I

Preface

n the earliest stage of creation all was fresh and vital. It was the Golden Age. All
five elements or tattwas were present in this new being, man a balanced personality, with
truth preponderating.

However, as act succeeded act (pralabdh karma) in man's life upon earth, with the
five senses working through the nine orifices of the body, the gunas or attributes began to
go out of balance, and either Rajas guna (of excessive action) took command, or the
Tamas guna (of excessive inaction or inertia) asserted itself.
Slowly the original primary elements of Akash (light) were leached away, and the
soul began to take on animal characteristics. It became necessary for man to inhabit a
type of body in which it was impossible for him to make new karma (kriyaman) so that
he might earn the right to a new stock of Akash and, depending on the violence of his
swing to right or left, so he was given an animal or bird, insect, or vegetable body.
In other words, the Golden Age had begun to die, giving place to Silver, Copper, and
at the last the Iron Age (Kal Yuga). Man inevitably forfeited one tattwa for every step he
descended near or nearer to the earth to a progressively gloomier fate.
By his own actions he had himself pulled the first string that set him dancing like a
puppet. But thenceforth each act had reduced his free will further and further. Sometimes
the balance of his karmas allowed a little Akash to re-enter his make-up, but this was
squandered away rapidly through growing layers of bad habits, and down he would go
again, with a new load.
His plight became such that the mind inhibited Shabd activating him, sent up a signal
to the ocean of Shabd and to the Supreme One, that it was in such hopeless difficulties
that only a strongest arm could rescue the soul. Being all love, the Creator was moved to
intense compassion, and projected Himself down through all the layers of His creation
and incarnated as a Saviour or Leader upon the same plane as his child in distress, laying
upon Himself all the restraints in which His child (the isolated soul) had become
involved.
He put forth His Beloved hand and touched the tortured frame of the suppliant.
Immediately his strength began to return, restoring the balance of the tattwas, gunas, etc.,
so that he was brought back to man's estate with the added desire to know God once
more, a conscious part of his make-up. The isolation of the soul has at last ceased.
The gloomy picture of man coming down from his lofty perch during the Golden
Age, then taking on the body of one of the lower species, and slowly clawing his way to
the human form, only to waste this opportunity and be thrown into the Wheel of Eighty-
four is indeed sad.
This ascent and descent of the soul is caused by the poison of the five deadly
enemies — Pride, Anger, Greed, Attachment and Lust. The mind with which we
unfortunately are saddled is constantly looking for appeasement through the senses. This
is the trump card of Kal, the Negative Power. He knows that nobody has ever conquered
these five enemies without a perfect Master. This cycle of births and deaths has been
going on ad infinitum.
That Shabd, that activating force within all God’s creation, is very active in marked

1
souls, and is recognized by the Satguru. Then that contact is made within. The chela or
disciple has called and the Guru has responded.
This contact between Guru and disciple is very rare. “Many are called but few are
chosen.” If you look at the population of this planet and the few who receive Nam from a
perfect Master, one can to a certain extent realize how priceless this gem of initiation is.
These great souls, the incarnation of the Creator in human form, have been coming
for their allotted ones since the soul sent that signal to the ocean of Shabd, and to the
Supreme One. Many names of these divine beings of the past are known, such as Shams-
i-Tabriz and Maulana Rum of Persia, and in more recent times, Kabir Sahib, Tulsi Das,
Guru Nanak and his nine successors, and still more recently, Soami Ji, Baba Jaimal
Singh, Sawan Singh, Jagat Singh, and latterly, my Beloved, about whom this book is
written.
Three or four years after he took the mantle of Mastership, Maharaj Charan Singh Ji
felt that weak but persistent signal from the Shabd within me calling out to him. He
reached out with his beloved hand and touched me, then drew me slowly but surely to
him and initiated me into the teachings of Sant Mat, for which my very being was
hungering. Not only me, but many hundreds of thousands called in his lifetime, including
members of my family — how blessed we were.
Maharaj Ji was the first Satguru to leave Indian shores and travel abroad. He visited
America (the first country in the West to learn about Sant Mat), Europe, South Africa,
Australia, New Zealand, the Far East and even Russia. Because of his extensive travelling
by plane, he was known by some as the ‘Flying Saint’.
It was my good karma to have the seva of being the first one to organize satsang in
South Africa, and do his work even to this day.
During my visits to India, which were numerous, Maharaj Ji graced me with the
privilege of joining him on many of his satsang tours. During these periods I had the
opportunity to converse with him on intimate terms. He revealed so many things, which
gave me the faith and strength to carry out his seva with unswerving devotion, especially
my daily meditation, which is the greatest means of thanking the Master for his
unbounded love.
After my beloved Master’s sad demise I had the great good fortune in meeting the
present Master, Maharaj Gurinder Singh Ji, who gave me the inspiration and guidance in
putting pen to paper.
Shortly after Maharaj Gurinder Singh Ji took on the mantleship of Satguru, he
instructed the Western sangats that all discourses should adhere strictly to the Sant Mat
principles and not deviate with stories, exploits, and so on. When I met Maharaj Ji for the
first time I confessed to him that I was the biggest culprit in telling so many stories
during my discourses. He answered, but without reproach: “I know, I have heard all your
tapes.”
It was at this point that the idea of my writing this book, which I hoped to call
Memories of a Mystic, came into being.
So, instead of me talking about the wonderful memories I have, I share them in all
humility on the pages of this little book, with my brothers and sisters on this Path of
Love.

– Sam Busa

2
 Chapter 1
____________

The Start

I was born into a Roman Catholic family with seven brothers and sisters. Although my
parents did not themselves observe the Catholic rituals of attending Mass, Confession and
Holy Communion they were adamant that the younger generation of the family go
through the whole exercise of becoming a Catholic.
At the age of seven, after attending Catechism classes on a weekly basis for a year, I
was ready to have my first Communion. On the Saturday I had to confess all my childish
sins to the priest and spend time afterwards repeating certain prayers to pay penance and
cleanse myself in readiness to receive the ‘Host’ or body of Christ on the morrow at my
first 'Holy Communion'.
We were not allowed to eat or drink after dinner the night before or have breakfast on
the big day. A happy and very vivid memory is the sumptuous breakfast served to us by
the nuns at the convent after the Communion ceremony.
A year or so afterwards I entered further into the Catholic rituals by having
‘Confirmation’ by the bishop of our diocese. This was done by rubbing certain oil on my
forehead and by my kissing the ‘holy’ ring on his finger. This forehead of mine in later
life would become the most important part of my anatomy.
Although I went through all these rituals with a certain amount of fervour, even at
that tender age I always felt something was missing. It was a feeling, right in the midst of
my worldly activities, of loneliness, of not being truly part of what I was doing.
Once or twice a month, when this feeling became quite unbearable, I would seek
solace in withdrawing from my family and friends.
Instead of cycling to school as I usually did every morning, I would suddenly decide
to head for the hills where I had my ‘secret hideout’ next to a clear bubbling stream. I had
my lunch pack with me, and here I would stay for the rest of the day.
I used to sit for hours, staring at the glistening water, listening to its mocking
laughter and trying to understand the reason for this aching feeling in my innermost
being. At times I would cry out aloud, tears filling my eyes. These were happy tears, and
seemed to quieten for a time the pain of separation from that something which was
always out of my reach.
At night before going to sleep, with my eyes closed, the comforter would come to me
and slowly rock me into the sleep of oblivion. In the darkness, in the region of my
forehead, I would see a candle flame flickering and beckoning to me. At times, there were
two beautiful brown eyes burning into my very soul, and occasionally one eye would
remain, unblinking, and slowly fade as I passed into the arms of sleep, and so to quieten
for a time this nostalgia.
In The Book of Mirdad, Mikhail Naimy puts these words into the Master Mirdad’s
mouth:

3
 Like mist is this Great Nostalgia. Emitted by the heart, it shuts away the heart,
as mist, effused by sea and land, oliterates both land and sea.
And also as the mist bereaves the eye of visible reality making itself the sole
reality, so this Nostalgia subdues the feelings of the heart and makes itself the
feeling paramount.
And seemingly so formless, and aimless, and blind as the mist, yet like the
mist it teems with forms unborn, is clear of sight and very definite of purpose.
Like fever also is the Great Nostalgia. As fever, ignited in the body, saps the
vitality of the body while burning up its poisons, so this Nostalgia, born of the
friction in the heart, debilitates the heart, as it consumes away its dross and
every superfluity.
And like a thief is the Great Nostalgia. For as a sneaking thief relieves his
victim of a burden, yet leaves him sore embittered, so this Nostalgia, by stealth,
lifts all the burdens of the heart, yet it leaves it most disconsolate and burdened
by its very lack of burdens.

How beautifully Mirdad describes the longing of the spirit, shrouded by layer upon
layer of mind and matter, completely dominated but at times managing to express itself
through the chinks of its prison of Nostalgia.
I am sure I have expressed the feelings, to some extent, of many who come to know
they have been called to their ultimate destiny of meeting a perfect living Master. The
chela or disciple is slowly weaned away from the pull of the world and is made ready for
the great, indescribable gift of Nam. From birth the ‘marked’ ones are singled out by their
very loneliness and nostalgia.
Hazur Maharaj Ji describes this process in the following simple but explicit image.
The Master sits on top of a mountain and gazes down on a village nestling in a valley. It
is night. The little houses twinkle like stars as their lights shine through their windows.
Suddenly, one little light shines out more brightly, calling to the Master. The Master
stretches out, acknowledging the call, and touches that soul. When the chela is ready the
Guru will appear.
As I grew older, into my middle teens, I turned away from the church and also
suppressed the feelings that assailed me as a young person. I became very interested in
my body. Being short in stature I decided to concentrate on building my physique to
offset my lack of inches. The more my body became pleasing to the eye, the more my ego
grew. Lost was that feeling of Nostalgia, and lost were those nightly visions.
Occasionally they endeavoured to peep through, but were vanquished by my desire
to excel at my sport and body culture.
Here is a story of dhyan (contemplation) that I practised as a body-builder, on a
physical level. Most young people seem to idolize someone who has reached the peak of
achievement in the particular area in which they themselves are interested.
I was no exception. My idol was an American body-builder who had won all worldly
honours. To have a physique like his was my burning ambition. His photos covered my
walls, with one on the mirror where I did my training, so that I could concentrate on his
form throughout the session.
As the years passed and my body grew, I was known as the little Grimek, which was
the name of my idol. We know, as satsangis, the important role of Dhyan in meditation

4
to constantly keep the Master in mind; to have his darshan; to be able to have an
unblinking gaze on his wondrous form; to merge with him one day and become him.
I went on my merry way until my late twenties, enjoying the gifts of this world, with
good health, good living and lots of friends to occupy my time. No thought, not even a
fleeting one, entered my mind of a spiritual nature. Life seemed very good.
Suddenly my world of ‘permanence’, security and happiness was shattered. My best
friend and my wife’s sister committed suicide, and my sister’s husband died by drowning,
all in one short year. I was suddenly confronted with death. These three young people had
suddenly gone.
During this tragic period a famous English spiritual medium was in South Africa. In
one of her seances my best friend came ‘through’ her and asked for me. When I was told
this, I could only wonder, ‘For me? How could he ask for me? He was dead.’ I was
possessed by a dreadful fear of the unknown.
I quote Mirdad once more, this time on death:

Your friend is not dead. Nor dead are yet his form and shadow. But dead,
indeed, are your senses to your friend’s altered form and shadow. For there be
forms so delicate, with shadow so attenuated that the coarse eye of man cannot
detect.
The shadow of a cedar in the forest is not the same as a shadow of that
cedar become a mast upon a ship, or a pillar in a temple, or scaffolding for
gallows. Nor is the shadow of that cedar in the sun the same as it is in the light
of the moon, or the stars, or in the purple haze of dawn. Yet that cedar, no
matter how transformed, lives on as a cedar, though the cedars in the forest
recognise it no longer as their sister of yore. Can a silkworm on the leaf
discern a sister in the worm pupating in the silk cocoon? Or can the latter see
a sister in the silk-moth on the wing? Can a grain of wheat in the earth know
her kinship with a stalk of wheat above the earth?
Can the vapours in the air, or the waters in the sea, own as sisters and
brothers the icicles in a mountain crevice?
Can the Earth discern a sister star in a meteor hurled unto her out of the
deeps of space?
Can the oak see itself in the acorn?
Because your friend is now in a light to which your eye is not accustomed and
in a form that you cannot discern, you say your friend is no more. But Man's
material self, no matter where transported and how changed, is bound to cast
a shadow until dissolved entirely in the light of Man's God-Self.

Eventually I was persuaded to attend the séance. I was expecting ghosts and goblins,
and fearful thoughts raced through my mind. Filled with trepidation, I entered the séance
chamber. Instead of all the ‘things’ that I thought I would find, there sat a dear little lady,
waiting for me in that peaceful room. After my racing heart had quietened down, I
relaxed and waited, not knowing what to expect.
Suddenly a voice came from this lady. It certainly was not a female voice, but at the
same time I did not recognize it. It was not the voice of my friend. However, I was
nonplussed at the information conveyed to me. As a complete stranger to me, there was

5
no way she could have known the details of our friendship.
After this experience my mind was whirling around with all sorts of questions. It
seemed a door had opened, allowing me to peep into the beginning of truth that I was
later to pursue with my utmost energy.
The main question answered during that session was: There is life after death. It was
something that had never occurred to me in the past.
Little tugs of loneliness once again started manifesting in my inner being. This was
the start of my quest to find out the ‘Truth’ that would appease my hunger.
I started to devour book after book, trying to satisfy my enquiring mind. Some held
me spellbound for months on end. Others I cast aside after a peremptory glance at the
pages failed to satisfy this thirst. I attended lectures and séances. I got ‘initiated’ into
various paths. Each time, instead of appeasing me, the hunger was magnified.
Surely there must be an answer that would satisfy me, which would keep my
attention, would hold me and give me continuity? I later realized that even though this
search had not given me what I was seeking, nevertheless all the efforts I had made, and
all the paths I had followed, would one day allow me to know the Truth, to consolidate
and be focused. This background would instil in me the drive to follow the exacting
demands expected of a worthy disciple of my Master.
Kabir says:

He is mad who knows not

His own true self;
Had he known his self
He would have known the One.

That describes the stage I was in: not knowing my true self; not having true
understanding or knowledge; not knowing how to satisfy the self, despite all past
desperate endeavours.
It had to come, and so it did, in a most unusual way.
One evening I attended a lecture at a spiritualist church given by a certain Sir Colin
Garbett. He was talking rather vaguely on his Master, Maharaj Sawan Singh Ji, who had
passed away. Sir Colin spoke about a living Master and said there was such a person in a
place called ‘The Dera’, but he was not allowed to divulge any more.
He explained he had not been given permission to talk about the teachings by Master
Charan Singh Ji. While Sir Colin was talking I heard a distinct voice in my head telling
me he had the answer and not to let him go.
After the lecture Sir Colin met us individually, and showed us photos of the Dera and
also a most beautiful photo of his Master. I drew Sir Colin aside and begged him to give
me more information on how to find such a Master. He said his hands were tied, and
without permission he could not give me any more information.
However, after hearing our heartfelt pleas, he agreed to give us a weekly lecture at a
friend's beauty salon. I collected my family and friends – 22 in number and so began our
lectures!
For his first few talks Sir Colin spoke about the Dera and how the colony had grown,
having been built by the loving disciples of their Master. He called it a ‘labour of love’.
He dropped little pearls here and there, about the love of the Master for his disciples and

6
about the Masters’ function on this planet. But he remained adamant about not disclosing
any information about the teachings or how to contact the Master.
After a few weeks Sir Colin stopped talking about the Master and confined his
lectures to the Bible. This went on for months on end. I must say I learned a great deal
about the Bible. But the people I had brought to listen to and learn from Sir Colin became
bored, saying they had not come to be lectured on the scriptures, and one by one began to
leave. This went on for over a year until eventually only my wife Lesley and I were left.
One day Sir Colin came to visit me at my health studio. I locked him in one of my
rooms and said, “Sir Colin, I’m not letting you out of here until you give me something
tangible about the path you follow.” He answered with a well-known Sant Mat story:
There was a guru who was getting very old, and decided to test his disciples to find a
worthy successor. He called his followers and said he wanted a platform built so he could
give his discourses in more comfort.
They built the platform. He was not satisfied, pronouncing it too high. They rebuilt
it, and he said it was facing the wrong way. They rebuilt it once again.
By this time most of the disciples thought the Guru was getting too old and didn’t
know what he wanted. After a few more such changes only one disciple was left. The
Guru embraced him, saying, ‘Your devotion has earned you the right to be my successor.’
Sir Colin then said, “You have persevered in your quest for the Truth these many
months. I have been able to get you a book which will give you all the answers.” He then
handed me a copy of The Path of the Masters, by Dr Julian Johnson.
I was so excited to receive a book at last and could hardly wait to get home to start
reading and digesting the pages of this great book. I decided to call my close friends and
a few relatives and have a bi-weekly reading and discussion session.
Every page seemed to open up the inner recesses of my mind. This was the Truth I
had been waiting for. It was not a learning experience, it was a knowing. It was as if I had
had amnesia in the past and now my memory had come back.
These was the only book on Sant Mat in Johannesburg, and more and more of our
friends were clamouring for information, so a few ladies decided to type extracts from
these golden pages and hand them around. This was the start of Sant Mat in our area.
At last I was able to write to the Master, Maharaj Charan Singh Ji. He answered,
advising about the diet and to contact a certain Major E. Little who lived in Durban.
Eventually, after conforming with the principles of Sant Mat, I wrote and requested
initiation from Maharaj Ji. Many months elapsed before I received a reply. During the
waiting period I grew anxious and wondered if I would be worthy to receive the great gift
of Nam. I could not sleep at night. I had no appetite. I lost weight. In fact, my nerves
were in tatters as I imagined I would die before I could be initiated.
At last the Master wrote and advised me to contact Major Little to arrange for the
initiation. The date was set for 17 July 1957. It was midday in the heart of Durban. The
traffic noise was deafening. We met Major Little who lived in a small apartment right on
the noisy street-front of this busy city. After we had settled down to start the initiation
Major Little spoke at length about past lives and mystic experiences, but did not touch on
Sant Mat.
When eventually he started explaining simran and bhajan we were quite confused as
to what was initiation and what was not. He suddenly disappeared, and came back a few
minutes later with a photo of what he claimed was some great saint’s tomb. He and I, he

7
said, were soldiers at the time and were guarding the saint's remains. This was most
confusing, but at least we had the five holy words and had some idea how to meditate.
Before leaving Major Little said we should visit Mrs Amy Olivier who lived around
the corner. She was the first South African to be initiated by Maharaj Charan Singh Ji.
The story of her initiation is related in the book Heaven on Earth.
As we entered the elevator to go up to Mrs Olivier’s apartment, an elderly gentleman
joined us. As it happened, we were all going to the same floor.
He looked deep into my eyes and asked if we were going to Mrs Olivier’s apartment.
I nodded.
“Come,” he said, “I am also going to visit the dear lady.” He then asked, “Are you
satsangis?” I told him we had just been initiated.
He introduced himself as Dr Lander, now retired in South Africa. I later found out
that he was Principal of the Agricultural College in Lyallpur, now in Pakistan. Maharaj
Sardar Bahadur Jagat Singh Ji had once been a professor working under Dr Lander.
We entered Mrs Olivier's apartment together. Dr Lander was most jovial, with a very
engaging personality. We spent an hour together, and in that time learned a great deal
about Sant Mat.
I noticed that Mrs Olivier was staring at me. She suddenly exclaimed, “Maharaj Ji is
standing behind you. He tells me that you will be in India before the end of the year.”
I wasn’t very impressed with her statement. I had long since left spiritualism and
their talk, and just brushed it aside. I had no intention of visiting Dera, had no money, and
in fact South Africans could not get entry visas to India at any price.
But after a while an interest to visit Dera started to stir in my heart. I visited Sir Colin
and asked what influence he had in getting visas. He replied that he had tried for a friend
of his and was flatly refused. However, he said he knew the High Commissioner in
Nairobi. He used to be in his Boy Scout unit when he was in India. He duly wrote and
applied on our behalf.
I saved furiously, stinting myself of all the little pleasures I so enjoyed and worked
hard at my profession. Money trickled in, and slowly I was reaching the target necessary
for fares and sundry expenses for my wife and myself. But no visas. Months went by.
December came; the time of our departure was drawing nearer. We did not even have a
letter of acknowledgement.
The situation looked completely hopeless. A few days before we were due to leave I
decided to cancel our trip, and as we now had finance, go on a boat trip instead. We were
supposed to leave on 12 December, Master’s birthday. That very day, after we had
cancelled our flight, the visas arrived! I rushed to the travel agent, and after great
difficulty, we were booked on a flight to Bombay on 29 December, reaching our
destination on the 31st.
Mrs Olivier’s message from the ‘Master’ had come true.
Despite having visas, we had a horrendous time getting through the passport and
immigration formalities. It was our first time out of South Africa, and we were like two
frightened little children. Fortunately, Sir Colin had arranged through his contact to have
us met. Bank guarantees had to be given, and at last we were out of the airport.
Three people were waiting to meet us. We immediately sensed they were satsangis.
They stood and greeted us, hands together, and saying, “Radha Soami, welcome to
India.” Mr Krishin Babani was one of them and the first satsangi we met on Indian soil.

8
 We were taken to the old Taj Mahal Hotel. Our room was filled with flowers. The
fragrance flooding us made a loving welcome to this ancient city.
The next day we were on our way to Delhi, where we were met by Mr Ramnath
Mehta and taken to his lovely home, where an excellent repast awaited us. By this time
we were quite overcome by the love being showered on us by all the satsangis. If this was
the love which emanated from Sant Mat disciples, what to expect when we were to meet
the Master himself?
That afternoon we were taken to Old Delhi Station. Old Delhi Station! What an
exhausting and chaotic experience as thousands of people milled around in every
direction. We clung to each other as we blindly followed the ‘sevadar’ and the ‘coolies’
carrying our luggage. These porters, with their spindly legs and arms, barely weighed 60
kg, carrying at times three luggage bags on their heads and one in each hand, at probably
more than twice their body weight.
As we jostled through the crowd we were in a state of panic every time we lost sight
of our luggage, and wondered if we would ever find a place on the waiting train.
Eventually we came to our coupe. Thank goodness we would be alone and able to have a
decent bed to rest on.
We gazed out with amazed interest as the crowds continued to surge past: different
faces, different dress, a dozen variations of the turban, beggars, the maimed, poverty they
all passed our window, until we slowly drew out of the station.
We were on our way to meet our beloved Master! Sleep seemed out of the question.
For hours we recounted the incredible experiences we had been through during the last 48
hours.
This was another world. With it all, I felt a vague familiarity deep in the recesses of
my mind, and just knew I would come again and again to this most intriguing country.
Gradually, the clacking of the wheels of the train on the tracks lulled us into a deep,
restful sleep.
We were awake bright and early, keen to enjoy the rural scenes as the train sped
towards its ultimate destination of Amritsar. It was only in later years, because of the
large influx of visitors to Dera, that the train stopped briefly at Beas station. When we
alighted at Amritsar station we wondered who would meet us.
A very slender bearded gentleman came towards us. He was in the middle of a
crowd, but we sensed he was a satsangi. His name was Gyani Ji, an old trusted sevadar of
the Great Master. Humility and love exuded from his very being. We were now less than
two hours from meeting the Master. We travelled to the Dera in a very old car seemingly
held together with lots of love.
Gyani Ji drove us directly to the house of the secretary, Mr Aluwalia, as he knew the
Master would be with him discussing various Dera administration matters. Gyani Ji
pointed to a stairway leading to the roof of the building, and said, “Maharaj Ji is on the
roof with Mr Aluwalia.”
Most houses in India have a flat roof. In the heat of summer it is very pleasant to
sleep under the stars, and in winter equally pleasant to enjoy the winter sunshine.
I was the first to ascend the stairs. As my head came into view the Master stood up
and walked towards me. We met in the centre of the roof: Master and disciple. He greeted
me with a handshake. I looked into his eyes. Was it my imagination – were those the eyes
I used to see at night when I was very young? I just stood tongue-tied, completely in awe

9
of his Great Presence.
Maharaj Ji broke the spell, and said, “Welcome to Dera. You must be tired and
hungry. Gyani Ji will show you to your quarters. We will meet later.”
This was the start of six weeks spent in this ‘heaven on earth’ with our beloved
Master.
In those days the Dera was completely different from what it has become today. The
only guesthouse was the one now occupied by Mr and Mrs Sethi and Miss Louise Hilger.
The rest of the present guesthouse area was covered in fruit-bearing trees, consisting of
orange, lime, mandarin and papaya.
We were placed upstairs, next door to Miss Hilger’s quarters. There were no walls
surrounding the Dera. From our upstairs balcony we could see across grass-covered
ravines to the Beas River winding its way towards the Beas bridge. The wilds abounded
with snakes and jackals, and the river with alligators.
The area adjacent to the Western Guest House where rows and rows of houses now
stand was covered in golden wheat fields and vegetable gardens. The Master stayed in
what is known as Dr Johnson’s house, and there was no wall separating our guesthouse
from the Master’s residence. The streets of the Dera were sandy, and not ‘pukka’ or
tarred.
In other words, the Dera was a typical rural village, and not the busy, bustling
organised town it is today.
At night we could hear the howling of jackals. Their mournful cries echoed eerily in
the distance. At times they would come so close I could hear them downstairs foraging
for something to eat. We soon got used to these night cries. It all added to the charm and
atmosphere of the Dera.
We introduced ourselves to Miss Hilger. She was very gracious and explained the
Dera routine to us. We soon fell into this simple but strict way of life.
At 3 am a sevadar would ring a bell for at least one or two minutes, then in the
distance a voice could be heard coming nearer and nearer, singing in most melodious
tones, calling us to arise and communicate with the Beloved within, through our simran
and bhajan.
At 6 am a sevadar would come clumping up the stairs, bringing two large containers
of hot water to our room, as Dera had no running water. We had a small tin bath, and each
in turn was able to bathe and get ready for the day.
After breakfast at about 9.30 am, together with the 50 or so Dera residents, we sat
facing a small platform at the side of a building which is now the library, and waited
silently and with loving expectation for the Master to arrive. To me this was the most
uplifting and sacred moment of the day.
Maharaj Ji appeared, and sat on the raised platform, with the sangat below him. He
closed his eyes, and his loving disciples sang in their sweet voices the ‘Benti prayer’.
Miss Hilger kindly had this prayer translated into English, so we could offer our Benti or
supplication to the Master:

With folded hands do I implore thee, 0 my Radha Soami!

To my request do thou kindly listen. Sat Purush art thou,
O beneficent Master! Of all men art thou the father and the
mother. By thy grace do thou make me thine own; and

10
 save me thou from the snares of Kal. The periods of ‘Satyuga’
‘Treta’ and ‘Dwapar’ hath passed, but the method of ‘Shabd’
(Word) no one did know. In ‘Kaliyug’ hath the Master
shown his mercy, and openly hath he spoken of
‘Shabd’. For the sake of human beings hath the Master
come into the world; and across the ocean of
phenomena doth he take us.
Leaving the three worlds, the fourth Realm (dimension)
hath he given us, where the soul cometh to know the equal
and high position of ‘Sat Nam’ and Satguru (the Master).
First dawneth the light of the brilliant flame (of
‘Niranjan’). Then above the causal heavens (of Trikuti) is
beheld the moon (of Par Brahm). Beyond that, under a
canopy is the pearl-white throne (of ‘Sat Nam’) where
resoundeth the ‘Anhad’ Melody of Transcendence. ‘Tis
beyond ‘Brahm’, ‘Par Brahm’ and ‘Sohang’ (i.e., it is in
‘Sat Lok’) where thy servant doth implore thee. In
regions and regionless states, shall I find an abode of bliss if,
0 my Master, givest me thou the place of repose at thy Lotus Feet.

These soul-uplifting sessions were unfortunately later discontinued by Maharaj Ji.

Perhaps it became too ritualistic or perhaps the sangat grew too large.
Later in the morning we were able to walk with Maharaj Ji to the place of mitti seva
(earth-moving service), and then spend an hour or so doing our tiny share in helping to
transform the Dera. During afternoon seva we had the privilege again of walking with
Master to seva.
On one occasion we were walking behind Maharaj Ji down a narrow path when I
spotted a mass of ants in our way. Maharaj Ji walked among the ants, and must have
crushed hundreds of these tiny creatures under his shoes.
The next day we walked down the same path. The ants were still there. When we
came to the ants, Maharaj Ji suddenly went on tiptoe like a ballet dancer, and danced
among the ants without touching even one.
I thought how lucky were the ants of the previous day to have had their lives snuffed
out under the feet of a perfect living Master. They would surely be raised up the ladder of
evolution and perhaps even take human birth.
After dinner, we would walk over to the Master’s house, and together with Professor
Jagmohan Lal spend an hour with Maharaj Ji. Professor would first give a short satsang,
and then we would ask questions. The atmosphere was very relaxed, and at times
Maharaj Ji would intrigue us with tales of his Master.
Maharaj Ji was due to give satsang in the nearby city of Jullundur. I had the good
fortune to accompany him in his car. This was the very first of many excursions with
Maharaj Ji. When we reached the satsang grounds Maharaj Ji suggested I should sit
behind him in case I could not sit cross-legged for one and a half hours. He said I could
get up and stretch my legs whenever I wished.
But my ego would not allow me to sit behind him. I insisted on sitting right in front
for the whole period. When the satsang was finished Maharaj Ji beckoned me to follow.

11
But my hips and knees were locked; I could not get up. Maharaj Ji walked on and the
crowd surged behind him. I panicked and shouted Maharaj Ji! He turned around and
waved at the crowd to let me through and waited for me to join him. What a lesson I
learnt that day!
On the morning of 8 January 1958, the Master’s secretary Daryai Lal Kapur came to
me and said, Maharaj Ji is going to initiate the two of you tomorrow morning. We will
meet at the Great Master’s house at 10.00 am as Maharaj Ji will come at 10.30.
I must admit it had been a vague and disjointed initiation we had had with Major
Little, so perhaps this was to be our proper initiation.
At 10.00 am we went up into the Great Master’s house with Daryai Lal. We sat down
and waited expectantly and rather nervously for Maharaj Ji. He arrived promptly at 10.30.
We sat down on a rug, with Master sitting directly in front of us.
This was the most sacred and memorable occasion of my life.
For two and a half hours Maharaj Ji went into great detail, explaining every aspect of
the initiation. When we came to the Shabd practice he showed us exactly how to assume
the posture. After sitting in the posture for 15 minutes, Maharaj Ji asked if we had heard
the Sound. We both said, “No, Maharaj Ji.”
He then said we should sit again and listen. After another 15 minutes the Sound came
to me very strongly. Maharaj Ji then said, “Good, now hold on to the Sound.” The Sound
was with me day and night, until one day Maharaj Ji left the Dera for a few days. As he
drove away the Sound left me completely. On Maharaj Ji’s return I complained to him.
He laughed, and said, “Now you must work for it.”
One morning, Balwant Singh, Professor of Agriculture previously working with
Maharaj Jagat Singh Ji at the Agricultural College in Lyallpur, now retired at the Dera,
said he would show us the caves where the sadhus lived.
These caves in the old river bank were most interesting.
Built in the sandy soil, they remained cool in summer and warm in winter, with
ample ventilation. One in particular had a long, low passage about three yards long, with
little rooms leading off. The rooms were completely soundproof and pitch dark –
obviously ideal for meditation as there was no outside interference of light or sound.
The sadhus spent most of their time in meditation, only coming out to attend to the
call of nature and once a day to have a simple meal which they prepared themselves.
Later, as Maharaj Ji built quarters for the sadhus, he asked them to leave these caves.
A few days before our departure, we decided to visit Professor Jagmohal Lal. When
we reached his small apartment he was busy clearing his dresser drawers, throwing away
mountains of papers. He was stacking his books in little piles, with a note under each
pile. It really looked like he was having a spring-clean. He invited us to stay and have tea.
I said, “Professor Ji, it looks as if you are going somewhere.” He answered, “I am
going away on a long holiday.” I told him we were leaving the next day, and would like
to take a photo of him, which I did.
Just before we left for Amritsar Maharaj Ji called us for our last interview. He gave
us a signed photograph and a packet of parshad. When I was about to leave Maharaj Ji
asked me if there was something I wished to say.
I burst into tears, and said, “Maharaj Ji, I only ask one thing: may I serve you until
the day I die.” He laughed and patted my shoulder, and said, “You will have lots to do in
the future.”

12
 And so our first trip to Dera ended.
Although many years have passed, every minute of our first stay at Dera and being
so close to Maharaj Ji at all times is indelibly etched in my memory.
On our arrival home I had my films processed. I decided to send the one of Professor
Jagmohan Lal to him. Some weeks later I received a letter from his son in which he
thanked me for the photo, and said that his father had passed away on 24 May. Maharaj Ji
came to see him on the 20th. The son said the Professor had been in such high spirits no
one had any idea his end was so near.
The son also reported his mother as being extremely upset about the Professor going
before her, as the Great Master had promised her they could go together. She went to
Maharaj Ji and complained. Two days later, she left the world with simran on her lips.
She was cremated on the same spot as Professor Ji, and on the 4 June their Bhog
(memorial) ceremony was held, fulfilling the Master's promise to her.

13
 Chapter 2

December 1960
December 1960 saw my second visit to Dera. It was mid-winter. The weather was similar
to that of my home city of Johannesburg in June, with cold nights and early mornings and
bright crispy days, the air bracing and invigorating.
Satsangis and seekers trickled in, a mixed crowd from various parts of the world,
numbering about 22. This was a large number compared to my previous visit in 1957/58
when only four or five visitors were present.
Maharaj Ji was very gracious in giving each person an interview on their arrival.
During the evenings we all squeezed into the Master's lounge, enjoying the intimacy of
being so close to him. He allowed us to ask many questions, and his answers were usually
in the form of short satsangs.
We all listened with deep concentration as in those early years Master had a distinct
Punjabi accent. Even then his voice was melodious and soft. Often the whole session
would be given to relating stories of the Great Master, and then Maharaj Ji’s whole
demeanour would change. His voice became distant and one could almost sense the '
‘bireh’, the longing.
It was approaching the festive season of Christmas. The routine at the Dera does not
change. All days are the same for every day is devoted to the remembrance of the Lord.
December 29 marked the bhandara commemorating Baba Ji Maharaj’s passing.
During bhandara time the crowd swells to the extent that Dera facilities are strained to the
utmost, but in the end everyone is happy and filled with the grace which is constantly
flowing from the Fountainhead. It is during this time that a tremendous amount of seva is
done, especially ‘mitti’ (or earth-moving) seva in those days.
Mitti seva first started in 1954. One night at the April bhandara (commemorating the
passing of the Great Master), Maharaj Ji, having retired for the night, was kept awake by
the constant noise of voices and activity going on outside. Eventually, at 1 am he called
his gate-keeper and asked him to investigate.
On his return the gatekeeper told the Master, “Maharaj Ji, it is the langar work still
going on. It has been in progress without let-up since early evening. The sevadars cannot
seat more than 2 000 people at a time, and there are at present 2 000 seated, and crowds
are still to be served and must wait their turn.
“The sevadars say it will take at least another two hours before the last batch are fed.
Some of those waiting say they have waited for eight hours already.”
Maharaj Ji decided that something must be done. The next day he called Mr
Ahluwalia, the Dera secretary, and Rai Sahib Munshi Ram.
“What,” asked Maharaj Ji, “can either of you suggest be done to extend the langar as
quickly as possible?”
Mr Ahluwalia answered, “Behind the langar towards the river we have a deep ravine
where the river moved eastward – we cannot build there – and taken forwards we cannot
build there either, as we are too close to the library and the Great Master’s house. There
seems to be no answer.”

14
 Maharaj Ji said, “Why don't we fill the ravine and level it off, and build your
extension there?”
“To fill that ravine would take us ten years,” said Mr Ahluwalia.
Maharaj Ji then said, Let’s start mitti seva and see how long it takes, as there is no
other way of solving the problem. So, during that very day after satsang Maharaj Ji
announced that mitti seva would begin. From then on mitti seva became an ongoing
labour of love. Maharaj Ji would sit and give darshan while the work was in progress.
The immediate task took two years to complete – not ten – and building extensions
were then immediately begun. Thousands of satsangis came to this seva – men, women
and children, rich and poor, Maharaj Ji's own family including his mother – all joined in
happily and were regularly seen carrying their basket of sand to the ‘maw’ of the ravine.
Today, the whole area between the old Dera and the river has been levelled.
Hundreds of acres now boast buildings, vegetable gardens, trees, etc.
It was always my greatest delight to mingle with the dusty multitudes on every
occasion that I visited the Dera. Those were memorable times and it was a privilege to
have been able to participate in this seva.
At satsang on Christmas eve Maharaj Ji announced there would be no satsang on
Christmas night, but invited us instead to a party in his garden and to be there at 7.30 pm.
There was a tremendous ripple of excitement among the Western guests as we had heard
a rumour that Maharaj Ji was having a special Christmas banquet.
We duly arrived at the Master’s garden at 7.30. We were all taken aback by the sight
that met our eyes. The grounds were festooned in fairy lights, and in the centre of the
lawn stood a large marquee, the floor covered with matting. On top of the matting were
strewn richly coloured carpets, each one exquisitely woven with its own motif and
history. The walls were hung at intervals with intricately woven silk rugs, their colours
glowing and highlighted by dozens of strategically placed candles – all reminiscent of the
Arabian Nights.
To complete the ambience Maharaj Ji stood at the entrance to the tent, looking
magnificent as always, but this evening in a long black coat and tight white pants, with
black slippers curling up at the toe. Immaculate creamy turban crowning it all, he truly
looked the king of kings.
Ever the gracious host, he greeted each one of us in turn. Maharaj Ji’s mother was
present, his wife Harjeet, his brother Shoti, Professor Puri, (later to visit South Africa
with Maharaj Ji). Mr Khanna the Dera secretary, Dayai Lal Kapur, author of several Sant
Mat books, and so many others.
Next to the beautiful attire of the Indian guests we felt very drab and unimpressive in
our Western clothes.
There were two long tables down the centre, beautifully decorated with flower petals
made into designs and enhancing the dainty dishes laid out ready to be served. We were
all seated – men on one side and the women on the other. A shabd was sung by a young
lady with a hauntingly lovely voice.
Maharaj Ji then stood with eyes closed and blessed the meal. The children and ladies,
including the Master’s wife, served the most delicious food. After everyone had eaten
their fill a few more shabds were sung. At 9.30 pm it was time to go.
Maharaj Ji stood at the entrance with hands folded and smiled gently at each one of
us as we left.

15
 So ended the most wonderful Christmas I had ever experienced and ever will. We
walked to our rooms in a daze, completely overcome by the hospitality of everyone, but
especially by the love and grace that simply flowed from our beloved Lord. He is the
greatest and the most humble giver.

