Maharaj Ji: The Superior One

A remembrance by Kira Redeen

Morning and evening are darshan times at Sawan Ashram.

The crowd starts collecting in advance. They meditate and wait in front of the house of Master Kirpal Singh Ji. When the Satguru comes out everyone’s expression changes. You can see that these are the loving children who once again are sitting together with their beloved Father.

The Indian disciples come to talk to our Master in family groups, in pairs, or just by themselves. Each one brings his problem, be it mundane or spiritual, to the feet of the Master.

When everyone has been taken care of, Master goes to the portico of His house, often inviting the visiting disciples from the West to join Him there. The Indians remain outside and you can hear them talking in a melodious foreign language which you do not understand. But one word chimes and rings without letup as a thrilling undertone: Maharaj Ji, Maharaj Ji, Maharaj Ji, and you understand Whom they are talking about.

We heard that shortly before our arrival a little old woman who lives at the Ashram had approached Master at one of the darshans saying that she didn’t see anything inside.

Asking if she had kept her diary, Master was informed she couldn’t read or write but that she did have a candle. Master reportedly asked,

Why do you people need all these outward symbols, candles, flowers? Just go within and then see for yourself.

However, His comment apparently made little impression or was misinterpreted because a few days later at darshan she said that she had seen Master inside in all His Glory.

Pleased, her Satguru inquired what she had done.

I put candles and flowers around the diary form and You appeared to me,

she said.

Later, Master told us,

The simple folk get there so much faster than the pundits, the learned men, the intellectuals. You ask me, ‘Why do some disciples see much Light and others very little?’ Ego is in the way, I tell you, and not before you become a Conscious Co-Worker of the Divine Plan will the ego completely disappear. One pundit,

continued our Satguru Ji,

figures out this and that and works out a plan how to do it. But when it comes to really doing it, he comes running to me to find out whether it is really safe. He does not know. So learning does not help you, you see.

Pundits, architects, magistrates, millionaires and paupers, a commodore, a princess from the Punjab, and the sister of the late Prime Minister Nehru, Madame Pandit, all were there paying their respects to the Master.

They all come for one thing,

explained our Guru,

for the Bread of Life and the Water of Life.

And to every one of them, including the western disciples, Master gave His Love in equal measure as there is only one measure of Love for everyone – the utmost. It is there without letup all the time. Love flows from Master in an endless stream. And no matter when you come for it or what condition you are in be rest assured the flow is constant. No matter how Master feels physically, whether He is busy or not, the fountain of Divine Love is so big there is enough for everyone.

You cannot drain the Master,

said Giani Ji.

Sometimes Giani Ji would come to our room at the Ashram after the evening darshan to find out if we had understood everything Master had told us. And we would sit there on a red flowery rug in a circle, the fan going overhead mixing up the heat, the moon looking in through the opened window, the water from Master’s well dripping peacefully in the bathroom, a pink lizard motionless on the white wall and a gray frog hopping undisturbed in the middle of the rug. We sat there talking over what Master had said at the darshan:

If you love someone, the time – you do not notice it. So in meditation sit there with the one you love. At attention! Alone!

You want someone else there? No? And what do you do?

Your body sits and you, you are not there. God alone should be enthroned in your heart. In meditation you find out how many other people and things you have put on the throne, too.

You will have to leave everyone and everything behind you at the moment of death. I’m the only one that will be your companion till the very end. I’m already within you.

Where Love is, you are drawn this way. You think you love me, but the Truth is I loved you first. Your Love is a reflection of my Love.

So love God alone and for His sake love everyone else.

Love knows service and sacrifice,

our Satguru said to us. He amply proved this to us during our visit at Manav Kendra.

We stayed to begin with in Master’s guesthouse on Rajpur Road and Master Himself had moved to Manav Kendra, fourteen miles away. So in our loneliness we asked His permission to join Him. We did not know at the time that our beloved Master planned to be with us that very evening at His home on Rajpur Road.

Is that what you want?

He asked us lovingly.

All right, then, move immediately. A car will come for you.

Master remained at Manav Kendra and we proceeded to move out there.

Rooms were assigned to us in the still uncompleted hospital. By Master’s orders the following was done for us: Since there was no electricity in the hospital as yet, an electrician stretched a wire from the main cable to our rooms. The building debris was cleaned out; a plumber was summoned to make the bathroom and sink workable and to open the main waterline. Our cook Ram Ji was moved to Manav Kendra his wife and baby also; the refrigerator was moved from Dehra Dun; the stove moved; a carload of food came in; four wooden beds arrived; spreads, pillows, blankets, quilts, all were moved to Manav Kendra. Rugs were brought in, a couch, two club chairs came via truck, an air conditioner, a fan, a dining room set appeared from somewhere, even a Western-type top was immediately created by the carpenter and put above the Indian bathroom’s opening in the floor.

