M ot h

& t h e

F l a m e

Pu n j a b - Th e L an d of fi ve R iv e rs

2 2 a r y, AM, April 4, 1967: Myriads of small-bird twitterings D iraspy6 crow-caws resound from the ashram trees overhead as and Mohan and Ram Sa roop rope piles of luggage onto roof racks. Take your seat, please! Master points me to one of the waiting cars, while bidding farewell to the gathering crowd, closing in like bees to honeyc o m b. Soon, engines will cough to life and carry us nort h w a rd to the Pu n j a b. I came for God, but as unexpected bonus, Ive gained entr y to In d i as sacred hearther people, histor y, and shrines. Ex i t i n g De l h is teeming labyrinth, we embark on the narrow cobbled ro a d which passes through hundreds of farming villages and towns. In s e ve ral plac es the way i s lin ed wi th those who have bee n patiently waiting in the sun for hours, just for a glimpse from the Sa t g u rus eyes. I ask, Mohan Ji, without telephones or other means of communication, how do these people know when or w h e re Maharaj Ji is coming? Some advanced souls talk with Master in meditation, he replies. They know Ma s t e rs plans and tell others. I wonder if our dependence on gadgets has re n d e re d us less re c e p t i ve to such subtle re a l i t i e s . Pa t i e n t l y, expectantly, villagers salute their Preceptor with hands p r a ye rfully joined or open, wafting over their faces and heads palpable glances sent their way. Darshan is an active but silent p rocess where the eyes become cisterns of a higher, devo t i o n a l existence. The tongue of Love is dumb and mute, Master says f rom the front seat. Then, in the sustaining b read and water of l i f e aspect of the Gu ru reminiscent of Christhe adds, T h e y eat and drink me! He re and there, as we slowly pass, I hear p l a i n t i ve sighs through the cars open windows. Many run again to the front of the procession, darshan after darshan. T h e re are some for whom the Light is dimmed neither by the darkest night nor by physical distance. In the presence of Be a u t y, who can fault the eye? Who is to blamethe lovers or the Be l ove d ?
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Cahnadnidg hgahr,a rPu nCity ofmodern capital, mid-afternoon, wefeet of the i the Mo o n : By arrive in Ch j a bs which lies at the
blue Himalayas, hovering in the air to the north. Chandighar, City of the Mo o n, was designed by Le Corbusier, whose unique imprint is evident eve ry w h e re in massive curving, almost surre a l c o n c rete stru c t u res, housing projects, parks, gardens, and wide, t ree-lined bouleva rds. The great French architect captured In d i as past and translated it into a contemporary city of beauty. Evening satsang is held on a field in the town center. A multic o l o red canopy hoisted on twenty-foot poles, billows overhead in the gusting wind. Ten thousand have gathered to see and hear the Saint from Delhi. I jot down but a few moments from his twohour discourse: This body is a wonderful house in which we live, but we have lost the In d we l l e r. T h e re was a simple man who had his horse stolen. When the theft was discove red in the morning, he e xclaimed, Thank God I have been saved! People asked in a m a zement, Why are you so thankful? Ha ve nt you just lost your horse? Oh, had I been riding that horse, I would have been stolen also! The people laughed at his foolishness. Bu t , t ruly speaking, he was ve ry wise. Do we not lose the rider while saving the horse of the body? We are the rider, the Soul, a conscious entity, a drop from the Ocean of Al l - C o n s c i o u s n e s s . After some time, tears begin flowing down my interpre t e rs cheeks and all translation ceases. The familiar words, py a r, pre m , mohabat, ishq, and bhakti s weeten the discourse. These names in Hindi and Urdu denote stages of divine Love. The audience sways and ripples like a wheat field in a bre eze, and a wondrous shimmering network of Lightlike an inve rted golden basket c overs all, permeates all. Without interpretation, nothing now remains to distract from the luminous presence. As the chanter sings from the Adi Gra n t h , each ve r s es hidden meaning unfolds. Both are intuitively synchro n i zedone singing a line, the Master commentingand never a moments hesitation. The charged a t m o s p h e re rises to giddy heights, one plateau after another. Worldly comparisons fall short, though I am reminded of a v i rtuoso sitar and tabla performance. L a t e r, the interpreter re d i s c overs his tongue and the pen begins to move :
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Pu n j a b - Th e La n d of f iv e R ive r s An oyster is valued only when a pearl is found within its shell. Si m i l a rl y, our life is highly prized only after we have re a l i ze d the priceless pearl of Realization. W h e re there is reality and genuineness, you will also find imitators who are like the flowers of the s e e m u l t ree which bloom but carry no fra g rance. Like the b a g l a [a small white h e ron, indigenous to India], they dress in white, seemingly meditating, but as soon as they spot a frog or a fish, it is in their beak! Such poseurs prey on the unwary, and inspire lack of faith...Did not Christ in His time chase the moneylenders fro m the Temple, saying Go ye out, Pharisees! Ye have made my Fa t h e rs House a place of business!

