As I have said before, when I first
met Babaji I was not at all interested in sadhus
or saints. It was out of sheer grace that he visited our house.
Although many unusual things were happening, we failed to realise their
importance or to see his hand in them. His visits meant some thrill and
excitement and we looked forward to them, but I still looked at him as
a kind and affectionate guest. A new process started, however, when we
moved onto the larger stage of the new house. Many miracles occurred,
acting as shock treatments on me. But no less important was the
association with some of his oldest and most trusted devotees, whose
love and devotion for Babaji were really my eye opener.
The
devotees who started coming to our house when it was built included
Siddhi Didi and her husband, Tularam Dada, Hubbaji (Hira Lal Shah), and
Umadatt Sukla. They were the earlier ones. We had already met Kehar
Singh. Then came Mr. Sang, Inder, Thakur Jaidev Singh, and later Kishan
Tewari, Jiban, Ram Narayan Singh, and Gurudat Sharma. When these
persons started coming, we were unknown to each other. We were in
different stations of life, with different professions and interests,
but we were like different streams which come together, reach the ocean
and become one.
The devotees would be in our house, not bothered
by physical comforts or conveniences, but only interested in being
close to Babaji, seeing him and hearing him. This did not mean that we
were always trying to hang onto him. He might be in one room and we
would be in another, talking about him. Whenever an opportunity came,
we would sit together and compare notes—what everyone felt
about him or
whatever new experience anyone had attained.
After eleven
o'clock at night we would be free. We would have finished our food and
the whole floor would be covered with beds. Sometimes Maharaj ji would
come out and take his seat on a bed. He would ask, "Are you having
tea?" We would say no, "Why are you sitting here with no tea?" Then he
would see the blankets on Sukla's bed, and start counting how many were
there. "You have got so many layers on your bed!"
Then Sukla would say, with tears in his eyes, "Baba, this is my Didi's
house, and she has given them to me."
"Oh,
your Didi is very generous to you, she gives you so much. But come and
look at my bed and see how hard it is!" This was his way of talking. It
used to be the most enjoyable time of the whole day—like the
members of
a family sitting around the loving and indulgent elder, talking and
chatting freely, without any restrictions.
As far as these
devotees were concerned, they had been with Babaji a long time and all
their doubts, all their questions, had been completely answered. They
were convinced and intoxicated. But I would not be intoxicated so soon.
I was hearing them talking of my Babaji as a saint and as God, but
still I could not accept it in my heart of hearts. I would only say,
"Yes, of course, it must be so," but I was not believing that. He could
not convince and convert me easily. I did not fall headlong like your
Kishan Tewari or your Jiban Baba, saying that he is all in all, the
divinity incarnate.
In January 1960, the Ardha Mela was taking place
in Allahabad. The celebration spread over two months. Hundreds of
thousands of sadhus
came and set up camp in the area of the confluence of the Ganges and
Jamuna Rivers. Babaji had arrived in the beginning of December. Some
devotees, including Tularam Dada and Siddhi Didi came in December, but
many more arrived in January.
One day in January he went out in
the afternoon and got into a car, along with Tularam, Sukla, and a few
more of us. We did not know where we were going. We crossed the bridge
on the Ganges and reached the ashram of Prabhudatt Brahmachari, a
celebrated saint. Babaji got down and I followed him; he asked the
others to stay in the car.
Seeing Baba, Brahmachari came rushing
over. "Baba, you are so kind to me. You have come!" He took Baba around
and introduced him to many sadhus. Then he sat
Baba down and brought various kinds of prasad
from Vrindaban and Mathura and offered them to Babaji, who accepted
them. "Baba, the Ras Lila
party from Vrindaban has come, please do stay the night and enjoy the
celebration." Baba readily agreed, but Prabhudatt ji, who knew Babaji
well, said, "Baba, I cannot accept your words so easily." When he had
to leave for a few minutes to take care of something, he asked the
people in the room not to allow Babaji to go. He warned them, "Be
vigilant. He escapes very easily." I did not understand fully what he
meant.
Babaji sat talking to the people for some time and then
told me that we would go out to urinate. I stood up with him. He told
the people he knew where to go. Then he caught hold of my hand and
began moving fast. Coming near the gate he asked me to run and get the
car started. When Baba got into it, Prabhudatt ji noticed and cried
out, "He is running away, run after him!" the car started and we drove
away.