And the next morning as we were blissfully meditating, we heard Master’s footsteps and cane on the cement sidewalk of our portico. Out we rushed and there He was, radiant and smiling.

I came here for your darshan,

He said. Later, we sat at Master’s feet at His bungalow in Manav Kendra forming part of a half-circle around Him. Bending a little forward in His chair, He looked at us lovingly.

Sir,

someone asked Him,

How do you manage to love us? We are so imperfect.

You are like a stone,

replied Maharaj Ji,

and I am chiselling out of it the precious thing that is within it.

Be in life like a compass. Always point to the north. In the world you vacillate here and there, no aim. Point to God at all times. Watch your thoughts. Check your dreams. Do you see Master there?

As the talk continued, the sun fell on one side of Master’s forehead and for the first time I suddenly saw the mark in God’s own handwriting there – the sign of Om.

It was so prominent, so outstanding, so thick, that a shadow from it fell on the other side of the forehead. I looked at it and could not take my eyes away. It is one thing to talk about the physical signs that every Saint possesses but it is quite another thing to see them for oneself.

Going back to our hospital headquarters. I peered at every forehead I saw and each one of them, compared with Master’s resembled a flat Indian chapatti.

Back at the hospital we found our dinner waiting for us. A noble-looking Sikh in a maroon turban joined us. He was on his way to Kashmir and had stopped over at Manav Kendra for a few days to pay his respects to the Satguru. He stayed in the room next to ours with David Teed, the Dallas group leader, and Ed Handley from Toronto.

This gentleman told us the story of his brother who had three sons and one daughter. The daughter died and the grief-stricken parents begged Master Kirpal Singh to come immediately.

Please,

pleaded the bereaved father when Master arrived,

please, Maharaj Ji, take the life of any one of my sons, but give me back my daughter.

Master, however, did not do it, and got in His car for the trip to Delhi. Halfway down the road Master ordered His driver to take Him back to the saddened family.

On His return, Maharaj Ji put His fingers on the forehead of the dead girl, pressed both of her eyes, and lo and behold, she was alive once again. And Master did not take the life of any of the three sons either. The Sikh gentleman had ended his story.

Master holds the power over life and death in His hands, we observed. And securely in His hands is our fate and salvation.

‘I want to talk to the Saint,’ a man once accosted me,

Maharaj Ji told us.

I asked him, ‘What do you want to talk about with the Saint?’ The man exclaimed in surprise, ‘Are You the Saint? But you look like a man.’ – ‘A Saint is a man first,’ I explained to him.

Our Master has a lot of human touches. He likes to laugh although it is almost a soundless laugh which you see more than hear. At times, moved by our human wretchedness, Master is so compassionate that His eyes fill with tears that trickle slowly down His cheeks.

When Tai Ji insists that Master change His clothes because they are crumpled and have spots on them, He will say,

The people do not come to see my clothes. They come to see me.

And he does not change them.

Master’s sense of humour is very gentle. We bought a small toy for Ram Ji’s little daughter. We gave the present to our Master to give in turn to Ram Ji with His blessing.

Master asked,

Is that for me?

– No, Sir, it is for Ram Ji.

Master looked at the toy rubber dog, squeezed it slightly so that it whistled, and said,

I want a toy, too. I am also a child – of God,

He added smilingly.

Once a very clear soul, Guru Parshad, the head of the Radhasoami group in Agra, came to Delhi to pay his respects to our Master. The Guru had walked ten miles and came in covered with dust.

He is a little man. An ancient yellow turban adorned his head. His sweet, old face with its loving eyes had humility written in every wrinkle. Half sitting, half slipping off the couch next to Master, he related that once before he had returned to his congregation in Agra bringing them some sweet parshad from Maharaj Ji. They ate it with gratitude and asked him,

Now that we’ve eaten the sweet parshad, could we eat you, too, Guru Parshad?

Master was pleased with the story and even took the pains to translate it to us.

A final personal darshan is given to each departing disciple. It was our turn now. Master’s silvery blue eyes rested on us with such Love and compassionate understanding we were bathed in bliss.

Maharaj Ji, what if a disciple wants to remain a disciple forever so He could stay in the Holy Presence of his Beloved, safe, secure and happy forever?

– You become a Master,

replied Maharaj Ji,

as soon as you become a True Gurumukh as at that time you will realise that you and the Master are One.

The words of an Indian disciple who lives in Rajpur came immediately to mind:

When you go up there,

he said,

you will see the Master’s body made out of Light. You will see yourself coming out of His body as Light. You and your Master are One, you know.

We left in the dark of evening. As we sat in the back seat of a car waiting to go, Maharaj Ji stepped up to the window, looked at us once again, eyes to eyes, touched our hands with both of His Holy Hands and said warmly,

God bless you.

Pictorial Report