16
 Chapter 3

Visit to the Rajah of Sangli, December 1960

I had arrived in Bombay with four other satsangis on the way to Dera. As it happened,
Maharaj Ji was there, and invited us to join him on his trip to Sangli for satsang and
initiation. We would be guests of the Raja and Rani of Sangli, who were devoted
disciples of the Great Master.
The following day we were escorted with Maharaj Ji and his three children to
Bombay Railway Station. The Master's wife, Harjeet, was in London for surgery that
could not be done in India. Hence the children were given the opportunity of travelling
with their ‘Papa Ji’.
The train to take us to Poona was waiting. We were shown to our various
compartments for the overnight journey. There was a large crowd of devotees to see
Maharaj Ji off, and he stood among them chatting. The guard blew the whistle for us to
board the train. Many of the devotees were crying, and holding their hands to beg the
Beloved for his Grace. Maharaj Ji stood at the window with folded hands, and gazed
lovingly at his disciples.
Suddenly, the train gave a jerk and started moving. It went a few yards and stopped.
Maharaj Ji climbed down to the platform and rejoined the crowd. Another 10 minutes
passed. Again the whistle was blown, and once more we got ready to leave. This
performance was repeated three times before we could get away.
Later, Maharaj Ji said to me, “You see what love can do. It can even stop a train from
leaving.” How true.
After we had settled down, Maharaj Ji informed us that the Bombay sevadars had
prepared dinner for us. We joined Maharaj Ji in his large compartment. The dinner was
excellent, but most of all we had the good fortune to be with him for over an hour before
retiring for the night.
We had to change trains at Poona, and then resume our journey to Sangli, reaching
our destination very early in the morning. The Raja was waiting for us with his private
Rolls-Royce and two other cars. Maharaj Ji travelled with the Raja and our party
followed in the other cars.
Arriving at the palace, we were taken to the royal guesthouse and its wonderful
accommodation. We were indeed guests of the Raja. We had every comfort that the heart
could desire, and each meal we had seemed to surpass the last.
Here is an interesting story told to us by the Master about the Raja and Rani. Once
they came to the Master at Dera and asked to join the crowds doing mitti seva. Maharaj Ji
said it was not becoming for them to do this type of seva. He added, “In any case, you do
so much other seva. There is no need to do this as well.”
One late afternoon the Master was on his house roof drying his hair, and happened to
look out towards the Beas River. He saw two solitary figures carrying sand on their heads
in seva. He recognised the figures as the Raja and Rani, and immediately sent his servant

17
to bring them back.
This was a true reflection of this devoted couple – despite their status they were most
humble and loving.
One day the Raja said to me he had heard I was teaching Hatha Yoga, and had
arranged for us to be given a demonstration of these intricate postures by a yogi living
nearby. This man performed the most difficult and advanced asanas, despite his age of 84.
He later told us he had had arthritis and started studying yoga at 60. He certainly showed
no signs of the disease at his present advanced age.
On another occasion at breakfast, I remarked to Raja Sahib that the honey being
served was most delicious. When we returned to the Dera, we found a case of honey for
the Westerners with compliments from the Raja.
One morning we visited the Raja's estate. We drove to a plantation of trees that he
had imported from many countries. He had one of the workers demonstrate the tapping of
rubber from a rubber tree. We were also shown how agile the coconut pickers were, as
they shinned up very high palms to pick coconuts for all of us. These coconuts were
pierced open with a sharp knife, and we were each given straws to drink the cool and
delicious milk.
Satsang and initiation were unusual, as the village people of Sangli could not
understand the dialect that Maharaj Ji spoke. In both cases an interpreter had to be used.
We were allowed to attend the satsang and initiation. They were extremely long-drawn-
out affairs and most tiring. Imagine how tiring it must have been for our beloved Master.
The highlight of our most wonderful visit as guests of the Raja occurred the night
before we left Sangli for the Dera. Raja Sahib announced we were all invited to join him
in his special meditation room for a session of shabd singing and meditation, and that
Maharaj Ji would also be there. The room was quite large, and was probably used for
satsangs as well, as there were not many satsangis in the area then.
As we entered the room a beautiful illuminated life-size photo of the Great Master
met our eyes. The atmosphere in this lovely place enveloped us with love. We sat near the
photo with backs against the wall. I was next to the Master, and was most conscious of
his august presence. We waited in silence.
Suddenly, the Raja, in a quiet, almost childlike voice, starting singing a well-known
Dera shabd. His family joined in, and then I heard Master singing very quietly as well. I
did not know the words, but just hummed the familiar melody. It was ethereal and
uplifting, a rare and unforgettable experience.
As the shabd came to an end, we all sat in meditation for about 15 minutes. Maharaj
Ji, like a swallow that soars into the heavens, had that short respite when he could be one
with his Beloved.
Maharaj Ji broke the silence: “Radha Soami, and thank you, Raja Sahib, for that
lovely interlude.”
We then made our way to the dining hall, and enjoyed a kingly dinner. Maharaj Ji
and his children left the next morning for Sirsa, to spend a few days on his farm before
coming on to Dera. We left by train for Bombay, and then flew to Delhi and then on to
Dera where we were to stay for a number of weeks.
A few days after we settled in at Dera, the foreign guests started arriving. Among
them were Major Little, Rudy Walberg, who had been living in South Africa for some
years and was now returning to Germany, Colonel Berg from the US and Peter Dawson

18
of Northern Rhodesia (now Zambia). I mention these names in particular, as you will see
later how Maharaj Ji works in his infinite wisdom.
After the December session all the foreign guests had left, with the exception of my
wife Lesley and I and ‘Miss Babs’, an elderly lady from Johannesburg whom we were
looking after as it was her first trip to Dera. Maharaj Ji had invited us to meet him in
Delhi, before going on to spend a week on his farm. We would travel there by car with
him.
We left Delhi early in the morning. Maharaj Ji was in good humour, very relaxed and
obviously looking forward to a rest after a few months of continuous satsangs, initiations
and also dealing with the foreign satsangis. He suddenly looked serious, and said, “Sam, I
hope you and the ladies can rough it. My humble farm has no luxuries. It is very
primitive, a real old-fashioned farm.”
I replied, “Maharaj Ji, as long as I am with you nothing else matters.” Another hour
or two passed and Maharaj Ji once again broached the subject. “I don't want to labour the
point, but I want to stress the fact that you will not have any luxury, and must be prepared
to rough it during your stay.”
Why would Maharaj Ji keep stressing the fact that his farm was so primitive? A little
doubt started creeping into my mind. How would I react to the rigours of his simple
farm? I responded to Maharaj Ji, but this time without much conviction in my voice:
“Maharaj Ji, as long as we are with you nothing else matters.”
After stopping at the roadside for a break and to enjoy our tasty picnic lunch, we
continued on our way, and after a long drive eventually entered the outer perimeter of the
Master's farm. As far as the eye could see were healthy sugar cane fields. We drove in for
a short way, and stopped outside a large barren-looking building with a large porch. On
the porch were a few bags of maize and an old-looking ‘pulang’ or string bed.
It looked as if Maharaj Ji was not joking about the austerity of his farm. This would
surely be a great test for me, as I still loved the few luxuries of life. Maharaj Ji did not say
anything, got out of the car and disappeared. After a few minutes he returned, and told the
driver to drive on.
We continued through the sugar cane fields, and eventually came to an imposing
building with a large courtyard where we stopped. I said to Maharaj Ji, “This is such a
lovely place, what is it?”
He smiled mischievously and said, “This is my farmhouse.”
I was quite puzzled, and said, “Maharaj Ji, why did you keep telling us that you had
such a humble, primitive farmhouse?”
He then said something very significant: “Is it not better for me to put you right
down and then raise you right up than to raise your expectations and then perhaps have
them crash right down?”
Is this not exactly what the Master tells us, that we are living in a dark and miserable
world? It is only after meditating for many years, and with his grace, that we realize
where our true home lies. Eventually, when we are ready and the karmas have been
eliminated, we will be able to stay in the beautiful farmhouse of our Master.
After many ages of self-indulgence in this region of gross matter, every one of us has
forgotten our true identity and is out of tune with the Shabd. This Shabd, or Wave or
Current is like the electro-magnetic wave of a radio. It fills all space around us and within
us, but we do not know it, cannot hear it, until we are tuned into it.

19
 Man, being so out of tune, wanders for ages in this prison house of Maya. And no
man can ever get himself in tune again unaided. Only when he meets a perfect Master
and is put in tune with the Shabd can he start the real journey home.
Maharaj Ji’s home was truly lovely. Miss Babs was put into a downstairs room, large
and airy, and with her own bathroom. We were placed upstairs and shared Master’s
brother Shoti’s apartment. It was large and luxurious, with a guest room and bathroom,
lacking no comforts. Shoti hovered around us and made sure that we wanted for nothing.
He was the perfect host.
We soon settled into a relaxing yet invigorating routine. We met Maharaj Ji early
morning after our meditation, and took a long walk for at least an hour. After breakfast,
Maharaj Ji would retire to his rooms until mid-morning. Thereafter, I met him in the
courtyard, where a section was screened off, so that I could massage Maharaj Ji’s body.
Maharaj Ji looked so different when at home. He removed his turban, and had a red
tartan scarf wound around his head. He wore loose kurta pyjama, easily removed for his
massage. I would start off by working on his scalp. He really loved this. Then I would
knead his arms, legs, torso and finally his back.
By the time I had finished, which took well over an hour, Maharaj Ji would be in a
deep sleep. This was our daily routine.
Mealtimes were an absolute delight, not only in the excellence of the repast but
especially the atmosphere. Maharaj Ji always said one should laugh as much as possible,
particularly at the table. Maharaj Ji's ‘uncle’ Chacha Ji was always at meals. The Master
would ‘rib’ him unmercifully, and evoke so much laughter from us all that even the food
would be forgotten.
One afternoon, Maharaj Ji said, “I am taking you on a long walk to show you the
sugar mill.” There were about five ladies, an elderly gentleman, Maharaj Ji and me. We
set off across the sugar field along a narrow winding path leading to the mill. We had to
walk in a single file because of the path being so narrow. It took nearly two hours to
reach our destination, as the ladies and the elderly gentleman could not walk too fast.
The sugar mill was most interesting. It was simple in its function – the sugar cane
passed through two large rollers to extract the juice. The juice ran into a huge vat that had
a large fire burning underneath it. As the juice boiled, scum formed on the surface. This
was skimmed off by workers, then the sugar solution was drained off to be cooled.
The result was light brown in colour, and known as gur. We tasted this sugar and
found it most delicious. Before we left the farm Maharaj Ji gave us each a packet as
blessed food or parshad.
Maharaj Ji suddenly realized that it was getting late, and told the party to go back in
the transport provided. He said, “Sam and I will walk back as he can walk fast enough.”
After they had left, Maharaj Ji said to me, “Keep right behind me, as it will be getting
dark soon, and there are many snakes in the cane fields.”
I walked behind the Master, keeping in step with him, and with every step doing my
simran. We reached the farmhouse when it was quite dark. As we entered the courtyard, I
said to Maharaj Ji, “I followed in my Master's footsteps without missing a step, and at the
same time doing my simran.” It was a wonderful experience.
Maharaj Ji looked at me, and said, “That is the way to follow the path.”
A few days before we were due to leave, Maharaj Ji called me into his bedroom and
said, “I want you to leave tomorrow morning. Mr Mehta will reserve a seat on a train for

20
Rishikesh. I want you to visit the Sivananda Ashram and meet Swami Sivananda.”
I replied, “Maharaj Ji, I have no desire to meet the Swami. I want to be here with
you.” He insisted, saying it was necessary for me to go. He added that my wife and Miss
Babs could stay in Delhi while I was gone.
Who was I to argue with the Master? There must be some reason for the visit. I could
not see it because of my limited, very limited, vision.
We were due to leave by bus at 4 am, and were up bright and early. We were waiting
in the courtyard to be taken to the bus-stop, which was a few miles away, when Maharaj
Ji appeared in his slippers with his ring shawl wrapped around his shoulders.
How magnificent he looked in the dim light before dawn! And how gracious of him
to come and bid us farewell. We were standing chatting, and suddenly tears filled my
eyes.
I fell down on my knees and hugged Maharaj Ji's legs and placed my head on his
feet. He gently lifted me and patted my shoulder, saying, “Don't worry, we will see each
other a great deal in the future.” Those words did not help much, as it was like tearing my
heart out to leave.

One who has suffered the misery

of separation from Thee 0 Lord,
Alone will know the ache of my heart.
The uninjured can never know the pain
The injured have to endure.
– Kabir

As we drove away I looked back and saw Maharaj Ji's form slowly fading in the
early morning light. When would I see him again? He was not yet out of sight, and I was
already filled with loneliness and longing to be with him.
The bus journey to Delhi took about six hours. The three of us sat quietly, hardly
talking to each other, each merged in personal thoughts and memories of that heavenly
week spent with our Master.
I duly left for Rishikesh the same evening, with my bedding roll in one hand and a
few clothes in the other. The overnight train ride to Rishikesh was most interesting.
I shared a coupe with a young Russian geologist. He could not speak one word of
English and I could speak no Russian. As the evening wore on we were able to
communicate to a degree with sign language, pointing to certain objects and identifying
them in both languages. I was able to gather that he was a geologist going to Dera Dun to
investigate if oil could be found in that vicinity.
We arrived in Rishikesh early in the morning. I had had a restless night, as I was not
used to the discomfort of the bedding and hard bench they called a bed. I survived.
While I was looking for a taxi to take me to Sivananda Nagar, the station master
came up and invited me into his office. He had some food laid out for his breakfast and
suggested I join him. I thanked him and explained that I was a strict vegetarian. He
informed me he had been a vegetarian from birth.
I shared his breakfast, which was most welcome, as I had not eaten since the
previous afternoon. When we had finished he explained he was seeking promotion, and
would I please write him a letter expressing my satisfaction regarding his character and

21
efficiency. I did this with pleasure – and because of this I would reap the benefit a few
days later.
I said I wished to go back to Delhi by train on the night of 25 January. He told me
there was no way anyone could book a seat on that night, as the 26th was India's day of
independence, and the Queen of England would be in Delhi for the ceremony. But he
assured me that because of his office as stationmaster he would see I secured a berth.
When I reached the Sivananda Ashram I paid the taxi wallah and asked him to come
back on the afternoon of the 25th to take me to the station. The ashram looked deserted,
but I was sure there must be many devotees around. Perhaps they were in meditation, as it
was still quite early in the morning.
I had not informed the authorities of my arrival, and hopefully I would be allowed to
stay.
Eventually, after wandering around for a while, I came across a young Western
swami with shaven head and ochre robes. I asked him where the office was, to make
enquiries to stay a few days and perhaps meet Swami Ji. The boy pointed at his mouth,
shook his head and walked away.
Poor chap, I thought – he must be deaf and dumb. I later found out he was doing
'Mownah' – a day of silence. Well, it is fine not to talk, but to stop the chattering of the
mind is another matter.
Suddenly, I heard a voice calling from behind me; ,,Môre meneer, waar kom jy
vandaan?”
I could hardly believe my ears. Someone was speaking Afrikaans, the language of
the South African Afrikaner.
He was asking, “Good morning, sir, where are you from?” I turned around and an
Indian gentleman came up to me.
I said to him in English, “Where are you from?” He told me he came from a small
South African town where Afrikaans was the major language spoken. He explained he
was an alcoholic, and that his parents had sent him to the ashram to reform.
He laughed, explaining that Rishikesh was not far away, and he could obtain as much
alcohol as he wanted.
I told him I had come specifically to meet Swami Sivananda and learn about his
philosophy. He was most helpful, introducing me to a swami who told me that Swami Ji
would be giving satsang that afternoon.
The ashram was austere. It was situated on the banks of the Ganges River. Halfway
up the side of the slope were the sleeping quarters – bare but adequate. I was asked to lay
my bedding on the floor of the eye-hospital as all other accommodation situated near the
river had been taken. Also on higher ground was a hall for meditation. Meals were frugal,
usually dal and rice served on a banana leaf.
I walked with my South African Indian friend to satsang. When we were about to
enter, Swami Ji motioned to me to sit next to him. He was an enormous man, probably
close to six feet tall and just as broad. His head was shaven, but instead of the ochre robes
he wore a red overcoat.
Listening to his discourse I could see no similarity to Sant Mat, no mention of Shabd
or the higher regions. The morals taught were extremely pure – as any devotee's should
be.
When the Swami's satsang was over, he chanted a song which went as follows:

22
 Serve, love, give, purify, meditate, realize.
Be good, do good, be kind, be compassionate.
Enquire ‘Who am I?’ know thyself and be free.

He then called for a tray of ‘parshad’ that he blessed. With his own hands he gave me
a large portion, and then instructed a swami to offer the rest to the audience present.
Swami Ji was very loving, and seemed to know all about me, although I had not
informed anyone I would be coming to the ashram. He then autographed a few books he
had written, and presented them to me. I was overwhelmed and a little embarrassed by all
the attention he paid me – perhaps he could sense I had just come from the presence of
my Beloved Satguru.
He then allowed me to take a photograph of him, which I certainly appreciated.
Swami Ji was a medical doctor, and when very young had a fervent desire to find
God. He thought that if he punished his body he would lose all desire for the world. He
stood in the icy Ganges day after day for years, but, as he laughingly said, all he got was
arthritis of his joints. He then started the ashram, and served the sickly, meditated and
taught his lofty principles. He died a few years after my visit.
What Maharaj Ji's reason was in sending me to meet this great man I don't really
know. The effect of my visit was to strengthen my belief in Sant Mat and bring me even
closer to my Master. Nevertheless, it was a great experience, and would certainly help me
when dealing with seekers from all walks of life and all persuasions.
On the afternoon of 25 January I was back at the station at Rishikesh. The platform
was already crowded with people hoping to get on to the only train to Delhi that night.
The station master explained I would have to share a compartment with three students,
and in no circumstances should we leave the door unlocked or unattended, as thousands
of people would be trying to gain access to the carriage when the train stopped at various
stations en route to Delhi.
As the train steamed into the station, the stationmaster bundled me into the
compartment with the students. They immediately slammed the door closed and bolted it.
Two of them stood guard at the door, as already the crowds were banging on the doors
and windows, trying to force their way in.
We were on our way, but the two at the door continued their vigil, as we could see
faces at the window, and the banging on the door continued through the night. Those
outside must have been hanging on for dear life, as the train was going faster and faster. I
felt extremely sorry for these poor souls, but the students assured me we had no option
but to keep them out, as otherwise we would be inundated.
We continued with this vigil throughout the night. Two would stand guard for two
hours, and two would rest.
At last we reached Delhi station, totally exhausted. I thought if we were so tired from
lack of sleep and from trying to guard our tiny domain, imagine how these hangers-on
must be faring. When I alighted, I noticed that there were hundreds of people clinging to
the roofs of the carriages. These crowds were determined to be at the celebrations of
India's day of independence.
In no time I was caught up in the throngs of people wending their way to the India
Gate, where the parade would take place. I was weary, footsore and hungry.

23
 It was a long way from Old Delhi station to our destination. When we reached
Connaught Place I felt I could go no further. But I was hemmed in by the multitude, all
eager to have a vantage point to see the parade and perhaps to catch a glimpse of the
Queen. At last I was able to stop at the roadside, with a clear view, and virtually held up
by bodies jam-packed against me.
The parade was indeed spectacular. Examples of India's military might were on
show. After the last of the soldiers and their hardware had passed, the crowd surged in all
directions, anxious to get home and enjoy what was left of the holiday.
I made my way to Mr Mehta's photography shop, hoping to find some familiar face,
but to no avail. I remembered there was a restaurant across the road, and hurried up the
staircase to see if it was open. It was. I made my way to the toilet, took off all my clothes
and washed myself down with icy water, and without even drying myself, dressed again.
I then ordered a sumptuous meal, savouring every mouthful. As my hunger was
appeased, I could not help comparing the meal to the food that I had eaten at the ashram
and which my palette had found so difficult to accept.
After the meal I realized no public transport whatsoever was available. How to get to
Mr Mehta's house, which was in one of the distant suburbs, was now my immediate
problem. I could not possibly walk any further. Despite the food and the rest I was still in
a state of physical and mental exhaustion.
I had a brainwave.
I walked to the Imperial Hotel which was nearby, went through the back entrance,
and came to the front entrance as if I were a resident, and called to the doorman, "Please
get me a taxi."
“Sahib, he said, no taxis are available.” I placed a 50 rupee note in his hand, and in
no time a taxi appeared. The fare was more than double, but at last I reached Mr Mehta's
house, none the worse for my harrowing experience.
The two ladies were waiting for me, eager to hear about my stay at the Sivananda
Ashram. We spent the night there, and the next morning, fresh after a good night's rest
and a hearty breakfast, we left for the airport, as we were to return to South Africa that
day.
When I reached home I heard that Major Little, while returning from India, had
suffered a bad fall in transit from Johannesburg to Durban. Apparently he had a black-out
and injured his head. Following this he felt unable to continue his seva as Master's
representative, and resigned.
A few months later I received a letter from Mr Ahluwalia, the secretary of the Dera,
informing me that Master had appointed me as his representative in South Africa.
I read the letter over and over, not believing what I was reading. What an honour,
what grace to be able to serve my Master. With his grace, only with his grace can one
perform this seva.
Nanak says:

They who trade in the Lord

Have the reward writ in their lot.
They trade in Truth
And reap the profit by His Grace.
Their true capital is the Guru

24
 Who is without the blemish
Of avarice and guile.

Master later said to me, “As the sangat grows so your critics will grow. Just do seva
with honesty and love.” I can only say, as Nanak said in one of his many hymns in
homage to the Master:

0, Master, how can I, thy slave,

Play clever with thee?
I cannot carry out even thy commands
In good faith.

At the same time as I received the following letter, Rudy Walberg of Germany, Peter
Dawson of Northern Rhodesia and Colonel Berg of the US each had a letter appointing
them as representatives for their countries.
The letter I received was as follows:

Dear Brother,

Maharaj Ji has been pleased to nominate you as his representative in South Africa in
place of Major E.P. Little, who has since resigned for reasons of health. A copy of
initiation notes will be forwarded to you, in due course, for your guidance and to enable
you to correctly follow the method of giving Initiations on the lines laid down by
Maharaj Ji. I send you my congratulations and best wishes.
You are now to assume full control and responsibility on all matters – temporal as
well as spiritual – in your vast country and I know that this noble albeit difficult task will
be carried out with great success. As regards the holding of satsang in Johannesburg,
Maharaj Ji is of the opinion that you should use your wise discretion giving due
consideration to the general opinion of the sangat in your town. It is immaterial for us
whether it is held at your place or elsewhere but it would be desirable to make the
selection on a broader basis of all considerations. You will now occupy a more
responsible position in our satsang and it will be Maharaj Ji's wish that this question of
holding satsangs at a particular place should not be made an unnecessary issue.
All dissensions, which are already there, should now be solved with tact and love.

With best wishes,

Affectionately yours,
Signed: R.D. Ahluwalia (Secretary)

25
 Chapter 4

Calcutta 1963

I wrote to Maharaj Ji and requested permission to visit Dera in early January. He replied
that I should not come until the latter part of January, as he would be away.
During my first visit to India in 1957 I decided to visit various Hatha Yoga ashrams
to study this Eastern culture of body and mind with a view to incorporating the teaching
into my health studio syllabus at home. I discussed this with the Master.
He said there was no harm in teaching the exercises together with a simple breathing
technique, but I should avoid the advanced method of Pranayam as it could cause mental
problems. As it happened, I was introduced to a satsangi who taught Hatha Yoga at an
ashram in Delhi and studied under him.
When I received the letter from the Master requesting me to delay my trip for a few
weeks, I decided I would still go as originally planned and spend the time at the ashram
to further my studies, and then go on to the Dera at the time the Master had suggested.
I duly boarded the plane, and was on my way to India. When we were about an hour
or so out of Bombay, I decided to freshen up before the crowds rushed to the toilets.
Suddenly, the hostess announced we were going to land early as the pilot had gained time
by taking advantage of strong tail winds.
Once we had landed I stood in line to go through all the Customs and health
procedures. I noticed a harassed official running up and down the queue, calling out a
name. After a while, and getting past the heavy accent, I realized he was calling my
name.
I indicated to him that I was Sam Busa. He relaxed, and said, “Radha Soami,
Maharaj Ji is at the domestic area and wishes to see you.”
My first thought was how did Maharaj Ji know I was on that plane? How stupid of
me. He is all-knowing.
I quickly ran after the official, and thought at least I would not have the harassment
of the Customs official as an unwanted South African. At the same time, with some
trepidation, I wondered what Maharaj Ji so urgently wished to see me about.
When I reached Maharaj Ji I noticed with a sigh of relief that he was smiling. I
explained to the Master that I thought of doing a few weeks' Hatha Yoga study and then
go on to the Dera as he had suggested.
He smiled broadly, and said, “Never mind that. Seeing that you are here now, stay
the night in Bombay, and join me the next day in Calcutta. I will be giving satsang there,
as well as in Jamshedpur.”
What wonderful news! The Hatha Yoga forgotten, I waited until Maharaj Ji had left,
collected my luggage, and was met by Mr Ram Bawnani, at whose house I would spend
the night.
The next day, as arranged, I flew to Calcutta. What an enormous city. As we flew in
to land the city was lost under a thick blanket of smog, and through the heavy swirling
clouds caught occasional glimpses of the huge, winding Hooghly River with many ships

26
anchored at the docks.
I was met at the airport by Mr Harjeet Singh who was on the Calcutta seva
committee. He was a school-time friend of the Master, and spent many years at the Dera
in his youth at the same time as the Master. He took me straight to Maharaj Ji who was
staying in an enormous suite at the Great Eastern Hotel.
While driving to our destination my eyes grew bigger and bigger as I gazed out at
this phenomenal city. What little space there was of the road was fiercely contested by
ageing cars, trucks, buses, taxis, horse-drawn surreys, bullock wagons, rickshaws, mangy
dogs, the ubiquitous wandering cows, and the most motley collection of human beings,
men, women and children ever seen, everyone jostling to get somewhere.
Every vehicle was overloaded and bursting at the seams.
This bustling city has been the home to two Nobel Prize winners. More recently, in
1979, Mother Teresa received this award for her service to humanity, and in 1913
Rabindranath Tagore for Literature. Although I was in Calcutta long before Mother
Teresa received the prize, I always admired her for her great work and the ‘good karmas’
she was amassing. Unfortunately, because of Maharaj Ji's tight programme, I was unable
to visit her at ‘Mother House’.
Maharaj Ji's suite was ablaze with light. Between the lounge and the dining room
was a partition decorated with glass panels behind which glowed different-coloured
lights. Maharaj Ji said jokingly, “The suite is so large that I have to keep all the lights
burning otherwise I will be too lonely.”
He accompanied me to my room to make sure I would be comfortable, as he always
has done on our travels. Now that is the room I would like to have, a normal hotel room.
Everyone wants to spoil me unnecessarily.
Although Calcutta is such a huge city, with a population of nine million, it had a very
small sangat. The secretary, Mr Gosain, was a delightful, gentle soul, always dressed in a
spotlessly white dhoti.
The first satsang I attended truly shocked me. I had never seen such atrocious
behaviour. While Maharaj Ji was giving his satsang people were milling around, walking
in and out, whispering, and in short were not paying much attention to the discourse.
I explained to Maharaj Ji afterwards how upset I had been at their behaviour. He
said, “When the record is on I don't pay any attention to what goes on. I have come for
just a few.”
During our stay in Calcutta two remarkable stories were told to me in the presence of
the Master while travelling to and from the satsang. On both occasions Maharaj Ji acted
as though he had not heard our conversation as we sat at the back of the car.
Mr Harjeet Singh had been told by a sadhu at Beas many years before that his wife
would give birth to twins. When his wife was only three months pregnant he requested an
interview with Maharaj Ji to discuss the pregnancy. He was rather afraid for his wife, as
his mother had died giving birth to twins.
When he mentioned to Maharaj Ji that his wife was going to have twins, Master said
to him, “Harjeet, how do you know that your wife is going to have twins when she is only
three months pregnant?” He then told Maharaj Ji what the sadhu had said, and that he
feared for his wife’s life.
Maharaj Ji closed his eyes for five minutes, and then told Harjeet that it would be
twins, and that he need not worry, as no operation would be necessary.

27
 The lady doctor who attended to Harjeet's wife did not know until the last minute
that there would be twins. The first baby was born – a boy – and the doctor told Harjeet
his wife had had a very bad time with the delivery, and that the son had died. She would
have to operate to save the other baby.
Harjeet would not believe this and said, “Please don't worry, she is probably in
meditation. She is not dead.”
The doctor insisted, however, and went inside and locked the door. To her great
surprise she found that she had no chloroform with her, a thing that had never happened
before. She was horror-struck and started to panic. She telephoned the hospital and told
them to send some right away. She then went back into the room and sat with her head in
her hands.
Suddenly Maharaj Ji appeared carrying the second baby to the doctor saying, “Here,
doctor, here is your second baby.” The doctor fainted after she had placed the baby in the
cradle. When she came round she thought Maharaj Ji was some departed relative. Mother
and babies were both fine.
The other story told by Harjeet was as follows: He had spent much of his early life at
the Dera when on school holidays. Maharaj Ji and he often played and did seva together.
One day they were sitting doing their school homework. Harjeet was very engrossed
in trying to solve a mathematical problem. When looking up at young Charan to ask him
a question, he saw to his horror that he had a long grey beard and a turban on his head.
He ran away in fright.
The face he saw was that of the Master in the latter years of his life. It is no wonder
he absolutely loved and revered Maharaj Ji.
Some months before Maharaj Ji was in Calcutta Harjeet had built a house for himself
and his family. He would not move into it, however, as he wanted Maharaj Ji to be the
first to enter it and walk around the rooms. It stood empty until he was able to persuade
Maharaj ji to do so, which was on the last day we were in Calcutta.
This little story is worth relating as it shows Maharaj ji's reaction to innocence and
love. We were guests at Mr Gosain's home. He had quite a large family of young
children. After lunch we were sitting in his living room having tea.
Mr Gosain entered the room and placed a low pedestal at the Master's feet. I thought
it was for Maharaj ji to rest his feet on. Mr Gosain then called his wife and children. He
first made his wife kneel on the pedestal at Maharaj Ji's feet and said, “Now, Maharaj Ji, I
want you to bless my family one by one.”
Maharaj ji tried to remonstrate, but Mr Gosain was loving but most adamant.
Maharaj Ji then smiled and put his hands together, and said, “Radha Soami.”
“No, Maharaj Ji, you must place your hands on them.”
Each one knelt in turn at the Master's feet, and he touched each one as he was
ordered to do. Maharaj ji could not refuse such a simple, humble request. Mr Gosain was
completely absorbed in the Master. Love and devotion lit up his face as each one of his
family knelt before Maharaj Ji.
We know when following the path that surrender is the ultimate step to meet the
Master within and merge in the Shabd.
The humility of a Master is well expressed in a verse by Tulsi Sahib:

I am unwise, helpless and of humble heart.

28
 By taking refuge in the saints I have
recognized the Master.
The Master is an unfathomable ocean of peace.
He put me in the right path.
I bow at his feet again and again.
I humbly sing the praises of the saints.
Considering me humble, he opened my
inner vision.
I again sang the praises of the refuge with
the saints.
I am thy slave with the whole of my mind.
Considering me low, you have found me.
I am your slave forever and forever.
No one can cross without a saint.
Saints are merciful and compassionate.
By taking refuge with them even the low
caste swim across.
There can be no beginning or end without a saint.
Tulsi the helpless has taken refuge with you.
Whatever is done is done by the saints.
Without the saints, the path cannot be found.

All I can offer my beloved Master is my inadequate simran and the seva he has
graciously bestowed on me. With his grace and benevolence he will show me the way to
reach him within. Hopefully, by being with him, so close to him as he allows me, I will
be able to imbibe a fraction of a fraction of his qualities.
I know, like the disciples of Jesus, I will fail again and again, but he is all-forgiving.
All these thoughts went on as I watched that simple ceremony unfold before my eyes.
Maharaj Ji stood up and with a lovely smile said, “Are you now satisfied, Mr
Gosain?” Mr Gosain's whole demeanour expressed his thanks and gratitude to the Master.
During these few days in Calcutta I had witnessed two very opposing attitudes on the
path – the love and devotion of Harjeet and Mr Gosain, and then the unruly crowd that
came to satsang. Today that ‘baby sangat’ is as big as any other in India.

The flight to Delhi was a very long one. Maharaj Ji had a window seat and I sat next
to him. As usual, when the plane took off he closed his eyes until we were well on our
way. He suddenly opened his eyes and asked me what my plans were when we reached
Delhi.
I replied that I did not have any definite plans, but in fact I had been invited by
Maharaj Ji's brother, Shoti, to visit the farm at Sirsa. I was too scared to tell this to
Maharaj Ji, in case he told me to cancel my visit. In fact, I was keeping the truth from
him.
About an hour later he asked me the same question. He was giving me the
opportunity of telling the truth. My answer was the same. By the time we reached Delhi
he had asked me once again.
I was determined to go to the farm so that I could be with Maharaj Ji again.

29
 Maharaj Ji was met by his driver and left immediately for Sirsa. I went on to Mr
Mehta's photographic shop, as I had been invited to stay with him while in Delhi. By this
time my conscience was worrying me a great deal. I asked Mr Mehta's opinion. He said,
"Please don't go, even if you were invited by Shoti."
I then phoned Shoti and told him about my dilemma. He insisted, saying, “I will
personally come tomorrow to fetch you.”
Next day Shoti arrived, and we set off together. The nearer we got to the farm the
more uneasy I became. By the time we reached the outer boundary I knew I was
disobeying the Master. He had given me adequate opportunity on the plane to speak the
truth. It was now like an open book to me.
As we drove through the canefields on the way to the farmhouse we came across
Maharaj Ji on his afternoon walk. Shoti stopped the car to greet the Master. Maharaj Ji
looked at me and said, “So you have come.”
I wished I could have been swallowed into oblivion, but I mumbled some
unintelligible answer, with my heart screaming in pain.
At dinner that night Maharaj Ji was his usual self with everyone. But I felt excluded,
as all I could sense was this wall between us. Next morning I went for a walk with the
Master and a few other guests. I would also massage him for an hour or two each day, but
the wall was ever-present. Not in all my life had I suffered such mental anguish.
At last I confessed to Shoti that I could not stand the mental pain any more and
wished to leave. Shoti went to the Master and said, “What are you doing to Sam?”
Maharaj ji answered innocently, “I am treating him as I always have done.”
But this was not so. Outwardly it was the same, but mentally Maharaj Ji was
teaching me a bitter lesson.
After the third day Maharaj Ji said he had received a message from Louise Hilger
that a certain young South African man was causing problems at the Dera, and that I
should come as soon as possible, as I could control him. I never thought to see the day I
would be happy to leave the Master. I could not wait to get away.
Although I was back at the Dera a week before Maharaj Ji was due to arrive, the wall
remained. Every day I spent in misery. I felt so cut off, so alone. What a lesson I was
learning, hopefully, for my misdemeanour.
Maharaj ji arrived at the Dera on 21 February, a day before my birthday. The next
day I requested an interview with him. I crept into his office, virtually with my tail
between my legs. I did not know what to expect.
“Maharaj Ji,” I pleaded, “please forgive me. I knew all along what you wanted, but
refused to listen to my inner self.”
With that, he stood up and wagged his finger at me, and said, “You are my
representative. You should know better.” As Maharaj ji was admonishing me I could feel
the load lifting, the wall crumbling. I felt like a condemned prisoner reprieved.
I managed to whisper, “Maharaj ji, it is my birthday.”
He said, “Happy birthday,” shook my hand and dismissed me. Nanak says of the five
foes with which the mind assails us:

They are five, I am one.

How can I guard my house, 0 my mind?
They beat me and loot me

30
 Again and again.
Before whom shall I lodge my complaint?

Mirabai gave me the answer:

Forsake me not, kind Master!

I am a feeble woman,
Helpless and devoid of strength;
Forsake me not.
You alone are my shelter, 0 Lord.
I have no merits,
Full of faults am I;
You alone are faultless and powerful.
I belong only to you.

Where else can I find shelter

Except at your feet?
You alone are the jewel of my heart,
You alone are Mira's lord;
Except you she knows no other saviour.
Pray save her
From the further humiliation
Of return to this world.

The next day the Master called me. The rapport between us had returned. “I have
some seva for you,” Maharaj Ji said. “My uncle, a medical doctor from Kenya, is here.
He is not a satsangi, and is adamant because of his medical background that one cannot
sustain a healthy body without eating meat. You have been a vegetarian for many years,
and still wrestle and do heavy weight-lifting. Perhaps you can influence him.”
I met the good doctor. He was a very pleasant man, deeply indoctrinated with his
medical beliefs. We spoke for two or three hours, and I also demonstrated that I had not
lost any strength or agility. I mentioned that, on the contrary, since becoming a vegetarian
my strength and stamina had increased.
Some months later I heard that he had been initiated. Maharaj Ji said, “You see, Sam,
because of you my uncle was initiated.” I know, as all satsangis do, that one cannot be
initiated unless we are marked by the Lord Himself.
I was merely a catalyst, used by the Master, to complete his mission. How grateful I
was to serve such a purpose.

31
 Chapter 5

Treasured Moments with Master, 1963

After my dressing-down Maharaj Ji was most loving, almost as if he regretted the

incident of my not listening to his veiled suggestions to me not to visit the farm.
The day after my birthday Maharaj Ji called me to come to his bedroom. I was to be
there every morning at 6 o’clock to give him a massage treatment. I had started
massaging him the previous year, and dared not think he would give me this great
privilege again. I was delighted to have this rare seva. It made me think of Swami Ji's
words in Sar Bachan:

He makes the best use of his body who is blessed with the service of a living Satguru.
The fruits of that service may be explained thus. The feet are made pure by walking
to see the Satguru; the eyes are made pure by looking at him; the hands are made
pure by ministering to his person, that is by massaging his legs and fanning him; the
entire body is made pure by bringing water for his use; the mind is purified by
attentively listening to his discourses, contemplating upon them and translating them
into action as far as possible.
The devotee, while thus leading a life of service to the Satguru, will himself realize
the benefits of satsang and his mercy. The spiritual states and bliss which he will
enjoy cannot be described.