It was a full moon night and the moonlight was reflected
in the Ganges. The motor road was completely empty at the time and we
stopped the car, got out and sat there. Babaji was sitting on the road
with us around him. He said, "Look at this Ganga, this is not water,
but milk. This is pure amrit [nectar]." None of
us could
actually believe that. After all, the saints and sages talk like that,
a language we do not understand. The understanding was to come only
after six years.
Babaji had a camp at the Kumbha Mela
in 1966, feeding thousands of people every day. He stayed at our house
and in the afternoon, after taking his food, would go to the camp. Many
devotees were staying there.
One day in the afternoon, Babaji, Sukla, a sadhu
name Omkar Baba, and I went to the mela and came
to the bank of the Ganges near the sangam.
There was a very big barge which was empty except for the boatman's
wife, who was preparing food. Babaji got in the boat and I spread the
blanket we had brought for him. Sukla had a lota
and Baba told him to fill it with water and keep it there. We sat for
some time until it was getting dark and Babaji said, "Chalo!
When you people sit somewhere you forget everything. It is getting
late, let us return."
I took up the blanket and Sukla took his lota. We
got down from the boat and Maharaj ji, pointing at the lota,
told Sukla to offer us a drink. When we looked in the lota
we saw that it was fresh milk! Sukla wanted to bring some of the milk
home for Didi and the others, but Maharaj ji said, "No! Throw it away!
You want to bring disgrace on me? Throw it!" Then he had Sukla wash the
lota out. I then remembered the 1960 mela
when Babaji had said, "This Ganga is not water, it is milk."
On an important bathing day during the 1960 mela,
the devotees had gone for their bath in the Ganges, returning late in
the day. After the regular sitting in the evening and the meal,
everyone retired and slept wherever a bed was available. Some were
sleeping on the outer verandah. Siddhi Didi and some other ladies from
Nainital went to the roof to sleep. At three o'clock in the morning
Tularam started shouting, waking up the whole house, "Babaji has gone
away!" I did not understand, but came out of bed and found Tularam and
Siddhi Didi standing at the door. They caught hold of my hands and
said, "We must go immediately." We ran down the street and found a
rickshaw puller sleeping in his cart and got him going.
Siddhi
Didi briefly narrated that half an hour ago two rickshaws had come to
the gate and a man got down from one and entered the house. After a few
minutes she saw three persons leave. It was a full moonlit night, she
had seen everything clearly, but it was as if she was in a trance and
could not understand what was happening. Only a little while later did
she realise who had left.
Reaching the train station, we saw
Babaji sitting outside on a bench by himself. He asked why we had come,
how had we known that he had left. Tularam said, "Baba, in the future
please do not leave the house without informing Dada. It is so very
painful for him."
While we were talking, Kanhai Lal and Ram
Prakash came back from having their tea. We put Babaji and Ram Prakash
on the train. On our way home Kanhai Lal narrated Babaji's escape.
Babaji had told him to come in the middle of the night with two
rickshaws, and to tell no one. When Kanhai Lal arrived, Ram Prakash was
fast asleep. Babaji actually lifted him up and made him stand. We could
not understand why there was such secrecy.
Within a few days Babaji returned and stayed for more than a month. One
day, after distributing the morning prasad
to the devotees, he came to the library room and told me to make a bed
on the floor. He said he was not feeling well and would rest; nobody
should disturb him. I asked, "Baba, are you really feeling cold? Should
I get another blanket?" So I did, although it was already the end of
March and quite warm. He had the doors and windows all bolted and then
asked Tularam to put locks on the doors from the outside and not to
give the keys to anyone.
In the beginning we took it to be another of his lilas.
The devotees assembled for darshan
as usual, but upon hearing the story they all waited outside. By noon
the whole verandah and lawn were full, everyone waiting anxiously for
him to come out. The ladies from Nainital and some others sat in
Babaji's room facing the door to the library and started singing kirtan.
This continued all day. Everyone was in great suspense. The mood had
changed from one of lightheartedness at his usual dalliance to one of
deep anxiety. Many persons had tried to peep into his room or put their
ears to the door, but with no success.
It was late in the
afternoon. Ma, Maushi Ma, Didi and Siddhi Didi were sitting in the
courtyard cutting vegetables and discussing the whole thing in a
distressed mood. Suddenly someone shouted, "Babaji is running away!" We
came and saw that Baba had scaled the wall and was walking fast down
the road behind the house.
Many of us followed him. He entered a
devotee's house not far away, sat down and began talking as if nothing
unusual had happened. To every question he answered, "I don't know."