A pril 5, 8:00 AM: Hu n dthrough theput into Ma s thours silent reds are an meditation. While walking sitters, e rs garment
happens to brush my sleeve; without opening eyes, one knows it is he. Intense spiritual currents surge through my body and inner vision for the next twenty minutes. Fi n a l l y, he taps the microphone and asks, Leave off meditation please!, but one fort u n a t e woman has gone so deep, nothing avails in bringing her soul back. Only after Master directs Sheila Massi to massage her neck in a certain way, does her attention partially descend to the eye focus. Absorbed in super-consciousness, the return to the gro s s and dross of physicality leaves her to weep inconsolably. Speaking of tears, it is a sight to seetall, strong, proud tillers of the soil, disciplined soldiers, police officers, merchants, new bride s, old wi se women, an d complete strang ers bec omi ng undone in the presence of the Friend. Su rely the garden of the divine is watered by tears, for whichever way I turn I see stoics and skeptics, professors, doctors, lawyers, illiterate peasants, the we althy and p oo re st of the p oor, p owe rful a nd p owe r l e s s , E aste r n er an d We s t e r n e r, Hi n du, Musli m , Si kh, Chr i sti an , Buddhist, Zo roastrian and Je w all leveled by the common denominator of l ove. Kindness, charity and a helping hand are some of its visible manifestations. Tears are the distillation of our body, mind, and soul. In a single tear shed in longing for God, there are a thousand ve r s e s , songs and sacred books.

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K alkaji, the mountain-ashram at Kalkaji. Aftermornings halfApril 6: We leave Chandighar in the light for reaching our

destination, we embark from the vehicles, climb to the top of a high hill, then descend a narrow footpath into a luxuriant ravine. In grassy meadows below stands a solitar y, simple white-washed brick stru c t u re with billowing awnings spread out for shade where m o re than a thousand wait. Ma s t e r - j is thrilling voice echoes a c ross an encircling amphitheater of mountains. T h ree or four long-separated disciples break ranks and fling themselves before their Pre c e p t o r. Nimbly side-stepping the would-be feet-touchers, he mounts the white-sheeted dais. His words bear the weight of attainment, like the earth their mountains. The ve rdant hills, the smoke-blue peaks and azure sky form a perfect backdro p. T h e world elsew h e re is oblivious of this simple kingthough no potentate of worldly domain is he, this emperor of hearts.
Sing O heavens and be joyful O earth And break forth into singing O mountains!.
Isaiah 49 .13

In the latter part of the nineteenth century, Baba Sawan Si n g h , as a disciple, stood at the side of his Ma s t e r, Baba Jaimal Singh in the Mu r ree Hills. Sawan expressed appreciation of the beautiful s c e n e r y to Baba Ji, who replied, My child, you do not understand. You and I we re here before these hills we re even form e d .

P i n j o re

Ga rdens: We depart Kalka around 11AM and by midafternoon arrive at the fabled Ga rdens of Pi n j o re. I sit cro s s legged on cool marble in the shade of a sandstone cupola s u p p o rted by slender columns, eyes riveted on the Friend nearby as he partakes of a small meal . 1 My eyelids close of themselves, as wave after wave of bliss wafts f rom his direction, simultaneously within. So m ew h e re along the w a y, mischievous Tai Ji places an ice cube against my fore h e a d , testing my concentration. This drives attention deeper. After a f ew minutes, I become dimly aware of giggling at the peripher y. Eyes open gradually and refocus on the Ma s t e r, seriously staring back at me from ten feet away. Minutes pass. With a swe e p i n g arm, Maste r gestures to the stai r ways, d esce ndi ng te rrace s, fountains, and buildings flanked by troop-like ranks of lush mango and lichee orc h a rds laid out in perfect symmetr y spre a d i n g for miles into the valley below. Under his breath he mutters, T h e re are f i ve l e vels. He a rt silently asks, How many levels are t h e re in your word s ?
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M ajoriseveral miles re b o a rd and traverseAfter a sharp turn dirtaVillage: We a dusty, pot-holed path for through farmland. up
wide path hedged by thorn-topped mud walls, we reach Ma j o r i . The artist in me is enamored with the congruity of the bright landscape and the ochre tones of adobe arc h i t e c t u re. Baba Lehna, the village chief, rushes forw a rd to bow respectfully but instead is embraced affectionately by the Ma s t e r. We are led through narrow corridors past fat, sleepy buffaloes, and arrive at Lehnas humble d welling. Seeing me unmindful in the high-noon blaze (as Kipling said, Only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the mid-day s u n), Master calls me to his side in the shade. Hilarious Pu n j a b i tales are swapped, and the air is filled with intoxicating laughter. After a while these rustics beseech Father to bless their humble homes, and thus begins a walking tour where babies, swe e t s , f ruits, and scriptures are blessed. They offer eve rything, which he accepts for a moment and returns. Their grateful and brilliant smiles are nt easily erased from the slate of my mind. What I experience in his presence makes me want to dance and shout f rom rooftops, He who sent us into this world has come to take us b a c k ! But legs stumble and the tongue is dumb. A saint is an ocean of love and when tides rise in it, even the people sitting on the seashore get drenched. If you want to c u l t i vate love, you must associate with a Master-soul, for then you will both see and experience great ove rf l owing tides of love in his eye s . 2 We return to Chandighar for three days, where I am board e d with the Hastir family. Vishwanath Hastir is a well-placed civil s e r vant, and a homeopathic doctor who never charges for his e f f e c t i ve diagnoses and medicines. 3 My hosts anticipate eve ry need with such cheerful generosity that I am ashamed for my past selfishness. I re s o l ve to emulate their example. We believe, he said, that the guest is Go d . On our last evening, Vishwanath finds in me an eager listener: As a university student in 1936, I often visited the house of Sa n t Kirpal Singh in Lahore during the time he was writing his magnum opus, Gu rmat Siddhant (Ph i l o s o p h y, or Wi s d o m of the Ma s t e r s ). In fact, we lived on the same street, Ram Galli Lane. Ram Galli means the Lane of God, and because we had such a g reat Saint living next to us, it seemed that God was indeed near! Master detailed his son Darshan, who was also my close friend, to
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P un j a b - Th e L an d of fi ve Riv e rs re s e a rch re l e vant verses from the scriptural tre a s u res of Pe r s i a n and Arabic mystics for inclusion in Gu rmat Si d d h a n t . I was also g i ve n some ser vi ce colle cti ng quotation s. When c omple te d, Gu rmat Si d d h a n ts a p p roximately two thousand pages we re re a d b e f o re Baba Sawan Singh in the presence of many others. I interrupt, We re you there? Yes, I had the good fortune to be there also, at least for part of the reading. When the recitation was completed, Baba Sa w a n Sin g h re ve re ntly p lac e d Gu rm a t Si d d h a n t on hi s head an d p roclaimed, This is the greatest book on spirituality written in centuries; listening to it has the same uplifting effect as attending satsang. Although published in my name, Kirpal Singh is its a u t h o r. Fo l l owing a Gu ru-disciple tradition of yo re, Sant Kirpal Singh signed his work in the name of his Ma s t e r. To give some idea of the size of Ha z u rs satsangs at Beas tow a rd s the close of his mission, and of the enormous quantities of food cooked and served freely to all who came, the daily quantity of salt alone was more than seven hundred pounds. I calculate that if the salt content we re 2%, then the total food, including chapatis, which a re salt-free, would have been in excess of 60,000 lb. per day.