The next day at 6 am I was ushered into Maharaj Ji's bedroom by his personal
servant. Maharaj Ji was lying on his bed reading a book written by one of the past saints
and marking a few pages. He was probably deciding what to talk about at the morning
satsang.
I must tell you it is not easy being with the Master on such intimate terms. One is
completely awed and aware of his divine presence. Maharaj Ji, of course, was very
relaxed and discussed worldly topics and even at times would be reading the newspaper.
Whilst I was working on Maharaj Ji's legs I suddenly remembered an unusual request
made to me by a satsangi before I left for India. He asked me if I would kiss the Master’s
hand and at the same time think of him (the satsangi). This was quite a dilemma. How to
kiss the Master’s hand without making it obvious?
At last I started to massage the Master’s arms and hands. My friend was uppermost
in my thoughts. In order to massage the Master’s shoulder muscles I raised his arm and
rested his hand and wrist over my shoulder. When this was completed I thought, here’s
my chance.
As I started to remove Master’s arm from my shoulder I turned my head to the side,
and his hand slipped past my lips. I said to myself, This is for you, my brother.
My mission was completed. Maharaj Ji, of course, ignored my charade. Once
someone asked the Master, “Maharaj Ji, do you know our innermost thoughts?”
Maharaj Ji answered, “Unfortunately, yes.” So I'm sure Maharaj Ji was having a little

32
laugh at my antics.
Every morning at 6 am I was at Maharaj Ji's bedside doing my seva. This wonderful
privilege continued through March and up to the start of the April bhandara.
One morning after I had completed the massage Maharaj Ji said, "I would like to
weigh myself. The scale I have is very old and was used in Great Master's time.”
It certainly was old. The numbers on the face of the scale were hardly visible.
Maharaj Ji then said, “I don't know if the scale is correct. Do you know your exact
weight?” I told him my weight never varied. It was 158 lb. Maharaj Ji then told me, “You
get on the scale and let me check your weight.”
Because the numbers were so indistinct Maharaj Ji got down on his hands and knees
and peered at the numbers with his head close to the scale and almost touching my feet.
He got up: “You are right. Your weight is exactly 158 lb.”
Maharaj Ji then stood on the scale and it was my turn to go down on my hands and
knees to get a close look at the scale. “Maharaj Ji,” I said, “your weight is almost the
same as mine. You are 159 lb.”
With that Maharaj Ji replied, “I am much taller than you. I suppose our weight is
similar because of your muscles and bulk.”
To this day I cannot understand the significance of that game Maharaj Ji played with
me. Who am I to try and understand the ways of my Master? Only a Master knows
another Master. However, I am deeply grateful for having had the opportunity of being so
close to Maharaj Ji.
At that time Maharaj Ji started using the Bible at the evening meetings for the
Western satsangis. Every evening, night after night, Maharaj Ji would open the Bible and
read various parables and extracts, and then explain the true meaning to us.
After a few weeks of this there was a knock at my door. Four or five satsangis
announced that they had come as a deputation from the rest of the group to ask a special
favour of me. They wanted me to ‘steal’ the Master's Bible when I was in his room
massaging him and keep it for a few days.
The reason was that they could not get his proper darshan, as his head was mostly
buried in the Bible while he read to us. I said, “This is a tall order, but I will see what I
can do.”
The next morning when I went to attend to Maharaj Ji, I noticed the Bible was on his
bedside table. As I worked on the Master I kept glancing at the Bible, and realized it was
impossible to remove the book without Maharaj Ji noticing.
The Master sensed my agitation and asked if there was anything wrong with me as I
looked rather harassed! I then told him what the satsangis had asked me to do. On hearing
this the Master burst out laughing. “Now I know how to bore the satsangis – just keep on
reading the Bible.”
However, that evening, and for more evenings to follow, there was no Bible to be
seen. When once again Maharaj Ji did bring the Bible, he said he had come to bore us
again!
A week before the bhandara Maharaj Ji moved to the Great Master's house. The first
morning when I knocked at the outer door to be let in, his aunt (as he used to call her)
Bibi Rali came to the door, as she lived in the courtyard adjacent to the stairs leading up
to the Master's bedroom.
I just could not make her understand I was to go upstairs to massage Maharaj Ji.

33
Fortunately, Maharaj Ji's servant came down looking for me, as the Bibi had kept me for
15 minutes. Thereafter I had no problem in getting past the formidable Bibi Rali.
As the bhandara grew nearer so the crowds swelled more and more. People were to
be seen sleeping all over the place. The weather was very hot, so it was cool and
comforting to sleep in the open.
One morning when I went up to the Master I greeted him by asking him how his
night had been. He said, “For the next few nights until after the bhandara I won’t have
much peace. Just below my window their snoring even rattles the windows of my room.”
He then told me, “Look out of my window and see these people. They are now
awake but the noise goes on. They are chattering and singing constantly. There is no
peace.”
Indeed, he was right. The sound of the passing parade as people went to do their
ablutions was unending. I asked Maharaj Ji why he came here instead of staying in his
own house which was surrounded by a high wall. His answer was that so many of the
family and relatives arrive at bhandara time that he needed the time on his own.
One morning after I had finished massaging the Master it started to rain heavily. I
usually wore a pair of short trousers and a short-sleeved T-shirt, which made it easier to
do my work. I was about to leave when Maharaj Ji said, “You can't go out in that rain.”
I replied, Maharaj Ji, “I am lightly dressed, and getting wet would not do me any
harm.”
“No,” he insisted, then taking off his dressing gown made me put it on, saying, “Now
you won't catch cold.”
The dressing gown he gave me to put on was the one that the Great Master used to
wear, and Maharaj Ji often used it to the evening meetings when the weather was cold.
I ran as quickly as possible to my room, hoping not to get the gown too wet. When I
reached my room, my wife Lesley, who was present, exclaimed, “You are wearing
Maharaj Ji's gown!” She eagerly took it from me and draped it around her, hugging the
gown closely. This might be pure coincidence, but what happened to her that day was
strange karma.
As Lesley was returning home shortly, she decided to pack the clothes she would not
need. As she stretched up to lift the suitcase from the shelf above her head, it was
dislodged and fell heavily on her head and shoulder, bruising her. She involuntarily
exclaimed, “I should not have worn Maharaj Ji's gown without permission. The grace
was yours alone.”
That evening there was a garden party in the grounds of our Guest House in honour
of the Governor of the Punjab to which we were all invited. A large tent with many
supporting poles was erected. Lesley was busy talking to one of the guests when Maharaj
Ji called her. She turned suddenly and walked into one of the poles and bruised her eye.
Again she said, “I should not have worn Maharaj Ji's gown!”
The April bhandara was drawing to an end, and Maharaj Ji asked me what visa I had.
I said a six-month visa, with three months to go before expiring. He then gave me the
wonderful news that I could accompany him on an extensive tour of Himachal Pradesh.
I was overjoyed, as I had never been to the mountains before. I had read Dr Julian
Johnson's book, With a Great Master in India, and often thought how lucky he was to
travel with his Master, Maharaj Sawan Singh Ji, to these far-off places.
After all the Western guests had left Dera, I was the sole occupant of the Guest

34
House. It was strange being on my own. The temperature was rising rapidly, and it was
most uncomfortable out of my room where the overhead fan was going full blast. This, of
course, offered some measure of relief. I had the grace and good fortune to have luncheon
and evening meals with the Master.
Before the Master’s departure for the hills, he had to give satsang in Delhi and also
to attend to some family business. I drove to Delhi with Maharaj Ji in a wonderfully
comfortable blue stationwagon. It had a very adequate cooling system, so the journey was
most pleasant.
I was informed I would be a guest of Mr and Mrs Bharatram. They had a beautiful
air-conditioned home in Sardar Patel Road, a lovely area of New Delhi. I occupied the
guest suite, and my every need was attended to by my gracious host and hostess.
We spent quite some time in Delhi. I was able to attend the satsangs, and noticed a
few Western satsangis sitting in the audience. They had obviously delayed their departure
date as they had heard Maharaj Ji would be giving satsang in Delhi.
When we returned to Dera I was told we would be leaving for the hills in a few
days’ time. By now it was into May and extremely hot.
I was so looking forward to enjoying the cooler climate of the mountains, but most
of all of having the close proximity of the Master.

SATSANG TOUR OF HIMACHAL PRADESH – 1963

Jammu
We left Dera at 7 am. The heat of the day had hardly started. Four hours later we reached
the outskirts of Jammu. On entering the foothills we were stopped on numerous occasions
by devoted satsangis longing to have Maharaj Ji's darshan.
Maharaj Ji would alight from the car and graciously spend a few minutes with each
group. They were well behaved and stood with folded hands, eyes shining with love as
they drank in the beautiful form of their Beloved.
At one place, making sure that the Master would not miss them, the satsangis had
placed a chair in the middle of the road, and on the chair was a photo of Maharaj Ji and
the Great Master. The Master stayed for at least ten minutes with this devoted group and
blessed parshad for them.
As we drove on we passed two men on bicycles. They saw Maharaj Ji and pedalled
madly after the car, begging Maharaj Ji to stop, which he did. They were completely
breathless after their mad dash and, in between gasps, thanked Maharaj Ji for stopping
and bowed at his feet.
When we reached the little satsang ghar in Jammu, satsangis and seekers swarmed
around the car, making it almost impossible to move. They pressed their faces against the
windows of the stationwagon, gesticulating and begging Maharaj Ji to glance at them.
We stayed at the satsang ghar, but unfortunately it was built on the street side. With
satsangis milling around the place day and night it was not easy to get to sleep, with the
sound of chattering and shabds being sung.
The next morning I was ready and dressed at 5 am, as a satsangi was to take me on a
visit to a few temples and to the temple of the Maharajah of Kashmir. It was raining
gently, but this did not blunt my desire for this experience.
We drove out of the town for a few miles, into the green hills and valley, all looking
so lush and beautiful, with the falling rain creating a haze which enhanced the beauty of

35
the scene before our eyes. The Maharajah's Palace was unlike the one that I had seen in
Rajasthan. It was most beautiful, but very English in architecture.
We returned to the satsang ghar in time for satsang, but found it had been cancelled
owing to rain. At 10.30 am Maharaj Ji announced he would now give satsang as the rain
had stopped. Because of the sudden announcement many people were late. While
Maharaj ii was giving his discourse people were streaming in, and even talking. It was
really a shambles.
However, Maharaj Ji just kept on talking, unconcerned. He gave satsang for one and
a half hours and before lunch met a few of the committee members.
We left Jammu at 3 pm. I think Maharaj Ji was pleased to go. He had had very little
rest because of the noise and close proximity of the satsang ghar to the busy street.
After travelling for an hour we stopped for tea at a Dâk (government) bungalow.
Maharaj Ji's driver set out the tea and a few Indian delights on a table in the courtyard.
Maharaj Ji was very relaxed, reading a book on Love and Marriage Laws of the
World. He said he found it most interesting to read about the rituals, laws and marriage
ceremonies of different countries.
After we had left the dâk bungalow the scenery changed most dramatically. On one
side of the road were verdant valleys and hills, still sparkling in the sunshine after the
morning rain. On the other were the majestic snow-capped Himalayas. I had never seen
these mountains at such close range. They were breathtaking in their endless, awesome
beauty.
The road twisted and turned and crossed over many streams, which were spanned by
bridges, some so rickety we had to cross with extreme caution.
Most of the rivers and streams were dry, as the monsoons had still to start. The beds
were strewn with the most beautiful white stones, and pebbles worn smooth and round
through centuries of being washed by the rushing summer rivers in spate as they sped on
their journey to the sea.
At one stage we were actually driving along the dry riverbed, the stones clattering
and shooting from under our tyres.
Every now and then a herd of tiny jersey cows would block our way. I jumped out of
the car to drive them away, and was amazed how tiny they were. I am sure they were no
bigger than a Great Dane, coming not much higher than my waist.
We were about to pass a tiny village of only a few houses when Maharaj Ji ordered
the driver to stop. An elderly lady was sitting outside her tiny dwelling, with a few stones
bedecked with flowers arranged in front of her. Her love had called Maharaj Ji.
He got out of the car, stood in front of her and bowed his head for a few seconds. She
was overjoyed that Maharaj Ji had stopped to bless her home. With tears streaming down
her face she thanked him.

Paror
We arrived at Paror satsang ghar as dusk was falling. The sangat were waiting for their
Master. As we drove through the flower-bedecked gates the throng gathered around the
car singing happily. One woman was dancing, quite unconscious of the people around
her, completely lost in love for her Beloved.
Maharaj Ji went into the satsang ghar for a short while to freshen up, while the crowd
settled down to wait for darshan. The sight which met my eyes as I walked behind

36
Maharaj Ji to the dais was unforgettable.
There was no electricity in this rural area. Maharaj Ji sat on the dais, in the dark, with
a lamp just in front of him. The soft light of the lamp lit up his face just enough to give
him a heavenly, ethereal look, silhouetting his majestic figure in white, as he gazed with
such love at his many children.
I was completely entranced at this scene. My eyes were fixed on the Master's form,
my ears bathed by the sweet melody of a shabd softly sung.

Tea estate – Pulampur

After dinner at the satsang ghar I was taken about 6 miles into the mountains to a large
tea estate, where I was to be a guest of Santosh and Sarbjit, the daughter and son-in-law
of Mr Ahluwalia, secretary of the Dera. The area was called Pulampur. They had a lovely
home overlooking their 2 000-acre tea estate and 8 000 acres of forest.
The next morning I was able to feast my eyes on their wonderful view. The tea
bushes undulated and stretched as far as the eye could see, and disappeared into the verge
of the forest. Hundreds of women were already picking the leaves and placing them into a
bag slung over their shoulders.
After a hearty breakfast I walked with my hostess to a large shed where the leaves
were being packed and dried. She pointed to a section of the shed where she explained
‘green’ tea was stored. Green tea is what the Tibetans drink. They boil the leaves with
ghee and sugar, making something that looks more like dark soup than tea. I insisted on
trying some. After one sip my hostess laughed at my wry face as I spat out the wicked
brew.
She then said, “Let's go into the field and watch the ladies pick the leaves.” It was
amazing how fast they worked. With a deft flick of their fingers they unerringly snapped
off the growing shoots. I tried but despite my well-exercised fingers, I had to struggle to
break free the required two leaves and a bud!
When we returned to the house Maharaj Ji had arrived to collect me for satsang. We
had time for a cup of tea before leaving. The scenery I had missed the night before,
because of the darkness, was now revealed. We drove through the tea estate and some of
the forest before coming to the mountain road that led to the satsang ghar.
I was to spend two days in this wondrous place. Next morning after breakfast I sat
with my host and hostess on their huge verandah, waiting for Maharaj Ji to arrive, as we
were on our way to Mandi, where Maharaj Ji would be giving satsang.
Santosh and Sarbjit insisted that Master have a cup of tea. He graciously accepted,
and in a short while we were on our way. We drove through ever-changing countryside. It
is impossible to describe the breathtakingly beautiful views that unfolded at every turn of
the twisting road.
After a drive of two hours we came to a very pretty rest house. Maharaj Ji said he
wanted a little peace and privacy before going on to Mandi, as there would be large
crowds present for satsang. As soon as we arrived Maharaj Ji pointed to a bedroom, and
said, “This is your room – go and rest.” By ‘rest’ I knew Master meant meditate. He went
to his room and closed the door, and did not reappear for a few hours.
When Maharaj Ji returned he walked down to the river and sat on a boulder, just
drinking in the scenery. I remained at the guesthouse, as I felt Maharaj Ji did not wish to

37
have any intrusion on his privacy. I was quite happy to watch him from a distance.
During the late afternoon Maharaj Ji sat on a chair on the lawn, while I sat on the
grass at his feet. We were alone, as the servant had gone to the village to buy food for the
evening meal and breakfast. Maharaj Ji closed his eyes and appeared to be dozing. I was
able to keep my eyes fixed on his face, enjoying the silence, and hardly crediting the
grace of being with my Beloved.
The shadows were gathering and slowly growing longer, leaving a golden glow
around the Master. How beautiful he looked – so serene, so relaxed, with a gentle breeze
tugging at his pure white pyjama.
In the slowly dimming light I was aware of a sound. It was very faint, a haunting
melody, unlike the bagpipes, yet with a quality of some such instrument. I could not make
out if it came from the left or the right, or perhaps even in my head. I was transfixed yet
deeply relaxed.
Suddenly Maharaj Ji opened his eyes and said, “Can you hear that beautiful sound?
Go and look down the side of the mountain, and you will see its source.”
I got up and went to the edge of the plateau, and looked down into the valley. There
was still enough light to make out a figure where the music originated. His instrument
was the skin of an animal, with the neck and legs tied off, and a thin reed protruding from
one of the legs on which he was blowing the bagpipe-like sounds that floated up to us.
As the beauty of the snow-capped mountains surrounding our little haven was
blanketed by the falling night, we could see the twin headlights of our vehicle, hopefully
bringing us our dinner. It was threading its way along the twists and turns of the mountain
road. The distant hum of its engine grew louder and louder until it pulled up into the
courtyard.
The food was laid out on the table, and despite the fact that it was bought at one of
those questionable little food stalls that abound all over India, it was delicious and
satisfied our hunger.
We were up bright and early. The surrounding mountains were shrouded in mist, as it
had started raining gently during the night and was still falling. After a light breakfast of
cheese, bread and fruit, Maharaj Ji sat on the window seat with his legs curled up, shawl
draped over his shoulders, gazing pensively out of the window.
Everything was so cosy and warm. He looked so concentrated, yet relaxed, that I was
scared to breathe in case I disturbed him. He sat motionless for a long while, and finally
said it was time for us to be on our way.

Mandi
Although Mandi was only 33 miles from the rest house, it took over two hours to reach
our destination. The road was narrow, twisting snake-like and at times almost doubling
back on itself, making the journey tortuous and hazardous. We were to stay at a circuit
house some distance from the satsang ghar.
Mandi, situated on the left bank of the Beas River, is 2 460 feet above sea-level.
That afternoon Maharaj Ji gave a long satsang, just on two hours. Fortunately I was
sitting behind him so I could stretch my legs every now and then. There was a crowd of
over a thousand people present. Maharaj Ji said afterwards this was most unexpected, as
there were only 200 satsangis in Mandi.
About halfway up the hillside a space had been cleared for the satsang. We were

38
surrounded by huge mountains, with a distant peak covered in snow, while below was the
swift-flowing Beas. The scene was peaceful and serene, the crowd listening in rapt
attention to Maharaj Ji's every word.
After satsang we drove into the town of Mandi. Just before reaching the main bazaar
we crossed a quaint old bridge that spans the Beas River. Looking across the bridge we
could see Mandi against the side of the mountain hugged by the river.
We spent some time strolling through the bazaar, which was interesting, but there
was nothing worthwhile purchasing.
Towards evening we were driven by jeep to the top of the mountain, where we had a
magnificent view of the whole of Mandi nestled between high mountains with the Beas
moving silently below. As I stood with Maharaj Ji the lights were turned on one by one in
the village. It was fairy-like, with the moon just peeping out from behind the clouds.
These were moments with my beloved Master that I will cherish forever.
Maharaj Ji commented that if there was time during the next day or two we would
visit a few temples. Satsang was due at 4.30 pm, so the morning was quite free.
The next day, after an early breakfast, Maharaj Ji said we would visit one or two of
the more striking temples, the Bhootnath temple and the Triloknath temple, both made of
stone and beautifully carved. We both took many pictures and enjoyed the morning
immensely.
Mandi has a Shivarati Fair each year. The town is tastefully decorated. Devotees put
the rathas (carriages) of their village family gods and goddesses on their shoulders, and
go in procession to Mandi town on Shivaratri day. They present themselves at the Raj
Madhan temple and later pay homage to Lord Shiva.
On this day, a week-long fair and feast of fun, music and dance begins. I mention this
to show how far removed these rituals are from Sant Mat, yet when the Master comes he
attracts seekers like bees to a honey pot.
Although only five days had passed since we left Beas, it seemed like an eternity that
I had been with my Beloved. Looking at the Beas flowing by made me think that that
same water would flow past the Dera where once the great Saint, Baba Ji, had sat and
meditated and lived on a frugal diet. Through his devoted disciple, Sawan Singh Ji, the
Dera was born, and through his devotion and seva the Dera was built, and through
subsequent Masters it grew to what it is today.

Bhota
The road to Bhota was extremely rough. The station wagon in which we were travelling
bounced around and every now and then stones were thrown up against the undercarriage
with a loud bang.
The satsang ghar in Bhota was tiny. It consisted of two small rooms with string beds;
there was no furniture, just pegs on the wall to hang a few clothes. Maharaj Ji was in the
next room. How wonderful to experience such simplicity. At lunch, which was simple but
adequate, we sat around a tiny table with a creased blue cloth as a tablecloth.
Maharaj Ji sat without his turban, looking magnificent as ever. I could hardly believe
my good fortune in sharing these moments with him. I have been with him in the most
lavish of homes, and now in the simplest. The Master is always the Master, humble, but
awesome in every situation.
After lunch Maharaj Ji decided to have a rest before satsang. I sat on the porch and

39
watched the crowds teeming in from all directions. Women were carrying earthen
pitchers on their heads, bringing water to be used at the makeshift langar. Little shops
were being set up displaying a variety of sweetmeats. As evening drew near I could see
the warm glow of paraffin lamps lighting up the wares in their shops.
After sitting for meditation the next morning I had a cold-water bucket bath in the
open. Maharaj Ji said a cold bath was very good for one, so I gritted my teeth and did his
bidding!
There were many thousands attending satsang. Maharaj Ji gave initiation on two
consecutive days, which was quite unusual, as he usually only had initiation at the Dera.
The first day he initiated 300 women, and on the second 250 men.
During our stay in Bhota the weather was extremely pleasant. In fact we were told it
was warmer than normal, hence my cold baths. The morning we were to leave the
weather turned cold, and it started to rain.
At 7 am I presented myself for breakfast. Maharaj Ji was already sitting at the table.
He then asked me, “How did you enjoy roughing it the last few days?”
I answered sincerely, “Maharaj Ji, I enjoyed every minute of my stay.” He replied,
“You lovingly roughed it!”
Our simple breakfast of toast, cheese and an apple was consumed with relish.
Maharaj Ji did not seem to be in a hurry to leave. He discussed in depth with me the
teachings of the New Testament. I must say I had never really read the Bible, and in that
short time I learned a great deal, which was to help me in the future when talking to
seekers.
We left at 10 am. The journey to our next port of call, Sujanpur, took two hours.
Although it was raining, and the road extremely bumpy and narrow, the ride was
completed without any discomfort.

Sujanpur
Sujanpur was surrounded by hills, and in the background towered the majestic
Himalayas, covered in snow. When we arrived about 400 people were waiting for
Maharaj Ji. He sat for darshan for 30 minutes, and thereafter we were taken to a civil rest
house.
The rest house and satsang ghar faced on to an enormous plateau that was covered
with lawn, right at the foot of the hills. Sheep and lambs, donkeys and school children all
played together on this natural park-like plateau.
Lunch was served to us by the local sevadars: one vegetable, fresh paneer
(homemade cheese), chapatti and a few slices of tomato. I have begun to realize how we
in the West burden our tummies with too much food. We could advisedly all take note of
the injunction, ‘Eat less, sleep less, talk less.’
Maharaj Ji used to say, “One-third of our stomach for food, one-third for water and
one-third for the Lord.”
While on this trip with Maharaj Ji on this light diet I had endless energy, good sleep
and most of all very pleasant meditation. Of course, the dominant factor was being so
close to the Master all day and sleeping in the very next room!
Satsang was at 4 pm. Afterwards we left for the rest house, undisturbed by the
sangat. We sat quietly outside, enjoying the peace of the late afternoon. The weather had
cleared; the sky was blue and the atmosphere calm and tranquil.

40
 Maharaj Ji said to me, “Do you see that mountain on your left? There is a most
interesting ancient temple on the highest point. It is a pity it is so late for you to climb the
mountain and take a few photos.”
I replied, “Maharaj Ji, I am extremely fit, and am sure that if I had a guide I could
manage to return before dark.”
He then sent for one of the village men, and asked him if we could ascend and
descend before dark. The villager responded by saying he was used to climbing
mountains and could do it, but doubted if the Sahib could keep pace with him. I was
determined to try.
I took my camera, and stepped in time behind my guide. We walked at a fast pace,
making our way up the narrow trail. I was not used to this type of exercise, but gritted my
teeth, perspiration pouring down my face, as I kept up with the villager.
We reached the old ruined temple in quick time. I was able to take a few photos, and
the guide said there was time to descend and have tea at his tiny dwelling and still be
back before dark.
We did all this, and reached Maharaj Ji still sitting in the same place, as dark was
gathering. He then said something very beautiful: “You should use that same
determination to tread the path and to do your meditation.” How inspiring.
It was now dark, the stars shining brilliantly as only they can in the clear mountain
air. Maharaj Ji said, “I am going for a walk on the common. If you are not too tired you
may join me.” We walked for a long time enjoying the solitude.
“How lovely this place is, and how clear and light the air is. I wish we could stay
longer, but I am expected at Dera and everyone will be waiting,” commented Maharaj Ji,
breaking the silence.
I then took the opportunity of putting to Maharaj Ji a question I wanted to hear
directly from him. “When a person dies does he lose consciousness regarding his earth
life?” I asked.
Maharaj Ji answered, “No, he does not, he remembers right up until the time he is
born again. Even in the womb of the mother he remembers.”
He then spoke about a custom in India. When a child is born the parent burns a
candle and beats a drum. Just light and sound, he said. A child will always be attracted by
light and sound. Memories from the past life. It was an unforgettable evening.
The next morning, after a cold bath and a light breakfast, it was time for satsang, the
only one Maharaj Ji gave in Sujanpur.
Our station wagon had left earlier, as Maharaj ji decided to walk to the river where
we would cross by a peculiar raft. It was kept afloat by four inflated buffalo skins that
supported a large platform. It was also used to ferry the station wagon across the river.
We first walked across the plateau, through the village, along the cobbled streets and
down the steps to the river.
Practically the whole sangat tried to follow the Master, but he had to stop them.
About 50 or 60 managed to get to the river where they were waiting on the far bank.
After crossing we got into the station wagon that roared up the hill, away from the
satsangis who strained to get a last glimpse of Maharaj Ji before we drove out of sight.
Before leaving Sujanpur Maharaj Ji had received a telegram from Mr Ahluwalia
advising that a certain Captain Diwan was seriously ill in Pathankot military hospital, and
requesting that the Master visit him.

41
 The last leg of our journey was via Paror to Pathankot. The road was extremely
rough. We continuously drove through streams of water. At times we went for many
miles along the riverbed itself where the river was not yet flowing. It was at this stage
that Maharaj Ji gave a great sigh of relief, as his strenuous tour of the hills was over.

Pathankot
We drove to a rest house just outside Pathankot. It took from 11 am until about 2.30 pm,
and was a very hard drive as Maharaj Ji wanted to reach his destination before stopping
for lunch, so that he could have a short rest and relax. We had purchased food on the road
and this was our lunch, now 3.30 pm.
At 4 pm we drove to the hospital. I waited in the car with the driver, while Maharaj Ji
went in to see Captain Diwan. How compassionate and loving is our beloved Master.
We reached the gates of the Dera at 7 pm. It was Bhajan time, for besides morning
meditation, there was in those days compulsory meditation from 6 to 7 pm every evening.
The Dera was peaceful and quiet. We left the car at the gates and walked through the
familiar streets into Maharaj Ji's beautiful perfumed garden.
Maharaj Ji sank into his garden chair, and said, “Home, sweet home.” And so my
little bit of heaven with my Lord came to an end.

42
 Chapter 6

England and Switzerland, 1964

In May-June 1964 Maharaj Ji undertook an extensive satsang tour of North America,

starting with a 24-hour stopover in Honolulu. He gave satsang, interviews and even had
time to initiate. His travelling companion was Air Vice Marshal K.L. Sondhi.
During the latter part of the tour the [then] Prime Minister of India, Mr Nehru, died.
In these circumstances, AVM Sondhi, who was still on active service in the Indian Air
Force, was recalled to India. Maharaj Ji continued the rest of the tour alone. In view of
the strenuous nature of the tour and also being alone, it was suggested by the American
satsangis that Maharaj Ji travel to England – his next destination – by ship.
On 24 June Maharaj Ji boarded the ocean liner Queen Mary. The voyage would
provide him with a much-needed rest. None of his co-passengers had any idea of his
identity. It must have been one of those rare occasions when Maharaj Ji was completely
away from his flock.
He thoroughly enjoyed himself, especially his anonymity. He joined in the deck
sports, and used muscles that he had no reason to use before, and was quite stiff and sore
by the time he reached England. The ship docked at Southampton on 30 June, having
allowed Maharaj Ji five glorious, carefree days.
A few days before Maharaj Ji reached England I had a burning desire to be with him,
as I had a few seemingly insoluble problems, or perhaps it was just an excuse to be with
him! On the day of his arrival by boat-train at Victoria station a group of British satsangis
kindly took me with them to meet Maharaj Ji.
While we were waiting for the train to arrive I decided I would not push myself
forward as I was not an English satsangi, and instead stood on a wooden box right at the
back of the crowd from where I had a clear view. The train duly arrived on time. Colonel
Sanders, the English representative, appeared first, and then there was Maharaj Ji,
majestically beautiful, hands together greeting his satsangis.
I was completely overwhelmed, tears flowing and happiness flooding my being, as it
was over a year since I had been to Dera. Maharaj Ji spotted me at my vantage point and
sent someone to call me to him. By this time I was sobbing quite uncontrollably and
unable to move. Maharaj Ji waited a few minutes and with my non-appearance moved off
with the crowd following.
I managed to pull myself together as I did not want to miss this unique opportunity,
and ran around the crowd to Maharaj Ji.
He put his arms around me and said, “I am glad you have come. AVM Sondhi had to
leave; you can now be my secretary.”
We went on to Mrs Bea Jauncey's flat, where Maharaj Ji would stay while in
England. That evening, before Maharaj Ji went to satsang, I suggested giving him a
massage to ease his aching muscles. He agreed. When I touched his back and legs he
winced slightly. He told me he had been playing deck quoits and was a little tender. By

43
the next morning I was able to ease the pain from his back and extremities.
I had the grace and good fortune to attend to Maharaj Ji in this way twice daily.
His seven days in England were highly strenuous and taxing, as he gave all his
available time to the sangat.
One morning Maharaj Ji said, “Tonight you will give satsang, and I will answer
questions.” I nearly died a thousand deaths! How could I give satsang with Maharaj Ji
sitting right there and with a few thousand people in the audience? However, he insisted.
The rest of the day I spent in feverish preparation. When I stood up and faced the
packed hall I was terribly nervous and perspiring profusely. However, once I started,
Maharaj Ji helped me to calm down, and I thankfully completed my talk.
One evening I asked Maharaj Ji if he would speak to my wife on the telephone, as
she wished to ask permission to visit Dera. Maharaj Ji replied that she should not come to
Dera, but insisted I tell her, as he did not want to give her that news. I then phoned my
home. My wife and two daughters were each at a telephone, waiting for Maharaj Ji to
speak. I handed him the phone.
The three excited girls had the pleasure of talking to Master, but still he refused to
break the news to my wife, and said afterwards I should tell her when I reached home. To
this day we wonder why. But who are we to question the Master?
After seven days of satsangs, questions and answers, interviews and visiting people's
homes, Maharaj Ji's time to leave London had arrived. I was to depart with him for
Geneva. At the airport the satsangis who were allowed to see him off were sitting around
the Master, taking advantage of every last moment with him. I suspected an odd glance of
envy toward me, but they said their farewells to Maharaj Ji and wished me well on the
next leg of my experience with him.
Before we were airborne, Maharaj Ji, as usual, closed his eyes. Snacks were served
on the flight, and at this Maharaj Ji opened his eyes and asked if the food was vegetarian.
It was not, but we were content with a cup of tea. The journey was short, and there was
no doubt the satsangis waiting for us would make sure Maharaj Ji's every need was
attended to.
What a small price is demanded from us to receive the gift of Nam. Giving up meat,
fish and eggs, and alcohol. God only knows for how many lives past we have desecrated
our bodies.
The law of karma is inexorable and unrelenting. It is truly a case of ‘An eye for an
eye, a tooth for a tooth’. It is only through the grace of the Master, and the method of
meditation through the Shabd, that we can slowly but surely lighten our load.
As Maharaj Ji himself once said, 99% of meditation is to burn up our sinchit [store
of] karmas. Without a perfect living Master, souls just go round and round in the cycle of
births and deaths, endlessly taking on body after body, in species after species. And as
Maharaj Ji says at initiation: “A meat diet debases one to the level of an animal, whereas
our object is to raise our consciousness to the eye centre, the spiritual level of man.”

Kabir says:

You violently slaughter

Innocent animals,
And claim it to be in keeping

44
 With the canons of your creed;
But when God places before you
The record of your cruel deeds,
What will your fate be?

And Kabir also says:

Cherish kindness and mercy

Within your heart;
Man, why should you become
Merciless and harsh
When from the tiny ant
To the mighty elephant
All belong to God?

While flying to Geneva, I suddenly remembered I had quite a few initiation

applications in my pocket. I handed them to Maharaj Ji, and requested he let me know
whether these people were ready for initiation. He took them and studied each one
carefully before signing the acceptance. Only one of the batch of 10 was rejected.
Maharaj Ji said, “This one is not ready. Let him apply in a year’s time again.”
As expected, Dr Pierre Schmidt, the Swiss representative, and a few other satsangis
were waiting to receive Maharaj Ji. They took us to a lovely apartment with two
bedrooms en suite, living room and a kitchenette. They had thoughtfully stocked the
kitchen with supplies for us to have the odd snack if we so desired.
We left our luggage in the apartment, and Dr Schmidt took us to his surgery for
lunch. We were served a tasty meal by the good doctor’s nursing sister, who made sure
we tried all the dishes.
Halfway through the meal the doctor asked the sister to bring a bottle of ice-cold
beer, and said to the Master, “Will you have a glass of beer? It has no alcohol whatsoever
in it.”
The Master threw up his hands, and exclaimed, “The very thought of beer makes me
shudder.” But Dr Schmidt insisted, and poured the Master a small glass of the special
brew. Maharaj Ji took the glass, looked at it, added water, and took a dubious sip, made a
wry face, and pushed it away. I, of course, jumped at the idea of being able to have a
glass of cold beer, without breaking the second vow of Sant Mat. I had never before seen
such a thing.
That evening Maharaj Ji met the Swiss satsangis and seekers in our apartment. He
allowed them to ask questions, and in his inimitable way satisfied them with his simple
but soul-searching answers. He also agreed to initiate a few seekers the next day.
Besides the Swiss satsangis there were also a few from Germany, including their
representative, Rudy Walberg. The next day the would-be initiates, Dr Schmidt and
myself attended the initiation. After Master had concluded his instructions, he left with
Dr Schmidt, and allowed me to coach the group in repeating the five holy words.
Geneva is a beautiful city nestling on Lake Geneva and surrounded by the Alps. Next
morning, Maharaj Ji, camera in hand, wished to go to the lake to photograph this
picturesque place. Maharaj Ji, Dr Schmidt, Rudy Walberg and I went down to the lake's

45
edge. What a beautiful sight! The famous fountain was spouting water hundreds of feet
into the air, the spray reflecting myriad colours as each drop caught the rays of the sun.
It was a very warm day. Many people lay on the lawns next to the lake, enjoying the
sun, with women in bikinis and topless. Maharaj Ji looked at the beautiful yachts moored
at the quay. They made a wonderful picture, craft of all shapes and sizes, with multi-
coloured sails, their romantic names emblazoned on their bows.
Maharaj Ji had to walk through half-naked men and women to reach a vantage point
for his photograph. He never looked down once, and passed through them as if they never
existed. I followed, but every now and then I stole a glance at the female forms.
That evening we had questions and answers for the last time. The next day – our last
– Dr Schmidt was to drive us across the border to Chamonix, the famous French skiing
village.
Maharaj Ji, Dr Schmidt, Rudy and I left early the next morning for our destination.
The doctor's staff made us a lovely hamper of food for our journey. Before reaching the
border, we decided to stop for tea and a snack. We chose a most heavenly spot. The grass
was soft and yielding, with a river nearby and the eternal Alps in the distance, their peaks
covered in snow. It was a perfect place to have a repast, and at the same time to be with
our beloved Master.
He was in great spirits, eating with enjoyment and walking over the verdant hillside
to the river, stretching his legs as he loved to do.
When we reached the French border we had an unpleasant incident. All of us with
the exception of Maharaj Ji were allowed to enter France without a visa. The officials
insisted that Master required a visa. Dr Schmidt entered the border office, and after much
haranguing (and, I suspect, a bit of palm-greasing), we were allowed to go through.
Chamonix is a quaint, picturesque village. Although it was summer the mountains
were still snow-covered. We decided to ride to the top of the mountain by cable car. Rudi
and I were in the car with Maharaj Ji. Dr Schmidt decided not to accompany us. What a
breathtaking sight, especially for me, because in my country we very rarely see snow.
Tiny figures were skiing down the slope, zig-zagging from side to side, throwing up
a spray of snow behind them. Maharaj Ji took out his camera and tried to focus on the
skiers, but was unable to succeed. Suddenly the cable car stopped its rocking and he was
able to take his photos.
When we reached the top of the mountain, we walked through a long tunnel, and
came to the border of Italy. We did not want to have another episode at this border, and
walked back. On our way down we heard a distant rumbling sound. Maharaj Ji closed his
eyes for a few minutes and seemed to withdraw. We later heard that an avalanche had
killed six skiers.
Before we left Switzerland Dr Schmidt insisted on examining Maharaj Ji. He studied
his eyes, using a technique called iridology. Maharaj ji was given a clean bill of health.
As it happened, I had an infected fingernail that was extremely painful. I showed it to
the doctor, and he said, “Come, I will fix it.” It was my first experience of acupuncture.
Little did I realize I would be using the same method in my own practice one day.
Dr Schmidt inserted a few needles into various parts of my anatomy, and told me to
relax for about 30 minutes. After the needles were extracted he pressed my finger firmly.
It was completely anaesthetised. With a few deft incisions he removed half the nail and
cauterised the wound. The finger healed in a few days without any further infection.

46
 To close this chapter I would like to say a few words about this remarkable pintsized
man. Dr Schmidt stood barely 5 feet in height. It is well known that he had attended to
the Great Master prior to his death. In fact, when the Great Master wanted to sign his last
will, Dr Schmidt presented his pen for the signature and asked, “Let me have this
privilege.”
While we were in Geneva Dr Schmidt was presented with an illuminated address by
the World Homoeopathic Society for his contribution to the profession. Although at the
time he must have been in his eighties he was most dynamic and commanding.
As far as Sant Mat was concerned, he was strict in his principles and demanded that
seekers toe the line for long periods before allowing them to apply for initiation. He held
satsang every Sunday morning at 7 am, and at 7 am sharp he closed the door. If anyone
was late they were not allowed to enter.
But despite his very disciplinarian nature he was relaxed, and full of fun and humour.
Dr Schmidt's consulting room was very large, with an enormous desk. When he was
perched way up on his seat, he was able to look down at his patients. He had a huge
photograph of his Master, Maharaj Sawan Singh Ji, on the wall in front of his desk. His
greatest delight was to press a button next to him, to illuminate the photo to show it off.
I deem it a great privilege to have met such a disciple, especially in the presence of
my beloved Master, whom Dr Schmidt had known as a young man.
The experience of Switzerland was over all too soon. Maharaj Ji and I were taken to
the airport by Dr Schmidt and a group of loving satsangis - Maharaj ji to leave for India,
via Rome, and I direct to South Africa, my heart brimming with love and devotion
bestowed on me by my Master. My troubles and tribulations which had brought me to
London were completely forgotten.

