Babaji
had built the ashrams at Kainchi and Vrindaban, but they were not run
as ashrams in the strict sense of the term. A visitor unacquainted with
his name would take it to be a big household rather than an ashram.
Except for a few sadhus who might be staying for
a short
while, it was the life of the householder that was lived at the ashram.
No one was a permanent resident; all were visitors. They came to the
ashram for a break from the worries and burdens which go with the life
of the average householder.
The life in the ashrams all centered
around Maharaj ji. People came and tried to spend as much time with him
as possible. There were certain hours when everyone was sure to see
him. Everyone looked to him as the head of the household: it was his
responsibility to provide everything for everyone. He took upon himself
all their burdens so they could enjoy the happiness of being near him.
Many performed various kinds of service out of sheer joy and not from
any compulsion.
Sometimes Babaji would say that people living in
other ashrams did all kinds of work, even ladies from rich families.
But in Kainchi or Vrindaban the work was done by servants. He asked me,
"Dada, why do people not work here as in other ashrams?"
I said, "Baba, in those places people go for the purpose of serving,
but here people come to the nana's [maternal
grandfather's] house for enjoyment."
He said, "Who is the nana here?"
"You are, of course. All fun and no work."
He laughed and repeated, "I am the nana, I am."
And he laughed about it all that day.
In
Baba's ashrams the storerooms would be full of all the essential
things. What was needed, where it was to come from, how the payments
were to be made—that was all his responsibility. How he did
this was a
great mystery. Huge amounts of provisions would be used every day but
he would always know the exact inventory, although no records were
maintained.
The provisions for the kitchen were purchased on
credit from shops at Haldwani and other places. Haridas used to be in
charge of ordering supplies and making payments. One day Babaji
reminded Haridas that a payment had not been made to a shopkeeper in
Haldwani for a long time and shouldn't be delayed any longer. Haridas
was certain the shopkeeper was owed 11,000 rupees. Babaji said the
amount was less. The next morning Haridas was given the 11,000 rupees
and when he left Babaji told me he would only have to pay 7,000 rupees,
which was in fact what happened.
Some of the visitors who came to Kainchi wondered where Babaji got his
money. They saw bhandara
going on all the time and money being spent lavishly. One day, a
certain person asked to meet me alone. He had seen me distributing prasad
and being close with Babaji and wanted to know where the money came
from. He wanted me to testify that Babaji was creating money. Such
cases were not rare. They made us realise that all kinds of people came
to Babaji with different aims and motives. In this way we could
understand when he said, "So many come not for meeting me, but to test
me."
Money came from many quarters, but Baba was very selective.
He would often say that money came to Hanuman ji—it belonged
to him. If
you used it properly and avoided all misuse and wastage, there would
always be enough. We would see him accept money from a devotee who
loved to give with no other motive. If there were strings attached, he
would reject it outright.
Back in 1966 there was a small wooden
bridge over the river in Kainchi, not the big bridge that is there now.
He would sometimes go and sit there in the afternoon and take his food.
A few days before the June fifteenth bhandara he
was sitting there when a devotee from Bareilly came in a truck. He had
brought some supplies for the bhandara—a
basket of clay cups and two or three packets of leaf plates. He came
and sat before Baba and said to me, "Dada, tell me what else is needed?"
"Nothing."
He went on pestering me. "What else? What else?"
Then
I said, "All right, if you want to send something, then send another
two baskets of those clay cups." Those cups are not easily available in
the hills.
Maharaj ji cried, "What? What are you going to do
with them? You have got so many. You are very greedy. Whenever somebody
offers you something, you jump for it." I kept quiet.
When the man had taken prasad and was about to
leave, he took a hundred rupee note and put it before Babaji. "What is
this?"
He said, "Babaji, it is for the bhandara."
Babaji took the note, tore it into pieces, and threw it into the river.
The man gasped, but had no words to say. He went away very sad and
disappointed.
Babaji said to me, "You didn't understand? You
should never accept money or eat food offered by a miser. You can never
digest that! That man has so much money, but he never gives anything in
charity or feeds anybody. I know him well."