Sant Kirpal Singh giving satsang in the presence of Hazur - early 1940s

A many7: women than men witness the luminous form oftwice pril Of the many initiated this morning, more than as the
Master wi thi n. Fi ve women and four men e xpe rie nce total s e n s o ry withdrawal from the physical body. I specifically ask the Master why some collapsed on the ground during sitting: If one
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P un j a b - Th e L an d of fi ve Riv e rs sits erect, falling over is avoided, he answers, and adds: Be c a u s e of their devotional nature, women often pro g ress faster than men. When I ask about the special position for listening to the So u n d - c u r rent and the speed of transcension, he confirms my e xp er i en ce : W hen sitti n g i n the bhaj an p osture , the so ul withdraws from the body faster than in any other position.

G obind inare onGu ru:road high noon we our caravantostops Ha s t i r the At bid adieu the family and the again. Twice along

the winding, hilly highway as hundreds of villagers seeking blessings surround Ma s t e rs car. In the middle of a deserted stretch of jungled ravines and hills, Maharaj Ji suddenly tells Mohan to pull the car ove r. A second later, a jeep speeds past from the opposite d i rection. Its driver suddenly slams on the brakes, sliding into a 1 8 0 - d e g ree turn. Out leaps a Sikh in full army uniform. Ma s t e r, in the back seat, opens his door and the Major runs over and flings himself on his feet, blurting, My Lord, when driving past, I saw Gu ru Gobind Singh Ji appear in your form. Who are yo u , Gu ruji? The Major had never seen or h e a rd of Sant Kirpal Singh Ji before . The prescient Master replies, I am on ly a humble se r vant of the Gu ru . We have just passed Ba b a Sawan Si n g hs Dera at Be a s . The g olden domes of the Satsang Ghar shimmer in the distance, and gradually d i sap p ea r a s we move al on g . Th i s re m a rk a b l e building was designed, and its construction superv i s e d by Saw an Si ng h hi mself, who by p rofession was a g i fte d en g i n e er. T h ro u g h half-closed eyes, I glimpse Ha z u rs ghostly image riding a white horse, keeping time with our car. I turn around to look at Ma s t e r. He is silent, his e yes br im mi n g w it h a mi l li on re m e m b r a n c e s .
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A view of Dera Baba Jaimal Singh

P u nj a b - Th e L a nd of fi ve Ri ve rs

Hazur was a superb horseman. When his ghostly form followed beside Masters car, he was riding a white horse.

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K iratpur is our three halt. Ancient andthe west.dun-colored hills next rugged ring the town on sides, a river to Kiratpur gained
g re at san c ti ty thro ug hout the Pun j ab as t he si xth Gu r u , Hargobind, and his son Har Rai, the seventh, lived here. A local family generously vacated their home for our use. Im given a bed on the ro o f t o p, but when a light rain begins to fall, I am move d under the verandah just three feet from the Master whom I can see and hear through the unglazed window. Until past midnight, eager young Sikhs come seeking answers and the re m oval of doubt. resting for the past two hours in the darkness, close enough for me to hear his rhythmic breath. My meditation is re-channeled as I become aware of a faint rustle of sheets. The Master sits up, near yet unseen. Un e x p e c t e d l y, and barely audible, I hear him whisper-singing some verses. Honing in on his voice, I re c o g n i ze lines of the Jap Jithe sacred verses composed by Gu ru Na n a k f i ve hundred years earlier: Ek On k a r, Sat Na a m . . . T h e re is One Re a l i t y, The Un m a n i f e s t - Manifested; Ever existent, True NaamConscious Spirit, The Creator; pervading All; Without fear; without enmity; Timeless; Un b o rn, Self-existent, Complete within It s e l f . T h rough the favor of His true servant, the Gu ru, God may be re a l i ze d . Truth was when there was nothing, Truth was before all ages began, Truth exists now, O Nanak, And shall exist fore ve rm o re. The Jap Jis thirty-eight stanzas, one flowing into the next, p o rtray a beautiful lyric tapestr y of the macrocosm, leading to the finale: Air is the Ma s t e r, Water the father, and Ea rth the mother, Day and Night are the two nurses in whose lap the whole world is at play.
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A pril 8: A round 3 AM, I rise for meditation; Master has been