47
 Chapter 7

South African Tour, 1966

When I met Maharaj Ji in London in 1964, he indicated that he would like to visit South
Africa in May. My limited mind assumed that he meant May 1965. I broke the news of
this possibility to the sangat, and the natural result of this statement was great excitement
and expectation.
My subsequent correspondence with Maharaj Ji proved that this was not practical,
however. So through my assumption, the spirit of the satsangis was raised to the highest
level and then dashed to rock bottom when they heard he could not come.
But then, on 4 February 1966 I received a letter from the Master, asking to be invited
officially to visit South Africa, as he wished to apply to the Indian government for
permission to accept the invitation. His estimated date of arrival was 11 May. Professor
Janak Puri was to accompany Master on his visit. At that time South Africa was under a
strict apartheid government, and it was not an easy task to obtain a visa for someone of
Indian origin.
As the weeks went by I had no communication from the Master regarding his
application for a visa to enter South Africa. Three weeks before his arrival I received his
application, but not one for Professor Puri.
Clive Bootcov, a loving satsangi, and I went immediately to the authorities to obtain
Maharaj Ji’s visa. Although the official was very obliging, he said he could not see our
getting a visa in three weeks. I then explained that there was another gentleman coming
as well, by the name of Professor J. Puri, but to date had not received his application. The
gentleman shrugged his shoulders, and said, “Bring me the application as soon as you
receive it.”
As we were about to leave Clive said, “Tell me, sir, what size suit do you wear?” He
retorted, “I do not take bribes; however, my suit size is 5”! Clive answered, “It is just a
gift of thanks.” Then, to make matters worse, Maharaj Ji brought his date of arrival
forward to 8 May instead of the 11th.
The visas were only granted after Master had left India. He was sent a Government
cable to Nairobi where he was to spend a few days before coming to South Africa. I think
the lesson was to have absolute faith in the Master, as I had spent many sleepless nights
worrying about the visas coming in time.
At 11 am on Sunday 8 May I left for Jan Smuts airport in Johannesburg to receive
Maharaj Ji. He was due to arrive at 12 noon. I had a permit to go on to the tarmac and
meet the plane, and by one of the coincidences of Sant Mat, a young satsangi was on duty
as ground hostess. She had just worked through the night, and had stayed on to see
Maharaj Ji and Professor through Customs.
Maharaj Ji was nearly the last off the plane – that beautiful familiar figure, his beard
even greyer than when I last saw him. Which reminds me: many years before, when his
beard was only streaked with grey, I asked him, “Maharaj Ji, when are you going to visit

48
South Africa?” His reply: “One day when my beard is grey.”
And that day had now arrived.
The sangat, some 300 in number, with seekers and friends, had been gathering at a
downtown hall from 6 am, the early ones wanting to get front seats, doing simran and
waiting expectantly, most of them for their very first glimpse of their Master. Because so
few had met the Master, a talk by one of the senior satsangis was given on darshan and
what to expect.
The Johannesburg committee had arranged to have sevadars placed every few miles
from the airport, and for them to phone through to the hall, giving details of Maharaj Ji's
progress as he made his way towards his destination. The first call came through –
Maharaj Ji had landed in South Africa, our soil hallowed by his holy presence.
When this announcement was made to the audience who had been waiting, some of
them for six hours, a sudden quiet came over them. That propitious moment was drawing
nearer. The next call came – Maharaj Ji had left the airport and was on his way. These
calls continued as Maharaj Ji progressed along the 10 miles to the hall. And last and best:
Maharaj Ji had arrived and was ascending the escalator!
Maharaj Ji walked in first, followed by Professor Puri and myself. All eyes were
turned towards that majestic figure. As we moved towards the stage, sobs were audible.
Most eyes were moist with tears, and eyes gleamed with happiness. Maharaj Ji sat on a
beautiful chair made for the occasion, and faced his loving disciples hungry for his
darshan. Simran had been going for 5 to 6 hours. The atmosphere was charged with love.
I even suspected a slight tear in Master's eyes.
There they were, facing each other, Master and his children, their eyes locked in an
embrace of love. Professor and I stood behind the Master. He and I were onlookers, yet
we both failed to hold back our emotions, and tears were in our eyes. Professor Puri
described the moment aptly when he said that the satsangis were in perfect rapport with
their Master, and their love was expressed in silent eloquence.
Suddenly, it was over. Maharaj Ji stood up, hands folded, and walked to the back of
the hall where he received the sangat one by one as they left.
It would take volumes to give a written description of all that I witnessed day by day.
Many things I can speak or write about, but others are too precious.
A satsangi wrote: ‘For 18 days we lived in a world of love, where nothing existed
except him; nothing was important. Material matters faded into the background, and our
only concern was to be with him, as often and for as long as possible.’
A place where there is love becomes sanctified by it, are the words of Maharaj
Sawan Singh Ji, and this was so beautifully apparent in the homes where our Beloved
spent his days in South Africa. Each house he stayed in was filled with bowls of beautiful
flowers sent to him by his loving disciples, and the fragrance permeated everything.
Maharaj Ji was deeply touched by this show of love, and took pictures of all the flowers
saying, “Now I can show them at the Dera just how beautiful your homes look.”
It was my privilege and wonderful grace to be with Maharaj Ji from 4 am, when I
took him his morning tea, until I said ‘Radha Soami’, before he went to his bedroom –
sometimes well after 11 pm.
After the first or second morning that I had taken him his tea, he said to me, “Who
makes this tea for you to bring up to me?”
I answered, “My brother-in-law."

49
 "Is he a satsangi?” Master asked. I answered that he was not.
He immediately said, “Please make sure that you make my tea, not only in this
house, but wherever we go in future.”
This brings me to an incident that I would not like to experience again.
We were visiting a satsangi for morning tea and lunch, and during that time Maharaj
Ji granted interviews to as many as time allowed. During the coffee break, as usual I went
to the kitchen to prepare Maharaj Ji’s tea. While I was making it, a very devoted satsangi
came up to me and begged permission to serve Maharaj Ji.
I explained that the Master specifically instructed me to do this seva. He pleaded and
said, “Just give me this one opportunity.”
I eventually relented and agreed. He took the tea to the Master. He had a camera with
the strap over his shoulder. As he bent down and handed the tea to Maharaj Ji, the strap
jerked off his shoulder to his elbow. The teacup and boiling contents jerked out of his
hand, the tea spilling over Maharaj Ji's legs. He was dressed in a very light kurta pyjama.
Maharaj ji never gave any indication at all that he was burned, which surely must
have been very painful, and just said, “Now, Sam, you go and bring me more tea.” You
can imagine how we both felt.
This poor satsangi was in tears, and begged Maharaj Ji’s forgiveness. Maharaj Ji
simply said, “Don't worry. It's nothing.”
To me the message was very obvious: complete obedience to the Master. I had let
him down by giving consideration to someone else, and so disobeying his instructions.
Master comes first.
Here, also, the importance of seva can be highlighted. Seva is a gift from the Master
and is not given lightly. It brings to mind an incident that took place during my first visit
to the Dera. It was the custom those days for the Master to grant an interview to satsangis
before their departure.
During my last interview, I presented myself to the Master purely to thank him for
the grace and blessing received during my six-week stay. Before I could say anything
Maharaj Ji said to me, “You may ask me for anything.”
I immediately blurted out, “Maharaj Ji, all I wish to do is to serve you until the day I
die.”
He laughed and said, “You will have plenty of opportunity to do so.” It is through his
grace that for the past 37 years, and even now, I am able to do seva through the grace of
the present Master, Maharaj Gurinder Singh Ji.

Philosophy of the Masters says:

We should serve Him who created the entire world and who has given life to us,
because through His service alone can we derive true benefit and gain honour in the
court of the Lord. We should sacrifice everything in favour of His service, because
serving Him we shall be free from the cycle of births and deaths.
We should serve the Master out of sheer love and devotion to him. Otherwise it is just
like drinking a cup of poison while discarding the cup filled with ambrosia. The
service of the Master is possible only through the abundant grace of the Lord. And
those who perform seva without ego receive all the blessings of the Lord, as well as
the Master, who is the embodiment of the Lord.

50
 By serving the Master we serve the Lord. Without service to the Master, it is not
possible to give devotion to the Lord. Nor can the mind reap the fruits of
concentration. Those who serve the Master are invariably sustained by him at the
time of their death.

Guru Ram Das says:

Only such service as is acceptable and pleasing to the Master is rewarding. And if he
is pleased, all our evil karmas are obliterated. Indeed, by serving the Master we
achieve God-realization. Any seva which helps us in listening to the Sound Current
within is a real and rewarding seva. Seva has many rewards but the unique one is
that a person imbibes the qualities of the one whom he serves. Only such a one is in
a position to serve the Master, because this seva is imprinted on the individual's
forehead and was preordained as the result of his previous life's actions or karmas.

Guru Arjan says:

Whatever seva is possible for you to do with your hands for the Master, you should
do it, because it is the Master who gives us the protection of his hands and saves us
from the fire of transmigration. You should work for him, because through him you
will know the Lord.

According to the teachings of the saints there are four kinds of seva:

1. Physical or manual seva.

2. Seva with wealth.
3. Seva rendered with the mind.
4. Seva rendered with the soul.

The last is the most important, but without fulfilling all four there can be little
success in the last one.
Maharaj ji was in Johannesburg for four days. During that period a few incidents
occurred which I would like to recount.
Because the apartheid laws were so strict, we were told that Maharaj Ji could give
satsang, but would not be allowed to mingle with the audience and should leave
immediately after his satsang. We also heard that there would be a plainclothes policeman
in the audience who would monitor our movements. We naturally did not know who this
person would be.
The first evening after satsang we left the hall as ordered. The next evening Maharaj
Ji said, “There is no hurry tonight. Let us have tea and snacks with the satsangis.”
I was naturally worried in case of any embarrassment arising. We later heard that no
policeman was present on that evening. The policeman who attended the remaining
satsangs later introduced himself to me and requested literature on Sant Mat. Three or
four months later he was initiated.
One evening after satsang we were leaving the hall for the car park. As we crossed
the street, an inebriated lady was walking out of a bar, straight towards the Master. She

51
was staggering slightly, and as she looked into the Master's beautiful bearded face she
exclaimed involuntarily, “0 my God!” How right she was.
During an overnight visit to Swaziland we were returning to Johannesburg via White
River – a small town in a very large farming area. We had lunch with the 15 satsangs
there. Maharaj Ji graciously consented to give satsang after a short rest. Bob Papas, the
local secretary, laid out chairs in the beautiful garden for about 70 people, as many
seekers and other satsangis would be present.
It was a warm sunny day. When Maharaj Ji emerged he asked where the satsang
would be held. Bob proudly showed him the venue. But Master said, “Please bring all the
chairs inside – I want to be inside.” We were rather dumbfounded, as it was so pleasant
outside.
The satsang had hardly started when heavy black clouds gathered overhead, and
within a short time a violent hailstorm lashed the area. We bow to his Will – our all-
knowing Master.
As I recall this next incident I relive my trepidation and lack of faith I had in my
beloved Master. We were travelling in two cars from White River to Johannesburg, a
distance of about 175 miles. Because we would miss supper, and also because non-
Europeans were not allowed in the restaurants, the satsangis had packed a wonderful
basket of food for the journey.
Maharaj Ji, Professor Puri and I travelled with Clive Bootcov – a very fast driver
indeed. At one stage Clive was travelling at 100 miles per hour. In fact, Maharaj Ji said
that he had never travelled so fast in a car before. Suddenly, Maharaj Ji suggested we stop
and have some food. We pulled up and waited for the second car with the food.
After 15 minutes the Master said, “Let's go into that restaurant and have something.”
I nearly panicked, as in these small country areas the people tend to be racist. The thought
crossed my mind that I could say that the Master was a rabbi! I had no faith. Maharaj Ji
walked into the restaurant and sat down, called the waiter and gave the order for all of us.
I kept glancing at the owner at the cash desk. He never gave us a glance. The Master
then went up to the man, thanked him for the meal and asked me to pay the bill. I gave a
sigh of relief, and certainly learned a lesson that evening: to have complete and utter faith
in our Master.
Another incident to illustrate the omniscience of Master occurred in Durban during
initiations. Swami Sahajananda, head of the Divine Life Society, had graciously allowed
Maharaj Ji to use the Bhajan hall of the Sivananda ashram for this purpose.
When those granted initiation were all seated, I reported this to Maharaj Ji. He stood
and looked into the hall and said to me, “Are you sure there are no non-satsangis sitting
among the seated crowd?”
I said that I had checked.
Master said, “Please go and check more carefully.”
On a more in-depth investigation I found that five or six Indians were there out of
curiosity to listen to the great Guru. How sheepish I felt about this blunder.
After the initiation Maharaj Ji granted an interview to the Swami. They were together
for nearly an hour. On the way back to the hotel, Maharaj Ji said to me, “The Swami has
to fulfil his karma in what he is doing, but I gave him Nam without his knowing about it.”
Initiation is the greatest gift that can be given to a human being. Only souls marked
by the Lord himself have been given this boon. Initiation is not a ritual nor a ceremony; it

52
is the birth of the soul into the Shabd within.
Christ says:

Verily, verily I say unto thee, except a man be born again,

he cannot see the Kingdom of God.

The Sikh Gurus describe initiation as the ‘gift of life’.

He gives the gift of life;

He teaches devotion to the Lord;
He unites the disciple with the Lord.
Those only meet the Master
Who are so destined.
The Name of the Lord is the nectar:
It is given at Initiation.

This recalls to mind the time when I was first appointed as Maharaj Ji’s South
African representative. I had sat in on quite a few occasions while Maharaj Ji was giving
Nam. No matter how many initiations he had to conduct during big bhandaras he never
spared himself. He never missed a word. Each time he spent 2-3 hours in explaining
every detail to those being initiated.
In my own little way I made sure when I was giving the instructions at initiation that
I would do so to Maharaj Ji’s satisfaction. Once, during a visit to Dera, I went to the
Master and said to him, “Maharaj Ji, I am failing badly in this very important seva which
you have graciously given me to do. So many people who I have initiated seem to have
gone off the path.”
Master laughed, and said to me, “Don't worry. It has nothing to do with you – you
are doing excellent seva.” He then referred to the parable of the four seeds from the
Bible. He explained that only a marked soul can be initiated. The ones who get initiated
and go off the path will have another birth, or more if necessary, until they can fulfil the
vows they take at the time of initiation.
In Matthew 13 it says:

That same day Jesus went out of the house and sat besides the sea. And great crowds
gathered about him, so that he got into a boat and sat there; and the whole crowd
stood on the beach.
And he told them many things in parables saying: ‘A sower went out to sow. And as
he sowed some seeds fell along the path, and the birds came and devoured them.
Other seeds fell on rocky ground, where they had not much soil, and immediately
they sprang up, since they had no depth of soil, but when the sun rose they were
scorched, and since they had no roots they withered away. Other seeds fell upon
thorns and the thorns grew up and choked them. Other seeds fell on good soil and
brought forth grain, some a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty’.

I quote Maharaj Ji's own words taken from his book Light on Saint Matthew as he
elucidates on the above:

53
 When the Master comes to this world, he attracts many seekers, he initiates many
people, but everybody is not able to go back to the Father in that very birth;
everybody is not ready to receive his teachings. Some people have closed minds.
They come seemingly by accident or chance to the company of a mystic. They hear
the teachings and while they are in his company they understand them and feel
convinced. But the moment they go away, they forget about the teachings and the
mystic.
These examples apply only to this life. The initiation or seed of Nam never dies.
It has to sprout, grow and bear fruit in some future life or lives. And there are other
people who do not have much depth of understanding about the teachings, but
somehow, due to the influence of their relatives and friends, they are initiated. They
try to follow the teachings, and are very happy as long as they are around the mystic.
But the moment they go away from him to the company of evil or worldly people,
they find it very difficult to deny themselves sensual pleasure, to remain on the diet
and to give time to meditation, and they slip from the path.
And the third type of people, he says, are those who have certain weaknesses in
themselves. They are not prepared to leave them and make any sacrifices, but yet
they are also interested in following the real path to God-realization since they have,
to some extent, love and devotion to the Father. They try to meditate on the one hand,
but on the other they cannot leave their weaknesses and the sensual pleasures. They
are the seeds that fall among thorny bushes.
And the fourth type of seed? There is another category of people whose ground
is absolutely prepared and fertile, their mind is receptive and the moment the seed
falls there, it starts yielding fruit. They are the right type of people, prepared for the
right type of life, but the result, he says, is ‘some a hundredfold, some sixty fold,
some thirty fold’.
It does not mean that every person whose ground is fertile for initiation must go
to the Father in that very birth, at that very time. Some get a hundredfold result. They
are the people who will in that very birth, when given the opportunity, go back to the
Father at once.
Others get a sixty-fold result. These people will not come back to this creation
but will be placed in a spiritual region according to their individual development.
From there they make further spiritual progress within and eventually go back to the
Father.
Some get thirty-fold result. They are able to make some progress, but still they
are left with a certain type of attachment to the world, and they may come back.
Though their ground is fertile – the seed is good and is well sown – still they are not
destined to go back in that very life.
Enough opportunity is not given to them to make sufficient spiritual progress, as
to be able to achieve their goal in that very birth. So they may come back again to
the world to clear these attachments, and make much better progress and go back to
the Father. The seed is the same; the ground may be the same fertile ground – yet the
result cannot be the same.

That is why, he says: ‘Many that are first shall be last, and the last shall be first.’

54
There is no seniority on the path. Progress is not related to the number of years one has
been initiated. Everybody has an individual type of load to shed, an individual type of
karma to clear.
Ultimately, those people who were not even prepared but the seed was sown, will
also go back to the Father, but they may have to come back a second, or a third or a
fourth time. Wherever the seed has fallen it must sprout eventually. The result must be
there. Every soul, whosoever has been initiated, must finally go back to the Father.

How sheepish I felt after the Master had explained this to me. Imagine my ego to
think I had anything whatsoever to do with giving Nam, except being the postman giving
the instruction on the Master’s behalf.
During his South African tour Maharaj Ji initiated 97 people altogether. Of these,
nine were teenagers who were initiated into simran only.
My two daughters were 15 and 16 years old respectively. While the Master was here
they nagged me unmercifully to ask Maharaj Ji for initiation before he left. I insisted that
they were far too young. They then said, “Please ask Maharaj Ji just to give us simran.”
I thought nothing could be lost, so I dutifully spoke to the Master. He said, “Let me
think about it.” The following day he said, “Collect all the young people who are
vegetarians and who come from satsangi homes and let them be here this afternoon at 3
pm.”
My daughters, my niece and nephew and five other young people waited expectantly
for Maharaj Ji to enter the room. They sat in a circle, with Maharaj Ji and I in the centre.
He spent an hour explaining the principles of Sant Mat, the way to concentrate at the eye
centre and how to repeat the words mentally. He stressed the importance of good
behaviour towards parents and elders, and to grow up as good examples of satsangis, and
promised that one day he would give them the full initiation.
Maharaj Ji then left, and instructed me to make sure that they knew the five holy
words. Then I was to sit and do 10-15 minutes meditation with them. He also said they
should do half an hour meditation each day, but never to neglect their worldly duties.
Maharaj Ji always had a very ready and delightful sense of humour, as witnessed by
the two following amusing incidents.
While we were in the Cape Province we decided to take the Master to Cape Point.
This is the most southerly point of all Africa. One can stand on a hill and look down at
the place where the Indian and the Atlantic Oceans meet – the Indian Ocean being warm
and the Atlantic icy. One can actually see the demarcation line where they meet.
Maharaj Ji loved the scenery, which is reputed to be some of the best in the world,
and took many photographs. On the way to the Point, we had to pass through a beautiful
nature reserve. We were travelling very slowly when suddenly an outsized baboon
jumped onto the bonnet of the car.
Maharaj Ji said, “Stop the car – I must get a photo of this chap.” We stopped the car.
The baboon sat unconcernedly with his back to us. Maharaj Ji was there with his camera
ready but the animal made no attempt to turn.
Maharaj Ji then said, “Come on, turn around so that I can take a photo of you.” The
baboon obligingly turned and sat gazing at Maharaj Ji while he took his photos.
“Thank you,” said Maharaj Ji, and with that the baboon jumped off and ran into the
thicket.

55
 Maharaj Ji always wore a pale cream turban during his tour. One day he asked my
wife and her sister if they would kindly launder it. Some time later my wife came to me
with tears in her eyes and said she had completely ruined Master's turban. During the
wash all the colour came out and she was left with a pure white turban.
“Please tell Maharaj Ji, Sam, I haven't the courage to face him.” I went to the Master
and reported the incident to him. He broke into such a hearty laugh and said that it was
only cornstarch colouring. He would wear a white turban in South Africa. He said that it
was on his mother’s insistence that he did not wear a white turban, but she was in India,
so it did not matter.
When we reached Durban airport, because of the apartheid policy the Indians were
not allowed into the European part of the airport, so we arranged for the group to be
seated on a lawn in the airport gardens. Maharaj Ji agreed to give them a few minutes’
darshan before going on to the house where he was to stay.
Maharaj Ji took his seat on the grass and faced the small group of Indian satsangis.
Suddenly, an Indian lady dashed up to Maharaj Ji with a bottle of sweet-smelling oil to
pour over him. He tried to dodge, but in vain, and the oil splashed over his coat. Later, in
the car on the way to the house, he jokingly explained that the South Indians observe this
ritual with the idols in their temples, and that she had probably mistaken him for an idol!
On completion of his tour Maharaj Ji came to my apartment to rest. He had a short
nap in my bedroom. When I woke him my two daughters, my wife and I sat on the floor
around our beloved Master – just like father with his children.
He said to me, “You look very tired,” and so I was. In fact, I was exhausted, as was
Professor Puri, trying to keep up with the Master’s tireless energy. Maharaj Ji then said,
“Have a rest tomorrow,” and gave me a long list of things to do after that.
Maharaj Ji was taken to the airport where over 300 satsangis and seekers were
waiting to see him off. Somehow or other he was able to shake everyone by the hand
before he left. Even people who had not come to see him off joined the queue. One
person said she simply had to shake the hand of ‘that wonderful person’, although she did
not know who he was!
Maharaj Ji left South Africa with his farewell message ringing in our ears and with
his love in our hearts. He told us:

My stay in your beautiful country comes to an end today. During my short stay, I am
glad I have been able to visit almost all our satsang centres and have been able to
see you individually and collectively at meetings, at garden parties, at luncheons, or
at such odd places as the airport and even at the roadside.
I am glad to find a spiritual hunger in your hearts. I am grateful to you, all of you,
for your warm reception, your affectionate greetings, your love and your devotion. I
assure you that, although my stay has been short in this country, your love and
devotion will enable me to visit you more often in the future. I am thankful to Mr and
Mrs Sam and all others who have helped in making my tour such a pleasant one and
such a success.
I would like to remind you of what Jesus Christ told us two thousand years ago.
He said: ‘My first commandment is, love the Lord with all thy heart, with all thy
might, with all thy soul.’ Then he said, ‘My second commandment is, love thy
neighbour as thyself.’ But do not forget, this whole world is our neighbour, and the

56
Lord is in every one of us, so we have to love one and all; everyone whosoever has
been created by the Lord.
The teachings of all the prophets, of all sages, of all saints in the world are
broadly based on these two commandments. If we hang on to these commandments,
we grasp the gist of the teachings of all the saints and all the prophets. You know
your destination; you know the path leading to your destination. I can only advise
you to hang on to the path with all your love and devotion."

57
 Chapter 8

Trip to Nagpur, 1967

I arrived in Bombay en route to Dera, not expecting to see the Master until I reached my
destination. Mr Ram Bawnani met me at the airport, and, informing me that Maharaj Ji
was in Bombay, took me to him.
How wonderful to see Maharaj Ji again! Although barely a year had passed since my
last visit to India, it seemed I had been away from him for aeons. This illusion was
dispelled the minute I was in his holy presence. It felt as if I had never left his side, and
he greeted me as such.
“I am leaving for Nagpur tomorrow morning, and then to Dera. You may join me,
together with Ram,” said Master. I was in seventh heaven. So soon in India, and already
travelling with my Beloved on his satsang tour.
I spent the night with Ram and his dear wife, as I had often done in the past. The
next morning, bright and early, we met Maharaj Ji at the airport. The journey to Nagpur
was by Viscount, a slow plane, but a very comfortable journey of two hours. We were
met by Mr Naidu, secretary of the local sangat. He was a great disciplinarian, and ran the
sangat on those lines.
Unfortunately, there was a Lions’ convention on and the hotel was completely full. I
had to share a double bed with Ram at a satsangi’s home, no other accommodation being
available. Sharing with a tossing, snoring male was an ordeal. I survived the first night,
and thereafter slept in the living room on the floor on a rubber mat – heaven compared to
the experience of the first evening.
Nagpur is a flat, dusty city. Although it was spring, the temperature was already close
to 90°F. The area was undergoing a severe drought and water was at a premium. Mr
Naidu realized that many thousands of satsangis and seekers would be attending satsang
for the next three to four days, so large amounts of water would be required for cooking,
drinking and bathing purposes.
After great difficulty this enterprising sevadar managed to hire two huge municipal
water tankers. This was to prove adequate to meet the demands of the sangat for the full
period.
Maharaj Ji was staying in a Dâk bungalow about 10 miles from the city. The
bungalow was on the edge of a beautiful clear lake surrounded by wonderfully kept
gardens. Ram and I were collected at 7 am by a sevadar, and we did not return to our
quarters until late at night. We had most of our meals with the Naidu family, and
occasionally joined Maharaj Ji for breakfast or lunch.
Mr Naidu, being a master of organisation, ran a model sangat. The satsang grounds
were situated 8 miles out of town. The sangat was still very young. Maharaj Ji had only
been there on two or three satsang visits. It was modelled on the Dera in every way –
langar, stores, quarters, etc.
After satsang Maharaj Ji sat for money seva. About 11,000 people filed past Maharaj
Ji, placing their seva in a box. This procession seemed endless, because of the Master's

58
unending patience in having a word with each one. It was a unique opportunity for them
to hold the Master's darshan for a brief, precious moment.
The first morning I had breakfast with Maharaj Ji he complained he had been
attacked by mosquitoes and had had very little sleep. It was a habit of mine always to
carry with me to India some sort of mosquito repellent. In this case I had a coil that
emitted a vapour, which repelled all insects.
How grateful I was to be allowed to offer my Master some assistance in making his
nights more comfortable. He later thanked me and said it worked like a charm.
After the satsang programme I travelled with Maharaj Ji to Delhi. We spent the day
with Mrs Bharatram. Maharaj Ji had no rest and passed the whole time seeing satsangis
and seekers and attending to their spiritual needs.
That evening Maharaj Ji and I entrained for Dera, sharing a coupé. What can I say
about this experience, except I wish I had the realization to understand whom I had the
great good fortune to be with on such close terms?
Nanak says:

Love grows not in the orchard tuft,

Nor does it sell in the market place,
Yet king and subject who so will
May barter it for his severed head.

I did feel love for my Master in my small way. But unfortunately the path is long and
hazardous. This love cannot be bought but earned through discipline, meditation and
living constantly in the four walls of the principles of Sant Mat.
We sat together for a few hours and discussed worldly topics. I had a burning desire
to delve into deeper spiritual matters, but Maharaj Ji steered the conversation back to the
mundane. He knew this disciple had not even stepped on to the deeper spiritual ladder of
Sant Mat.
After we had retired for the night, Maharaj Ji in the lower bunk and me above him, I
lay wide-awake trying to realize who this great presence was below me. I pondered
Nanak's words:

The servant is like the Lord himself,

take him not to be different due to
his human form.

Jesus also said:

If you see me, you see the Father.

I and the Father are one.

How often have I seen satsangis being familiar with our Lord, obviously not
knowing who he is? Once a Western satsangi said to the Master, “Maharaj Ji, who are
you?” Maharaj Ji succinctly answered, “I am who you think I am.”
Therein was the answer. Some take him as a friend, some as a father, but to surrender
to the Master unconditionally one has to meet him inside and be above the pull of the

59
mind and its desires. Then only does one know but won't say.
Those were the thoughts that saw me sleepless and exhausted the next morning.

On our return to the Dera Maharaj Ji was informed by Mr Khanna, the Dera
secretary, that he had given an Italian television company permission to film Dera
activities including the April bhandara. The TV company was doing a lengthy
documentary on various Indian philosophies and had visited several ashrams.
They duly arrived with mountains of equipment for this project. I was given the task
of showing these people around, so they could decide on a script for continuity. They also
wanted a brief outline of Sant Mat as a dialogue, which I gave them in the form of
questions and answers.
When they came to filming the mitti seva they were thunderstruck to see such a huge
crowd doing seva. An estimated 150 000 satsangis and seekers were carrying baskets of
sand on their heads in an unending procession of love. Maharaj Ji was sitting in a
conspicuous position, so that everyone could have his darshan as they passed.
The cameras were placed behind Maharaj Ji to capture the full impact of this biblical
scene. One of the cameramen whispered to me in awe, “Do you mean all these people are
working without being paid?”
I answered, “They are working for something far more precious than money. They
are working for love of their Master. Can’t you see the devotion in their eyes and the tears
of happiness as they pass the Master?”
On the morning of the bhandara satsang Maharaj Ji allowed the crew to rig up a
platform. He gave satsang, quite unconcerned with the whirring cameras behind him.
They were able to record all the activities of the Dera before they left, including Maharaj
Ji blessing the food at the langar and the thousands of people being fed at a single sitting.
I believe the documentary was shown throughout Italy and Europe.
Because of the huge crowd and record numbers of initiations Maharaj Ji was
working long hours, trying to satisfy all the demands made on him; important or trivial,
he attended to them all.
One afternoon he sent for me and asked me to sort out his slides, as he wished to
show them to a few of us that evening. The slides were from his recent trip to Rajasthan
and Mount Abu. There were 300 in all. I spent the whole afternoon alone in his study
absorbed in this wonderful seva.
That evening Master called Louise Hilger, Dr Stone, Mrs Bharatram and I to his
house for this evening as his guests. And so ended another memorable experience in his
company. He was able to relax without the demanding masses around him, and we
fortunate ones were able to be with him, bathing in his light and love.

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 Chapter 9

Dera September-December, 1968

Sacred Heart College comes to Dera

When I arrived at Dera at the end of September 1968 little did I realize what wonderful
seva and ecstatic experiences I would have while travelling around India with my
beloved Master. The morning I arrived I went straight to Maharaj Ji’s compound to have
his darshan.
Maharaj Ji’s first words to me were, “I am so glad you were able to reach Dera early,
as I have some seva for you to do.”
He continued, “Tomorrow my daughter Nimi is arriving at Dera, together with 60 of
her school friends, seven nuns and their Mother Superior. They are coming for a few
days. I want you to look after them. Show them around Dera, arrange their meals with the
guest house staff. In fact, be at their beck and call at all times!”
I was very happy to do this, especially to serve the Master through his daughter,
whom I had known since she was 6 or 7 years old, and was now approaching her late
teens, and reaching the end of her high school days.
They duly arrived in two buses, all very excited and chattering away, eager to start
on their visit to their friend’s father’s ashram. Nimi introduced me to Mother Superior
and the nuns as Samji, and that is how they knew me.
Everyone was shown to their rooms, and shortly afterwards had lunch. Their energy
was boundless, their laughter and bantering endless. Samji showed them around the Dera,
visiting every corner. They were intrigued with whatever they saw. Their questions on
Sant Mat were thought-provoking. The nuns were not much older than the pupils, and
joined in wholeheartedly. Mother Superior, being much older and also in view of her
position, remained aloof, but still very interested in the Sant Mat debates.
I informed the group on the second day of their visit that Maharaj Ji had graciously
accepted an invitation to have lunch with them. He was plied with questions, and in his
loving way satisfied their spiritual hunger. During the evenings Maharaj Ji arranged slide
shows for the visitors, using a few of the many thousands of slides he had taken all over
India and abroad.
The Sunday morning before the group left they all went to Amritsar to attend mass at
the local Catholic church, and were back in Dera to sit at satsang at 9.30 am, given by
Maharaj Ji. I often wondered what thoughts, conflicting and otherwise, must have passed
through their minds, coming from an orthodox Catholic service with its rituals and
ceremonies, and then listening to satsang from the Lord himself spelling out the
simplicity, the truth of the Sant Mat teachings.
After lunch their stay was over. They walked very quietly to Maharaj Ji’s garden
where he received them. Mother Superior thanked the Master for his hospitality, and they
all chorused after Mother Superior, “Thank you, Maharaj Ji.”
I walked with the group to the satsang ghar, where the buses were waiting to take
them back to Dalhousie, the hill station where the college was located. As they were

61
leaving their innocent laughter quietened as Mother Superior thanked me for being a
good tour guide. The buses pulled off, and for a long while I could hear their voices
shouting “Goodbye, Samji!”
A few days later I received a letter from Nimi, together with a note from Mother
Superior, which appear here in their original form:

Sacred Heart College

Dalhousie
3rd October 1968

My dearest Samji

Radha Soami. I just couldn't wait to write and thank you for your lovely company, and for
the constant attention you paid us.
What spells have you chanted on the girls – all they say all day long is Samji, Samji!
He did this and he did that. All of them are absolutely enthralled by you. Today we had
P.T. and we were remembering your various styles of clicking – I suppose you'll ask how
that is connected with P.T.? But in every action of yours there is Yoga.
Samji, Mother says that she would not like any of their snaps (nuns) to be published
in any magazine. Please would you pass that on to Ram Uncle as well.
Some of the girls have had their films developed. Your snaps have come out quite
clear (according to our standards!). I'll ask them to write and send them to you. Talking of
snaps, when will yours be developed (the ones you took)? We are all looking forward to
see them. Could you be so kind as to send them to me. I am ardently looking forward to
seeing them all.
It is difficult to settle down now. Mentally, all of us are in Beas – with all of you.
Don't really want to think that we are actually back again.
Hope to hear from you soon. Do please let me know, by when we'll be able to see the
snaps.
Samji, thanks so much for all that you did for us. This has been an outstanding trip
for me, and you are among the outstanding figures that stand out so prominently.
Hope to hear soon from you. All my love and a ‘million thanks’ for your kindness.
Radha Soami, Yours affly

Nimmee

Sacred Heart College

Dalhousie
4th October 68

Dear Samji!

Surprised? You must be. Here we are again (not to be photographed this time!) to thank
you. We had a lovely time and being snapped contributed to the fun. Your professional
poses!

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 It was nice having met you and be allowed to call you 'Samji'! I must not forget to
tell you that the snaps we took of you have come out rather well. Doesn't that show that
not only the snaps you take but also the ones that are taken of you are good?!
I think that someone has already sent you a snap of yours.

Thank you once again.

With love and Radha Soami wishes

from The Sacred Heartians

Hippy invasion
Only a few days later about 30 young people arrived at the Dera. They were a motley
crowd. During the late 1960s hundreds of young people from the Western world came to
India. Some came seeking spiritual guidance, through the many gurus and swamis who
abound here, and others were looking for a cheap supply of mind-bending drugs. At that
time it was called the 'hippy invasion of India'.
The crowd who arrived at Dera were all long-haired, dishevelled and mostly
unwashed. A young couple from America came without shoes and with threadbare
clothes. They said they had sold even these possessions to buy food.
They were all given accommodation and food, and ordered to make themselves
presentable as they would meet the Master the next day after satsang. Those who needed
clothes were given Punjabi outfits to wear.
The next day, after satsang, I took this long-haired crowd, looking a lot better than
the day before, to meet the Master. Together with the rest of the visitors they were
allowed to ask questions. The Master informed this new influx that they could attend
satsangs for the next few days, and he would then decide when they should leave,
depending on what their motive was in visiting Dera.
During the next week at the evening meeting they asked the Master many questions
about Sant Mat. They were reading the literature, and reaching the stage of realizing the
paramount importance of a living Master and the necessity of initiation to make inner
spiritual progress.
One morning Maharaj Ji sent for me. “Sam,” he said, “I have a special mission for
you. Interview each of these hippies separately, and ask if they wish to be initiated, and if
so, they must have their hair cut to ‘normal’ standards.”
Maharaj Ji went on to say that he believed Renaldo Pardini, a South African satsangi,
was a hairdresser, and to arrange for him to do the necessary.
Maharaj Ji also instructed me to find out if they were taking drugs, and if so, to take
a solemn vow that they would discard this bad habit permanently as satsangis. I was to
explain to them that they could not make any spiritual progress while doing so – in fact, it
could be quite dangerous meditating under the influence of drugs, which could lead to a
negative experience that might even unbalance their minds.
It was interesting to see the various reactions as I spoke to each of them in turn.
About 10 of the group flatly refused to cut their hair and to conform to Sant Mat
principles. They were given breakfast the next morning and asked to leave the Dera.
Among those who stayed behind was a young American named Steve, with hair

63
down to his shoulders and way-out clothes. He was accompanied by his girlfriend, also
dressed in the same fashion. I had heard beforehand that he was wanted by the authorities
in America for drug peddling, and had left the country while awaiting trial.
I expected a torrid time from him, and with some trepidation I knocked at his door to
interview him and his lady friend.
But I was in for a pleasant surprise as he opened the door. He had had his hair cut
short and was dressed in spotless white Punjabi suit. His girlfriend was also neat and tidy.
On entering the room he exclaimed, “Sam, we dearly want to be initiated.”
I did not need to ask him any questions. He later told me his whole story and said
that he had over $300 worth of drugs on him when he had arrived, but had since flushed
these down the toilet.
I said to him, “Please tell Maharaj Ji about your drug dealing, and anything else you
wish to add.”
Steve and his lady were initiated with the group that had complied with the Master's
instructions.
Before Steve left the Dera Maharaj Ji called him and instructed him to report to the
American Consul and give himself up, and also to marry his friend.
They did just that. They were married and sent back to America by the Consulate
without an escort, and the Consulate paid their airfare. When they reached America they
were taken into custody, and later appeared in court, where they were sentenced to a term
of imprisonment.
In prison Steve adhered strictly to his vegetarian diet. In fact, his influence was so
strong over certain prison inmates that they also became vegetarians, and were able to
study the Sant Mat books that Steve had with him.
After his sentence had been served Steve and his wife settled down and became
active sevadars in the California sangat. Some years later I met him in Los Angeles, and
with much pleasure I was able to observe the remarkable change in this lovely person.

Also present was a very handsome young couple, Nigel and Jenny. They reminded me so
much of the comic-strip characters of Prince Arthur and Marian. Nigel had beautiful long
hair to his shoulders that really suited him.
When I approached him about cutting his hair, he said that if Sant Mat is cutting hair
then he did not wish to be part of it. I explained that it was not the cutting of the hair.
First and foremost, it was Maharaj Ji's instruction, the main reason being to keep the
impeccable name of the Dera with the Government authorities, as India abounded with
these hippie types.
Nigel and Jenny missed out on the first group to be initiated and were deeply sorry.
Nigel later relented and agreed to have his hair cut.
The next day he came to show me, but I could barely see the difference, and
explained to him that unless he cut his hair short Maharaj Ji simply would not accept him
for initiation.
He then said, “I am in the movie industry. They all have long hair. What will they
think of me?” I replied, “Nigel, your hair will always grow back again.” With that, he
finally consented and had it cut. I had to agree that he looked a lot better with long hair!
They were duly initiated, and today are still very much involved in Sant Mat in
England.