One day Baba was giving darshan
to some high dignitaries and big businessmen. There was lots of talk
about the stock market. While discussing the price of gold, Babaji said
the price would start falling because Russia would stop purchasing gold
on the international market.
A month or so later, an impressive, middle-aged man in a silk kurta
[Indian shirt] and white jacket was sitting with some people in
Babaji's room. He had been given prasad
but was still sitting, and it seemed to me that he was waiting for an
opportunity to talk to Babaji alone. When the others had left, he took
out a large amount of currency notes and put them on Babaji's tucket.
"What is this?"
"This is for you to use for your bhandara.
You have saved me from such a big loss. I am a bullion merchant. I was
purchasing gold when the prices were rising. I was actually taking out
a loan from the bank to purchase more, but I was here when you said
that the price would fall. I sold some of my stock and made a large
gain."
Maharaj ji said, "Accha? Accha?"
as if he did not know anything of such matters. Then, "Dada, do you
need money?"
"No, Baba."
"I do not need money; Dada does not need money. What shall we do with
the money?"
The man said, "Baba, please take it."
But
Babaji would not do so. After the man went away he said, "Dada, you
must be regretting the loss of so much money." I said this was so.
"Dada, what can you take from human beings? What have they got to give
you? It is God who gives. God has everything. You did not understand
why he was giving the money. That was not an offering to me, but my
purchase price. If I had accepted it, then he would have come every
time he was making a big deal to get tips from me. He would have
thought that he had a claim on me."
But there were many devotees whose offerings Babaji would accept
easily, saying they were offerings to Hanuman ji for his bhandara.
Some would be asked to give money or provisions for the ashram. Many
devotees felt that all was given by him and they were only passing back
again what was already his.
One day while Babaji was sitting on
the porch surrounded by people, a car stopped at the ashram gate.
Babaji told me to open the door to his room as this visitor would want
to talk to him alone. While going to the room with Babaji, I said that
he looked like a pickpocket. Babaji laughed and said, "No, no, Dada. He
is going to give you money for your bhandara. He
is a great devotee of Hanuman ji and often sends money for prasad."
On
so many occasions we saw him take money from some and refuse it from
others. It was obviously not the money, but the person giving it and
what he had in mind. Sometimes other issues complicated the matter.
This was the case with money offered by the western devotees.
Harinam
Das was one of the western devotees in Kainchi in the summer of 1971.
He wanted to offer some money to Babaji as a token of his love for him.
He proposed writing a check in my name, knowing the money would reach
Babaji. I had to decline, saying that I could not accept it without
Babaji's approval. When we talked to Babaji about it, he said I had
done the right thing—money should not be taken from the
westerners.
Harinam
Das left the room very upset. Babaji said to me, "Dada, it is not
proper to take money from them. They have come from long distances and
have spent so much money getting here, they must be discouraged from
giving money to me. They are not like you; they offer their money out
of a pure heart. But once we start taking it, many persons will ask
them for money, which will bring a bad name on this ashram."
The
matter did not end there. Harinam Das asked Babaji several times over
the summer about the money. Finally Babaji gave his consent and Harinam
wrote a check for $2,200 in my name. When it was credited I was to send
the amount to the ashram. On reaching Allahabad I did as I had been
advised and was told by the bank it would take three months to clear
the check and receive the money.
Four days after that I had a
long letter from Babaji telling me that he had thought the matter over
and decided the money should be returned. Although I knew full well
that I did not have that amount in my account, I sent the check as
ordered by Babaji.
When I was back in Kainchi in September,
Harinam Das came and put my check before Babaji, asking him to take it
back. To his great disappointment, Babaji did not agree. In Allahabad,
I learned that only two days before Harinam had cashed my check, his
original check had been credited to my account—months before
it should
have been!
Harinam was unhappy about the whole situation, as
Babaji well knew. When he was leaving for America, Harinam left the
money with Anjani, hoping that some day Babaji might be gracious enough
to accept it. When Anjani brought the money to Kainchi, Baba told me
that the money should be put in Hanuman ji's donation box in the
temple. It should be at night when no one would see it being done. He
said, "When Anjani puts the money in the box, push it in with a stick.