When it was said that the room must have been opened for Baba, Tularam
furiously replied that he had kept the keys with him at all times.
Someone then went to look at the doors and windows and returned to say
they were all still locked.
After some time we all returned with
him. Maushi Ma said that before Babaji had jumped the wall she had seen
him sitting in the garden near the bushes. He said, "Maushi Ma, I am
hiding. You must not tell anybody." After she turned away was when he
jumped the wall and was seen.
Later that night when Babaji had
retired to his room, we gathered together to discuss the episode. To
us, this was the first big miracle. The only conclusion we could arrive
at was that this was an indication of Baba's superhuman power. Only his
grace had allowed us to see it.
There was an interesting interlude during the 1966 Kumbha
Mela. Babaji had a camp and a bhandara
feeding large numbers of persons every day. Babaji used to visit the
camp daily, but stayed in our house at night. One evening there were a
large number of devotees waiting for Babaji in the house. As soon as he
returned they all surrounded him. I was busy attending to some other
things when I heard a lot of noise coming from his room. Someone came
and brought me in to witness the fun.
The whole room was packed.
Babaji was leaning on his pillow in one of the well-known poses. An old
lady was sitting in a corner trying to speak, but Babaji would not
allow her to narrate her story. He kept repeating continuously, "Ma, I
was dead, I was dead, but I was born in the mountains again." I was
very anxious to hear her story.
Later, after she had spent some
time with Babaji, she came out and we accosted her. She narrated her
story. She belonged to the Farrukhabad district where Babaji was very
well-known. Her father had been a great devotee of Babaji, who had
visited her father in his home for more than twenty years. When she had
last met Babaji at her father's home, she was nine years old. That was
sixty-four years ago, and at that time he was already well past middle
age. She did not remember ever having seen him wearing a blanket.
She had come to Allahabad for the mela.
When her host, a devotee of Babaji, told her that Baba Nibkarori was
here, she could not believe it. She said, "What are you talking about?
Baba Nibkarori must have been dead long back." She had come to verify
the statement of her host that Baba Nibkarori was here. When she saw
him, she could not believe her eyes. This is when Babaji said that he
was dead and had been born again.
Whenever such a person would
come and try to tell stories, Babaji would say, "If you talk about me,
I shall go away." But another time a devotee came when Maharaj ji was
in Allahabad. Baba was sitting in the hall and as soon as that person
came, Babaji said to him, "You are bringing shame and disgrace on my
name. You are exposing me! I shall not come to your house again!" He
went on shouting in this way and the poor fellow was feeling very
upset. He was a great devotee and had known Baba for a long time. His
idea had been that all the old devotees should collect their
reminiscences and make a pamphlet of them. He had written to many
devotees and they had begun sending some of their stories. Maharaj ji
knew what was going on and so began abusing him.
The devotee started pleading with him, saying, "I will not collect
these stories any longer."
Maharaj ji cried, "Jao! Jao!
Go and bring those things you have collected!"
The
devotee's home was forty miles away, but he went at once and came back
that evening. Maharaj ji took those papers and said, "Tear them up,
tear them up! Go and put them into that fire!" That was Baba's way. He
wanted to keep the mystery. He did not want to have beads, or matted
hair, or the glimmer of a halo about him.
A friend came one
morning and told me that he was having a housewarming ceremony that
evening. His revered guru, Sri Deoria Baba, would grace the celebration
by his presence. Many disciples, mostly sadhus,
would also be
coming, and the friend wanted me to help with the reception. I told him
that Babaji would be returning to our house and I could not be away.
Baba had left for Benares the day before and was expected back any time
in the afternoon. My friend said that if Babaji arrived, someone from
the house could come and fetch me. So I had to agree. I went and waited
for Deoria Baba. I felt very uneasy, fearing that Babaji would return
and I wouldn't be there. Finally Deoria Baba came with many sadhus
and disciples, and when they were seated I slipped away without
informing anybody. Within half an hour after I returned, Babaji arrived.
The
next morning, Tularam, Siddhi Didi and myself were sitting with Babaji.
He asked me if I had met Deoria Baba. When I said I had, he asked, "Did
you talk to him?"
"No, I didn't."
"Why? Why didn't you
talk to him?" I told him there was a big rush and I could not get my
chance. Then he yelled out, "Why did you not take my name? He would
have given you darshan immediately!" I kept
quiet. But he
would not stop without a reply. He began pulling my ear and repeatedly
asked, "Why didn't you take my name?"