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Visit of Swami and his disciples
One morning Dev Prakash, the manager of the Guest House, called me and said, “A
swami and about 40 of his disciples have arrived at Dera. Please introduce yourself and
be their host.”
They were standing outside the satsang ghar, admiring the architecture. This
beautiful satsang building, the Baba Jaimal Singh Hall, was the most remarkable of the
Great Master's creations, and is regarded as one of the most beautiful and majestic
buildings in the Punjab.
The entire design and plan for this was the work of the Great Master himself.
Adorned with well-proportioned minarets and crowned with golden spires, the building
combines both medieval and classical Indian styles. Its flawless finish and the chaste
design compel one’s wonder and admiration.
The Great Master laid the foundation stone and the bricks around it, and he himself
carried the first basket of earth to fill the foundation. A marble box was placed in the
foundation trench, containing the book Sar Bachan Poetry by Soami Ji. Maharaj Ji wrote
a note outlining a brief history of the Dera. At the end of the note, the Master affixed his
signature with the words approved. He then laid the bricks around the marble box.
This imposing building was built under the personal supervision of the Great Master
in the early 1930s.
Every morning the Master would be at the site from about seven till midday, and
again in the afternoon from three to six or seven, except for an hour and a half of satsang.
He would explain the various aspects and technical details of the construction to the
engineers and masons.
The sangat did seva with great enthusiasm and love. The major part of the work was
achieved by voluntary service from the sangat. The Great Master always laid stress on
seva, and used to say that seva is a cash transaction; he who does seva is never a loser.
Most of the yellow-robed disciples were lost in their admiration of the satsang ghar,
and were clicking away with their cameras. They were an interesting lot. The swami was
Indian, a well-built man with a handsome face. He had an ashram in Germany, and all his
disciples were German: men and women.
I introduced myself to the swami, and told him I would be their tour guide. I then
took them to the Western Guest House for tea and a snack. After I had taken them on a
Cook's tour of the Dera the swami requested to meet the Master. I informed him that
Maharaj Ji would be back at 4.30, as he had been giving satsang in Mehmansinghwala
(the ancestral village of the Great Master).
As it was about 4 pm, I took the whole group to Maharaj Ji's garden to wait for him.
Maharaj Ji arrived at about 4.15, and showed a little surprise at seeing his garden invaded
by so many ochre robes! I quickly explained the situation to him and introduced him to
the swami.
Maharaj Ji stood there for about 15 minutes and patiently listened to the group as
they chanted kirtans (devotional songs) and repeated the mantra “Om”.
After Maharaj Ji left the swami thanked me, and said they would all like to go to the
Beas River to bathe before they left. I don't know how they would perform this ablution
as there were an equal number of men and women. I left them to it, and so ended another
strange day.

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Kalu-ki-Bar
My desire to be with Maharaj Ji was insatiable. In the last few weeks I had been with him
constantly. In Kotgarh, as described earlier, I was overwhelmed with a depth of love I had
never experienced before. I also experienced his love for those simple hill people. It was
all-embracing. To witness it was to bathe in it. Would I ever have the opportunity again to
be so close to my beloved Master?
We were now back at the Dera, with Maharaj Ji back to his usual routine. There was
morning satsang, where I could gaze at him hoping for that fleeting glance; mid-morning
sitting with the Westerners at the feet of the Master, and sometimes recoiling at their
aimless questions; waiting for seva, so that I could once again see that beloved form.
I had indeed been spoilt in the hills, sharing meals, sharing photographic
experiences, as he took photos of those beautiful, simple hill people. They were
completely unaware of the cameras and my presence. They were utterly absorbed in the
Master, unblinkingly one with him, lost in the ecstasy of being so close to him as he
focused his camera to mirror the portraits of their expressions of love.
Now at the Dera the time seemed interminable between those few appearances of the
Master as he went about his daily routine.
Kabir says:

From morning to evening

From night to day,
In my heart I'm cheerless and sad.
I thirst only for a sight of him,
Like a chatrik (rain-bird) a-thirst for rain.

Now utterly and completely spoilt, how I feared the day when I would be pushed
back into the world – the world of Kal. It is so powerful that even that love, that all-
pervading love that consumes one in Master’s presence, can be dampened and clouded
with the karmas that one has to face.
Let me not dwell on such matters. While I am at the Dera let me be like the chatrik.
The longing in my heart must have reached the Master. He called me after satsang
and informed me he would be taking me with him to Kalu-ki-Bar, a hill station, in the
next few days. My heart danced with happiness as I locked the secret in my heart and
counted the hours to our departure.
On the morning of 15 October I reported to Maharaj Ji. We were due to leave at 7
am. To my surprise Maharaj Ji’s garden was crowded with the members of the foreign
Guest House, including Dr Stone who had just arrived from America. They were there for
Maharaj Ji’s darshan before leaving.
As we moved towards the mini-type bus, which looked very fragile for the rigorous
journey ahead, Dr Stone came up to me and hugged me, and said, “You are a very
privileged one.” How well I knew and appreciated this moment. Maharaj Ji later said that
he would have taken Dr Stone with us, but he was too tired after his long journey from
America.
Maharaj Ji went up to the group anxiously waiting for his darshan. He stood with
them for a while, and before leaving said, “I hope you will keep yourselves busy with

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seva and your meditation. Radha Soami.”
And off we drove through the streets lined with satsangis, hungry to catch a glimpse
of their Beloved.
We were about 15 miles out of Dera when I witnessed the same devotion and love
coming from a small group of satsangis standing at the roadside waiting for Maharaj Ji,
as also happened on our trip to Kotgarh. Each time we came to a group Maharaj Ji would
get out of the vehicle and stand with them for a few minutes.
About two and a half hours after leaving Dera we reached the town of Hoshiarpur,
and drove to the satsang grounds. There must have been a crowd of about 3 000 people.
Maharaj Ji sat on the dais, and while a shabd was sung he gave darshan.
Sitting right in front of the Master was an elderly lady, screaming and gesticulating
and waving a stick threateningly at the sevadars as they attempted to calm her. She was
uncontrollable. Maharaj Ji was unperturbed.
I mention this incident because she was also at Kalu-ki-Bar, about 45 miles across
the mountains. I was mystified at her arrival because the journey was hazardous and the
weather extremely cold. She seemed quite insane, but her love for the Master was
obvious.
The deeper we got into the mountains the longer the Master spent with the groups on
the way. Most of them had baskets of popped corn which the Master blessed.
As the roads worsened, so this tiny vehicle bounced around even more. It was even
difficult to remain seated in one place. I expected this mini-bus to fall apart at any
minute. The last 5 to 8 miles were the worst, on the very road that had been built by
sevadars in the Great Master’s time.
Sitting next to me at the back were Dada Lila Ram and Mr Naidu of Nagpur. We
were unable to converse because the rattling of the vehicle made too much noise.
Maharaj Ji sat with his eyes closed, as relaxed as if he were travelling on a cloud.
Just before this last stretch we stopped at a lovely guesthouse with a most
magnificent view of the mountains. Maharaj Ji showed me around, and said that I would
stay there. I must say I was terribly disappointed at not being able to stay with my Master.
He sensed my mood, and said, “You can look at the primitive place I will be in, and if
you wish you can be with me.”
I said, “Maharaj Ji, even if I sleep on the floor, I prefer to stay with you.”
He replied, “I am warning you – there are no toilets, showers, etc.” I was adamant,
and so the matter was settled.
When we reached our destination I went upstairs with Maharaj Ji to a large room,
with a smaller room next door. Maharaj Ji was to occupy the small room, and Dada Ji, Mr
Naidu and I would sleep in the larger room. Our room contained only three string beds
and no other furniture. In a large room below us was housed all the equipment for the
satsang.
The driver, Damoda, and Santa Singh, our cook, would sleep downstairs.
I was so happy to be in this situation – it was great fun. We had our meals with
Maharaj Ji, sitting on the floor of the balcony surrounding the two rooms. Breakfast was
hot milk and apples. Lunch and dinner was two vegetables and a chapatti. This was our
Master without the frills of society, simple but shining in his love and radiance.
The only connection with the outside world was Maharaj Ji’s little radio that he
played occasionally to listen to the news. But his constant companion was his tape

67
recorder. He loved Kabir’s shabds, and often sat and listened with his eyes closed.
He said he wished I could understand the words, as they were very beautiful, and
could not be adequately translated into English. I said to Maharaj Ji, “The music is so
beautiful and will always remind me of being with you.” He just gently nodded his head.
I then took advantage of the incident, and asked if I could borrow the tape to make a copy
on my recorder. He readily agreed.
When first we arrived I stood on the balcony of our humble abode and gazed out at
the surrounding mountains. Hundreds of villagers were streaming towards the satsang
centre. It was reminiscent of biblical scenes.
Some were leading goats or a cow to supply the sangat with milk. Others had
donkeys carrying supplies for making dal and chapattis. Children were walking with their
parents. The very small were being carried on the fathers’ shoulders. There was a gentle
drizzle and the hills were shrouded in mist.
In a short while they were organizing themselves, setting up a langar and erecting
makeshift covers to give themselves some protection from the elements. In next to no
time the sangat was settled, and the smell of food being prepared wafted all around,
whetting our appetites.
Maharaj Ji had a deep love for this place and its people because of their great love
and seva for the Great Master. His satsangs were never less than two and three-quarter
hours long. During the Great Master’s time the satsangis levelled the whole top of the
mountain where they had built this simple satsang ghar in which we were now housed.
Once the mountaintop was flattened it could accommodate the whole sangat
numbering over 20 000. Great Master used to sit under a huge banyan tree to give
satsang.
Maharaj Ji said that during the Pakistan/Indian war the tree constituted a prime
target, so the Air Force had it cut down. The huge trunk still lay behind the area where
Maharaj Ji now delivered his satsangs.
The first night I lay in bed unable to sleep. It was raining steadily. Children and
babies were crying, and there was constant movement as the people tried to keep warm,
sitting together in little clusters, with fires here and there flickering in the darkness. How
bad I felt sleeping in a warm bed. When I did doze off I had nightmares about this.
The next morning at daybreak the crowd, spirits undampened, were singing shabds,
praising the Lord and waking him up with their love. What a lesson we can learn from
such souls.
Fortunately, by morning the weather had cleared, and the sun soon dried the satsang
ground. After our simple breakfast I followed Maharaj Ji to the langar where he blessed
the food. He stood for a long time, eyes closed. The sevadars were squatting all around
with hands outstretched and palms up – begging for his grace.
Maharaj Ji then climbed to the man-made plateau, up rough-hewn steps cut into the
mountainside. The sangat was sitting and singing shabds. Their voices seemed to swell in
waves of sound, echoing around the surrounding hills. The beauty of their voices was
absolutely fascinating.
Maharaj Ji sat high up on the dais that had also been cut from the mountain. He
looked so beautiful and Lordly, looking down at those thousands of upturned faces. I sat
directly behind the Master and was able to witness this interplay of love.
The satsang lasted for two hours. There was pin-drop silence as this huge crowd

68
listened to every word the Master uttered. No one moved, but now and then someone
would cry out, tears streaming down their face. One lady in particular was trying
desperately not to go in – she kept being pulled up and kept fighting it off. This battle
waged for two hours – the fight to keep Maharaj Ji’s physical form in sight, as against the
pull of the soul inwards.
After a very light meal Maharaj Ji said we would have an early night. I assumed he
wished to be alone – how he needed it. I slept a dreamless sleep, and woke to a voice
saying ‘Bhajan, sahib, bhajan.’ It was the pathi (singer) who had sung the shabd at
satsang. I sat up on my bed – a shawl over my shoulders, and enjoyed my bhajan as only
one can with Maharaj Ji next door.
After a few hours of meditation I was suddenly aware of a rustling sound. The first
light of day was starting to appear. As I opened my eyes I noticed that Maharaj Ji was
walking up and down on the balcony. He was dressed in red pyjamas, a shawl over his
shoulders and his turbanless head covered in a red shawl.
What a way to end one’s meditation – to have Maharaj Ji’s physical form meet your
gaze. It was second only to meeting his Radiant Form within.
I left Maharaj Ji in peace for a while, but eventually I could not resist the temptation
of joining him. “Radha Soami, Maharaj Ji. May I join you?”
“With pleasure,” Maharaj Ji said, “come and walk with me.” I spent the next half an
hour walking and talking with my Master.
The morning was spent in the usual way. Maharaj Ji visited the langar and then gave
the sangat darshan for half an hour. When we returned to our quarters two friends from
Maharaj Ji’s youth were waiting to see him.
They were not satsangis, as one could soon tell by the course of the conversation.
They were there expressly to invite Maharaj ji to lunch on his way back to Dera the next
day.
After gaining Master’s assurance that he would stop for lunch they left.
The following morning I had a bath as usual out in the open. The sevadars had
erected four poles with cloth strung from pole to pole to form a small roofless enclosure.
A bucket of warm water was brought to me. Sitting on a tiny stool I performed my
ablutions, and thoroughly enjoyed the novelty of it all.
Satsang was in the morning that last day, as we had to leave immediately afterwards
to reach Dera by nightfall. As promised by Maharaj Ji, we stopped at his friends’ farm for
lunch. It was truly a beautiful place. The lands were well cultivated, with acres and acres
covered in orange trees. As winter was approaching the golden fruit was ripening on the
trees. Despite the beauty, it was quite a shock to be with these two men who talked and
laughed so loudly. Maharaj Ji joined in in his quiet way. He was there, yet apart.
It was good to leave and be with Maharaj Ji en route to Dera. We arrived at 5.15 pm.
Once at the Dera Master was Master, firm, strong and distant, power pouring from his
eyes.

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 Chapter 10

Sirsa November, December 1968

After our return from Kalu-ki-Bar I was able to settle down to the Dera routine. It began
with meditation from 3 am to 6 am, followed by breakfast at 7 am. After breakfast there
was mitti seva, carrying baskets of sand on the head, and then dumping the load in a
specified area to fill up ravines to reclaim Dera land for building and agricultural
purposes.
Satsang was at 9 am for one and a half hours. Thereafter Maharaj Ji would visit the
Western compound, where he would first give a short darshan and then conduct
interviews until lunchtime at 12.30 pm.
In the late afternoon there was mitti seva again. Maharaj Ji regularly came to the
seva site, and would watch the sevadars for about an hour and a half as they carried the
sand in long lines – almost like an endless trail of busy ants.
For a period of an hour during the early evening before dinner Maharaj Ji gave
satsang to the Westerners, either by explaining the Bible or by having a question-and-
answer session.
About the second week in November Maharaj Ji announced he would be away from
Dera until 12 December. One evening after satsang, he called me to his house. He asked
me to inform Rudi Walberg, the representative from Germany, that he and I could travel
with him to his farm and then on to Rajasthan.
When I gave the message to Rudi he was overjoyed, as was I. He said he had always
had a secret longing to visit the farm, and now Maharaj Ji was fulfilling that dream.
The journey to Sirsa was most leisurely. We stopped at Chandigarh. Rudi and I spent
the night at a satsangi’s house while Maharaj Ji stayed at the satsang ghar. We had dinner
with the Master, and afterwards walked across the road where our host received us.
Early the next morning the Master graciously laid the first brick on the foundation of
his sister’s house, and then stood for a few minutes with eyes closed and blessed some
parshad.
We then drove to Patiala and had tea with the Vice-Chancellor and Professor Puri at
the University of Patiala.
Maharaj Ji's wife joined us at this point on the last leg of our journey to the farm. The
drive was extremely uncomfortable as it was dusty and very hot. After a few hours
Maharaj Ji suggested we stop at the roadside for a rest and a snack. We unloaded our
food, and as the Master’s wife prepared the snack, Maharaj Ji lay on a blanket and was
soon fast asleep.
I looked at the Master. He was hardly breathing, the most beautiful, relaxed
expression on his face. As I gazed at that divine countenance I wondered, Maharaj Ji,
where are you now?
One day I said to the Master, “Maharaj Ji, surely Sant Mat is not just meditation and
following the four principles. There must be something more.”
He replied, looking into my eyes, “Yes, there are things unimaginable. One day all

70
will be revealed to you.”
We drove into the courtyard of the farmhouse in the late afternoon. Maharaj Ji’s
mother, his brother and all the servants were waiting for his darshan. He went straight to
his mother and bowed at her feet, then turned to the rest with hands folded and gazed at
each of them in turn.
I sat in the car for a while, and the memory of my previous uninvited visit came to
mind. The anguish I had experienced in disobeying the Master flooded my very being.
But he, in his graciousness, had brought me here again, all-forgiving.
Rudi and I were both made most welcome, and shared Shoti’s section of the
farmhouse with him. For two days we were constantly with Maharaj Ji. Every morning I
would spend an hour and a half massaging Maharaj Ji in the courtyard. Early morning
walks were followed by late afternoon walks.
We had our meals with the family in their spacious dining room. The food was
always most delicious, and eaten in a wonderful atmosphere. There was continuous
bantering between Chacha Ji and Maharaj Ji. Master explained, “Chacha Ji is like the
court jester. He keeps us all laughing, and laughter is the best means of digesting one’s
food.”
After our few heavenly days on the farm Maharaj Ji was now perfectly relaxed for
his satsang tour to Rajasthan and Gujarat.

Rajasthan - Jaipur
Rajasthan is a poor state, much of it being desert and often afflicted by drought. But in
some ways it is also one of the most attractive, with numerous distinctive assets. Among
these are the marble mines of Makrand, whence came the gleaming pure white stone for
Agra’s Taj Mahal; then there are the forests of Sawai Madhopur, filled with wild animals
including the magnificent tiger; and those incredible beasts of burden, the aloof camel.
Above all there are the artificial lakes, which bring and sustain life, where beautiful
cities now bloom, and without which the area would be nothing but dismal desert.
And the people: women in swirling skirts in the brightest colours of the rainbow,
covered from head to toe in bangles, balancing brass jugs on their heads; and men with
ruby-red and pink turbans like full-blown roses in the desert.
We reached Jaipur, the most renowned of Rajasthan’s cities. It is often referred to as
the ‘Pink City’ because of the delicate flamingo colour with which so many of the most
arresting buildings were painted. We stayed for the afternoon and had lunch in a beautiful
guesthouse overlooking a lake.
Maharaj Ji and I took photos of this lovely building and also of the tranquil stretch of
water. I believe it used to be a hunting lodge of one of the Rajas. It was just outside
Arlwa, where satsang was to be held.
We stayed at the gracious home of friends of Mrs Bharatram. The owners vacated the
house and left the manager to attend to our every need. Rudi and I each had an enormous
bedroom with a marble bathroom. The bath was set up on a stone platform, and it took
three or four steps to climb up into the bath.
Every morning before breakfast we used to join Maharaj Ji on a walk around the
grounds. It was still quite dark as winter was rapidly approaching. The air was filled with
the perfume of Queen of the Night (or Rat-ki-Rani) shrub. To this day when I smell the
perfume of these blooms it brings back those poignant memories. In fact, I managed to

71
cut a slip of this plant and brought it back home. It now grows profusely in my garden.
During our stay we visited the City Palace in the centre of the old town. This had
been built by Maharaj Sawait Jai Singh in 1728. The palace, half of which was still a
private residence, was a treasure trove of royal acquisitions, and was occasionally used
for special events. It was a photographer’s delight.
We also visited Mubarah Mahal, which was a textile and costume museum. The
building itself looked as if it had been made of marble lace. Some of the costumes were
probably the best examples you’ll see of the way Rajput women dressed.
The doors throughout the palace were huge; some were made of brass, and others
were delicately carved in ivory. Passing through a gate flanked by two large white marble
elephants, we came to the Sharbata, a deep pink-coloured court with white patterns.
Here is found the marble-pillared Diwani-i-Khas (Hall of Private Audience).
Connected to its patio is the Diwant-i-Am (Hall of Public Audience); festivals were
celebrated in its large courtyard in the month of March.
There was still so much to see, but Maharaj Ji said he had to return, as he was to see,
as he put it, the gentry. However, he said on the morrow we would go to Amber Palace.
The next day we did visit the Amber Palace, with cameras loaded and spare film to
boot. I believe the Maharajah Man Singh, a contemporary of the Moghul Emperor Akbar,
and one of his most successful generals, began to construct this palace back in the early
17th century. Subsequent rulers added bits and pieces. As it was never threatened, much
less conquered, it has remained largely in its pristine state.
It was quite an experience navigating the hill up to the palace on an elephant. We sat
on a padded box atop the gaily-painted animal. We were tossed around, and it felt as
though the box would slip off at any minute. Although we laughed all the way, we were
glad to reach the top of the hill.
At the entrance to the palace stood two marble pillars topped with elephant heads,
each holding a lotus flower in its trunk.
The Ganesh Pol (Gate), covered with 300-year-old paintings, led into the inner court
with a garden patterned like a Persian rug.
To the east of this inner court stood the Jai Mandir, a glass palace with walls and
ceilings covered with mirrors. Although there was not too much light that day we were
able to take photos with a flash because of the amazing way these mirrors picked up the
light.
It may sound like we were just tourists, but Maharaj Ji was kept extremely busy: he
had satsang in the morning, followed by interviews, money seva, etc. Our excursions
were done in gaps between his schedules, and were never very leisurely.
Rudi had to leave that afternoon as he was booked on a chartered flight and could not
extend his trip. That afternoon Maharaj Ji was making selections for Nam. It was time for
Rudi to go. He dropped on his knees and put his head on Maharaj Ji's lap with tears
streaming from his eyes.
Maharaj Ji patted him on his back and said, “Have a good journey and give your wife
my regards.” Maharaj Ji must have felt his devotion, because at dinner he remarked how
we all have to part at some time or other.
On the last day Maharaj Ji initiated quite a few hundred souls. I had the honour to
serve Master by teaching a group the five holy words.
The Master’s seva in Jaipur was done, and we left for Ajmer by car.

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Ajmer
Here we stayed in a most beautiful place, just like a marble palace, set high on a hill, with
a magnificent view of the whole of Ajmer from all sides of the residence. It is a
picturesque city, set in a valley surrounded by hills, right in the middle of a desert.
Maharaj Ji was so busy during our three days here that the only time I saw him was
at satsang and at meal times, and of course our early morning walks. I would knock at his
door at 5.45 am, and he would come out dressed in his pyjamas and a warm shawl across
his shoulders.
Most of the time he walked silently, deep in reverie – the time too precious for
words. The quieter he was the more I felt his radiance. It was as if he was communing
with his Master, and I was picking up the fragments. Again the fragrance of the Rat-ki-
Rani permeated my very being and impregnated my subconscious, ready as a reminder in
times of need when Kal was trying to destroy the fortress of my faith.

Mount Abu
The train to Sidhpur was an overnight journey. Maharaj Ji and I, as on numerous other
occasions, were sharing a coupé. He seemed to leave the stress and strain of the previous
three days behind, and was in a relaxed and communicative mood.
In the course of conversation he said the train would stop at Mount Abu for a short
while early the next morning. He suggested I take my camera and visit a special temple to
take photos of all the magnificent marble carvings. I was not in the least bit interested,
and said I would rather be with him. He insisted very strongly and so the matter was
settled.
I considered it an order, and I certainly had no intentions of disobeying the Master as
I had done once before.
I was up bright and early for my adventure, but with a little trepidation in facing the
unknown, as I had never really travelled in India on my own. Before reaching Mount Abu
Maharaj Ji produced a flask of piping hot coffee and a few delicacies to fortify my inner
being.
At 7 am on the dot the train pulled up at Mount Abu. I stepped on to the platform
with my camera slung over my shoulder, and as the train moved off a few minutes later I
waved to Maharaj Ji until he was out of sight. The next train to Sidhpur was at 4 pm, so I
had ample time to complete my photographic mission.
The colourful city of Mount Abu in southern Rajasthan was both a charming hill
resort and an important place of pilgrimage for the Jains who came to visit the beautiful
Dilwara Temples. Celebrated as a Jain religious site since the 11th century, Mount Abu
was earlier important as a Hindu centre for Shiva worshippers. The many centuries-old
archaeological treasures found there remained relatively unknown to Westerners, who
rarely visited.
Situated on a plateau 4,000 ft above sea level, the 25 sq mile resort has a terrific
climate. When the plains sizzle, the local temperature rarely goes above 85 degrees F. In
winter it reaches a high of 75 degrees and a low of 55 degrees. Even the rainy season,
June to September, is relatively light. In summer whole families make their way to Mount
Abu by train, bus or car for a breath of fresh air.
My idea was to visit the Dilwara Temples. I hired a taxi for the day for a token price,

73
the driver at my beck and call. When we reached the top of Mount Abu and stopped at the
temple I was informed that I had to remove all leather goods from my person, including
my camera case.
The guard informed me that there was a special religious ceremony taking place and
that I should return at 1.30 pm. I then said to my guide, take me where you will, but we
must be back by that time.
We drove through the city where the colourful shops were bursting with all sorts of
carvings and clothing. My guide said before taking me back to Dilwara Temples he
would show me an interesting place, leaving time enough for lunch.
After a few miles we came to the end of the plateau. Here was Guru Shikhar, the
highest point in Rajasthan, at 5,653 ft. On top is Ari Temple where one could enjoy the
wonderful panorama below.
Off the main road there are 700 stone steps gently descending through the lush valley
to Goumukh Temple, where a small stream flows through the mouth of a marble cow and
gives the temple its name. According to ancient legend the pool here, Agni Kund, marks
the spot where the sage Vashista ignited the fire that created the four Rajput clans.
On this site is a stone figure of Vashista, with Rama and Krishna on either side.
Before we climbed up the stairs a monk asked me to sign the guest book.
I had an irresistible pull to return to the Dilwara Temple, and after my guide and I
had lunch we presented ourselves promptly at 1.30 pm. I duly left all my leather goods
with him and entered.
Outwardly it was very plain, but what met my gaze within was mind-boggling. I had
been to the Taj Mahal, but to me the beauty of these carvings was far greater. This was
older by some six centuries, built in 1031 by Vimal, a minister under an early Gujarat
ruler, Bhim Deva.
It is one of the earliest Jain temples in India, and is made of pure white marble,
which so belies its austere exterior, and extravagantly sculptured inside, with its deities
and dancing figures and fantastic lace-like designs.
In a hall outside the temple, images of Vimal and his family ride marble elephants in
a procession to the handsomely carved domed portico. Inside the temple, within his little
shrine, the smooth bronze statue of Adinath sits cross-legged, adorned with jewels and
gazing out at passing pilgrims.
The elaborately carved dome is supported by richly carved pillars. More carved
pillars – 48 free-standing in all – lead to the temple courtyard enclosed by a wall with 52
little cells, each a house for a seated image of a Jain saint.
I was like a jack-in-the-box bending and twisting taking photo after photo. At times I
would lie on my back to get a better picture of the carved domed ceiling. These carvings
were intricate and delicately worked from marble. They were interlaced, one within the
other, all telling stories of the past.
Eventually I came to a large cell, barred by a big iron gate with a large padlock
preventing entry. I gazed into the dimly lit room and saw a huge black figure sitting
cross-legged on a plinth. I said to my companion that I would like to go within to see this
figure close-up. He explained that only the religious leaders were allowed to enter.
I insisted, and against his better judgement, he went to enquire if I could enter this
shrine. To my amazement he returned with the key.
I went in alone and stood before this magnificent piece of work. Suddenly I felt a

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strange sensation creeping over me. I had an irresistible urge to do puja (worship).
There was a small vessel of yellow paste on the pedestal; I reached forward and
rubbed this on my forehead. I then turned to enter an adjoining room. I just knew I would
find numerous small figures sitting cross-legged on a ledge with one of them broken –
and so it was!
When I went back into the main chamber this feeling left me – I was normal again.
Although I was forbidden to take a photo I did, but needless to say that particular one was
spoilt. So ended a very strange experience. Did Maharaj Ji want me to go to that temple
for that experience, or did he just want me to go as a tourist?
I was back in time to catch the 4 pm train and, thanking my taxi-wallah with a tip, I
was on my way back to be with my Master.
When I reached Sidhpur and sat with Maharaj Ji after dinner, I told him about my
experience. He said it was to do with my sanskaras (previous impressions) and was a
little less to worry about.
Maharaj Ji was in Sidhpur for only two days. He gave two satsangs and then an
initiation. At the pre-initiation selection Maharaj Ji refused only one applicant, a swami
dressed in ochre robes. Maharaj Ji told him to become self-supporting and if he did want
Nam to return at some future time.
When we reached Ahmedabad Maharaj Ji was not too well. He had a very sore throat
and a nasty little cough. We were staying at a lovely home in one of the suburbs. Our
hostess offered to call a lady doctor living next door to attend to Maharaj Ji.
The doctor came and prescribed a few tablets that Maharaj Ji was to take morning
and night. Maharaj Ji said, “Give the pills to Sam, he can be my doctor tonight.” That
evening after dinner I went to Maharaj Ji’s room to administer his medicine.
It was quite a large tablet, and Maharaj ji consented to take half. I placed the tablet
on his tongue, and with a mouthful of water, he grimaced and struggled to swallow it. He
said he hated taking medicine, but sometimes he has to keep the doctors happy!
Before I left the room I said, “Maharaj Ji, I am going to pray to the Master to make
the Master better.” He laughed heartily and replied, “Let's see what the Lord wills.”
The next morning he said, “Your prayer has worked. I am better and need no more
medicine.” And indeed he was well. So much so that he said we would go on a sight-
seeing tour before satsang.
Ahmedabad is like any other large Indian city. The belligerent swerving auto-
rickshaws made it almost impossible to cross the road. Ashram Road, one of the main
thoroughfares, with its hotels, shops and cinemas, was a delight to visit. It has a densely
populated industrial section of town, as it is the great textile and commercial city of
western India. Omnipresent is the Sarbarmati River with its four bridges that connect the
old city with the new.
We also visited Sidi Saiyad Mosque which is one of the finest examples of sandstone
building. Then on to the shaking minarets of Rajpur Bibis Mosque at Kulipar. Maharaj Ji
said, “You climb to the top with the guide.”
When I reached the top of the minaret the guide told me to place my shoulder against
the inner wall and push. As I did this the whole tower started to shake as if it was a huge
spring. It was quite frightening. Even when I stopped pushing the tower kept shaking for
a while.
The guide pointed to the adjoining minaret that had the top part missing. He

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explained that many years ago, when the British ruled the country, they cut away the top
to find the secret of the minarets' pliability, but were unable to unravel the mystery of its
construction.
Our next visit was to Mahatma Gandhi’s ashram. Maharaj Ji thought this would be of
interest to me as Gandhi Ji had lived in South Africa. I was naturally very excited at the
idea. Mahatma Gandhi’s Sarbamati Ashram was a set of austere yet beautiful buildings
nestling amidst mango trees. It was here that Gandhi experimented in non-violent
methods of political struggle. The museum, added later, was stunningly beautiful and
simple. It was designed by Charles Correa, a well-known Indian architect, and was a
fitting tribute to the great man.
On display were such items as Gandhi’s spectacles, sandals, spinning wheel,
photographs and some cloth spun by him as swadeshi (self-suffering). An adjoining room
displayed some of Gandhi’s meagre possessions: his dhoti, bed sheet, some beautifully
inscribed bamboo tributes to him, and copies of letters and cards from all over the world.
Maharaj Ji explained to me that Gandhi Ashram was the starting point of the historic
march to the sea (to be known thereafter as the Salt March) by Gandhi and 78 followers,
which ended on Dandi Beach. The march began on 2 March 1930 and ended four days
later.
When Gandhi reached the sea he bent down and picked up a pinch of salt. He was
arrested a month later for breaking the law – as salt was monopolised by the British!
During that month his example was followed by hundreds of thousands. More than
60,000 people were arrested.
Our last day in Ahmedabad was set aside for initiation. That morning Maharaj Ji and
I were having a leisurely breakfast on the patio. Near the end of the property, which was
quite extensive, a large tent was being erected. This was a custom in India for weddings
or large gatherings.
I said to Maharaj Ji, “It looks as if there is going to be a marriage here. It is a pity we
will miss it.”
Maharaj Ji answered, “You will not miss it. The marriage will be taking place this
afternoon with all the souls I will be initiating.”
How beautifully Maharaj Ji explained initiation, as the marriage of the soul to the
Shabd. This marriage, unlike the worldly one that is so false and fickle, is permanent.
Mirabai describes it in her unique way:

Thou art blessed, 0 soul, thou’rt now married,

But why so long a maid’s life didst thou lead?
Until now I met not the Master kind;
Who else for me, 0 friend, a match could find?
The very moment my Master I met,
He found the Groom and the wedding was set.

At an hour auspicious and benign,

He fixed my nuptials with the Groom Divine.
The wedding spire he built beyond the sky,
Its beauty and sparkle no jewels could vie.
My hand in that of the Groom did he place,

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 Thus I was wedded through my Master's grace.

The months of being constantly in the company of my Master were coming to an

end. Every treasured moment was indelibly imprinted on my very soul.
Maharaj Ji was to go to Delhi for a few days, and I was off to meet my family in
Bombay. They were arriving with a group of satsangis from South Africa. Maharaj Ji was
to visit Bombay on 1 December for satsang and initiation, as he does every year.
The programme in Bombay is very hectic, and I sincerely hoped he could have a few
days’ rest in Delhi beforehand.
I duly met the group at the airport. My wife, two daughters and I would be staying
with Gurpiare, Mr Ramnath Mehta's daughter, at her lovely home, together with Maharaj
Ji when he arrived. The rest of the group would be put up at the Bombay sangat
apartments.
During our four to five day stay my family had the good fortune to share the
breakfast table with Maharaj Ji, and sometimes dinner, if he was spared from his
extremely busy schedule.
One evening we enjoyed a rare experience. Gurpiare had asked Suda, a very famous
Indian singer, whose voice was dubbed in many Indian films, to sing for Maharaj Ji. After
dinner she sat on the floor at Maharaj Ji’s feet, and in her beautiful voice sang shabds
from various saints, especially from Mirabai.
Although she was not a satsangi, her shabds were mostly relating to the devotee
pleading for the Guru’s grace. Without exception her rendering of these songs was so
exquisite that, although I could not understand the language, they tore at my heartstrings,
especially as I was so soon to be parted from my beloved Master, and not knowing when
I would have the grace to be with him once more.
During this whole rendering by Suda, Maharaj Ji sat with his eyes closed, and after
each song said, “Beautiful, beautiful.” At the end of the evening Suda sat right at the feet
of the Master and said, “Thank you for allowing me to sing for you. I have one request.
Won’t you please grant me a child?”
Maharaj Ji looked down at Suda, and after thanking her, just nodded his head a few
times. I believe a year or so later she gave birth to a son.
This brings to mind a few interesting events which took place in Bombay during
visits en route to Dera.
It was 12 December, Maharaj Ji’s birthday. A special dinner was arranged for him
that evening by Mr Mulchandani, a prominent businessman. I was one of the privileged
guests on that memorable day. After dinner our host announced there was a birthday cake
for Maharaj Ji. He was asked to cut the cake and make a speech.
Maharaj Ji cut the knife through the cake, and then called me and said, “Sam, you
can cut the cake and make the speech.”
As I went up to the cake I noticed that it was bedecked with sugared red and yellow
roses. As both my daughters were to be married in the next few months, I wondered if I
could unobtrusively take the flowers, so that I could use them as decorations for the two
wedding cakes, and of course they would be parshad. And indeed, while cutting the cake
into slices for the guests I was able to slip the roses into my pocket.
As far as the speech was concerned, I managed to blurt out a few sentences in praise
of our Master, which seemed to please the guests.

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 It was a rare and lovely evening, as the Master usually has little regard for birthdays.
He always said that every day is a birthday. I managed to get the roses home undamaged
so my daughters had parshad wedding cakes.
On another occasion while staying with Maharaj Ji at Gurpiare’s home, the Master
was asked if he would like to see the movie called ‘The Greatest Story Ever Told’. It was
about the life of Jesus Christ. It was to be arranged by a satsangi whose husband, a non-
satsangi, owned a movie theatre.
Unfortunately, the film had come off the circuit the previous week. On hearing that it
was for the Master, the owner closed the theatre on a Saturday afternoon, and arranged
for the film to be shown to Maharaj Ji and whomsoever he wished to invite.
I sat next to the Master, and during the film Maharaj Ji was constantly passing
remarks. He would say, that is not true or that is exactly what happened. It reminded me
so much of the evening satsangs at the Dera when Maharaj Ji interpreted the Bible. Being
all-knowing, he sifted the wheat from the chaff.
The film was very long, so about midway our generous host served us with hot tea
and snacks. During that interesting and memorable afternoon I learned a great deal about
the teachings of Jesus.
After the Bombay satsangs we were allowed to go to the airport, as Maharaj Ji was
leaving for Sirsa for a few days before returning to the Dera for the December period.
I managed to draw Maharaj Ji aside from all his devotees, and asked him if he would
initiate my two daughters. He said they were a bit young, but nevertheless he would
initiate them sometime in December. I was overjoyed at this, and could not wait to
convey the news to them.
Maharaj Ji kept his promise, and they were initiated together with a few others,
including a few erstwhile hippies. How happy I was to be present at such an event.
At last it was time to leave Master. Nothing in this world is permanent. The
memories of the previous four months securely embedded in my heart will be the catalyst
to find that beautiful form within.
The parting from his physical form is painful indeed. I can only express my feeling
of impending separation through one of Kabir's poems:

One who has suffered the misery

Of separation from Thee, 0 Lord,
Alone will know the ache of my heart.
The uninjured can never know the pain
The wounded have to endure.
With whom shall I speak of my anguish?
Who can share it with me, 0 Kabir?
I hold my tears within my heart,
In silence I hear my agony,
For the one parted from Thee
Alone knows the pain of my heart.

