-1970 was a very special year for Ananda Marga. It was called “the year of demonstrations”. During this time Baba demonstrated and explained many different spiritual powers and different samadhis. Again and again He told us that these powers are higher mental and spiritual states, and are not at all “supernatural or miraculous”; they are perfectly natural, but they are so rare that people are in awe of them. Again and again Baba told us that our aim is Parama Purusa (Supreme Lord), and that if we desire occult powers, our downfall is certain. Those were the days that no one who was present can ever forget. I had recently come to India, and by long and intense meditation, my eyes were being opened to the greatness of Baba. What I saw and experienced changed my life completely.At that time, the central office of Ananda Marga, where Baba stayed and directed its entire operation, was in a small town in Northern India called Ranchi. The Ananda Marga “world headquarters” was a small, concrete-block building with about five rooms. To me it looked like a dilapidated little shack, and at first I was shocked inside at its simplicity. It was only gradually, as I did more and more meditation that I was able to realize that the greatness of Ananda Marga did not lie in external trappings of showy prosperity. It lay in the hearts of the Margis, burning with divine love and the indefatigable desire to serve humanity. I realized that the great movements of history have all started like this – not with buildings but with an idea – not with external glamour but with the invisible internal dynamism of its members.
About three-fourths of a mile down a narrow dirt road, that was impassibly muddy during the rainy season, was the jagriti and the Ananda Marga School, where Baba came twice a day to give His discourses and hold His demonstrations. Even as I write about this now, almost seven years later, there is a deep stirring in my heart because those were the deepest experiences of my life. In those days, I was born again. I was irrevocably changed. I felt completely and totally in love fore the first time in my life. Not human love –which compared to this seemed shallow and wavering. But the love that pours into and out of every cell of your body, the kind of love that sometimes feels like rock inside, so solid that nothing – not doubts or fear or pain – can budge it. This love Baba gave me, most undeserving me, who every day as I rode silently to the jagriti on the rickshaw, thought over and over to myself, “Why me, what did I do to deserve this? There must be some mistake!” Twice a day, at about noon, and again about 6:00 pm in the evening, Baba would come to the jagriti for His discourses. The jagriti was a large brick building; inside was a spacious dirt-floored hall with a stage in the front where the large Sunday morning discourses were held. Margis from all the neighboring town and villages would attend the Sunday discourses. There were several smaller rooms that still shine in my memory as one of the most special places on this entire planet. There was a little room about four squares meters in size, with one or two windows and a wooden cot in the front covered by a blanket. Down the path alongside the building, past that little room, Baba used to walk, protected from the burning Indian sun by his bodyguard, dressed in crisp khaki uniform, walking beside Him and holding a black umbrella over His head. Baba’s clothes always seemed so white, whiter than any white I had ever seen before. His white figure was so radiant that sometime my eyes could hardly see due to its brightness. How strange it was that just the sight of that small man walking slowly with measured steps under the umbrella down that corridor would burst my heart with joy and flood tears into my eyes – and make me freeze motionless as tremendous spiritual waves engulfed me, and I could not move or think – only dissolve in bliss.
When Baba had sat down on the bed, various persons were called into the room for personal contact. There was a long list of devotees each day, and the rest of us waited anxiously outside the room, talking softly about Baba or doing meditation. There were different people there every day. The dadas and didis who had come from distant parts of India to report to central headquarters and were now coming to see Baba, just as a calf, frolicking in the meadows all day must return from time to time to its mother to drink deep of her nourishment. There were Margis from different parts of the country and even from Nepal who took special leave from their jobs and packed their whole family into the crowded Indian trains to sit at Baba’s feet for a few days and gain the inspiration and strength to return home and set an example for all the worldly people they came in contact with. There were the local Margis who used to come every day, at lunch and after work, to see their Baba. Then there were the central workers who sometimes were able to take time out from their work and visit the One they were working ceaselessly and tirelessly for. I remember once, one very devoted Didi had come for several days in a row to see Baba, and when He heard that she was again outside, He pretended anger and said, “What! She is here again? Doesn’t she have any work to do?” and so she swallowed her devotion – what a lump in the throat – and returned to her work.