P u nj a b - Th e L a nd of fi ve Ri ve rs Our actions: good and evil, Will be brought before His court, And by our own deeds, shall we move higher or be cast into the depths. Those who have communed with the Wo rd, Their toils shall end. And their faces shall flame with glor y, Not only shall they have salvation, O Na n a k , But many more shall find freedom with them. 4 Master finishes, and the silence begins to resonate. In the ringing thunder, my soul skirts the awesome chasm between death and life. The Adeptsand Master Kirpal is unquestionably one of the g reatestwing far beyond, administering to countless denizens on the inner planes, as many disciples have, and do witness. I marve l that while emancipated from the husks and shells of rituals, he still o b s e rves and respects the traditions into which he was born. T h e Sikh scriptures tell us, The true Master is also the true Disciple. And, while the initiates may stop and start thousands of times, the Masters b e g i n simran only once. While taki ng tea and fr ui t with hi m at 7 AM, Gu ru d e v solicitously inquires after my we l f a re, to which I reply that I am ve ry comfortable and ve ry happy! By eight, Pa t h i - j is thrilling voice, amplified, echoes off the crenelated hills. Kiratpurs entire populace sits before the Master who proclaims the purpose of existence. He moves amongst them, an ageless Messiah in an ageless setting. The camel and ox, palm trees, adobe and stone buildings, bearded patriarchs, wise mothers, and bright-eye d c h i l d ren adorn the scene; this is a page torn from the Bible. I pluck a few pearls from his talk: If even a dog will clean the ground with his tail before sitting, how can we expect God, who is all purity, to sit in an unclean place? If Go ds image is not reflected in us, it is because the mirror of our heart is not yet clear. Naam is the true paras, or Ph i l o s o p h e rs Stone, reputed to have alchemic pro p e rty of changing base metal into gold. Once, a man saved the life of an alchemist and as re w a rd, was gifted with the fabulous paras for one month only. Our man went to the market to buy iron so he could change it into gold. T h e price of iron is too dear. I will wait for its price to dro p . He waited until the next day, but the price, instead of dro p p i n g ,
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P u nj a b - Th e L a nd of fi ve Ri ve rs had risen sharply. And thus, eve ryday there a f t e r, the price continued rising. He kept pro c rastinating until the month had passed. The magician re t u rned to claim his stone. Had the fool ish man bought the iron, even at a high price, he could have t u rned it into gold. Si m i l a rly is the case with the disciples. What you have re c e i ved is of infinitely greater value. While the Ph i l o s o p h e rs Stone may turn iron into gold, a Saint can turn you into a Saint! But if you continue putting off your spiritual practices, pro c rastinating, frittering away va l u a b l e time in outer pursuits, you will find this precious life gone. Then it will be too late. Do nt put off till tomorrow what yo u can do today. Make hay while the sun shines! Pa ramhansa Ramakrishna was a simple bhakta (devotee) and d i d nt pose like other sadhus; he had experience of tra n s c e n d e n t Re a l i t y. When asked by Na ren (Swami Vi vekananda), Ma s t e r, h a ve you seen God? Ramakrishna replied, Yes, my son. No t only have I seen God, but I see Him even more clearly than I see you! At another time Ramakrishna held open his hand before Na ren, saying, If this is a plate of honey, and you are a bee, h ow will you eat it? Na ren replied, I will come to the edge to eat it, so that my wings may not become immersed in the honey a nd I drow n . Ram akrishna said , Th is is t he se a of Im m o rtality! You will not die! Plunge headlong into it! If the Master cannot give you experience by opening your third e ye then he too cannot see. Go to an able person. If a teacher is only matriculate, he cannot give you a Ma s t e rs De g ree, but do not degrade lesser teachers, respect them. My advice is to go to someone of the highest degree, who not only sees and knows the Reality in all its phases, but who can also make you see T h a t . Remember: wife without husband, elephant without tusks, b i rd without feathers, body without eyes and calf without milk is just like a soul without a Ma s t e r. The barren land, which re c e i ves no rain, is no different than a human being bereft of Naam. A well without water, a house without light and an o rc h a rd without fruit are like a soul cut off from Go ds divine Light and Me l o d y. .

A pril

10 Kanpur is a sleepy little village at the end of a long dusty road where lies the rustic beauty and soul of ancient Bharat. From the top of a thre e - t i e red brick house, I look acro s s g o l d e n - g reen fields spreading into the distance, hemmed by blue171

P u nj a b - Th e L a nd of fi ve Ri ve rs purple mountains that float above the va l l e y. Peasants bend and labor in patches of alfalfa, wheat, onions, barley, tall sugar cane and bright ye l l ow mustard. Di rectly below me, hustle and bustle rises from the langar; devoted hands pre p a re spicy lentil dal, curried cauliflowe r, and potatoes, pakoras (vegetable fritters), rice pilau, and chapatis. Mo re than a thousand sit beneath awnings on a newly harvested field. Re s p o n s i ve chanting echoes a c ross the ancient land. I m startled from my re verie by exploding firecrackers, signaling a r r i val. Like one long separated, I run to greet and follow the Master to the second-floor. Pi c t u res of Saints adorn the walls. Pointing to one of himself, he asks me, with a laugh, Who is that f e l l ow? Do you know who he is? I know nothing, but manage to click the shutter.