Otherwise the priest has a way of taking it out." So after everyone had
gone to their rooms, we went to the temple, went behind the curtain and
stuffed the money in the box. It was great fun!
Many of his
devotees who brought food, fruits, blankets or clothes wanted Babaji
not only to accept the gifts, but also to use them himself. This seldom
happened. His wants were few and as soon as these articles came, he
usually gave them away.
One exception was when Krishna Das's
mother, Sylvia, came from America and brought a very nice pullover for
Babaji. He was so delighted, asking where it was made, saying the wool
was so very soft, and all those things. "Imagine, she was coming from
such a long distance, but she has brought something. Look at the people
who are here with me, they would never think of getting anything for
me." It was seldom possible to make him take anything, even food, but
when this lady brought this pullover, Maharaj ji not only accepted it,
he also showed it to all and wore it.
On the other hand, there
was a high Indian official who used to come with his wife to see Baba.
Once his wife said to me, "Dada, I want to knit a pullover for Baba.
Shall I do it?"
"That is your choice," I told her.
"No, no," she said, "Will he wear it?"
"Of course I don't know if he will wear it."
"No, you have got to make him wear it."
When
she insisted that I could make him wear it, I said no one could make
him do anything. But she decided to take the risk and make the
pullover. When she brought it to Baba he said, "Dada, it is good. Keep
it and I shall wear it later."
She said, "No Baba, you wear it now."
But
he would not, nor did he ever. He gave it away. He knew the terms and
conditions attached to it and what had gone into the making of it.
His clothes were very simple, usually a dhoti
and a blanket or white sheet. So also his bed and a few other things
were the simplest. He was quite at home in the houses of his poorest
devotees and relished the modest food offered to him. Living with him
one felt that even food was not necessary and he could easily manage
with nothing.
After Maharaj ji would take his daily bath in Allahabad, we would give
him a new dhoti to wear. Siddhi Didi said, "There
is no need for a new dhoti every day. The same dhoti
can be washed and given to him to wear again." But I wanted to do it
and Baba seemed to like it.
One day before leaving with some of the devotees he said, "I must
change my dhoti."
Even though he had changed in the morning, I gave him a new one. When
they returned a week later, Babaji was a sight! He had no blanket, no
undershirt, only the dhoti, which was wrinkled
and covered with dust and cow dung.
I
said to those persons, "You wretched people! You are so keen and
particular about your own clothes and washing every day, but look at
this fellow. What is he wearing?"
They protested, "What could we do? We asked him many times to take a
bath and change his dhoti,
but he would not do it. He said, "I shall keep this. I shall not
change.'" He had been wearing it for one whole week, sitting anywhere
and everywhere, visiting the Jagganath temple, Dakshineshwar and
Benares. But no bath, nothing of the sort. That dhoti
afterwards was kept by us.
Seeing
Baba spending so much money and surrounded by so many things, some
people thought he was attached to them. Not only householders made this
error, but sometimes sadhus too.
Once in the month of October, when Kainchi was already cold, Babaji was
sitting in front of a charcoal stove when a sadhu
came and began shouting at him, "So it has come to this. You have
accumulated so much wealth that you have forgotten all your sadhana
and live like a prisoner. Don't you remember that attachment is the
deadliest poison for a sadhu? This was not
expected of you." Baba persuaded him to sit and take some prasad.
He then asked the sadhu to give him some money.
The sadhu said he had none, but Babaji kept
pressuring him and reluctantly he took out a few hidden rupee notes.
Babaji kept coaxing him to give more. Babaji went on counting and
fondling those notes while looking directly at the sadhu,
talking to him. As if by accident, the notes fell on the burning
charcoal. Seeing his money burning up, the sadhu
jumped up and began abusing Babaji in the strongest terms, "You are
swelling with money and therefore you do not attach any value to these
notes. You do not know how very precious they are to me. It has taken a
long time to accumulate that amount and I have been holding it for my
needs."
Babaji kept quiet and reached for some tongs. He began
to stoke the fire and started pulling new notes out of the fire and
counting them.