In that small room, as we all (only about twenty of us then) sat crowded and motionless before Baba, there was a vibration unlike any I have felt before or after. When Baba paused, it was so silent you could hear your heart beat, and even on dark and cloudy days it seemed as if a brilliant radiance filled the room. When I sat before Baba I had a deep feeling that I am at a loss to explain. I felt as if I were sitting in infinity. As if all space had dropped away from around me, as if all time had disappeared; the past was forgotten and the future did not exist. I was sitting on the eternal present, bathed in an indescribable peace and happiness. It was as if I had always been there, and would always remain there, and everything else was a flickering dream that had disappeared like the colors and sounds of firecrackers falling from the sky. The feelings I have for Baba are too deep to flow out of the pen. You who have felt, know. You who have not felt, will one day feel, and then you will know that it is this you have been waiting for all your life, all your lives.
As we watched in awe, Baba would perform one amazing demonstration after another, describing each one like a science professor in a laboratory. First, though, Baba would become very serious and scan the whole room, looking at all of us – probably seeing our mental colors to see if we were in a sufficiently sensitive spiritual state to appreciate his deep teaching. Then He would say sternly, “Sit in a proper asana!” and everyone would snap their backs up straight. Then Baba called a devotee to come forward and sit in front of Him and say, “Sit in padmasana and do meditation.” After a few moments Baba would reach down and hold the devotee on the back of the neck, just at the base of his brain, where the spinal cord enters the all-knowing mind, which knows past, present and future. By His touch He was awakening that devotee’s deepest layers of the mind, and through that devotee, usually, Baba would perform the demonstration.
In this way it was clearly shown that it was only Baba Himself who could have infinite knowledge and infinite powers, and that He could awaken them in people by His grace. The words He spoke about Parama Purusa, about divine love, about unity and divinity of all beings – sank deep into my heart like a sound vibrating in a deep well and I felt as if He were speaking my own heart’s echo. There were hundreds of demonstrations in those days – every morning and evening for months, but often no record was kept of them. Who felt like writing anything in Baba’s presence, in His powerful vibration. In fact many people present did not even see or hear these demonstrations – the spiritual energy in the room was so high they just closed their eyes and were lost in deep meditation, until they felt someone pulling at them to stand up as Baba was leaving the room. Often the next day Baba would ask a devotee to describe what he/she had learnt the day before, and the devotee would smile embarrassedly and answer, “I don’t know, Baba.” And Baba would laugh and say, ‘Never mind, never mind, sit down, sit down, he did not see! All right, who can tell..…”
Fortunately during one period Baba asked one dada to take notes and keep a record of the demonstrations. After the demonstrations were over, Baba would arise from the wooden cot and, doing namaskar to everyone, slowly walk out of the room. Everyone would rush to help Him as he walked through the door. Sometimes He would pause a little and look into the eyes of a devotee whose face was gleaming with spiritual purity and love. Baba would look at the devotee with His look of love and say simply, “Tum kaesa ho..(how are you)” or perhaps pinch the devotee gently on the cheek like a father pinches his child. But these simple words and that simple affectionate touch conveyed tremendous spiritual blessings, and afterwards you could see light radiating from the head of that devotee. He had been transformed by Baba’s touch, by Baba’s love.
After Baba had left to do His noon sadhana and take His lunch, usually we would all sit for meditation because the spiritual waves were so strong no one could move. Sometimes as I left that holy place, as I gradually returned to normal consciousness, I would look around me at that little room in that old brick building with lumpy dirt floor at the end of a narrow dirt road in one of the smallest cities in one of the poorest countries in the world, and feel like I was in the nucleus of the universe. I used to laugh aloud and think of the wonder of it all – in this insignificant little corner of the world, the greatest miracles on the planet were being performed! Here in this plain little room tremendous forces were being unleashed and harnessed, unknown and deep mysterious knowledge was being revealed, and hearts and lives were being changed irrevocably. All this by drops of grace of our Baba!
Note: Here concludes the story from Dada Maheshvaranandji's collection.
At His lotus feet,
Anand
Namaskar! Nice stories
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