While tonights satsang concludes with a bhajan from Kabir, p l a i n t i vely re n d e red by Pathi-ji, Ma s t e rs lion-like eyes half close, then turn up in their sockets for several minutes. He is like Aslanthe mythic lion of Narniain whose roar the unive r s e manifests and unmanifests.
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Gress aintroubledr y: L avation: Why is it thathim so manyroom, I u ru a Hu r t e r, when alone with in his exp obser in places
we have visited, the followers of ______ have tried to disturb your satsangs and spread negative propaganda? I have seen them tearing down your tour posters. 5 During the time of my Ma s t e r, he answers, t h e re was much opposition from the Akalis (an ultra-ort h o d ox segment of the Sikh religion). They would say, Do nt look into the eyes of Sa w a n Singh. Hes the Ne g a t i ve Powe r. But whoever was against Ha z u r, after seeing him, became his staunchest followe r. Once, when Hazur visited my home village of Sa y yed Kasran, Akalis came and t h rew stones in the satsang. Hazur said, Thank you for your kind reception! And on these words, they we re changed. Just see the angle of vision he was coming from! It is also happening like that, except now, opposition is f rom_____. They also say, Do nt look into Kirpal Si n g hs eye s ! Hell mesmerize you. Hes the Ne g a t i ve Power! Master smiled, But whoever comes here gets first-hand experience of what they cannot get elsew h e re. Hu n d reds come to me where they have something with Go ds Grace. The cat will be out of the bag, I tell you! I re c e i ved one letter from their fore runner in the We s t a c h i ropractorwho wrote me, If any man has inner experience of Light and Sound at initiation, his life-span will be cut short by two ye a r s . Can you imagine? Now their followers are afraid of asking for any experience. Would you like your life to be cut s h o rt by two years? Has your life been cut short ? I re p l y, laughing, No. In the letter, he asked, Does this experience affect the nervo u s system? I said, No, one becomes fre s h e r, enlivened. Light and Sound are the Bread of Life. That letter is with me in the ashram. Fu rt h e r, they quote from scripture which says: It is Satan-ish for the disciple to be in a hurr y, that hurr y is the work of Kalthe n e g a t i ve powe r. Yes, the disciple should not be in a hurr y. . . Bu t can the disciple complain if the Gu ru is in a hurr y ? ! His laughter is filled with Light. It was often the practice of Masters of antiquity to bestow initiation upon only a select few and even then not until the p robationers had passed through extremely difficult trials testing the ir sin ceri ty and faith. But in the prese nt ag e, with its
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P un j a b - Th e L an d of fi ve Riv e rs p a rticular needs, time limitations and human frailties, Ma s t e r s h a ve opened up the floodgates, making true spirituality more accessible than at any other time in histor y. I have started tying a turba n , le tti n g m y ha i r a nd b e a rd grow, in emulation of the Ma s t e r. He looked at me oddly earlier today, but made no comment. I am admittedly impulsive, infatuated, and t we n t y - t h re e .