January 1969
A few weeks after my two daughters were initiated, Colleen the younger one, was to meet
her friend in Hong Kong. From there they were going on to the U.S.A. I decided to escort

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her as far as Hong Kong, and took my elder daughter Carol with me. We were guests of
Mr and Mrs Moss at the Hilton Hotel, and thoroughly enjoyed the experience.
On our return to Delhi we were met by my wife who informed us that Maharaj Ji was
going on a short satsang tour of Saharanpur and Dehra Dun. What a wonderful surprise,
as Carol and I, instead of returning home were invited together with my wife Lesley to
accompany Maharaj Ji. When we left Dera at the end of December, never in our wildest
dreams did we think that we would see Maharaj Ji again at that time, let alone travel with
him on tour.
This was a very leisurely trip. The weather was bracing but not unbearably cold,
although it was winter.
We stopped two or three times alongside the man-made canals for refreshments.
Maharaj Ji seemed very intrigued by Carol’s long blonde hair and her face. He took many
photographs of her. As I had my camera with me, I was able to take photos of Maharaj Ji
while he was busy photographing Carol!
We spent the first night at a guesthouse in Saharanpur. Maharaj Ji’s cook soon had a
fire blazing in a large fireplace. By the time the cook had prepared our dinner we were
warm and relaxed, basking in Maharaj Ji’s gracious company, and enjoying his relaxed
and jocular mood.
We continued our journey in the same fashion, stopping for food, appreciating the
scenery, stretching our legs on short walks with Maharaj Ji, our cameras ever at our sides.
Dehra Dun was beautiful, situated in the picturesque Doon valley in the foothills of
the Siwalik range. The Himalayas loomed large in the northern background, the Ganges
and Jamuna rivers encircling the city to the east and west. Legend has it that this gateway
to the hill station of Mussoorie was once the abode of Sive Dronacharya, the Guru of the
Pandavas and Kauravas in the epic story the Mahabharata.
We spent two days in this very restful place. Although Maharaj Ji gave two lengthy
satsangs and afforded time to satsangis and seekers, we were with him a great deal, as we
stayed together in a very adequate Government guest house.
In fact, on the last afternoon Maharaj Ji suggested that we take a drive to a well-
known picnic spot called Shahastra Dhara. There were a few places of interest for tourists
and photographers. I had a quick dip in the warm sulphur spring that was said to have
great medicinal value.
Early the next morning we started out on our return journey. Maharaj Ji was so
relaxed and in such good humour that we spent most of our time in fits of laughter.
We approached Rishikesh, so familiar to me as the seat of the Shivananda Ashram
where Maharaj Ji had sent me some years before. I mentioned this to the Master, at which
he stopped the car and asked me if I would like to pay my respects to Swami
Shivananda’s successor, as the Swami had died shortly after my visit.
I ran down the side of the mountain to the main building and hospital, and enquired
after Swami Chidananda as he was known, and was told, strangely enough, that he was
visiting South Africa at the time.
When we reached Hardwar we decided to visit the ghats or bathing areas on the
river. The main ghat – Har Ki Pairi Ghat, meaning the foot of the Lord – was a splash of
colour, with saffron-robed sadhus and gaily dressed devotees wandering in and out of the
ghats and temples.
Maharaj Ji and I went onto a wooden platform over the Ganges River to take photos

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of the rituals taking place as people bathed in the river, which is considered the holiest in
Hinduism. In fact, Hardwar is one of the seven places where it is said maximum spiritual
merit may be acquired by pilgrims.
While we were busy with our cameras I looked up at a signboard above our heads. It
read No Photography Allowed, and we quickly closed our cameras as we did not wish to
cause any problems with the priestly class.
Maharaj Ji suddenly went down on one knee and ran his hand through the water. He
looked up at me and said, “Come, Sam, wash your hands in the ‘holy’ water so that you
won’t have to have another birth.”
I laughed and said, “Maharaj Ji, we are supposed to bathe in the water, as those other
people are doing.”
Maharaj Ji said, “It is not necessary. Your hand is part of your arm, your arm is part
of your body, so why put your whole body in the water?”
I then bent down and placed my hand in the water.
This strange episode reminded me of the time I was in Rajasthan with Maharaj Ji.
We had driven through Pushkar after leaving Ajmer, when Maharaj Ji said to me, “It is
said that if you drive through Pushkar you will not have another birth.” Was the Master
telling me something? At the time he was laughing, and so was I. Perhaps he was
pointing out the futility of these rituals.
We reached Delhi late at night, Maharaj Ji to return to the Dera, and Carol and I to
leave on the morrow for home, filled with his grace and carrying with us our precious
memories.

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 Chapter 11

Kotgarh

In 1968 Maharaj Ji decided to visit Kotgarh for the second time. I was at the Dera at the
time and Maharaj Ji graciously permitted me to accompany him. He warned me that
Kotgarh was nine thousand feet above sea level and would probably have early snow, so I
should come prepared for the cold weather. In October the Dera is still in the grip of
summer temperatures, so the change would be drastic.
This was to be the most memorable experience for me, to be with these Indian hill
people – so simple, so loving, despite their background of rituals and ceremonies.
As a rule Maharaj Ji did not inform the rank and file of his tour plans, but somehow
the word always got around that he was to leave the Dera. We departed in the early hours
of the morning, and despite no announcements being made, as usual the streets were
thronged with satsangis standing with hands folded, hoping to catch a glimpse of their
Bveloved as he drove off.
Our first stop en route was Chandigarh. I had been to this capital city of Punjab on a
previous satsang tour with Maharaj Ji. During that visit I was with my wife Lesley. We
had dinner with Maharaj Ji and a few of his relatives. After dinner a most intelligent and
delightful little boy sat between us with a large photo-album. He said he wished to show
us photographs of Maharaj Ji and his family. He excitedly pointed out each person, told
us their name, and what relation they were to him. If he was in the photo, he would say,
“This is I.”
We later learned that he was the son of one of Maharaj Ji’s sisters. His name was
Gurinder Singh Dhillon.
On another occasion, I was a guest of Maharaj’s Ji’s at his farm at Sirsa. It was early
December, so I decided to bring a few toys from South Africa for Maharaj Ji’s children.
Among the gifts were a few model aeroplanes that were powered by a strong elastic band.
Maharaj Ji’s nephew, Gurinder, was also present.
We all decided to climb to the topmost point of the farmhouse, where I showed them
how to launch these little planes. As the planes soared around the courtyard there was
much excitement. Each child wanted a turn to try to launch their own plane. With their
inexperienced little hands, inevitably some of them crashed and fell to pieces, but
nevertheless they all enjoyed the game.
Yes, you can guess. That little boy is now our beloved Satguru.
Chandigarh is not India’s past. It is the present and the future. It has no ancient
temples or aged monuments; nor does it have an historic tradition embellished with
legends. It is a uniquely modern city dating from only 1947.
With Partition of India in 1947, Lahore, then the capital of Punjab, became part of
Pakitan. The search for a new capital began, and it was decided that building a new city
would be cheaper than remodelling an old one. Le Corbusier, the famous French
architect, and his cousin, Pierre Jeanneret, were entrusted with the job of planning the
new city.
They created, from a desert land, a city eccentric in places but which is nevertheless

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considered a model of modern town-planning and an architect’s vision of the future.
During Master’s tour I had the opportunity of visiting a few very interesting places.
The first was the Government Buildings – probably the most architecturally striking of
such buildings in India. We were allowed to go through the Secretariat and Assembly.
From the top of the Secretariat one could see the whole of Chandigarh mapped out.
Then I saw the Rock Gardens, which is far more of an intriguing concrete maze than
a garden. I also had the pleasure of walking in a rose garden stretching over 30 acres,
believed to be the biggest in Asia, known as the Zakir Rose Garden. It was indeed a
wonderful sight, as the myriad coloured flowers were all in full bloom, and the air was
heavy with their fragrance.
After a short breakfast at the satsang ghar we were on our way. Maharaj Ji warned
me that the road up to Simla was extremely tortuous, winding through mountains with
hardly a straight stretch, and he said he hoped I would not get nauseous. I smiled and
said, “Maharaj Ji, I have travelled by sea and by plane and I have never been ill.” Famous
last words!
As we were nearing the foothills, we noticed a long table standing in the middle of
the road just ahead of us. As we got closer we realized that people were standing there
waiting for Maharaj Ji. Our car stopped for these satsangis hoping to have Maharaj Ji’s
darshan. Maharaj Ji graciously sat on a chair next to the table, and in no time a few
hundred satsangis had gathered in front of him, squatting on their haunches with hands
folded in supplication. A few stragglers could be seen running down the mountain,
hoping to have a glimpse of their beloved Guru.
After 10 – 15 minutes Master rose, blessed the parshad, and off we went again. This
incident occurred a few more times on our journey to Simla. Such is the ‘bush telegraph’
of these devotees.
As we started to climb higher, the car twisting and turning around innumerable
bends, I began to feel nauseous. Maharaj Ji remarked that I didn’t look well and
suggested I lie back, close my eyes and forget about the magnificent, ever-changing
scenery that presented itself at every turn.
It seemed an eternity in my condition, but eventually we reached Simla, stopping at
the house of Madan Gopal Singh and his wife Bala. Both were waiting expectantly at the
door for the Master.
Madan Gopal Singh was the Inspector General of Police of Himachal Pradesh state,
and later, when he retired, he became Hazur Maharaj Ji’s security guard as well as –
much later – Maharaj Gurinder Singh Ji’s. Bala, his wife, is the sister of our much-loved
Dev Prakash, who used to look after the International Guest House at Dera and is now
also retired.
Maharaj Ji said, with a twinkle in his eyes, “Sam is not well after the journey, let him
go to his room and rest.”
Which I duly did. After a rest and a shower, I felt much better. I came down to the
living room, where our hosts were waiting for Maharaj Ji, who had not as yet put in an
appearance. I sat down on a lovely comfortable chair to relax. As I did this there was an
uncomfortable silence from our host and hostess. Sensing that somethig was wrong, I
said, “Why are you both suddenly so quiet?”
Madan said, “Sam, you are sitting in Maharaj Ji’s chair.”
I quickly stood up and chose another chair nearby. With this Maharaj Ji appeared and

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sat on his special chair, which made them very happy!
The next morning, our host, fondly known as IG Sahib, took us on a tour of Simla.
Simla used to be the British summer capital before Partition. It still retains its fascinating
late-Victorian, colonial, mock-Tudor and Gothic styles. We went shopping at the Simla
Mall. It looks very English, with names to match.
From Simla we had to travel to Kotgarh by jeep as it was snowing, and besides the
road was very narrow and most dangerous. It was only 60 miles to the point nearest to
Kotgarh, but because of the hazardous conditions we allowed half a day to reach our
destination.
When we arrived at the end of the road a group of satsangis was waiting for us. They
informed us that we had to walk the rest of the way down the mountain, about 2 miles, to
the village in the valley. Fortunately, as luck would have it, the weather had partially
cleared and the sun was peeping through the clouds on the western horizon.
The headman, a schoolmaster known as Master Ji, pointed down the narrow path
leading to the village. From beginning to end it had been covered in sawdust. The
sevadars had gathered dozens of bags of sawdust and had strewn it on the slippery path,
so that Master could walk the distance sure-footed.
Master Ji led the way, Maharaj Ji behind him. I was directly behind Maharaj Ji. The
rest of our party followed, carrying our luggage. What happened during the next hour or
two will live with me forever.

We are told the soul has the faculties of Nirat and Surat – the ability to see the light
within and to hear the holy Shabd. Well, my conscious mind had the experience of seeing
and hearing some wonderful things which were indelibly imprinted on my subconscious
and will never be forgotten.
As we were nearing our destination the sun was beginning to go down. The sunset in
itself was magnificent, but that was not it. Maharaj Ji was entirely bathed in light, his
beard tinted red by the declining rays. Our Beloved was truly the Lord of Light. It seemed
that he, and nobody else, was in the light. Perhaps it was because my gaze was so riveted
on my Master that I saw nothing else.
As this phenomenon was fading, I heard the sound of singing. It seemed like a
chorus of angels from the heavens above. The voices echoed across the mountains,
growing to a crescendo as we approached our destination – the house of Master Ji, which
was to be our abode for the next three days.
By this time darkness was falling fast. Standing at the doorway of the house were the
ladies of Kotgarh, each with a flickering flare in hand. It was their voices we had heard
further up the valley, singing shabds to welcome their Master. At last Maharaj Ji stood
among them, listening, his head to the side.
This ‘play’ of Master with his beloveds was enrapturing. He seemed to be still for a
long time. Suddenly he walked into the house, climbed the stairs and went out on to the
balcony, facing the throng. There he was, looking down at the upturned faces, their love
and devotion etched by the light of the torches, their voices pleading in beautiful
harmony.
Maharaj Ji, with hands folded, obviously overcome, said, almost in a whisper, “This
is love”, turned on his heel and went back into the house.

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 At dinner that evening Master Ji outlined Maharaj Ji’s programme. There would be a
satsang each day, the last one being at noon so that we would have time to walk back up
the mountain, where our jeep would be waiting. The day before our departure Maharaj Ji
would give initiation.
During my many visits to the Dera I have witnessed those few lucky souls sitting at
Master’s feet, and in his very presence and darshan, going within. Some of them fall over,
their bodies twitching but seemingly very happy. Others withdraw as in meditation, their
bodies going numb and rigid, thoroughly lost in their love for their beloved Master.
They are just left alone until they come back naturally to a conscious state.
In Kotgarh I witnessed this happening, not in isolated cases but frequently. These
simple village people were so pure-minded that intellect did not interfere negatively.
For the first morning’s satsang I left the house with Maharaj Ji, walking behind him.
Dozens of satsangis and seekers were lining the way to the dais. As the Master was
passing through them, many fell unconscious as if pole-axed. How we so-called civilized
disciples struggle year after year with our minds – minds seething with desires.
Jesus says somewhere in the Bible that we must be as little children before entering
the kingdom of Heaven. Such were the people of Kotgarh – simple, loving and trusting.
Each day was the same. In fact, after Maharaj Ji’s second satsang the grounds looked
like a battlefield – so many people lying on their backs completely oblivious to whatever
was going on around them. I have never witnessed such a sight before or since.

As long as I had intellect

How could I gain strength?
Now the power of intellect
Cannot prevail over me.
Says Kabir: The Lord
Has deprived me of my intellect,
He has transformed it
Into realization.

In Philosophy of the Masters the Great Master writes:

There is a vast difference between intellect and heart. It is as great as the distance
between the earth and the heavens. Intellect is the cause of one’s attention being
scattered out into the world; but love removes us from this completely, by the
concentration of attention.
Intellect goads you to achieve a high status in this world and to become a leader
of your country or creed; but love says, ‘Sit in a lonely comer and be happy in the
remembrance of the Lord of all regions’.
The human intellect goads us to remain in comfort and to pamper ourselves; but
love says, ‘Sacrifice your head and your dear life to your Beloved’.

Hazur Maharaj Ji, however, did say that if one can use the intellect to understand the
path fully then put total attention to meditation and devotion, one can make great strides

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on the path, with full control of the emotions, and direct love solely and utterly to the
Master.
The day before we were to leave, Maharaj Ji was to give initiation. After breakfast
Maharaj said to Master Ji, “Where are we going to have initiation?” Master Ji replied, “In
Sach Khand,Maharaj Ji.”
Master asked, “What do you mean in Sach Khand?”
Master Ji pointed to a trap door in the ceiling and said, “We call the loft Sach Khand,
because it is ‘uppar’. That is where we usually have our satsangs.”
Master laughed heartily at this description, and then asked how many people could
be accommodated ‘uppar.’
Master Ji said, “About 80 or 90.”
Maharaj Ji replied, “That will not be nearly big enough – what are our options?”
Master Ji suggested he would empty the schoolroom. Maharaj Ji inspected the large
room and said it would have to do as there was no larger venue.
Hours before the initiation was due to start long lines of seekers were queuing,
hoping and praying that the Master would accept them for the priceless gift of Nam.
Just as Maharaj Ji took his seat near the door of the schoolroom three tiny figures
were seen coming down the mountain towards us.
I was sitting next to the Master on the floor. As they got nearer we could see they
were women. Each carried a small pack on their backs on a stick, which we later found
out were clothes wrapped around the remnants of food they carried to sustain themselves.
They had walked from a small village on the Tibetan border about 65 miles away.
Somehow they had heard of a holy man coming to Kotgarh.
They were given some warm food and had a short rest. They wished to ask the
Master for initiation, and were duly placed in the queue with those waiting to be
interviewed by him.
At last the Master was ready to start the selection of candidates for initiation. As each
person stood before him the Master asked a question while at the same time scrutinising
their forehead, deciding if they were ready for initiation.
As it happened, Maharaj Ji accepted all the applicants including the three weary, but
happy, travellers.
After everyone had been seated – over 210 in number – Maharaj Ji peeped in and
said to Master Ji, “Where am I going to sit? Every inch of space is taken.” With much
shuffling and pushing a small space was made for Maharaj Ji. Master Ji and I had to sit
outside.
It was an initiation to be remembered. Maharaj Ji was constantly interrupted by loud
sobs – sobs of sheer happiness as the realization of this stirring moment prevailed. I had
the great good fortune to be given the seva of helping a small group to learn the five holy
words.

These five holy words are called Simran. Simran is a Sanskrit word and has several
meanings:

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 To protect, to make a mental picture of one’s deity in the heart, and to contemplate
on this form; to remember a certain person, or thing, to such an extent as to think about it
with every breath; to make it a part and parcel of one’s life, and ultimately to awake into,
and to live in it.
The repetition of any name or names of God is called Simran. There are five huge
regions between the eye focus and the top of the head. These five regions are so vast that,
in comparison, our physical universe would seem like a hair floating in an ocean. Each
one of these regions has its own ruler or Lord. The ruler of the fifth and the highest
region, Sat Purush, is the Supreme Lord.
These five words or names have been given from Satguru to disciple since the
beginning of our age. Through the repetition of the five holy names an extraordinary
current of consciousness enters the body. It is stated in the Sikh scriptures that whoever
considers the holy names as mere words or regards Guru as a mere man and not as God
incarnate, goes straight to hell.
Repetition should be done with one-pointed attention, and in due course a stage is
reached w8hen repetition ceases and the Form of the Master manifests itself. This is the
culmination of Simran. Guru Arjun has eulogised the state of Simran thus:

Within our hearts we contemplate the Master,

on our tongue is His Holy Name, in our eyes radiates his Form,
in our ears resounds the Divine Melody.
We remain completely engrossed in His remembrance.
We become merged in the state of ceaselessly dwelling upon Him.
Our mind and intellect, their very fabric are completely coloured
with the dye of His constant remembrance.
It is such persons who gain honour and glory in the court of the Lord,
and thus fulfil the great destiny of human life.
A person should pine for his Master as does the rain-bird for a drop of rain.
He should repeat his Name with every breath and should think of his Form
day and night. In short, he should not forget him for a second.
The truly great in the world are those who have in their hearts
naught else save the recollection of the Lord.

As the Great Master explains in Philosophy of the Masters, if we contemplate the

plight of man, he has been extroverted, observing outside objects through his sense
organs.
Three sense organs are chiefly responsible for drawing our attention, namely, the
tongue, the eyes and the ears. With our tongue we talk to people. With it we repeat our
thoughts and ideas. In this manner myriad impressions enter our mind and intellect.

With our eyes we see all the objects around us and that we are associated with. These
forms are imprinted on our mind. With our ears we listen to the voices of the world, and
by listening to them constantly become attached to them.

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 Our eyes are responsible for 83% of the impressions imprinted on our mind, our ears
for 14 %, and the remaining 3% are formed by the other sense organs of the body put
together.
If our attention ceases to go out and we thus stop the entry of impressions from
outside, we can, with an inward gaze, realize the Truth. It is for this reason that saints
always impress upon us to shut our eyes and our ears while doing repetition or listening
to the Shabd.
This method can be performed by a child, a young or an old person. In practising
these methods no difficulties are encountered.
Moreover, they do not adversely affect our health. In fact, through regular practice of
meditation the mind becomes strong and one is able to bear one’s karmas with
equanimity and love for the Guru. It is said that meditation is the cure for all ills. Kabir
says:

Simran should be like the thoughts of a passionate lover, who does not forget his
Beloved even for a moment.
Simran should have the same attention as that of a woman carrying a pitcher of
water on her head. She talks, she walks on uneven ground, but her attention is
focused on the pitcher.
Simran should be like a cow that is grazing, but has her attention fixed on her
calf.
Simran should be like a miser who has a coin in his pocket, and keeps his
attention on it all the time.

Only by practising in this manner is one able to achieve results. Again Kabir aptly
describes the prerequisites for Simran:

Mind should be still, body should be motionless, tongue should be quiet, and surat
(hearing power) and nirat (seeing power) should act in unison and attain
equanimity. Such a state even for a moment is infinitely superior to a million years of
outer worship.

Certainly in the early stages considerable effort has to be made to carry out Simran,
but as practice is gained Simran goes on automatically. In time varied phenomena of the
spiritual planes come into view, and also the radiant form of the Master. Even God’s
presence is felt to be very close.
Some useful hints the Master gives us should be observed by all. If one is not happy
with one’s Simran it is good to analyze any lapses that one might have and to correct
them with love and determination, leaving the results to Master.

Hafiz says:

Your daily duty is to pray before the Lord.

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 This is your real work.
Never ponder whether or not your prayer
(Simran) has been heard in the court of the Lord.
That is his prerogative.

It is good to observe the following guidelines, and as Hafiz says, leave the results to
him.
In the beginning, or if Simran is not satisfactory, the Names given by the Master
should be whispered or uttered semi-audibly. When the Simran is sufficiently advanced,
then the Simran should be done with the mind only. But one must do it with love and
faith. Care should be taken not to put any pressure on the forehead or the eyes. The
attention should always be fixed between the centre of the eyebrows.
One should also practice selfless Simran at any time and in any place. Do not forget
even while attending to the call of Nature.
If one feels drowsy during Simran, he should stand up and do the repetition for
about half hour. Eat less at night, and use light food. The devotee should live up to the
Sant Mat principles in all his dealings, his food, his sleep, his speech, etc. Simran should
be done slowly and with love and devotion. To go through it merely as a routine leads
nowhere.
The results of repetition will be in direct proportion to the love and faith brought to
bear on it. As soon as you empty your mind of all thoughts by means of Simran, you will
find the way to the Lord’s mansion.
The methods taught by the saints are natural and easy. The saints’ methods are
complete in themselves. By following them, we realize the Truth without fail.

The three ladies who had been drawn over the mountains were ecstatic, and no doubt had
had some deep inner experience. Their eyes danced with happiness, their faces alight with
an inner glow. After a good night’s rest and with food for the return journey, they decided
to leave early in the morning, despite having to miss Maharaj Ji’s satsang and in the face
of inclement weather creeping in.
How true is it that when the chela is ready the Guru appears. Perhaps the Master
literally appeared to them and guided them to him, as has been recorded on many
occasions.
Indeed, by breakfast time the weather had deteriorated markedly, so much so that
Master Ji came to Maharaj Ji, asking if he should cancel the satsang at noon. Maharaj Ji
said, “Let us wait and see what happens.” An hour later Master Ji again appeared and said
the weather had not abated. Maharaj Ji’s answer was another: “Let us see what happens.”
Time went by.

At about 11.45 am. Maharaj Ji suddenly arose and walked out on to the balcony.
Below in the rain and sleet were hundreds of satsangis, arms above their heads holding a
huge tarpaulin, sheltering them to some extent from the driving rain, their faces full of

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joy as their voices rose above the rain. Maharaj Ji stood with hands folded and for a long
time gazed down at his devotees.
I was quite overcome by this interplay of love, and did not notice that Maharaj Ji had
left. I quickly retreated into the house. On doing so I passed Maharaj Ji’s bedroom. The
door was slightly ajar, and I could see that he was sitting on a chair with legs folded and
eyes closed.
I felt quite guilty seeing Maharaj Ji in a meditative pose, and hurried to my room.
Suddenly a tremendous wind sprang up – almost a gale. I ran back to the balcony to see
the satsangis endeavouring to hold the tarpaulin. It was whipped from side to side, and
then blown completely out of their grip, so powerful was this wind. But it was hardly
raining and clouds were breaking up, scurrying across the heavens, showing blue sky
here and there. By 12.30 pm the sky had almost cleared and the rain had stopped.
With that Maharaj Ji came out of his room and called for Master Ji. “I think”, said
the Master “that we can have satsang at 1 pm and have lunch now, so that after satsang
we will have time to reach our waiting Jeep.”
Imagine the sight of hundreds of people sitting happily in the mud and slush, with
Maharaj Ji high up on the dais, the wind whipping his beard from side to side. Although it
was not raining the weather was most unpleasant. Maharaj Ji braved the elements as did
his disciples. Maharaj Ji kept his promise to give satsang, not at noon, but at 1 pm.
This unbrave follower sat up on the balcony out of the wind, cosy and warm.
The Master had completed his mission, leaving his disciples filled to the brim with
his love, happy yet sad to see him leave. The walk back to the jeep was strenuous as it
was all uphill. The path was slippery and wet from the rain, the wind still blowing
strongly.
We reached Simla in the early evening, the road also being very wet and dangerously
slippery. Mr and Mrs Gopal Singh were delighted to receive the weary travellers, and
soon made us comfortable.
The next day saw us back at the Dera, Master to continue his unending work –
Master the perfect sevadar.

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 Chapter 12

Kashmir Experience

Dera
It was April bhandara time at Dera Baba Jaimal Singh, in the Punjab province of north
India. Every year 2nd April was commemorated as the death anniversary of Maharaj
Sawan Singh Ji, fondly known as the Great Master. He was the Guru of my own Master,
Maharaj Charan Singh Ji.
Hundreds of thousands of people thronged the streets of the spiritual colony we
know as the Dera. Many of the groups of men, women and children, from all over India
and abroad, were milling around the various stalls, buying fruit, vegetables and other
necessities, or making their way to the bhojan bhandar, where wholesome meals are
served for a few cents. Others headed for the langar or free kitchen.
Here, nourishing meals consisting of dal (lentils) and vegetables and chapattis are
served to the multitude. At that time, in the 1960s, fifty thousand people were served at
one sitting; nowadays many more are catered for, in the same loving, efficient manner.
The organisation is unbelievable!
By the time lunch has been served to everyone, it is almost time to serve dinner to
the ones who were first in the queue for lunch!
Making the chapattis is quite a sight. They are prepared by ladies sitting around
metal domes acting as ovens and heated by reeds gathered from the riverbed of the River
Beas, on which the Dera has grown up.
The teams of willing ladies work around the clock. It has been estimated by a couple
of mathematicians that the few doing this seva (voluntary service) for their Master could
never make enough to feed the hungry hordes. Yet no one goes hungry.
While these meals are being prepared Maharaj Ji always comes to the langar to bless
the food. This sight can never be adequately put into words. There is feverish excitement
as the time draws near for Maharaj Ji’s visit. The air is charged with expectation, and the
soulful shabds (hymns) of love sung by the ladies reverberate throughout the langar. As
Maharaj Ji arrives, the sevadars, eyes sparkling with love, stretch out their hands begging
for his grace, the songs of love bursting from their lips.
Then on to satsang, where Maharaj Ji talks for an hour and a half, outlining the
teachings of Sant Mat in simple language – academics and illiterates alike fully
understand his flowing words, his reference to saints of the past proving that all Masters
give the same message of Truth. Nanak said:

The world holds us in thrall.

A vast and deadly snare,
Illusion has conquered the world.
Vanquished, it all layeth at her feet
Yogis, ascetics and those with supernatural powers.
Never can they escape.

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 Them doth she all beat.

Kabir said:

Without the Master no one can be saved.

You will sink again and again
In the dreadful sea;
From the torment of its battering waves
Only the Master
Can hold you by the arms.

Kabir, again:

Shabd is mine.
I am of Shabd.
Realize the Shabd
If you crave salvation –
Don't let this chance slip by.

Who are these people who come to listen to Maharaj Ji's message? Many are
satsangis (initiates), craving for the darshan (sight) of their Beloved; others are seekers,
wanting Nam or Shabd or Sound Current, into which the Master initiates his chosen
souls; and many are curiosity-seekers, coming for perhaps a free weekend of food and
accommodation.
After the Master’s discourses many are caught by his message of Love and hope, and
ask for the boon of Nam. When Maharaj Ji has completed giving initiation to those who
are ready and sincere, he usually spends a few days with the Western guests. It was at
such a time that I tell my story of my holiday with my Beloved in Kashmir.
It was the last day or two before the departure of the remaining Western satsangis at
the guesthouse. I had heard that Maharaj Ji was due to go somewhere for a short holiday.
That evening, at a private interview, I boldly asked the Master if it were possible for me
to accompany him. He replied that he would think about it and let me know. The next few
days passed without any answer from the Master.
The day before everyone had been requested to leave Dera, Maharaj Ji asked each
one in turn if they had confirmed booking to their land of residence. When he asked a
lady from America if she had done the necessary, she exclaimed, “I have done nothing, I
have left it to the Master.” Maharaj Ji was quite annoyed, and told her in no uncertain
terms to be out by midday the next day.
This brings to mind the inevitable question of free will and effort. The following
extract has been taken from the series Philosophy of the Masters by Maharaj Sawan
Singh, also known as the Great Master. He first explains how one of the saints or perfect
Masters says:

However hard one may try,

It is to no purpose.
That only happens

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 Which is ordained by the Lord.

Further, he says: Since there is no escape from the arrow of fate, a man can do
nothing but submit to his karma. It is our everyday experience that howsoever much we
may try, success or failure is not within our hands. Of course, it is our duty to make an
effort. Lord Krishna gave the same advice to his disciple, Arjun, to do his duty and leave
the fruits to the Lord, since he had no control over the fruits of his actions.

In a loud voice the Prophet said:

‘Tie the legs of the camel
And then rely on God.’

Man is free to a certain extent. He is bound beyond that. We can make this clear by an
illustration. A boy is flying a kite. His father has given him a hundred yards of string. The
boy is free to fly the kite to the extent of the string that is with him, and no more.
Similarly, we should try to act as best we can according to our strength and then leave the
rest to the Lord. We should make use of our effort and intelligence to the extent that we
can and then bow before the Will of God, accepting It as sweet and welcome.
There is a Persian saying: ‘Man proposes; God disposes.’
Coming back to the little group at the Dera with the Master, someone said: Maharaj
Ji, you have not asked Sam if he has made his plans to leave.
Maharaj Ji answered, “Don't worry about Sam, he has some plans of his own.” My
heart jumped for joy, as I knew by this statement that I could accompany Maharaj Ji on
his holiday.
After the group left I spent a few days alone at the guesthouse, and had the
wonderful experience of taking meals with Maharaj Ji, as the guesthouse kitchen had
closed.
At last we were on our way! We boarded a plane in Amritsar, and were airborne. Up
to this time Maharaj Ji had not told me where we were going. He eventually confided:
“We are going to Kashmir!” He then added that he was originally planning to visit Nepal,
but could not get me a re-entry visa into India as I was a South African. How gracious of
our beloved Master – he changed his plans in order to take me with him! His kindness
towards this undeserving disciple was beyond my understanding.
We were flying between two huge mountain peaks covered in snow, just before
landing at Srinagar, the chief city of Kashmir. Maharaj Ji pointed to a spot where a week
before a plane had crashed, killing all on board.
I had two quite harrowing experiences in planes with Maharaj Ji. Despite sitting next
to the Master during these experiences, I still felt tugs of fear creeping into my mind.
How strong is this attachment for the body, and how little faith in our Beloved. But first
let me describe these two incidents.
We were flying from Bombay to Delhi. Master was sitting at a window seat, and I
was next to him. As usual, just as we were taking off, Maharaj Ji closed his eyes and
brought his hand to his forehead. The plane started gaining speed, going faster and faster.
I began to realize that the plane was not getting airborne. Suddenly, the engines went into
reverse thrust. We came to the end of the runway, and started to career across the field.
There was a loud clap as two parachutes popped out of the wings. Because of this the

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plane screamed to a halt just yards short of the walled perimeter of the airport.
The pilot turned the plane around and we returned to the terminal.
During this whole frightening experience the Master sat with his eyes closed, and
when the plane came to a stop, he innocently asked: “Haven't we taken off yet?”
The pilot apologized and said it was the first time parachutes had been put into the
wings for such an emergency. Because of this, we had all been saved from a serious
accident. I said to myself: ‘Never mind the parachutes, I know who saved us!’
On another occasion, we were flying in a small plane – about a 16-seater – from
Indore to Delhi. As usual, Maharaj Ji was sitting at a window, eyes closed, hand to his
forehead. Suddenly, we flew into an enormous thunderstorm. Lightning flashing across
the heavy black clouds and thunder reverberated around us. The plane was tossed around
like a cork in the sea.
The poor hostess was about to serve snacks. The trolley was jerked out of her hands,
the contents spewing all over the floor. I sat glued to my seat, clutching on to the
armrests. At times it seemed like my stomach was in my throat. The pilot managed to pull
out of the storm, and landed at Gwalior.
When we landed the hostess said to me: “Who is that bearded gentleman who was so
calm during that awful experience?”
I answered: “He is my Guru.”
She said, “Thank God, that is why we were saved!”

Our flight to Srinagar was uneventful, thank goodness. We were met at the airport by
Mr Ramchand Mehta, who was to be our host while in Kashmir. Our evening meal was
beautifully prepared by Mrs Mehta but, most of all, what a wonderful experience to eat at
the same table as Maharaj Ji. He was so relaxed, and joked unmercifully with our host
and hostess. The whole evening was filled with laughter.
The next morning our holiday started in earnest. It was to be a photographic break,
and Maharaj Ji was not going to miss a minute of his freedom. We left early in the
morning, after breakfast, and did not return until after sunset. One of our main objects –
or subjects, rather – was to capture the beautiful and awe-inspiring sunsets of Kashmir.
Besides the sheer joy of being with Maharaj Ji all day long, there were several
experiences that will live with me forever.
That evening at dinner Maharaj Ji informed me that the next day we were going to
Gulmarg, high up in the mountains. At 7 am we left for the village where we were to hire
horses for the trail to ascend the mountains. Maharaj Ji kept stopping the car to take
photographs and movies of the breathtaking scenery, his enthusiasm and appreciation
quite contagious.
It was almost midday by the time we reached our destination to start the ascent.
There were four or five in our party. Maharaj Ji chose a large brown and white horse and
I selected a small white pony (less distance to fall!) by the name of Raja Bul-Bul. I was
the only one who could not ride, but with an agile leap I was seated. I looked up at the
mountain pass – four long miles of twisting snow-covered treachery. Each horse had a
pony boy walking behind. What a way to learn horse-riding!
We started up, and Maharaj Ji, who was just ahead of me, shouted: “Just relax your
body and keep your feet firmly in the stirrups.” That made the difference. After the first
mile or two I got the hang of things, and started to thoroughly enjoy myself, fitting into

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the rhythm, relaxing and enjoying scenery the like of which these mortal eyes had never
seen before. Maharaj Ji was in great spirits, laughing all the time, and of course we took
pictures all the way up. What a fairyland of white.
We reached our destination at about 1 pm, and decided to have a picnic on a hill that
was covered with about three feet of snow. One false step and we would sink up to the
knees. After lunch we took a walk along a snow trail, with the inevitable stops for
photography.
Gulmarg is a ghost village in winter, completely snow-covered. It was now mid-
April, and you could see the rooftops, emerging from their winter blanket. While walking
in the snow, Maharaj Ji fell a few times and was half-buried. He shouted: “Isn't this
fun?!”
He was like a schoolboy thoroughly enjoying himself. It is wonderful to see him
relax.
At supper that evening, after our wonderful day, I said to Maharaj Ji: “No satsangs
and no satsangis.” He replied: “No foreign guests.”
One morning Mr Mehta came to me and confessed he had a problem. He had told the
sangat that Maharaj Ji would give satsang on the Sunday morning, but Maharaj Ji had
insisted he was on holiday and would not be there. Mr Mehta pleaded with me to
persuade Maharaj Ji to change his mind, as the sangat was so very excited at the
opportunity of sitting at the feet of their Master.
I spoke to Maharaj Ji, but he was adamant that he would not give satsang. I then said:
“Maharaj Ji, won't you just sit for darshan? It is early, and we will still have plenty of
time to go on our exploits.” With that, Maharaj Ji reluctantly agreed.
Sunday morning came. By 8 am the little hall was crammed to capacity. Maharaj Ji
sat on the dais with the pathi (chanter) and an elderly satsangi who was to give the
discourse. I sat on the floor immediately in front of the Master, keeping an unblinking
gaze and hoping to have eye contact, as I’m sure every single person present was hoping
to have that gift of darshan. This was not to be!
For the full hour of the satsang Maharaj Ji never looked down at the audience once.
His gaze was fixed on the ceiling, and at times he seemed to be studying a series of
photographs of the Great Master that surrounded the walls. He was with us in body only.
I’m sure Mr Mehta learned a lesson never to take anything for granted regarding our
Master.
That evening Master mildly admonished Mr Mehta, and then said: “Mehta Ji, those
photographs around the walls of your satsang ghar, please make copies for me.” The
copies are now on the walls of what was then the foreign guesthouse lounge at the Dera
and is now the computer room.
After satsang Maharaj Ji said: “Have your camera ready – we are going to Dal Lake
and hiring a shikara (gondola-like boat).” The beauty of Srinagar lies in its magnificent
lakes and gardens in their mountain setting. Dal Lake nestles in a valley, surrounded by
the majestic Himalayas.
We lounged on the cushions of the shikara and coasted under the weeping willows,
out past the fishermen, among the lovely floating gardens, where melons, tomatoes,
cucumbers and white lotus roots grew in a mesh of reeds and mud. The gardens are in
fact moored in squares by four poles stuck in the lakebed.
In the centre of this enormous lake is an island. Maharaj Ji explained that it was man-

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made and had been built up over the centuries. It is inhabited by thousands of people who
have their homes, mosques, shops and buildings on the island. The island people collect
mud from the bottom of the lake on a long plank of wood, and then tow it to the end of
their property. Grass seed is planted, and when well-rooted, this becomes solid and is
joined on to the existing land.
The whole island, which is festooned with narrow canals, was built in this way. We
paddled along these canals for a few hours and took many photographs of this unique
phenomenon. On one occasion, Maharaj Ji filmed a whole scene of two groups of people
on opposite sides of a canal having a terrific verbal fight. They were shouting at each
other and making the most peculiar actions with their hands and bodies. Of course, the
women were making the most noise!
As we floated between the two warring parties, they continued their antics, and we
all got quite wet as they splashed water at each other.
On the western shore of Dal Lake one can see the white dome and minarets of
Hazratbal Mosque, famous for its hair of the beard of the Prophet Mohammed. Two small
squares of land also rise out of the lake – Sonalank, the Golden Island to the north, and
Ruplank, the Silver Island to the south.
We were told that the two hills, Hari Parbat to the north, and Shankaracharya to the
east of town, would offer pleasant walks, with the reward of a fine view over the lakes
and the whole vale of Kashmir, some 80 miles long and 25 miles wide. Maharaj Ji said if
there were time we would take our cameras and experience that pleasure.
By the time we had reached the end of the lake to return home the sun was about to
set. Maharaj Ji said: “Look at this beautiful sunset! We must capture it.”
I had a very expensive camera with an accurate built-in light-meter that never let me
down. I focused on the sunset, adjusted my light-meter, and just as I was about to take the
shot, Maharaj Ji asked: “What exposure are you using?”
When I told him, he said: “That is wrong, change it to so and so.” I knew he was
incorrect, according to my reading. But who was I to argue with the Master? I did as he
said, and thought all that can happen is a wasted shot. But Master was right, of course – it
was a perfect exposure!
We were like two pals, talking exposures and going to endless trouble to capture a
scene. Once I was about to take a picture of a beautiful valley surrounded by snow-
capped mountains. The valley was ablaze with the bright yellow of miles and miles of
mustard seed plants together with the fresh green of young wheat. Dotted among this
were hundreds of apple trees in full bloom, their white blossoms glistening in the sun.
Maharaj Ji commented: “Whenever possible, when you take such a scene, try and
include a human subject as well.” He then graciously went and stood in a position for me
to complete the picture.
Our next programme was to visit the Shalimar Gardens on the shores of Dal Lake,
built by Emperor Jehangir over four hundred years ago. I was standing at the top of these
gardens, halfway up the mountain slope with Maharaj Ji. We stood looking down on a
magnificent sight – fountain after fountain cascading plumes of water into the sunlight,
forming a rainbow over each fountain. As we stood there, lost in this ancient splendour,
Maharaj Ji said: “Jehangir harnessed the natural stream coming down the mountain, and
used it to activate the fountains.”
He added: “When Jehangir first stood here and gazed down this valley he said that if

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ever there was heaven on earth, this is it, this is it.”
Maharaj Ji then went down the slope, amid the terraces, pools, waterfalls and
fountains, the fruit trees and flowers, and for the next hour was completely engrossed in
taking close-up photographs of the blooms.
How Maharaj Ji loved the beauty of Kashmir.
Next morning he said we would be going to a beautiful village called Pahalgam, very
high in the mountains. The roads winding up the mountains were slippery and narrow. We
had to drive extremely carefully as the car was low-powered and not in the best state of
repair.
Pahalgam is a tourist village. Lovely log bungalows are dotted around, and can be
hired from the Government for just a few rupees.
The village people make a living by selling fruit and vegetables and hiring out horses
and guides for those who wish to gain access to the higher peaks.
It was too early to go higher, as everything was still covered in snow. Suddenly the
clouds started coming up and it became bitterly cold, with snow starting to fall. Maharaj
Ji said to Mr Mehta: “Let's drive much higher so that we can show Sam the snow falling
into the valley.” It was truly a breathtaking sight.
We decided to have lunch at the Pahalgam Country Club. The club matched the
surrounding terrain, as it was made from the trees of the forest, the clubhouse being a
large wooden building with lounges, dining room and living accommodation. It had only
opened that day ready for the summer season to come. Everything closes for the winter
months here, as it is all buried under snow.
After lunch we started our descent. It had stopped snowing, but now a gale was
blowing. We had hardly travelled a few miles when the car suddenly started swerving
from side to side. I realized the left rear tyre had punctured. Mr Mehta managed to stop
the car, perilously close to the edge of the road. When I got out the icy wind was like a
knife cutting through to the marrow. I was right – we had a punctured rear wheel close to
the edge of the yawning chasm stretching thousands of feet to the valley below.
Mr Mehta joined me at the back of the car, and Maharaj Ji wisely stayed in the
warmth of the car. I opened the boot, to find there was no spare wheel. Mr Mehta looked
horrified and admitted he had never had a puncture and had never bothered to find out if
the car came with a spare!
I remembered that certain makes of cars kept the spare wheel under the chassis. By
this time my fingers were quite numb. Sure enough, there was the wheel, rusted into its
container. I managed to release the wheel by banging away most of the rust with a stone
found at the roadside. I duly changed the wheel and off we went.
About 25 miles before reaching Srinagar the motor cut out. Again we were stranded
in that icy weather. On inspecting the engine, I found one of the leads from the battery
had worked its way loose. I replaced it and, having now exhausted the sum total of my
mechanical prowess, and with Maharaj Ji’s grace, the car burst into life once more. An
hour or two later we arrived home in the gathering darkness.
During this whole episode Maharaj Ji was cracking jokes. He said: “Sam, you have
been no end of help to Ramchand.” I can only say that I am not a practical person,
especially with cars. It was all Maharaj Ji’s grace. He did it all.