Seeing what was happening, the sadhu
became quiet. When Babaji offered him the notes back he bacame very
repentant and apologetic. Babaji said, "You have been saying that sadhus
must not have attachment. How then did that come to you? You were so
attached to these few pieces of paper, taking them to be so very
precious in the journey of your life. That is not the nonattachment you
were preaching." The sadhu sat silent a long
time, took his prasad, and left.
In
Kainchi and Vrindaban and also in Allahabad, Maharaj ji would have me
distributing money. "Give him so much, give her so much." The money
would be in the pocket of my black vest. When that money was gone, I
would go and take more from Didi's box. Sometimes Maharaj ji would give
me some. "Here, take this money, you will spend it." From the very
beginning there was no question of whether I was spending my money or
the money came from his hand.
One day the money in my pocket was
gone and I was going for more. Jiban Baba was waiting outside the room
and, knowing where I was going, he gave me a bunch of notes. He had
done this on a number of occasions. When I returned to the room Baba
said to me, "Dada, if you do not make it empty, how are you going to
fill it up again?"
Maharaj ji would give all kinds of things as prasad,
including blankets. Once a sadhu
came who was going to Badrinath and he was to be given a blanket. The
blankets in the storeroom were all gone. Baba said, "Dada, what will
you do now?"
"Oh, I will give him a blanket." I went to my room and took a blanket
from there.
Maharaj ji said, "That blanket is not yours! That is Kamala's blanket."
I said, "What of that? She will not mind."
"Accha?
She will not mind? You are giving her blanket?" Later Babaji said,
"Dada, a devotee from Barielly has just sent you a big bundle of
blankets!"
In Allahabad one day he said to Didi, "Kamala, it
is very hot. I will take off my blanket and I want a shawl." She
brought a thick one but he said, "No, this is too heavy. There is a
shawl in that chest, bring that one."
Now in my college days I
used to sometimes wear a shawl. A dear friend from the hills brought me
a very fine shawl which was dove color and actually matched the kurta
[a kind of tunic] that I wore. Babaji had never seen it, I rarely took
it out of the chest, but he asked for that shawl and wore it that day.
Later he gave it away.
When he gave away my clothes or blankets
I didn't mind, but when he gave away my books I was not very happy. The
books were very precious to me. When I was teaching in the university,
I generally didn't borrow books from the library, I bought my own and I
didn't like to lose them. So when Maharaj ji started distributing my
books, it was hard. I thought at first I would hide them somewhere, but
there was no way of saving them. One day Baba suddenly said, "You give
away all my books and do not keep anything for me to read! You must
keep my books." He took a book and wrote "Ram Ram Ram" in it and said,
"This is my book and you must keep it." He did that to several and
those books were kept on a shelf in his room. Afterwards I understood
that he wanted me to read them. Those books about the saints and sages
helped me to understand him.
When we were in Kainchi in
1972, I was alone with Babaji after he had taken his evening meal. He
asked me who slept in one of the rooms in our house in Allahabad. I
said, "Ma, Maushi Ma, Subodh and Vibouti."
"Who sleeps in Kamala's room?" he asked.
I said, "No one."
"Where does Ashoka sleep?"
Ashoka was staying at the house while we were away. I said she slept on
the verandah. "Why does she not sleep in that room?"
"Because it is hot and therefore she sleeps outside."
"Accha, accha." The matter ended there.
The
next morning a telegram came from my brother in Allahabad: "Dacoits
broke open and ransacked the storeroom and took away jewels and
ornaments." There was no question of leaving Baba to return to
Allahabad.
Several days later Baba said, "Look at this fellow.
There has been a theft in his house and they want him to go there, but
he is completely indifferent about it." Later we came to know that the
clothes and other things were not taken, but the ornaments of Didi and
Ashoka were gone. Baba said, "Dada, they would not make charity, they
would not make gifts. That is why the things have gone away."
People
who saw Babaji in the ashram procuring supplies and urging their
safekeeping could be forgiven for thinking that he was attached to
these things. But they were misled. If he had been indifferent or very
slack, everything would have easily vanished in no time. Once many
stainless steel cups and plates came to the ashram, but within a few
months most of them were gone. I said, "It is surprising that ashram
supplies go away like that."