E ve r y

Saint has a Past and Ev e r y Si n n er a Fu t u re : Ludhiana is one of Pu n j a bs m aj or c i ti e s. The a shr am h e reone of sixty thro u g ho ut In di a is m an ag e d by Gobi nd Ram. As I ge t to k n ow this colorful disciple, I d i s c ove r on e total ly m o t i vated by loving zeal. Gobind Ram, tell me yo u r s t o r y, I ask m y g ri z zl ed friend. Sa h i b, you dont want to k n ow ! Yes I do! Please tell me so I c an le ar n . Afte r som e coaxing, he heaves a sigh, A a c h a a [all right]. Be f o re I came to Maharaj Ji, or shall I say before he picked me from the gutter, I was ve ry, ve ry bad. I was a gambler and a smuggler. I was addicted to drinking, opium, and ganja [marijuana]. My temper was uncontrollable, and eve ryone feared me, including the police. In broad daylight, I used to yank the gold necklaces and nose j ewels from wealthy women. Although I had hoarded up a f o r tune, I was mi serable and restless; my conscienc e neve r a l l owed me a moments peace, thinking of all the suffering I had caused, but I was helpless to change. As I grew older, I began to pray for deliverance, knowing I would have to pay dearly.
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P u nj a b - Th e L a nd of fi ve Ri ve rs A few years ago Maharaj Ji came to Ludhiana. What a Go d l y beauty! What a power! If I could find any mercy in this world, I k n ew it would come through him! I pleaded, Maharaj! Gi ve this w o rthless sinner your Naam! He said, Yes, you can be initiated p rovid i ng you me nd your ways. Yo u m ust retur n all your ill-gotten gains, or you will never become free. De vote your life to ser ving the needy and to the spiritual practices, which will be re vealed to you. Gobind Ram continues, Not knowing from whom I had stolen, I stuffed all my ill-gotten money and valuables into a big sack and went to the center of a busy intersection where I dumped it onto the ground. I called out as loudly as I could in all d i rections, Come and take according to your karma! The rush of all those people was a sight to see! I have met another ex-dacoit, whom I will refer to as Daku (not his real name). In 1959, the Master gave a discourse in Da k us home village, the subject of which was the re d e m p t i ve grace of th e Sa n t Sa t g u r us . Hi sto ri c al e xamp le s we re g ive n Ma r y Magdalene, the courtesan, saved by Jesus; Sajjan Thug saved by Gu ru Nanak; Valmiki, a robber who became a Saint, and the author of the original Ramayanato show that change is not only desirable, but possible, even for those who have trespassed all moral boundaries. T h e re i s hop e for eve ryon e, provi di ng the y are s i n c e rely repentant and desire to change, but, Master added, Not eve n God can change one who doesnt want to be changed...Only that sin is forgiven which is done no more! Howe ve r, Master declined to initiate Daku at this time. After a few weeks the repentant Daku arrived at Sawan Ashram accompanied by all the members of his gang. They we re all initiated and completely changed their lives by adopting the Ma s t e rs ethical and spiritual teachings. In time, their villagea place once known for evil became known for good. Master often re f e r red to Daku, Now he is putting in six hours of meditation a d a y. Even robbers can become Saints! Eve ry saint has a past, and e ve ry sinner a future . A few weeks ago at the acute appendicitis. He advised he be operated and see. Another day ashram, Daku came down with a case of was in obvious pain, and the doctors on immediately, but Master said, w a i t passed, and Da k us suffering increased
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P u nj a b - Th e L a nd of fi ve Ri ve rs c o m m e n s u r a t e l y. Again the Ma s t e rs advice was sought; again he d e m u r red, Wait until tomorrow. The heavy debt had to be paid and the Master didnt want it to be deferred to another lifetime. That morning, a village herbalist arrived, and went straight to Daku as though inwardly directed. After a brief consultation, the herbalist pierced the middle of Da k us left ear and tied a loop of t h read through the hole. He then brewed a strong tea of n e e m (margosa) leaves, prized for antiseptic healing qualities, then immersed a towel in the tea and applied poultices to the ear. As p redicted, a large amount of pus discharged over the next few days and the swollen appendix returned to normal. Daku was completely healed. My mind speculates on the karmic dimensions of this case, of suffering and grace, and the unort h o d ox ways of the Saints. T h e Master can use any medium he chooses to bring someone to health, i f it is in accordance with the divine plan.

Picnic, Sirsa, Punjab, (L. to R: Tai Ji, Master Kirpal, Krishan Lal, & Dr. Lal Singh.) Seeing me watching from a distance, the Master beckoned. As food was put on my plate, a nicelooking cauliflower dish was not offered. Youd like? Master noticed me eyeing it. I nodded. As I took a big mouthful. Soon my mouth was on fire and I began to perspire and cough. Everyone, especially Master, burst out laughing. It was super-spiced pickle!

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Bt ween learning vs.knowledge, Speaking of ook Re a l i t y : be academic and direct,

the vast differe n c e immediate mystical experience, Maharaj Ji relates the story of Kabir and Sa r b a j i t : Pe rhaps you have heard the story of Kabir and the pundit? After reading many books and winning many debates, the pundit announced, I am now to be addressed as Sarbajit, the Invincible! He went to his mother and declared, O mother, call me Sarbajit now. I have gained so much knowledge that nobody can defeat me in religious debate! His mother, who was ve ry wise, said, Go to Saint Kabir and if you can win him ove r, only then will I call you Sa r b a j i t . So, the vain pundit loaded up a bullock cart full of books and went to the house of Kabir Sa h i b. When Kabir asked about the purpose of his visit, the pundit replied, Either you give me in writing that I am Sarbajit the Invincible, or enter into debate with me. Kabir Sahib humbly acquiesced and gave him in writing, Sarbajit is the winner and Kabir, the loser. But when he took this paper home to show his mother, it read, Sarbajit is the l o s e r, and Kabir, the winner. Sarbajit became ve r y angry and re t u rned to Kabir with his demands. Again Kabir wro t e , Sarbajit is the winner and Kabir, the loser. Sarbajit ran home to show it to his mother, but again the paper read, Kabir is the winner and Sarbajit the loser. A third time he re t u rned to K a b i r, but this time Kabir flatly told him, O Pundit, yo u speak of what you have read and studied, whereas I speak of what I have experienced; the two can never agree. If you have some inner experience of Re a l i t y, only then come and talk with m e .

A pril 13 - Faqir Chand of Ho s h i a r p u r :

Master lets me tag along in his car to a holyman conference in Ho s h i a r p u r, about an hours drive from Ludhiana. Sadhus in s a f f ron robes, and other re p re s e n t a t i ves of Hindu and Sikh faiths, g a ze out upon an audience of several hundred from a large dais. Master Kirpal, as the guest of honor, is warmly re c e i ved. Among the holy men is Faqir Chand, head of this ashram and the successor of Maharishi Shivbrat Lal. Rai Saligram, who was one of the chief disciples of Soami Ji of Agra, initiated Shivbrat Lal. Faqir Chand was linked to the same path of Light and Sound, but t h rough a different lineage than that of Baba Ji and Ma s t e r Sa w a n .
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P un j a b - Th e L an d of fi ve Riv e rs While smoking a hookah on stage, Faqir Chand launches into a c o l o r ful discourse. In his description of the inner spiritual regions, I take notice when he mistakenly re verses the experiences of the third and fourth planes. After leaving Ho s h i a r p u r, Ma s t e r, from the front seat, care f u l l y cuts and peels an apple and passes the pieces around. From the back I ask, Maharaj Ji, what is the fate of those disciples of a lesser Master who has advanced spiritually to, say, the second or t h i rd stage, but not the ultimate Goal [Sach Khand, the Fi f t h Region]? I have Faqir Chand in mind. Their pro g ress will stop, he answers. They will not be able to go farther than their guru. Will the people who follow them derive lasting benefit? No. End of discussion.