The last day in Srinagar was spent with the Mehta family. We decided to go for a picnic

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in the surrounding hills. I followed him, thinking a magical scene would present itself for
the camera lens. Instead, he stood still and gazed down the valley at a solitary running up
the hill towards us. The figure took shape, and I could see it was a soldier dressed in
battle uniform.
Eventually he reached us and prostrated himself at the feet of the Master. He was a
satsangi on border duty, as the Pakistan/India war had not long terminated. Maharaj Ji
exchanged a few words with him. I managed to take a photo of our group with devotee,
and he disappeared down the slope to take up his duties once more.
Maharaj Ji later said: “He must have spotted me standing at the top of the hill.” It
was a case of the moth being drawn to the light of the flame, to be consumed by his love
for the Beloved.
After lunch Maharaj Ji was lying on a verdant slope, completely relaxed. Coming
towards us was a young shepherd herding his sheep. He passed nearby, and waved to us,
singing a sweet song. Maharaj Ji suddenly said: “What chance have we all got? Everyone
is filled with ego. Listen to the sheep – they are constantly bleating mer, mer, mer – in
Hindi this means I, I, I. Even they have ego!”
What is this ego? Together with attachment, it is a powerful tool of Kal, the negative
power, to bring us back to this world time and time again. Kabir says:

Only he will cross the Ocean, 0 friend,

Who banishes Ego from his mind.
Some say they are learned, 0 brother,
Some say they have renounced everything,
Some say they have subdued their senses,
But the malady of Ego afflicts them all.
Only he will cross the Ocean, 0 friend,
Who banishes Ego from his mind.

Some say they enjoy inner bliss;

But ‘me’ and ‘mine’, ‘thou’ and ‘thine’
They have not expelled from their mind.
What chance have they to survive
When afflicted with such a malady?
Only he will cross the Ocean, 0 friend
Who banishes Ego from his mind.

Some say they generously give alms,

Some say they vigorously do penance;
But they do not know the Truth,
They are not aware of Nam.
They will all be consumed by Maya.
Only he will cross the Ocean, 0 friend,
Who banishes Ego from his mind.

Some say they are adepts in many methods,

Some say they are living a life of purity,

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 But they are all ignorant of their soul,
Of their own true self.
All their claims are empty.
Only he will cross the Ocean, 0 friend
Who banishes Ego from his mind.

Some say they have practised all forms of piety,

Some say they have done all the ritual fasts;
But the knot of their Ego is not untied.
They have only heaped
More debts on their head.
Only he will cross the Ocean, 0 friend,
Who banishes Ego from his mind.

Drive out your Pride,

Exterminate your Ego,
Be not vain about your efforts.
Says Kabir: he who becomes a slave
of the Master
Reaches his true home.

As Dr Johnson says in The Path of the Masters, it is well known to those who are on the
path that egoism is the last of the hateful five passions to surrender. The chief function of
ahankar (ego) is to block the path of Truth. It is the bosom friend of error. It completely
deceives its own victims, making them self-satisfied when they ought to be seeking their
own improvement. It is the main friend and supporter of ancient superstitions. It
establishes creeds, appoints a priesthood and builds up organizations to propagate its own
dogmas.
Its one big assumption is: I am right, he who opposes me is wrong; to sustain the
right, I must destroy my opponent.
It is amazing how man has this grandiose impression of himself. Kal, the negative
power, gives man a free rein to boost himself in the sense that he is indestructible, and
will never die. In fact, what is he in the scheme of things, in the grandeur of the universe,
in the mystery of creation?
How meagre is our capacity to absorb the divine law. We are imprisoned in a cage of
bones, flesh and skin, held fast to the earth, pressed down by the weight of the
atmosphere, bound down by the laws of nature, a slave of desire, as weak as a bird
without wings and feathers, relying only upon the severely limited faculties of smell,
sight, hearing, etc., and depending upon an intellect confined to the limits of the three
dimensions. How miserable!
In bondage man is born, in bondage he is brought up, and in bondage he will die.
That marks the exit from one of his innumerable births – how pitiable.
After our return from our lovely picnic and the lesson on ego, we were approaching
Mr Mehta’s home, and heard the soft melody of shabds being sung. There was quite a
crowd awaiting Maharaj Ji’s return. He graciously sat on the dais and gave us 20
minutes’ darshan, and, as a shabd was being sung, parshad (blessed food) was distributed

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to us all.
What a fitting way to end our holiday.
The following day Maharaj Ji and I were to fly back to Dera. A few hours before
leaving for the airport, we were standing in Mr Mehta’s lovely garden. Maharaj Ji was
gazing at a gazebo covered in creeping perfumed roses – a beautiful sight.
After a while Maharaj Ji said: “Sam, get pencil, paper and measuring tape and make
a drawing of this gazebo.” Unfortunately, I am a very poor draughtsman, but I did as the
Master requested to the best of my ability. When I had completed my assignment Maharaj
Ji instructed me to consult with the Dera architect about its construction. A gazebo,
similar to the one in Mr Mehta’s garden, now stands in the centre garden of the
International Guest House.
This lucky disciple was told by Maharaj Ji that I could have more time with him, as
he was still to visit Lucknow, Gurakpur and Indore, which would take us into the middle
of May, and into the severe heat of India.

Lucknow
We arrived back at the Dera on 25 April. The gentle spring air of Kashmir had been
so cool and invigorating, but the Dera, in the plains of the Punjab, was already in the grip
of its summer heat. The temperature in a matter of hours had changed from 15 degrees
Celsius to 35 degrees. I was the only visitor in the Western Guest House – the foreign
satsangis having long since departed. I spent most of the day in my room, with the
overhead fan going full bore.
We drove from Dera to Lucknow by car. It was a hot, sultry day, the temperature
soaring into the top 30s. I was limp and exhausted with heat, while Maharaj Ji sat serene
and looking fresh and unaffected.
We reached our destination, and were to stay with a Mrs Narung. She had a beautiful
home that was fully air-conditioned. After a bath and a change of clothes we were ready
for dinner. There were about twelve guests – most of them seekers. Maharaj Ji was plied
with questions throughout the evening, and in his usual patient and loving way, was able
to completely satisfy their queries.
The next morning was satsang. I drove with Maharaj Ji to the place where satsang
was to be held. We reached there right on time as Maharaj Ji always does. As Maharaj Ji
stepped out of the car he slammed the door.
Unfortunately, my finger was in the way and was jammed. I managed to open the
door and extricate my finger. It went black almost immediately.
Maharaj Ji apologized and took my hand and asked if it was painful. It was numb but
not painful in any way, and in a day or two was back to normal. It was a strange
experience to have this happen with the Master. I had had a similar accident in the past
that left me with excruciating pain.
After satsang, Maharaj Ji, together with an old school friend, and I were to visit a
few historical places in Lucknow. Lucknow, the 18th century capital of the Nawabs of
Oudh, is the most modern capital of Uttar Pradesh state. It has beautiful gardens and
many mosques, palaces, mansions and mausoleums.
We first visited a fort where the British were besieged during the Indian mutiny
(sometimes called the War of Liberation) of 1857. Apparently the mutiny broke out
because the Indian troops had been trained to bite the cartridges before loading their

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rifles. But some of the cartridges were said to have been greased with animal fat. The
Indians felt they were being forced to ingest fat from the cow, sacrilegious to Hindus, or
lard from the pig, abomination to Moslems.
Having too often suffered slights of miscomprehension or contempt for their
religious customs in the past, they refused to believe this was not a deliberate trick.
Mutiny broke out at the garrison of Meerut, 25 miles north of Delhi, and rapidly spread
across northern India.
The ruins of the British fort in Lucknow were left as a monument. You could clearly
see where the cannon balls had knocked chunks out of this huge structure.
Guides showed us where 476 women and children had lived in the deep basement. A
stray cannon ball had crashed through the wall where they were all housed and killed a
Miss Palmer, daughter of the British General Palmer.
Maharaj Ji was intensely interested in all this history as narrated to us by our guide,
and took many pictures.
We also visited a most interesting mosque. The walls were 16 ft thick and had a
hidden maze. The guide was telling us that it was so intricate that if you entered you
would not be able to find your way out again. The main hall was 137 ft by 67 ft without
any support pillars. The guide went and stood on the extreme opposite side of this huge
hall, and took a piece of paper in his hands and tore it down the centre. We could clearly
hear the tearing sound. He explained that the acoustics of this hall and the maze were for
reasons of security.
The day was extremely interesting, especially watching Master taking it all in and
recording our visit with his camera.

Gurakpur
The next morning at 5 am sharp we were on our way to Gurakpur, where we were to
spend the night. Maharaj Ji was to give satsang, and then we would return to Lucknow –
a journey of 160 miles each way. Fortunately we covered two-thirds of the distance
before the heat set in.
We broke the journey at a place called Baste, for breakfast at Mrs Narung’s son’s
house. All the wealthy sugar mill owners lived in this area. We stopped briefly at a temple
on the way. The people here are the most primitive idol worshippers, and they took
Hanuman as their God.
Just before we reached Gurakpur we stopped at a shrine where Kabir did his
meditation. On the wall was a painting of Kabir, with a cloak or cape hanging next to it. It
was supposed to be the original cape that Kabir had worn. Maharaj Ji took it in his hands
and felt the cloth. Laughing, he said the garment was not more than six years old.
We arrived at our destination at 11 am. Gurakpur is a lovely railway settlement. I was
to stay at the Railway Officers Club, and Maharaj Ji, Mrs Narung and Mr Khanna, the
Dera secretary, were to sleep at the residence of Mr Bhalla, a high railways official and a
very devoted satsangi.
Maharaj Ji and Mr Khanna went into the house, and I was instructed to take my
luggage out of the boot of the car. As I bent over to lift my case the corner of the boot
caught my forehead and cut a deep gash. Blood spurted out all over.
I was taken to the hospital dispensary, and the doctors insisted on an anti-tetanus
injection, as the part of the car that had cut me was old and rusted. Later Maharaj Ji saw

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the patch on my forehead and said: “Are you trying to open your third eye?”
Then on a more serious note he said: “You have come thousands of miles to clear a
load of karma. It is good. But be more careful.”
I replied, “I wish one could open the third eye by physical means.”
This reminds me of a book I read many years ago, long before I became a satsangi.
The title of the book was The Third Eye and the author was Lobsang Rampa, said to be a
Tibetan monk. Today, as a satsangi, I view the book in a very different light, but I must
say at that time it certainly turned many minds to Eastern philosophy, including mine.
I would like to quote from a chapter of this book entitled ‘The opening of the third
eye’, and then go on to describe the Sant Mat way. The chapter will show the reader the
difference, and as a satsangi one can be very grateful to have a perfect living Master to
show us the true way to going within by means of concentration at the third eye, or tisra
til.

With the death of the day the evening was born, and I went to the little room where I was to
stay. There came the murmur of soft felt boots on the stone floor outside, and into the room
came three lamas of high degree. They put a herbal compress to my head and bound it tightly
in place. In the evening the three came again, and one was the Lama Mingyar Dondup.
Carefully the compress was removed, and my forehead wiped clean and dry. A strong-
looking lama sat behind me and took my head between his knees. The second lama opened a
box and removed an instrument made of shining steel. It resembled a bradawl except that
instead of having a round shaft this one was ‘U’-shaped, and in place of a point there were
little teeth around the edge of the ‘U’.
For some moments the lama looked at the instrument, and then passed it through the
flame of a lamp to sterilize it. The Lama Mingyar Dondup took my hands and said, ‘This is
quite painful, Lobsang, and it can only be done while you are fully conscious. It will not take
very long, so try to keep as still as you can.’
I could see various instruments laid out, and a collection of herbal lotions, and I thought
to myself: ‘Well, Lobsang, my boy, they will finish you one way or the other, and there is
nothing you can do about it – except keep quiet!’
The lama with the instrument looked round to the others, and said: ‘All ready? Let us
start now, the sun has just set.’
He pressed the instrument to the centre of my forehead and rotated the handle. For a
moment there was a sensation as if someone was pricking me with thorns. To me it seemed
that time stood still. There was no particular pain as it penetrated the skin and flesh, but there
was a little jolt as the end hit the bone. He applied more pressure, rocking the instrument
slightly so that the little teeth would fret through the frontal bone. The pain was not sharp at
all, just a pressure and a dull ache.
I did not move with the Lama Mingyar Dondup looking on; I would rather have died than
make a move or outcry. He had faith in me, as I in him, and I knew that what he did or said
was right. He was watching most closely, with a little pucker of muscles in tension at the
corners of his mouth. Suddenly there was a little ‘scrunch’ and the instrument penetrated the
bone.
Instantly its motion was arrested by the very alert operator. He held the handle of the
instrument firmly while the Lama Mingyar Dondup passed him a very hard, very clean sliver
of wood which had been treated by fire and herbs to make it as hard as steel. This sliver was

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 inserted in the ‘U’ of the instrument and slid down so that it just entered the hole in my head.
The lama operating moved slightly to one side so that the Lama Mingyar Dondup could
also stand in front of me. Then, at a nod from the latter, the operator, with infinite caution,
slid the sliver farther and farther. Suddenly I felt a stinging, tickling sensation apparently in
the bridge of my nose. It subsided, and I became aware of subtle scents which I could not
identify.
That, too, passed away and was replaced by a feeling as if I was pushing, or being
pushed, against a resilient veil. Suddenly there was a blinding flash, and at that instant the
Lama Mingyar Dondup said ‘Stop!’ For a moment the pain was intense, like a searing white
flame. It diminished, died, and was replaced by spirals of colour, and globules of
incandescent smoke. The metal instrument was carefully removed.
The sliver of wood remained, it would stay in place for two or three weeks and until it
was removed I would have to stay in this little room almost in darkness. No one would see
me except these three lamas, who would continue my instruction day by day. Until the sliver
was removed I would have only the barest necessities to eat and drink.
As the projecting sliver was being bound in place so that it could not move, the Lama
Mingyar Dondup turned to me and said: ‘You are now one of us, Lobsang. For the rest of
your life you will see people as they are and not as they pretend to be.’

In contrast to this, true meditation in order to open the third eye to go beyond mind
and matter and ultimately attain God-realization can only be done after being initiated by
a perfect living Master.
The Master explains that within the body our spiritual journey may be divided into
two stages: the first commences at the soles of the feet and extends up to the eyes. The
journey is made by keeping the attention at the third eye and repeating the Simran or
repetition of the five holy words given at initiation.
When the attention is fully concentrated at the eye centre and the soul and mind have
been withdrawn from the body the third eye starts to open. In the Bible this process is
described in two ways:

Knock and the door shall be opened unto you

and

When your eye be single your whole body shall be full of light.

Master goes on to say, “The mind gradually comes under control and the thought
currents begin to concentrate at the eye focus. At this stage flashes of light begin to
appear, die out and reappear at short intervals. Actually the light shines constantly but
seems to come in flashes, because our attention does not remain fixed but slips down to
the lower centres. At times the light may resemble sunbeams on water or appear as
though the sun is rising through the mist.
“Many forms can be seen within, some beautiful, some repulsive. These are our
suppressed desires and sanskaras (impressions) from past lives, which assume these
forms. As Simran is continued these phenomena will automatically disappear. “
These words given by a perfect Master have the power to be a touchstone by which

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the genuineness of everything one beholds can be tested.
The disciple, by the power of Simran and concentration is able to cross the Astral
regions, the stars, the moon and the sun, and then have the darshan (sight) of the Astral
form of the Master who initiated him. It is at this stage that the disciple hears the unstruck
music or Shabd. The course of Simran is complete. The Shabd now has the power,
together with the form of the Master, to take the disciple to the higher regions and
eventually to God-realization.
Dr Johnson writes in The Path of the Masters about ‘going inside’:

The Masters talk of worlds within the body. They speak of ‘going inside’ in order to begin
their upward journey, and that this going inside is accomplished by concentration at the third
eye. All of this, if not properly understood, may be confusing. We must know exactly what is
meant by going inside. Many prophets, even Jesus himself, speak of the Kingdom of God
which is in man.
All of these expressions need not cause us to wonder, if they are understood. They do not
mean that there are actually worlds, or kingdoms, inside of man’s body or brain. If these
teachers had that in mind, then we would know of a certainty that such worlds were only
creations of a fertile imagination. But what is meant is that those other and higher worlds are
gained by first withdrawing the attention from the outer world, and then centring it within
oneself. In the case of the Master’s system, the attention is centred at the Tisra Til or third
eye.
When such concentration has been gained, the attention is all inside. The whole of the
mind and soul have left the outer world and gone inside. Only the inner world exists for us,
the outer world having been completely shut out from our consciousness. Then we go on
holding our attention at the inner centre. Slowly the soul and mind gather all of their forces
at that inner centre, and finally the mind and soul penetrate through some inner aperture,
leaving the physical world entirely, and entering a higher region. We may call it a higher
dimension.
At that moment the soul passes through the inner gates of light, and steps out into a new
world. Those higher and finer worlds, which occupy limitless space, to the uttermost bounds
of the universe, are then spoken of as ‘Inner Worlds’. They are the worlds ‘Inside of Man’.
They are so referred to because one must first go inside; take his attention inside, in order to
reach them. It is then a convenient method of referring to these finer worlds.

Kabir describes the ‘inner home’ as follows:

Within the home is all joy,

Within the home is true union;
Do not give up home
And run to forests.

If desire assails your mind In the wilderness,

Where will you run for shelter?
Who leads the lost one home,
Him I like, I love, 0 friend.

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 Within the home is the way,
Within the home is salvation,
But only if the Master reveals
That unseen truth within;
Then with ease you will enter Sunn,
You will become entranced
In the realm of Sahaj.

Your mind will turn inwards

And realize the Universal Mind,
The soul will contemplate
On the ultimate truth.

Through the union of surat and nirat

The soul will play the unstruck music.
Who leads the lost one home,
Him I like, I love, 0 friend.

Your home is the place of practice;

In your home lies the hidden treasure,
In your home alone will it be found.
Says Kabir: Listen, my friend,
Reach that home
From where you once came.

In one of her poems, Mirabai describes the inner sound and light so beautifully:

Within thy body the gong resounds

In sweet strains of eternal song.
Within the body of ten doors,
Day and night rumbles the sound of the drum.
In thy body are gardens with rare blooms,
But a honeybee alone will seek their fragrance.

Within thy body burns a flame

In resounding waves of brilliant light.
The Lord’s glory, 0 Mira,
The saints alone do know;
To His eternal home
Freely they come and go.

This statement by the Master, “You have come thousands of miles to clear a load of
karma”, makes one reflect on the nature of karma itself. The law of karma that the
Masters teach, do we really understand its implications and deeper meaning?
‘Karma’ (from karna, to do, in Hindi, but ku in Sanskrit) means the law of Nature,
which requires that every doer shall receive the exact result or reward of his actions. It is

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the law of cause and effect. Right actions are those that create good karma; bad actions
create bad karma.
In the ethics of Jesus, karma is reduced to the simple question of receiving what one
has earned, reaping what one has sown. In the law of Moses it was reduced to the rule of
an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. It is upon the universality of the actions of this
law that the Masters construct their ethics.
This law of karma, however, extends only up to the region where mind and matter
cease. In the empire of mind and matter karma is universal; but there is a higher universe
of worlds where pure spirit governs all, and there is no karma there. In these worlds there
is a higher law which supersedes all other laws – that is the law of Love.
There is no escaping from karma when once it is created. When the debt is incurred,
it must be paid. In The Path of the Masters Julian Johnson writes, ‘But there is a way of
living without creating karma at all.’
Even the Gita says that inactivity itself creates karmas, and no one can escape it. But
there is a way. What is the way? By acting always in the name of the Master.
The Master himself is karmaless. He has met and satisfied all of his own karmas, by
the aid of his own Guru. After that, he rises above the action of the karmic law. He is no
longer subject to that law, because he has risen above the plane of its action. He is free
from the laws of all regions where karma operates. He can never again be bound by that
law. All work that he does is now done in the Name of Sat Purush whom he serves,
seeking to please Him only. He has no desire of his own. He does nothing without the full
approval of the Supreme.
If he made any karma at all, even if such a thing were possible, it would be good
karma. But the Master has already attained the supreme status. How can he go higher?
Hence karma could have no effect on him.
Guru Nanak says:

Body, mind and wealth;

Give it all to the Guru;
Obey his commands, and reap the reward.

Jesus said: If you love me and keep my commandments, then ye are my disciples
indeed.

Now back to Gurakpur. Satsang was at 8.30 am in the Railway Hall. It was the first time
Maharaj Ji had ever visited this place. The hall was filled to capacity, and many hundreds
of people were turned away. The satsang was held so early to enable us to catch the train
at noon, as we were returning to Lucknow.
We – Maharaj Ji, Mrs Narung, Mr Khanna and I – travelled back in an airconditioned
coach, the three of us together and Maharaj Ji on his own in a coupe. We had no sooner
settled down to relax when Maharaj Ji peeped out of his coupé and said: “Sam, here's an
offer: I am going to sleep. Come and join me and sleep on the bunk above me.”
At this stage I must mention that during our past weeks on our photographic
excursions the Master had entrusted me with all his exposed films, many in number.
Maharaj Ji soon fell asleep, but I, of course, lying above him, never slept at all. I was
acutely conscious of the fact that I was lying above my beloved Master, and very aware

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of his presence, and just living and feeling the bliss of his holy nearness.
When Maharaj Ji awoke he tapped on my bunk, and said: “Sam, I have just had a
dream. I dreamt that you and I were caught in a great flood and were running away to
save our lives. While we were running I was worried about all the films you were keeping
for me and that they might be spoilt by the water. Please hand me the films so that I can
pack them in my bag before reaching Lucknow.”
What a strange experience! How can we ever begin to understand the ways of a
Master? He is the Lord, and way above we poor struggling human beings. Perhaps he
didn’t trust me with his films, as I am generally a careless person with material
possessions. Who knows?
We reached Lucknow at 7 pm, and had time for a bath and snack, as we were to
catch the Delhi Express at 9.20 pm. Mrs Narung had prepared a hamper for us as there
was no dining car on the train. We reached the station in good time, with Maharaj Ji as
usual in his coupé and the rest of us in a sleeper.
After a while Maharaj Ji came out of his coupé and said: “Let's have some dinner”,
and returned. Mrs Narung asked me to bring the hamper from under the seat, so that she
could prepare our meal. I searched under all the seats, but could not find the basket of
food! We realized in horror that her chauffeur had forgotten to place it in our carriage. We
sat huddled together deciding how to tell Maharaj Ji that we had no hamper with us.
After an hour or so Maharaj Ji appeared and asked about the food. I whispered in a
fearful voice that the basket had not been put on the train, and that we would have to go
hungry. Maharaj Ji laughed, and said: “Come and see what I have got in place.”
We peeped in and, lo and behold, Maharaj Ji had sandwiches and hot coffee spread
out on the bunk, enough for all of us!
He went on to say that he thought something might happen and he had gone on to
make his own arrangements. Even in such small matters, how our Beloved takes care of
his children. We all certainly learned a lesson that evening.

Indore
I spent the night at Mrs Sheila Bharatram’s residence, and next morning we were on the
train bound for Indore. We were to stay with the Sethi family during Master’s satsang and
initiation period, which would probably last for four or five days.
During the train journey Maharaj Ji became quite ill. He seemed to have a slight
fever and had frequent coughing spasms. I commented: “Maharaj Ji, you have such a
heavy programme and you are not well. How will you manage?”
He said: “Don't worry, by tomorrow I will probably be better.” In fact, that day he
was better, but still inclined to cough now and then.
When we arrived at the Sethi’s residence Mrs Cynthia Marshall from South Africa
was there, as she had been travelling in India after Dera had closed, and had been invited
to Indore during Master’s visit. Maharaj Ji was greeted by the whole Sethi family, many
in number.
A beautiful garland of flowers was placed around his neck in welcome. He took the
garland from his shoulders and placed it over me. This foolish disciple then removed it
and placed it around Cynthia’s neck! To this day, many, many years later, Cynthia has
these blooms pressed between the pages of a Sant Mat book.
The Sethis lived in a very large house. Mr Sethi Senior, a delightful old gentleman,

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was the head of the household. His sons, their wives and children, many in number, lived
harmoniously in the traditional joint-family system. As the guest house where Maharaj Ji
stayed was full, I stayed in the main house.
The weather was getting hotter and hotter as summer slowly settled in. The worst
part of the Indian heat is before the monsoons. Then when the rains finally come the
atmosphere becomes so much cooler.
One of the Sethi brothers noted my discomfort, and invited me to join him and his
wife on the roof to sleep. This was a unique experience for me. Our beds were taken up
by the servants before bedtime and then removed in the morning. Lying under the sky and
watching the stars, with an occasional one shooting across the heavens, was relaxing and
sleep-inducing.
Across the road from the Sethi’s home was a most impressive-looking house. In fact,
it had the appearance of a hotel, with a clock tower and enormous gardens ablaze with
exotic flowers and shrubs and an expanse of lush green lawns. Shanti’s sister had married
into the family. Unfortunately, they were not satsangis but very strict in their own
religion, and would not allow her to attend satsang. While I was there I was told that she
had a problem with her neck and her back. Her husband allowed her to come over to me
so that I could give her treatment. This also gave her an opportunity to spend time each
evening with Maharaj Ji. I was happy to be the instrument here, as she was a satsangi and
longed for his darshan.
The Indore programme was indeed very strenuous for Maharaj Ji. After the satsangs
there were thousands of hungry souls begging for initiation. Maharaj Ji had to stay an
extra day, and gave two sessions daily. Once or twice he was initiating well into the night
with hardly any rest or food.
Maharaj Ji certainly showed the strain of this most strenuous period, but by the next
morning when we were due to leave he looked as fresh as the proverbial daisy.
My wonderful experience, indelibly imprinted not only on my subconscious mind
but on my very soul itself, was now coming to an end. Maharaj Ji was leaving for Sirsa,
his ancestral home, and I to my family in South Africa to take up the reins of being a
householder once again.

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 Chapter 13

Rajastan, Gujarat and Bombay, 1970

Mid-November 1970 found me at the Dera with my wife Lesley and younger daughter
Colleen. Maharaj Ji called us to his office and informed us he was leaving for Rajasthan,
Gujarat and Bombay for the annual December satsangs.
At first we were heart sore, as it meant we would not see Maharaj Ji until we reached
Bombay on our way home early in December.
No doubt Maharaj Ji could see the disappointment written on our faces, and with a
lovely smile, said, “Would you like to join me?” Our expressions immediately changed,
and the three of us blurted out in unison, “Yes, Maharaj Ji.” Then Maharaj Ji said to the
two ladies, “Please don’t bring too many clothes as our space will be limited. Your dress
must be simple and warm, as we will have a little cool weather.”
Our first stop was Delhi, where Maharaj Ji had a few personal matters to attend to.
Mrs Sheila Bharatram kindly allowed us to stay in her home on Sardar Patel Road.
From Delhi we went on to Jaipur for three days. Unfortunately, Maharaj Ji was
extremely busy, and as we were staying at a State hotel some distance from him, we were
unable to see much of him except at satsang. However, we did have time to tour Jaipur in
all its historic splendour.
When we left Jaipur Maharaj Ji apologised for not being with us as much as he
would have liked, but assured us he would make up for it during the next few days. And
so he did.
When we reached Udaipur we spent two days at Jagniwas, now known as the Lake
Palace Hotel, which is situated in the middle of Lake Pichola. It is a beautiful structure
built entirely of white marble. It was the white marble of this and other palaces on the
lake that Emperor Shah Jahan chose for his Taj Mahal after a stay in Udaipur.
We had hardly settled in when Maharaj Ji had his camera out and was taking photos
of this magnificent monument. The interior courtyard of the hotel had a beautiful garden
that was ablaze with colour. This also lent itself to Maharaj Ji’s tireless camera lenses.
Maharaj Ji had a luxury suite with a king-size bed and a bathroom almost as big as
an average bedroom. After dinner that evening a servant came up to me and asked me to
inspect Maharaj Ji’s room. To my horror, the walls and ceilings were covered in
thousands of fat and hungry-looking mosquitoes. He wanted to move Maharaj Ji’s
luggage to a smaller room, but I asked him to bring me an anti-mosquito spray, and
together we worked for well over an hour.
I sprayed and sprayed, my handkerchief tied over my nose, while the attendant swept
away the piled-up bodies. Eventually the room was clear. I later told Maharaj Ji what we
had done, and suggested that he look out for any strays, so that he would not be molested
during the night. He thanked me, and enquired how I was feeling.
In fact, I was a little heady, as I must have inhaled quite a bit of the spray. But I was
very grateful to have done this little seva in order to make my Master comfortable.

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 The next morning Colleen had a slight fever that had developed during the night.
We were due to visit Chittor, the fortress where Saint Mirabai had lived. Because of
Colleen’s condition Lesley had to remain behind, so I was the lucky one to accompany
Maharaj Ji.
When we reached the Aravalli hills, we saw the fortress of Chittor. It was built on a
plateau, a beautifully restored relic of three embattled centuries. We entered on the
northwest side and zigzagged up through seven splendid gateways, each with a built-in
guardhouse, reminiscent of heroic exploits which enjoy an exalted place in popular
legend comparable to medieval knights of Europe or the samurai of Japan.
Stones marked the spots where various Rajput heroes had fallen defending the fort.
Immediately beyond the main gate, the 15-century Palace of Kumbha, a Mewar Rajput, is
built over the underground cave where Padmini led the first Jauhar (mass self-
immolation), and to which the Rajput descendants return every year for a ceremony of
commemoration.
Maharaj Ji pointed to the 120 ft-high Jaya Stambha, or tower of victory, its nine
storeys decorated with Hindu deities, lions and elephants, and suggested I climb to the
top so that I could take some panoramic snapshots of the surrounding area. I did so, after
labouring up the narrow, often crumbling stairs. He then took me to a small cell-like
room. Outside the room were a few footprints in the cement which, he said, were
considered to be the prints of Mirabai. We went into the room and Maharaj Ji told me her
story.
Mira’s mother died when she was barely two years old. Her grandfather, Rao Duda,
the ruler of Merta, an independent and powerful state of Rajasthan, took her under his
wing, where she grew up under the veteran warrior’s loving guardianship.
Rana Sanga, the powerful King of Mewar, learning of Mira’s qualities, personally
approached her grandfather for her hand in marriage for his eldest son and heir, Prince
Bhojraj. Her grandfather passed away a few months after the engagement and did not live
to see the marriage. Mira deeply loved her grandfather, and this was the first shock she
received in her life.
Prince Bhojraj, Mira’s husband, was a handsome young man, who had already
earned a name as a warrior. Mira, it is generally presumed, had a happy life. But this
happiness was short-lived, for Prince Bhojraj died in a battle about ten years after their
marriage.
Six months after the death of her husband, her father died in battle. And Rana Sanga,
her father-in-law, sustained wounds in the field, and within a few months was fatally
poisoned by some courtiers who intrigued against him.
Mira was greatly shaken by this tragic turn of events, realizing the transient nature of
the world. Her inborn devotional tendencies now came to the fore, and her thoughts
turned inwards. Some of her poems seem to reflect her mood of detachment:
Life in this world is short; why involve yourself in it? The body is false, all material
objects are false, and false is the entire creation.
Sometime in this part of her life she came into contact with Saint Ravidas, the
cobbler saint. This brought a radical change in her entire spiritual outlook, and she was
initiated by him into the path of Surat Shabd Yoga. All her former external observances,
rites and rituals, which had formed part of her life since childhood, gradually lost their
significance.

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Shabd, the true path
God speaks to the ears of every heart, but it is not every heart that hears him.
In Mysticism, the Spiritual Path Volume 2 Professor L.R. Puri writes about the origin
of religions in the following words:

It seems most religions were originally mystic schools; but when in course of time,
true and practical mystics disappeared, the mystic practice was also dropped, as in
addition to being difficult and tasteless in the beginning, such practices are not
possible to be performed without the help of a mystic adept.
He is the very life and soul of the institution. There can be no mystic school
without the guru; the existence and efficacy of a mystic practice depends on the
presence and efficacy of the adept.
True and practical mystics are extremely rare. Instead of the inward ascent of
the soul and worship of the living God in His transcendent Being on subtle spiritual
planes, people have taken to outward rites and ceremonies. When along with real
mystics the mystic practice disappears, what remains in the school is mere ‘theory’.
This dependence on theory and books leaves religion at the mercy of individual
interpretation that involves difference, discussion and discord.

The mystics to whom Prof Puri refers are those ones who have realized the Supreme
Being, and who can consequently take us also to our heavenly Father. Therefore that
mystic is a true and perfect adept who in his spiritual transport has reached the last stage
of Sat Purush and gone beyond all relativity and delusion.
Unless a man has attained to that high spiritual stage of Sach Khand and realized and
known the absolute Lord, he should not be called a guru. The true Guru is one who can,
through the five melodies, or Shabd practice, take our soul up to Sach Khand and show us
our real home within us.
In the beginning our soul descended from that stage into this physical creation. The
mystic adept comes down from that true home of the soul, and leads us back to our
heavenly Father.

Once I was travelling with Maharaj Ji and a few others in the majestic Himalayas when
we came across a Buddhist temple close to the border of Tibet. Master was saying that
when Tibet was invaded by the Chinese, many of these monks escaped and built their
temple near the border and so continued their rituals.
Surrounding the outer wall of the temple were small copper cylinders on a ball-race.
This enabled the cylinder to spin around for quite a while with the mere flick of a finger.
Maharaj Ji explained that a prayer-like mantra was written on the surface of the cylinder.
The belief was that when spun around the cylinders would automatically offer the
prayer for that person.
As disciples of our Master we are given five words – or simran – to mentally repeat
with our attention at the third eye centre.
We were allowed to enter the temple and witness the real part of the ceremony,
which was most interesting and even uplifting in the various sounds that were created.
Near the front of the temple was a shrine, and next to it was an enormous ‘prayer wheel’

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with a shaft that reached from floor to ceiling. It was run on sophisticated bearings that
enabled it to whirl smoothly, as a monk spun it round over and over again.
Towards the centre of the temple sat a row of monks, each with a different musical
instrument. One had a large drum, another a smaller drum and one a pair of cymbals. The
rest had trumpet-like instruments, ranging in size from the longest which must have
measured almost six to seven feet, to the tiniest which was only about twelve inches.
Gradually they each started producing their own individual sound. The sound of the
drums, cymbals and various tones of the trumpets echoed through the temple in an
organized manner, creating a tremendous vibration that held our attention as if
hypnotised. We sat transfixed by this ritual, completely absorbed and transported by the
sounds that filled our very heads.
Yet this external sound, arresting and uplifting as it was, was not even a shadow of
what exists within each one of us. To attempt to explain exactly what the Audible Life
Stream is is not easy. It cannot be defined or explained in words. When it is heard, the
enchanted listener is silent and filled with a great joy. This life stream or sound is the
Supreme Creator Himself, vibrating through space. It is the wave of spiritual energy
going forth from the Creator to every living thing in the universe. By that current He has
created all things, and by it He sustains them. In man this heavenly sound is the royal
trunk road back to the Creator. We know from its manifestations that it has at least three
very wonderful attributes:

· Love – Wisdom – Power.

· The greatest of these is Love.

The Master teaches us that there is no other means of spiritual liberation except
through the Shabd, or Audible Life Stream. Without actual conscious participation in the
Shabd no one can ever escape the net of karmas and reincarnation, or ever become free
and happy. Each individual man or woman is a receiving set. At initiation the Master
‘tunes in’ or connects the disciple to the Sound Current. This does not mean that the
disciple will hear the pure Shabd right away. It takes time to develop the inner hearing.
The entire body, and more particularly the mind and astral body, must be cleansed,
purified and then attuned to the higher vibrations. After that the Sound comes clearly.
When one begins to hear it one is filled with a great joy, for there is nothing in the world
to be compared with it.
As the disciple is filled with the higher sounds, all the attractions of the senses
disappear. He is exalted; his heart is purified and his mind is renewed; he lives anew; he
has become immortal, not to be born again in a human body. How can the shadow of
death ever cross his path? He has entered the stream of everlasting life; he has become
one with his Master. He will travel with his Master on the chariot of the Shabd to the
Oneness with the Father in Sach Khand.
Saint Ravidas:

When Ravidas, the perfect Master,

Did I see,
The severed twig joined again the tree.
The Master pointed the path as he came,

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 The flame of Mira merged into the flame.