Babaji laughed, "Dada, here everything goes away as prasad.
That is what has happened to your cups and plates."
The day of the main bhandara
of the year, about five o'clock in the afternoon, a large number of
people were still on the ashram premises waiting for Babaji to return
to the ashram. We were standing in front of the temples when someone
came running and told us a gang of young men had entered the ashram
from the back side. They were knocking at every door, threatening
people into vacating the rooms. Then we saw them—about
fifteen young
men—pounding against some closed doors and demanding the
keys, which I
held. They began shouting at me, "What do you people think about this
ashram? Flatterers like you from the plains who surround Babaji have
started to think this ashram belongs to you. You are fools. The ashram
belongs to us—the ones who built it!" They threatened me and
demanded
the keys. One of the gentlemen standing in the group knew the
troublemakers and was able to calm them down and persuade them to go
away.
A short while later Babaji came rushing in, asking what
the rumpus in the ashram was all about. Babaji began shouting at the
people narrating the incident, saying, "They should have shot me and
not insulted Dada like that!" Rushing out of the ashram, he got into
the jeep. Reaching Bhumiadhar, he sat on the verandah by the road in
the dark. The young me had traveled from Kainchi by truck, planning to
set fire to the temple at Bhumiadhar. They began marching towards the
temple, carrying burning torches in their hands. As they approached,
Babaji jumped out towards them, roaring like a lion. They ran down the
road, fearing for their lives. Babaji ran after them, driving them far
away, and then returned to the temple. He was talking, as if to
himself, "They wanted to make a fool of me. I knew what they were after
and gave them a long rope." Later he laughed and told me, "They came to
frighten me, but when I shouted at them it was enough to make them pee
in their trousers!"
The next day everyone was talking of the
incident. Babaji said it had been planned for a long time and that he
knew the persons who were behind it. In the afternoon a man came,
touched my feet, and began to apologise on behalf of his son, who had
been one of the gang. I told him that I had not taken any offense, but
he must go to Babaji and get his pardon. He said that he had seen
Babaji first, who had sent him to me. This gentleman who was pleading
for his son was the older brother of Haridas Baba.
When we
reached Babaji's room, we saw him surrounded by the elderly relations
of those involved in the rumpus. Some of them pleaded ignorance about
the involvement of their children in the conspiracy, but Babaji refuted
their arguments and exposed them all fully.
A few days later
Haridas came from Hanumanghar. As Haridas was ill, Babaji went to his
room to talk to him. Baba told me no one should come in, and the
Mothers were actually locked in their rooms. I stood at the door.
Babaji went on exposing the whole conspiracy and the people close to
him who had been involved. His voice was raised to such a high pitch
that many people became frightened at his loss of temper. Haridas had
broken down and was crying the whole time.
Babaji was shouting:
"Do you think that I am accumulating wealth and building up assets in
ashrams and properties? Do you think I am going to be tied down by
them? I shall burn Kainchi and go away!" Not only the people in the
ashram, but those out on the road were actually trembling.
All
this was because Haridas would not agree to leave Kainchi and this was
a way of pushing him out. It was not that Maharaj ji had taken it to
heart. It was just a shadow play. Later I said to him, "You cannot
discharge anybody, you can only transfer!" That is what happened to
Haridas. He wanted to build a small community of his own devotees.
Therefore, Haridas was "transferred" and now, of course, has found his
place. Baba did not make Haridas an orphan, or take revenge on him. He
gave him what he wanted.
Those involved in the incident could
see what Baba possessed, but did not see that the wealth or property
did not possess him. It must have been painful for Baba to accumulate
so many possessions, but it was a self-imposed pain. He suffered this
because of his compassion—helping and assisting the helpless,
doing
good for others. He said, "Dada, I could have been a great saint, but I
suffer from a serious handicap—too much compassion." It was
that
compassion that made him a prisoner.
When he left Kainchi for the last time he said, "Now I am leaving
Central Jail." Even his blanket dropped from his body.
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