L u d h i a n aQuestions & An s we r s :
We re tur n t o the Lud hi an a a shr am la te i n the afte r n oon . Hu n d reds have been waiting, meditating and singing bhajans. After a brief rest, Master invites questions. A woman describes her difficulties in stilling the mind in meditation, a common complaint. M: Do you keep the diar y ? Woman: No, I am illiterate. M: Do you give fifty rupees instead of five? Woman: No. M: If you can count up to fifty and know the differe n c e b e t ween five and fifty, why cant you count your mistakes? Master chuckles. Keeping the diary means keeping track of the impediments and imperfections in our lives; then weed them out! If you dont check your lower tendencies, how can you go up in meditation? An old grandmother slowly rises to her feet. I dont see anything in meditation now, but I used to see a lot before. M: You are not meditating accurately now. T h e re is something lacking in your concentration. T h e re is a cure for not seeing, but t h e re is no cure for not meditating. Meditate re g u l a r l y, with
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P un j a b - Th e L an d of fi ve Riv e rs single-pointed attention in the manner already re vealed to yo u , and the inner way will be opened again. An elderly man stands with folded hands. Ma s t e r, I am a disciple of Baba Sawan Singh Ji. For many years I have nt been able to sit in bhajan due to seve re pains in my hips, but now that you have come, I can sit and, with your blessings, the inner vision has opened again. Master humbly replies, It is all due to Ha z u rs grace that people are benefiting. I am only a puppet in his hands. A white-bearded Sa rdar comes forw a rd to confess: Maharaj Ji , f o r g i ve me, I have started drinking. Please forgive me, I will n e ver drink again. M: O Baba, it is pardoned, but dont drink again, and see t ow a rds your white beard. Your white hairs are a sign that the angel of death is approaching. What are you doing in your old age? A n owned b R ecitation without Na atom :his rediscourseRagi once came to Bathea Sawan Singh, listened which focused on
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futility of external religious practicesuch as formulaic praye r s , fasting, rituals, blind faith and scriptural re a d i n g c o m p a r i n g that with the supreme blessing of being linked to the Un s t ru c k Melody of Naam, via the agency of a living Sa t g u ru. The Ragi was p rofoundly affected. After the satsang was ove r, he appro a c h e d the great Master and asked, Ha z u r, I have been reading and reciting the scriptures most of my life. I thought this was Na a m . Pray tell me, what is the benefit of this as compared to the Na a m which you speak of? Hazur asked him to fill up a nearby piece of paper with ze ro s , and when the Ragi finished doing so, Hazur asked him, Bhai Ji [ respected brother], what is the value of the ze ros? The Ragi replied, Nothing. They are just ze ro s . Hazur then asked him to put o n e before the ze ros and asked, Now what is the value of what you have written? The Ragi replied, Ha z u r, it is inestimable. No one can count that high. Hazur concluded, Bhai Ji, singing the scriptures without Na a m is just like all the ze ros on the paper. It has little value, but when
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P u nj a b - Th e L a nd of fi ve Ri ve rs you get Naam from a perfect Saint, it is like putting One before them all. Then your life becomes infinitely pre c i o u s .

R e f o rmation of an alcoholic:

An alcoholic was initiated in Ludhiana on the 67 tour. W h i l e h a l f - h e a rtedly agreeing not to imbibe again, within a few days his old craving ove r p owe red both will and reason. Two years of steady drinking and deterioration ensued. As much as he wanted to reform himself, he was helplessly caught in the grip of addiction. One day he ove rcame his shame, and traveled to De l h i to seek the Ma s t e rs help before whom he pleaded: Maharaj Ji . please dont make me promise not to drink for I know I have nt the strength to keep it. I do not want to be false to you. Pl e a s e help me reform, for my life is in ruin, and my family is badly affected. I cannot change myself. And he fell on his Sa t g u rus feet, crying. Pleased with his confession and honesty, Master told the fellow, All right, you may drink, but promise me just one thing. Master looked at him with a mixture of sternness and compassion. Promise that you will never drink in My pre s e n c e ! After giving his solemn word, the man returned home and kept the bottle at bay. Howe ve r, after a couple of weeks the old craving began tormenting him again. He re m e m b e red his pro m i s e , but since Kirpal Singh was five hundred miles away, he re a c h e d for a bottle he had earlier hidden under his bed. With tre m b l i n g hands, he poured a glass, but as he raised it to his lips, he had the shock of his life, for the Master was standing across the ro o m looking at him. He rubbed his e ye s, b ut the Ma s t e rs fo rm re mai n e d . He re all y wa n ted tha t A dru n k a rd, a lover and a moth drink! To avoid the begin their circling of the Fl a m e ; Ma s t e rs g a ze, h e Friend, I found a great bargain, closed his eyes and the sacrifice of mine and wine. quickly raised the Trading, I found the inebriate g lass. Be f o re the liquor was in his e yes of the Be l ove d mouth, he re c e i ve d Dancing me in the tave rn a tremen dous slap. of the Ti m e l e s s . From th at m om en t o n, he n e ve r touc h ed liquor again.
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R aho, Bersian & Na w a n s h e r :