Then out of my mouth came, "One Baba is enough for me."
Tularam shouted in joy. Babaji patted me on the head and said, "It's
all right. It's all right." The matter ended there.
One
early morning in 1961, a devotee came and gave us two small pictures of
Babaji. He had come from Lucknow and said Sukla had sent
them—one for
Didi and one for me. Babaji's pictures were precious, but I could not
understand why Sukla had said it was necessary to have it always with
me. I had neither a purse, nor did I always have a shirt with a pocket.
What should I do with it? So Didi took it.
A few months later
Sukla came. He told us that he had met Babaji at Lucknow some days
before and Babaji had asked, "You sent a picture to Dada to be kept
with him? What use has he got for that?"
I told Sukla that I had
not seen Babaji since receiving the picture, nor had I talked to anyone
about it. All Sukla could say was, "He comes to know on his own. No one
has to tell him anything."
Maharaj ji recited the mantra
"Ram Ram" all the time—twenty-four hours a day. Whenever he
wanted to
write something, he would write "Ram Ram," whether on paper or in a
book. If he was to send a letter to someone, he would write "Ram Ram,"
saying that was his letter. Only once in later years, when I had to
apply for a grant for land for the temple at Rishikesh, did he sign his
name.
It was in September 1961 that I came to my desk to take
out a book that I had been reading the night before. I shrieked and
called to the others to come see the miracle. "Ram Ram" was written on
the whole cover and a few pages inside. It was all in Babaji's
handwriting, which we had come to know by that time. I told them that
the night before, when I had left the book, nothing was written on it.
Didi said, "What do you mean, last night? Only twenty minutes ago I
arranged the table and there was nothing on the book!" Then she took
the book from my hand and opened it. Two more pages of "Ram Ram" were
there. The ink had not fully dried and we felt that perhaps we had
disturbed Baba while he was working. By no stretch of the imagination
could we find any clues to this mystery.
I wrote to Tularam
about it. Being a close devotee of Babaji and spending so much time in
his company, I thought perhaps he had some understanding which I
lacked. We had become much attached to each other and whenever we
experienced anything new about Baba we used to share it between us. He
received my letter when he was with Babaji at Agra, and asked him how
it could happen. Babaji's answer was brief. "Dada was remembering me,
so I had to go." The mystery was solved.
Some months after that
I was reading in my room after eleven o'clock at night. Suddenly the
gate opened with a clang and Babaji began shouting and abusing me, "You
tease me so much. I was five hundred miles away, but I had to come
because you were remembering me. Dada, I always come when you remember
me."
When Babaji came at the end of the year for the winter
months, Tularam and Siddhi Didi were with him. Babaji did not mention
anything about writing "Ram Ram," but Tularam talked much about it. He
said such miracles were very trifling things for a sage like Babaji and
that only his grace allowed us to see these things. He would always
talk of Babaji as the "greatest sage of the age." His friendship was
very valuable in helping me to remove some of the cobwebs that were
obstructing the proper working of my mind.
That first
"winter camp" of Babaji, as devotees used to call it, was unique in
many respects. There were so many miracles that came in quick
succession that even his old devotees were taken by surprise. Everyone
agreed that never before had they had such an opportunity to spend so
much time at his feet and to enjoy his grace for months together. The
blissful smile with which he greeted us, his sweet and charming
company, the free and intimate atmosphere of the family sitting
together could never have been imagined before. This was, of course,
before the Kainchi and Vrindaban ashrams were built. But these winter
camps continued even after the ashrams came.
The winter camp
came to be an annual festival for us—the devotees gathered in
a festive
mood, free from all worries. I was no longer merely a spectator, but
also a participant, sharing everything with the others. And these
festivals at home were so entertaining and enjoyable that there was no
question of going elsewhere. I lost all contact with old friends and
the old social life. The whole process was so smooth and spontaneous
that it was only much afterwards that I realised the change.
Yet
in spite of the feeling of participation and the enjoyment of his
unbounded grace, there was still something missing for me. My mind was
full of questions: How are these things happening? What are they
leading to? Why does Babaji go on performing these lilas?
I
could not get into the heart of the matter; everything continued to be
a great mystery. There were no such difficulties for many of the
full-baked devotees whom I was meeting. They had recognised Baba as
something divine and these were his lilas. They
had surrendered their doubts and questions, but I was far from it.