From Lud hi a na , we m oto r o n to R aho , b i r thp lac e o f the grandfather of Ram Chandra. By the 17th centur y, Raho had become a flourishing Mughal center, renamed as Sirhind. Gu ru Gobind Si n g hs two young sons we re cruelly bricked up alive inside a wall by order of Si r h i n ds ru l e r. Within two decades, Sirhind was razed to the ground by the forces of Banda Ba h a d u r, and its original name re s t o re d . The ashram here is situated in a large building more than four h u n d re d yea rs ol d , on e o f fe w that e sc ap ed d e str u c t i o n . O ve r g rown mounds of ancient bricks and rubble remain scattere d t h roughout the largely abandoned town, mute reminders of the past. Ne a r by flows the lazy Satluj Rive r, where my ancestor Lt. General Cripps and the British army came within a hair of losing a decisive battle against the forces of Maharaja Ranjit Singh. We spend the night here on the ashrams roof beneath the stars. In the early morn while meditating, a small bird alights on my head. I feel honored. After breakfast, we move on to Bersian village, w h e re satsang is held in the fields of a cultiva t o r. At its conclusion, an old man stands in the crowd and addre s s e s the Master: Maharaj, my name is Amar Chand. Hazur blessed me with Naam in the 1930s. Se veral weeks ago, my only son, Chanan Ram became deathly ill. He did not have the benefit and p rotection of initiation. His voice quivers with emotion as he continues, While sitting by his side, I closed my eyes and Ha z u r suddenly appeared in your company. Your radiant form came closer and you gave the clear order to convey the secret of the Fi ve Charged Names to my son, as his soul was about to depart f rom the body. I there f o re directed him to close his eyes and repeat the five names mentally. After a few minutes, he opened his eyes and mouth and repeated, I am seeing the light-filled images of Hazur and Maharaj Kirpal. They are telling me, Pre p a re to leave this world. It is not your permanent place. Yo u h a ve to leave now. And so my father, I bid you farewe l l . I was satisfied. He then closed his eyes, and his soul took flight into the Be yond. Grateful tears roll down Amar Chands we a t h e re d cheeks as he concludes, As I am an initiate of Ha z u r, now my son is yours. The almighty power is One and we are bound in it fore ve r.
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P un j a b - Th e L an d of fi ve Riv e rs In the fierce heat of the afternoon (120 F. in the shade), I am invited upstairs to take rest in the Ma s t e rs room. Mysterious and alleviating cool bre ezes waft through it. Initially I am fearful that my thought patterns, so apparent to him, might defile the supersublime atmosphere. While lying upon the bare floor with my head tow a rds the nearby reclining Ma s t e r, my anxiety subsides as g r a c e - c u r rents allow my attention to quickly withdraw from the external world and the senses. L a t e r, I muse, How can a frail bulb withstand the Powe r - h o u s e ? How may a broken cup contain the Ocean? It is said of him, He d rank the seven seas and yet his lips remained dry, w h e reas I can h a rdly withstand a few dro p s . In the golden ripeness of late afternoon we drive a few more miles down the tree-lined road to the town of Na w a n s h e r. On the following day, Master speaks of gratitude and re m e mbrance:

T h e re are so many mountains and trees on the face of the Ea rth, but she does not grumble. Once she was asked if there was any burden which was too great to bear. T h e Ea rth replied, Ye s , the only burden I ca nn ot be ar is a n ung ra t e f u l h e a rt . My Ma s t e r, Ha z ur Ba b a Sawan Si n g h use d to sa y, Fo r th ose who re m e m b e r t h e Lo rd i n t h eir d re am s, I a m pre p a re d to m ake shoe s from my own skin for their feet.
Giving Darshan
(photo by Lucille Gunn, circa 1959)

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P u nj a b - Th e L a nd of fi ve Ri ve rs ___________
1. In an early undated hand-written memo to himself, Kirpal Singh outlined his personal dietary, sunbathing and yoga exe rcise regimen. He a l l owed himself only six to eight ounces of food per day. This original memo is on display at Sawan Ashram. 2. Kirpal Singh, Po rt rait of Pe rf e c t i o n, (Delhi & Bowling Green, VA: S.K. Pu b., 1981), p. 285. 3. Homeopathy is widely accepted and practiced in India, England and Eu rope. 4. Kirpal Singh, Jap Jithe Message of Gu ru Na n a k, (Delhi & Bow l i n g Green, VA: SK Publications, Sixth edition, 1981) 5. I was taken aback by organized opposition to the Master and his mission of love and peace, but this was nothing new, from a broad historical perspective . 6. Ragis are professional singers of Sikh scriptures and are held in ve r y high re g a rd. Some of the more gifted enjoy almost super-star status within their c o m m u n i t y. The Saints of the mystic Wo rd, howe ve r, have unequivo c a l l y stated that the most sublime outer music may help take one to the t h re s h o l d of the astral world, and bestow a little taste of bliss, but music per se, is powerless to effect further ingress into the spiritual re g i o n swhich are far beyond the senses and re l a t i v i t y. The inner Music of God brought about the entire Creation, and is the means of the souls return to its So u rc e . Listening to the sweet, melodious strains of the inner Music, the minds ramifications are stilled; the more mind is stilled, or ove r p owe red by a forc e much greater than itself, the more it enjoys bliss, peace and freedom fro m the thralldom of the lower self.

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