Mira took to the path of devotion in all earnestness. Her meditation bore fruit and her
inner experience strengthened her conviction, dyeing her entire being in that divine love.
In Mira’s own words, The tiny seed has grown into a mighty oak.
Mira’s unorthodox approach to God, her constant association with holy men and
above all her adoration of her Master, the low-caste cobbler Saint Ravidas, were resented
by the priestly caste and the orthodox people in the court of Chittor. She suffered many
trials and tribulations, and even various attempts on her life.
Mira’s association with her Master, it seems, was not a long one. Probably there were
only three or four different periods in her life during which she could be with him. Thus
most of her life was spent in separation from her beloved Master.
Ravidas, during his visits to Chittor, used to live in the colony for the low-caste
people of those times. Those of high caste would not visit these colonies nor enter their
huts. Maharaj Ji said that at first Mira used to disguise herself in the dress of a low-caste
maidservant and slip out of her palace to have the darshan of her Master.
After a while Mira realized that the path was not one of stealth and timidity. She then
started visiting Saint Ravidas openly, sitting among the common disciples, disregarding
their caste and social status. She was there in complete adoration of her Master,
completely oblivious of anyone other than her Beloved.
Mira was later forbidden to visit the Master, and a guard was placed on her section of
the palace, to dissuade her from going for her Master’s darshan. But nothing could stop
Mira.
I stood in the very room in which Mira was imprisoned. Maharaj Ji asked me to look
out of the window. There was a sheer drop down the side of the fort to the plateau below.
Maharaj Ji said that Mira, in her desperation to be with her Master, used to knot her
garments together and climb down to him.
The harassment of Mira at the hands of the Rana and his advisers continued. Holy
men and devotees were forced to keep away from the palace. The two attempts on her life
by her own family must have been a traumatic experience for Mira, for she finally
decided to leave Chittor.
One night she quietly slipped out of the fort of Chittor. It is said that Mira travelled
from place to place spreading her message of love and devotion. To this day she lives in
the hearts of the Indian people through her lyrical compositions. With time Mira has
grown in stature as the most dynamic, inspiring and loved devotee and poet of her era.

How gracious Maharaj Ji was to allow me to have this uplifting and interesting
experience. The day came to an end all too soon. We made our way back to the Lake
Palace Hotel, its marble facades and domes gleaming moonlight-white in the water,
reaching there by boat just as darkness was approaching.
I have written a great deal about Ahmedabad and will not go into any detail here,
except to say how appreciative we were of the precious time Maharaj Ji so lovingly gave
us, despite the heavy demands made on him by satsangis and seekers.
When we were due to leave for the village of Sidhpur my wife fell ill, so Maharaj Ji,
my daughter Colleen and Mrs Sheila Bharatram travelled on ahead of us. Lesley and I left
the following day to join them.

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 Sidhpur is a poor area. The villagers were mostly of the soil, very humble and
sincere in their devotion. The Master had a two-day programme of satsang and initiation.
After early morning satsang the Master allowed male seekers to apply for initiation.
Only one young man was turned away and told to apply when he was more mature. The
next day was ladies’ day. All were accepted with the exception of a lady whom Maharaj Ji
said was too young.
That evening the secretary of the sangat, who was the father of the young lady who
had been refused initiation because of her age, asked Maharaj Ji if he would marry his
daughter to the young man who had been refused initiation the previous day.
Maharaj Ji turned to Colleen, and with a twinkle in his eye, said, “Do you think I
should marry them?” Colleen immediately said, “Yes, I do, Maharaj Ji.” Then he said to
the secretary, “Bring them after dinner.”
The young couple later appeared with both their parents for this simple but lovely
ceremony. We all sat on the verandah, Maharaj Ji directly in front of the obviously
nervous couple. Maharaj Ji closed his eyes for a few minutes, spoke to them in their
language, placed a garland of sweet-smelling flowers over their heads, put his hands
together and said “Radha Soami”, and the ceremony was over.
They were overjoyed and left holding hands, tears streaming down their beaming
faces.
Early next morning Maharaj Ji was to interview married couples for initiation. The
now-married young pair stood in line. Maharaj Ji smiled at them as they stood in front of
him, and sent them to the area where the acceptances were waiting. They became
satsangis.
After initiation we left for Bombay. Following the satsang programme, which was
attended by huge crowds of satsangis and seekers, the Master invited us to attend
initiation as we were leaving for home the following day.
We were sitting right at the back of the hall. Directly in front of me was a young
lady, beautifully dressed in her colourful sari for this momentous occasion. Shortly after
Maharaj Ji started talking she fell over, eyes closed, a big smile on her face, and at times
laughing aloud. She was obviously having a wonderful inner experience.
Suddenly she sat up, gazed intently at the Master, and in a few minutes fell over once
more and continued her inner experience. This continued for the whole of the initiation.
As she left the hall she had a radiant look on her face, bubbling over with joy.
Before leaving for the airport we were invited by Mr Krishin Babani for lunch, as
Maharaj Ji would also be present.
After lunch Maharaj Ji called Colleen and said, “Come into the garden with me, I
want to take photos of you.” Colleen very shyly went along with the Master. He spent
about ten minutes photographing this lucky girl.
Just before we left, Maharaj Ji called me aside and said, “I did not want to disappoint
Colleen, as I had taken many photos of her sister last year, and thought she would like to
have the same experience.”
Then, in a whisper, he said, “Please don't tell her, but I had run out of film.” How
considerate and loving our beloved Master always is.
With all those wonderful memories stored in our hearts we left, sad to leave, but
thankful and full to the brim.

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 Chapter 14

Maharaj Ji’s Southern African Tour, 1982

Maharaj Ji, together with Mr Krishin Babani and Mrs Cami Moss, was due to arrive in
Zimbabwe on 11 June 1982 on the 3.15 pm flight from Tanzania. I arrived in Zimbabwe
on the 10th to initiate two souls on the Master’s behalf and to brief the local committee
on Master’s visit. On the day of Maharaj Ji’s arrival I had arranged for the committee to
have lunch with me at my hotel, and we would then receive Maharaj Ji and party at
Harare Airport.
That was the plan, but at about 10 am that day I was sitting in my room dressed in
jeans and T-shirt, barefooted, when I heard someone knocking on my door. A voice
shouted: “Come quickly, Maharaj Ji is downstairs!”
It was only 10 am – how could he be here already? I jumped up in panic, and,
dressed as I was, slammed the door shut without taking the key, and dashed downstairs.
Sure enough, there he was at the reception desk.
Very flustered, I went up to Maharaj Ji and blurted out: “Maharaj Ji, what are you
doing here?”
“You didn't come to meet us, so we took a taxi,” he replied.
“You were supposed to arrive this afternoon,” I countered, to which he answered:
“The flights were changed. You should have enquired. Never mind, let’s go to my room
and have some tea.”
That was the start of Maharaj Ji’s southern African tour.
That evening after dinner I presented Maharaj Ji with a detailed programme that the
Board of Management had painstakingly prepared for his South African tour. We had
given preference to the old satsangis to have interviews with Maharaj Ji, and perhaps for
those who had never met him to have dinner with him at various homes nominated for
these occasions.
Maharaj Ji took the beautifully bound programme and glanced at each page. He felt
for his waistcoat pocket and pulled out his pen. With a few deft strokes he changed the
whole programme. He decided only to see new initiates at private functions, and all old
initiates to attend satsang only. This created quite a dilemma as most people had already
been informed of the programme.
I excused myself as soon as I could, and went to my room to telephone the
committee where all three members were waiting for my call. I said, “Boys, please sit
down. I have a shock for you. Maharaj Ji has completely changed the programme,” and
then went on to give them the details. They listened in shocked disbelief, as it was going
to be quite a task to fulfil Maharaj Ji’s instructions, as we were only going to be in Harare
for another day.
However, they succeeded, but with much disappointment to the old satsangis and
tremendous excitement on the part of recently initiated satsangis who had never dreamt to
be invited to a lunch or dinner with their Master.
While in Zimbabwe we spent a few days at the Wankie Game Reserve and the

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Victoria Falls. It was wonderful to see Master relax and enjoy himself, without hordes of
satsangis around him. He needed the rest as the South African tour would be short but
very hectic.
A few wonderful incidents occurred during these beautiful days with our Beloved.
Sitting at the airport, prior to our departure for Wankie, Vernon Lowrie, the
Zimbabwe secretary, came around to each of us, offering us parshad. He went down the
line and, coming to Maharaj Ji, offered him parshad as well. Master said, laughingly, “I
am always sitting when everyone is having parshad, and no one ever offers me any.
Thank you. “ He took some and ate it.
We flew from Harare to Wankie, where we were met by a young lady game-ranger
who was specially appointed by Dr Sue Hart to drive us through the reserve in an open
Jeep. Sue Hart is a satsangi veterinary doctor who wrote three bestsellers on wild life, as
well as the children’s book The Secret of the Sycamore Tree, which has a Sant Mat theme
to it.
En route we saw a tremendous amount of game, especially elephant in herds of a
hundred and more, and witnessed a kill by a lion and lioness. We spent the night at the
game lodge, where a sumptuous vegetarian meal was prepared for us. Maharaj was an
indefatigable photographer and took many slides and movies.
When we arrived at the Victoria Falls Hotel, Cami Moss exclaimed: “I am
exhausted! You can take over all the responsibility from now on.”
The reception clerk at the hotel, an African gentleman, made us most welcome.
Looking up, he saw Maharaj Ji standing nearby with his arms folded, appearing very
regal, and exclaimed: “Welcome too, Fundese”, meaning ‘Big Priest’.
The next day we visited the Victoria Falls before sunrise. Maharaj Ji wanted to
photograph the sun rising behind this magnificent spectacle – one of the Seven Wonders
of the World. It was cold and miserable as we made our way to the rain forest dressed in
plastic raincoats, hoods and gumboots, but Master’s enthusiasm soon brightened us up
and warmed our hearts.
The sun eventually rose behind the huge spray that thundered into the sky for about
1,500 metres, and as it grew a little stronger, each tiny drop was tinted blood-red by the
rays of the sun. What a sight! Maharaj Ji and I were taking dozens of shots, while Krishin
just stood by, quietly gazing at this wondrous spectacle.
Maharaj Ji also seemed spellbound, as he suddenly stood still, drinking in the
grandeur of it all, and said, more to himself than to us: “It is just like Trikuti.”
That evening we were invited to attend a traditional African ritualistic dance by
‘witchdoctors’ and certain members of the tribe, male and female. This ceremony was
most interesting, and was conducted in a small arena which was lit by flares. As the
dancers went through their various gyrations, the flickering of the flares gave them a
ghostly, ethereal look. They were chanting in the most rhythmic fashion to the beat of
drums and other unfamiliar and strange African instruments. Maharaj Ji was fascinated.
We all fell into our beds exhausted after the long day.
The Zimbabwe Sangat numbered 40. They were extremely lucky as they all had the
opportunity of being close to Maharaj Ji. Two satsangs were held. Krishin Babani and I
each gave a discourse, followed by questions answered by Maharaj Ji.
The whole sangat had lunch with Maharaj Ji at the home of Mr and Mrs Bob Denny.
During the morning each satsangi had the chance of a short interview. How gracious and

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kind is our Beloved Master.
A lady who had lost both her legs because of advanced diabetes was wheeled into
Maharaj Ji’s presence for her interview. He immediately stood up and said, “You should
have let me come to you, please forgive me.” He was so gentle and loving with her, and
spent quite a time encouraging her and giving her much hope.
During the late afternoon Mr Denny drove our group to a game farm, where Maharaj
Ji was able to use up his remaining films.
Early next morning, as we were packing to fly back to Harare, Maharaj Ji said to me:
“Where is the best place to pack all these films to avoid any damage at the airport
through security X-rays?”
I replied: “Maharaj Ji, place them in your main baggage, as they only X-ray your
hand luggage.”
Then, when the four of us were sitting in the airport waiting to go through Customs, I
suddenly noticed a very large sign that read: Do not leave unprocessed film in your
luggage as it will be damaged by our security X-ray machines. I went cold all over as I
realized all Maharaj Ji’s films would be damaged or destroyed!
If you were to ask me what was the worst moment of my life, I would say, that was
it. I nudged Krishin and discreetly pointed at the notice, while Maharaj Ji was busy
reading the newspaper. Krishin paled visibly, and raised his hands in anguish. He then
brought Cami’s attention to the notice. The three of us sat like naughty children, too
scared to tell the Master. The deed was done. Our luggage had gone through, and was on
its way to the plane.
When we reached the hotel in Johannesburg, Maharaj Ji asked: “Do you know of any
photographic company? I would like to get all these films processed.”
I said, with fear in my voice: “Yes, Maharaj Ji, Kodak is right next door to our
satsang ghar, and as I know them, they will complete them all in a few hours.”
My hell continued as I waited those harrowing hours for the films to be processed.
In the meantime, Maharaj Ji had arranged with Robert Hurwitz, the Johannesburg
secretary, to have a projector ready in his room of the hotel where we were staying to
view his handiwork. My room was opposite the Master’s, and I now sat there, too scared
to hand over the films. After a long wait Robert came to my room and said: “Maharaj Ji is
waiting. Why have you not brought the films?” I explained what had happened.
Well, I had to face the music sooner or later, so we took them through to Master’s
room. Robert set up the projector, expecting the worst. But, lo and behold, every slide
was a masterpiece!
Robert commented afterwards it was a comedy watching my face change from
anguish to joy. Thank you, Maharaj Ji, in sparing that anguish, but all I can say is that
Krishin, Cami and I went through many lives of karma in just a few hours.
The Master’s first satsang in Johannesburg was to be held in a fruit and vegetable
warehouse! It is appropriate to tell the story of this venue and how it came about.
In a previous chapter I spoke a little about seva or service to the Master. The physical
seva that went into preparing this unlikely place for satsang was commendable. Even
seva at the Dera could hardly surpass the love and devotion that went into its preparation.
But let me start at the beginning.
When I heard that the Master was definitely coming to South Africa, and reported
this to the committee, we immediately started making enquiries for a venue suitable to

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seat a crowd of about 3,000 people. Despite extensive research and on-site investigations,
no suitable place could be found for the dates we needed.
We got our heads together and pondered our options. Our satsang ghar, which was a
former synagogue we had purchased a year or two before Maharaj Ji’s tour, and which is
large by any standards, could only accommodate about 1,000 people.
Suddenly Mr Nanoobhai Narsai, our assistant secretary, exclaimed, “My brother and
I are building a fruit and vegetable warehouse. It is still incomplete. The shell is finished,
but as yet it has not been divided into rooms.”
We immediately all went to the building site. It was a mess. Building material and
piles of rubble lay all over the place. It seemed an impossible task. Nanoobhai stopped all
further building operations for the time being. Seva teams were organised and clean-up
operations began. Time was very short, and these wonderful sevadars worked in shifts,
the seva never stopping 24 hours a day.
When I left to meet the Master in Zimbabwe, and with just three days to go, the place
was still in a shambles. As far as I was concerned, to finish it was an impossible task. But
such is the way of our Master and his loving disciples.
Satsang was to be held that night, and when I phoned the committee just before
flying to Johannesburg; they said that they were nearly ready, but the municipality had
not yet switched on the electric power to light up the building, and they were thinking of
hiring a portable lighting plant.
That evening when Maharaj Ji and party drove up to the hall I could not believe my
eyes. Beautiful gardens had been laid out, the walls and window frames were painted,
glazing was completed, and the place was aglow with lights. When we entered the hall
there was a beautiful blue and white dais, just like that at the Dera. Pictures of Maharaj Ji
hung on the walls. It was truly a miracle of love and seva. The ugly duckling was
transformed into a beautiful swan.
Maharaj Ji even remarked what a lovely venue the sevadars had prepared for his
satsangs.
During the satsang that evening I had the privilege of welcoming Maharaj Ji to our
country after such a long absence (he had last visited in 1966), and gave a short talk on
the principles of Sant Mat, after which Master graciously agreed to answer questions.
One question in particular, and Maharaj Ji's answer, set the tone for his most wonderful
tour.

Q: Maharaj Ji, we have waited so long for you to come, and now that you
are here, we cannot believe you are here. It is very difficult. I’d like to ask
you, Maharaj Ji, please to do something just so we can be reassured that
you are here.

A: Well, brother, this morning I said I am quite conscious that I have come here after 16
years; not that I did not want to come, but I just couldn’t. There were so many factors in
my way that were difficult for me to overcome. The moment I got the chance, the very
first opportunity, I came to be with you all. But in spite of being away, you have all been
very near and dear to me.

He certainly was very near to all his satsangis, and to this day the memory and effect

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of his loving darshan and satsangs pervade all who were lucky enough to be present.
As I sit here and write about Maharaj Ji's visit, my mind goes to these words taken
from one of our Sant Mat books:

He, out of his mercy, has bestowed upon us such a noble gift that all the treasures of the
world stand in no comparison with it. But it will not improve your condition if we will not
use it.
Though the teachings you have received are invaluable, yet they cannot be of any use
unless you utilize them and daily engage in the spiritual exercises for as long a time as you
can spare from your worldly engagements.

To sum up, you must be careful about the following:

Control of mind
Check your senses
Resign to His Will
Love for Him
Regularity and punctuality in your meditation.

Kabir wrote:

Blessed is that day, that hour,

That propitious moment
When the man of God came
and graced my home.

I know that Kabir Sahib meant that wonderful moment that his Master graced his
human body and took abode within him at the time of initiation. I never, ever stop
thanking my beloved Master for giving me the gift of Nam. He is nearer than my hands
and feet and resides in the chamber of my forehead.
However, Kabir’s couplet can also serve to describe that wonderful time when
Maharaj Ji graced my material home and joined my family for dinner.
It was early afternoon when Maharaj Ji said: “What should we do before going to
your house?” I suggested that we visit the zoo, as it was on the way. It is a very large zoo
with beautiful gardens and many animals which I thought he might want to photograph.
Maharaj Ji spent an hour photographing the animals, many of them in beautiful natural
surroundings.
Two young ladies caught my attention, as they were standing gazing at Maharaj Ji,
hands folded and with tears streaming down their cheeks. They were satsangis, and later
told me that they were unable to be at darshan that morning, and suddenly had an urgent
desire to visit the zoo. They were overwhelmed with his grace and the fact that they had
been drawn to his presence.
At about 4 pm we had completed our little tour, so went on early to my house.
Imagine the panic in the kitchen when I called to the ladies that Maharaj Ji and I had
arrived - two hours ahead of schedule! They dashed out of the kitchen and with apologies
quickly attired themselves in a fitting manner to receive the Master, who in the meantime

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had settled himself into a comfortable chair and was very relaxed.
A tray of steaming hot tea and an assortment of cookies and cakes soon appeared,
and there was our Beloved sitting in our midst.
My two grandsons, aged five and six years, sat at the Master’s feet and chatted to
him. It reminded me so much of Maharaj Ji’s previous visit 16 years before, when my
two daughters, at about the same age, sat at Master’s feet in just the same way.
How lucky are the new generation of Western satsangi children to be brought up
from birth as vegetarians and to know about Sant Mat and the Master from that early age.
Sanskaras (impressions from past lives) had brought them into satsangi families, with
such a wonderful start in the quest for the Lord.
My younger daughter is an example of this. When she was about nine years old she
was being educated at a Catholic convent, and took part in all the Christian rituals. But at
home she was in a satsangi environment and attended satsang regularly. One day she
came home and said to me: “Isn't Sister silly, Dad? She thinks animals have no souls. We
know better.”
Maharaj Ji’s 10-day tour of South Africa was very strenuous, and included darshan
and satsangs in Cape Town, Port Elizabeth and Durban as well as Johannesburg. He had
been out of India from the beginning of June.
When we returned from Cape Town to Johannesburg on 26 June we arranged a trip
to the Kruger National Park, a renowned game reserve in the Eastern Transvaal.
Once again Sue Hart made wonderful plans, with accommodation in one of the
camps called Skukuza. We had a large, luxury thatched-roofed bungalow, perched right
above the banks of the Crocodile River, and from the verandah could watch the game
come to drink. Hippos lazed in groups in the river, with just their ears and nostrils
showing, and crocodiles lay stretched out on the rocks for hours without moving.
Sue, with Bob Papas, the secretary of the White River sangat that was just half an
hour away, took it in turns to drive us around the reserve, and kept us enthralled with
their knowledge of the game and the vast bird life of Africa.
Each day we enjoyed a very early morning breakfast in the bungalow, lovingly
stocked up by the sangat; for lunch we stopped at a ‘waterhole’ on the banks of the river
and ate from picnic hampers; and when finally we returned to camp and the sun had
already set, hot meals were served in the restaurant. After a brief walk around the camp,
savouring the fresh smells and silence, and admiring the night sky thickly covered in a
blanket of stars, we fell into bed exhausted.
One evening after dinner Maharaj Ji was standing in the lounge looking at various
pictures and trophies on the walls. I noticed a lady staring at Maharaj Ji from the other
end of the room. She had a glass of wine in her hand. Suddenly she finished her drink,
and walked across the room, right up to the Master, and took his beard in her hands, and
said: “How silky your beard feels, how do you keep it so clean?”
With that I took Maharaj Ji by the arm and led him out of the restaurant. We were all
very embarrassed by this, as she no doubt had had too much wine. But Maharaj Ji just
took it all in his stride.
And so Master’s tour came to an end. Maharaj Ji’s departure was scheduled for 3.15
pm on 1 July. We reached the airport a few hours early. About 10 or 12 people were
present, including the Johannesburg committee and a few members of the board of
trustees. The sangat was asked not to come to the airport. Maharaj Ji was very pleased at

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their discipline and obedience.
We stood around, and Master chatted and said his goodbyes. I had a very large
photograph of him, which he graciously autographed: With love to sangat. This picture
now hangs in the foyer of the Radha Soami satsang ghar in Johannesburg.
And now he was to leave. He shook hands with those present, and gave me a hug and
thanked me. Thanked me for what? He did it all!
We had special permission to stand on a balcony overlooking the tarmac. A bus was
waiting to take the passengers to the plane, which was parked a good distance away.
He came out and looked up at us. To me, this was my darshan, as I had always been
behind him at the darshan and satsang sessions. He seemed to look at me alone, which of
course was not the case. I held on to his gaze, and felt nothing else existed, just my
Master and me.
A few days after Maharaj Ji left I wrote an article for our magazine, Science of the
Soul. This is what I penned:

When this little contribution to Science of the Soul is being read, 1982 will have
come to an end. The ups and downs of the year will be only memories revolving
in our minds, but it will be remembered as the year Master visited South Africa
for the second time, and brought the reality of Sant Mat to many of us.
A period of 16 years elapsed between his first visit and this, his latest. In
1966, with fewer satsangis, there was an intimacy in the encounter with him, not
only in the romantic air of the path and also because so few satsangis had been to
the Dera, but because everyone was able to be in his gracious presence constantly
during the 21 glorious days he spent here.
Prior to the first visit, the few who had been fortunate enough to visit the
Dera enthralled the small audiences with vivid stories of the Master, the Dera,
and the wonders of Sant Mat. Sant Mat was a ‘fairy story’ in the hearts of his
disciples, and when Master came and gave of himself to the few who were his
devoted disciples, they were in heaven. Each minute of the day away from him
whetted their appetites for the time when they would again be with him.
He left in a cloud of light. Tears flowed freely from eyes sad to see him
leave, but eyes that were aglow with happiness at what they received.

It was a story of the Beloved and the lover:

Although love is a sweet madness,

yet all infirmities it heals.
Saints and sages have passed through it.
Love both to God and man appeals.

We tasted the sweetness of love the Master left behind.

Sant Mat grew in leaps and bounds after his departure. Many were initiated, and
many had the opportunity to visit the Dera. Not only did the numbers of satsangis
increase here in South Africa, but in all the countries in the West.
However, with this growth in Sant Mat, it had become increasingly difficult to visit
the Master in India. The Dera authorities have built more and more accommodation for

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Western guests, but this has not helped much in alleviating the accommodation problem.
Inevitably, the intimacy enjoyed by the few when visiting Dera was curtailed.
Today, between the months of October and April, there is a constant flow of visitors,
numbering hundreds. There is very little opportunity to spend time with him; the physical
Master is becoming less accessible. Those few who are involved closely with him work
long hours in the administration of the vast Radha Soami Colony.
A few years ago the South African sangat bought a derelict synagogue and this
building became the Radha Soami Satsang (SA) headquarters and the hall where the
Johannesburg satsangs are held. Much has been said about the seva that transformed this
broken-down building into what it is today. Everyone joined in the seva, no matter what
was asked of them. Ladies in saris, girls in jeans, men in work attire, all worked side-by-
side, painting, scraping, building, carrying dirt.
It became Dera seva in the heart of Johannesburg. Food was served twice daily, and
through all this loving seva, everyone got to know each other. Sant Mat was alive in
everyone’s heart. All were doing Master’s work. Satsangs were held amidst the rubble,
and the message was Love. Knowing that their Beloved was coming kept everyone
working at a feverish pitch during the weeks prior to his expected arrival, in order to
complete the project. In fact, on the actual day of his arrival, sevadars were still working
around the clock to finish everything.
Then he came, like a cool breeze at sunset after a hot humid day. And when he
departed, he left love in our happy hearts, but hearts already aching with the pain of
separation. He left, also, not a few with unfulfilled dreams, while still others he left
bewildered, feeling let down and frustrated.
Soami Ji said: “Master has no bias or favourites on this path. It is a path of love, and
intense spiritual practice. He who cares nothing for public opinion, who controls his body
and mind, and burns away all cravings in the furnace of love, earns His spiritual wealth.”
His visit was short; to most of us he appeared as if from the heavens. At the morning
darshan session, after the crowds had been waiting for hours, he floated in and sat on the
dais, while everyone strained forward, eyes riveted on him, hoping for just one glance
from their Beloved, hoping for some inspiration, some indication of who he really is.
But this was only part of the game of Sant Mat. Here, for the first time for many, was
their Master. What did they expect? Was his presence uplifting to the degree that all life’s
problems would be solved? Yes, a few did feel his power and grace and are still in the
clouds.
At evening time he came to satsang, and spoke to us in his melodious voice. He
explained the teachings of Sant Mat in the simplest way: to sit in meditation, follow the
principles; this was the golden way. Initiation by a perfect living Master assured the
disciple of a place in Sach Khand, and there would be no more transmigration; in fact, if
attachments of this world were broken, there would be no necessity to take another
human birth.
Yes, Master’s visit was indeed like a breath of fresh air, bringing a heavenly perfume
to a sangat that thought it had lost all sense of smell.
He rekindled the flickering embers in the hearts of his devotees, and then ... he left us
as suddenly as he had come.
Months have passed. We are once more settling into our old complacent ways. What
is expected of us? What really is this path? Many seemed to feel empty after Master’s

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visit, but the hard core of the sangat is strong, they attend satsang, do their spiritual
exercises regularly, and most of all, they feel that deep love for him.
Sant Mat is not a path for weaklings; it is a path for those who really, deep down,
want God and would be prepared to pay the price no matter what that price may be. It is a
long path, a slow loosening of the bonds that bind us to the things of this world. There is
no magic formula. It is a game of love, with the Lord the jealous lover.

Kalil Gibran covered it pretty thoroughly when he wrote:

When love beckons to you, follow him.

Though the ways are hard and steep,
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden amongst his pinions,
may wound you.
And when he speaks to you, believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams
as the North wind lays waste the garden,
For even as love crowns you so shall he
crucify you,
Even as he is for your growth, so he is
for your pruning,
Even as he ascends to your height and
caresses your tenderest branches that
quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake
them in their clinging to the earth.
Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself,
He threshes you to make you naked,
He rifts you to free you from your husks,
He grinds you to whiteness,
He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire,
that you may become sacred bread for
God’s sacred feast.
All these things shall love do unto you
that you may know the secrets of your
heart, and in that knowledge become a
fragment of Life’s heart.

When you read this, and understand it in your heart, then you will know that you can
answer the call of love.

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 Chapter 15

1 JUNE 1990

I had planned to visit Dera in October/November 1990. My previous visit had been to
Delhi in 1987, as the Dera was closed to foreigners because of the political unrest in the
Punjab. The 10 days that I spent in Delhi, as wonderful as they were, was not like being
at Dera.
Dera was the home of the last four Satgurus, and vibrates with their love and
divinity. As Maharaj Ji has said: Even the bricks and stones are ‘vibrating with Shabd’
brought by our beloved Masters.
Let us add a short resume of these great souls who were the architects of the ‘heaven
on earth’ that is the Dera.

Baba Jaimal Singh, fondly known as Baba Ji, was initiated when he was 17 years
old by Soami Ji Maharaj. After his initiation he spent two days and nights absorbed in
meditation in a small room in Soami Ji’s house. The priceless Jewel that he had been
seeking since a child was at last obtained through the grace of his Master. He was filled
with bliss and happiness; he could hardly contain his joy.
After some time Soami Ji said to his beloved disciple, “We must always keep a
balance between our worldly and spiritual duties. If you give up everything you will have
to depend on others for your living: Those who bow at your feet and bring you food will
rob you of your spiritual wealth. The devotee must earn his own living. This is essential
for meditation.”
Baba Ji was told by his Master to enlist in the army. He joined the 24th Sikh
regiment in 1856. As long as the regiment was in Agra he came daily for Soami Ji’s
darshan.
When Baba Ji’s regiment was ordered north to Delhi Baba Ji approached his Master
and asked him to bless a bowl of water, which he did. Baba Ji drank the whole bowl of
water, then before leaving he placed his head on his Master’s feet.
After Baba Ji left, a few disgruntled satsangis wanted to know why Baba Ji was
given preferential treatment. Soami Ji replied, “There is no question of bias or
favouritism on this path. It is a path of love and intense spiritual practice. He who cares
nothing for public opinion, who controls his body and mind, and burns away all cravings
in the furnace of love, earns his spiritual wealth.”
Who else has done as much meditation as Baba Jaimal Singh? This gift of the Lord is
not given away for nothing.
Baba Ji spent his army life in an impeccable fashion. His officers always admired
him for his keen sense of duty, his punctuality and his readiness to carry out their
commands. They gradually came to know that he was a highly evolved soul who had
enlisted in the army just to earn his own living and avoid being a burden on others.
Living in Agra at this time was a Punjabi lady, Bibi Rukko, who served Mata Radha
Ji, Soami Ji’s wife. She would often ask Mata Ji to send some spiritually advanced

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satsangi to her province to initiate seekers. Punjab, once the land of great gurus and
saints, had become a spiritual wilderness.
Mata Ji replied, “Soami ji has already arranged for this. Have no worry; when the
time comes, your wish will be fulfilled.”
In 1889, on retirement from the army, Baba Ji went to his home village, Ghuman.
Here he initiated a few seekers.
Although he used to explain the teachings of Sant Mat and give occasional
discourses to seekers while in the army, this now became a regular feature of his life.
But he longed to be at a quiet place suitable for meditation, where he could sit for
long hours or even days. He chose a lonely place between two villages on the west bank
of the Beas River. He had first adopted this place in 1870 while his army unit was
stationed in Mian Mir, near Lahore.
As satsang numbers increased people started coming to his retreat for his darshan.
During his early days at the site of the present Dera, Baba Ji used to stay in an
improvised room dug into one of the rugged walls of the sandy ravines near the river, a
room that could best be described as a type of large cave. The cave served as protection
against the vagaries of the weather and provided a quiet spot where he could sit in
meditation for as long as he pleased.
Later, when the sangat started growing, the opportunity for unbroken hours of
meditation became rarer. When Baba Ji accepted the request of the residents of the nearby
villages to make this place his permanent residence, a small hut replaced his cave.
When a lamp is lit, moths automatically come flying around it; wherever saints
appear, marked souls are naturally drawn towards them. Slowly but steadily the number
of Baba Ji’s disciples increased, and he came to be known in the neighbouring towns and
villages as a Satguru.
His personal needs were few and he would always save some portion of his pension
to give as seva for the sangat. He ate sparingly and took little interest in food, taking
whatever Bibi Rukko cooked.
In October 1894 Baba Ji went to the Murree Hills together with Bibi Rukko. The
purpose of his visit, as he told Bibi Rukko, was to initiate Sawan Singh.
Sawan Singh, a keen seeker of spiritual truth, heard about Baba Ji and his satsangs.
He came to the meetings and, after a few days of enquiries, asked for Nam. Baba Ji
initiated him on 15 October 1894.

Maharaj Sawan Singh, a devoted disciple and a highly evolved soul, was Baba Ji’s
chosen successor.
This relationship of Master and disciple is portrayed in the many letters that Baba Ji
had written to the Great Master, as he was later fondly known. These letters, which we
are lucky enough to have in an English translation, give glimpses of the deep spiritual
unity and love between a perfect Master and the disciple chosen by him to continue his
divine mission.
At the time that Maharaj Sawan Singh was initiated, Baba Ji was living in a small
mud hut. There was another small hut nearby in which Bibi Rukko stayed and prepared
meals for Baba Ji. There were only two beds – the one used by Baba Ji, which is still
preserved, and a very small one belonging to Bibi Rukko.

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 Whenever Sawan Singh came to Dera on leave from his military service, Baba Ji
lodged him in his own hut. Sawan Singh would unroll his bedding beneath Baba Ji’s bed
and sleep there. But after Baba Ji left this world, the Great Master never again used the
room for sleeping in; he would sit for meditation there.
Soon after his initiation Sawan Singh persuaded Baba Ji to allow him to build a
permanent room. It was also small but with a higher ceiling.
One morning during his first visit to Dera, the Great Master happened to see Bibi
Rukko bringing a pitcher of water for Baba Ji’s bath.
Then after a while she brought water for Sawan Singh to bathe in. He realized that
such clean water could not have come from the river; Bibi Rukko must have brought it
from some well. But he had not seen any well near the Dera. When asked, Bibi Rukko
said she had brought the water from the well in the nearby village.
The Great Master, distressed to learn that Bibi Rukko had to take so much trouble
every day, requested her to allow him to do this seva as long as he stayed at the Dera.
However, the next day when he went to fetch water, and had to cover the mile-long
stretch over ravines and depressions, he thought how convenient it would be for the
sangat if a well could be dug at the Dera. After some persuasion Baba Ji agreed.
The well still stands today in the Dera, but because satsangis came from far and near
to drink the water as though it were holy, and made a ritual of it, Maharaj Charan Singh Ji
had the well bricked up.
On 29 December 1903 Baba Ji left his mortal coil. Sawan Singh was not present as
his Master knew the agony of separation would be unbearable for him. However, Sawan
Singh was at the Dera to perform the last rites.
The formal ceremony of installing Sawan Singh as the Satguru was performed with
quiet dignity. He was offered Soami Ji’s turban and shawl as a token of the responsibility
of Mastership – a responsibility he was to fulfil for 45 years.
Maharaj Sawan Singh Ji did not initiate anyone for some time after he became the
Master. He also had to continue with his army service for another eight years to qualify
for a pension. He began to spend all his holidays at the Dera, and satsangis and seekers
began to flock around him.
The work at the Dera began to increase, and the disciples grew restless in his
absence. Maharaj Sawan Singh Ji then retired early, in April 1911, to devote himself
entirely to the great spiritual duty entrusted to him by his Satguru. His entire time was
dedicated to satsang, initiation, guiding the sangat, organising seva and to his meditation.
He slept very little, at times attending to the queries of seekers until late at night, and then
getting up at 3 am.
His diet, already sparse, was now even further reduced. He always said, The nectar
of Nam will not let the body get weak. Nam sustains the whole of creation; it is not
difficult for Nam to sustain the human body, provided one is fully attuned to it.
Saints, he said, live in the world but their attention is always absorbed inwards. They
eat but are not concerned with taste. They mostly stay at a higher plane and act from
there.
Once, the Great Master asked Baba Ji for four boons:

• Firstly, that the langar continue regularly, and that he may never be
required to tell the sangat that anything was ever needed;

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 • Secondly, he requested that if any injurious remark should
inadvertently escape his lips the words should not cause any harm to
anyone;
• Thirdly, that his children should never be required to spread their
hands before others in supplication for material needs;
• Fourthly, that the souls he initiated should be protected and taken
care of at the time of their departure from this world.

In 1910 the Great Master began going on satsang tours, which at first were mostly of
nearby cities, towns and hill regions. Although the Dera demanded most of his attention,
he tried to go on such tours whenever he could find time.
When Maharaj Ji retired and came to live in the Dera, building activity received a
new impetus, fulfilling Baba Ji’s prediction that the mason would always be at work in
the colony. With the blessing of successive Satgurus there has been no let-up in the
construction work, which continues even to this day at an ever-increasing tempo.
During the Great Master’s time the sangat had to cross the river in boats to collect
grass and reeds – which was used as fuel in the langar – as they only grew on the
opposite bank of the Beas.
Once, when the sevadars returned very late, one said, “Hazur, the current was very
strong; it took us a long time to get across. The river creates so many problems for us.”
Maharaj Ji replied, “Do not worry. If it is Baba Ji’s will, the river will recede, and the
grass and reeds will begin to grow on the Dera banks in the future.”
Indeed, gradually the river did shift, and now it is about two miles away from the
Dera. The reeds and thick grasses used for fuel now grow on the Dera side of the river;
and acres of fertile farmland have been added to the colony’s area.
The Great Master was himself an efficient and experienced engineer. The layout and
the master plans of all new Dera buildings were drawn by him. He personally supervised
all buildings erected in the Dera during his time, including the big satsang hall, called
Baba Jaimal Singh Hall.
From early December 1946 until the time of his departure in April 1948, the Great
Master was ill. The doctors persevered with their medicines, but with no lasting effect.
Despite sickness, pain and weakness, Maharaja Ji continued with his satsang routine as
much as possible. From December 1947 till the end, he stayed in the Dera. During these
last few months he often attended satsangs though he did not give discourses.
On 20 March 1948 the Great Master appointed Sardar Bahadur Jagat Singh Ji as
his Successor and executed a will to this effect. This decision of the Master was
welcomed by all Dera officials and satsangis staying there. On the morning of 2nd April
1948 the Master’s grandson, Charan Singh Ji, came down the stairs of the Great Master’s
house, the look on his face conveying to the waiting congregation that their beloved
Master was no more.
Although Maharaj Jagat Singh Ji only functioned as Master from 1948 to 1951, he
inspired everyone whose life he touched with his wonderful example of purity,
detachment and one-pointed devotion. Jagat Singh Ji was assistant professor of chemistry
at a college in Lyallpur. He met the Great Master in 1904 and was able to attend his
satsangs and also received Nam in the same year.

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 Whatever happened in his life, Sardar Bahadur accepted as his Satguru’s will.
Happiness or pain, prosperity or sickness, he would accept everything with an
unshakeable composure. He was an example of the perfect disciple.
When he went to the Great Master’s room for darshan, he would sit quietly in a
corner and keep looking with unblinking eyes at Maharaj Ji’s face. He never requested a
private interview with the Master, never asked him a question, and never initiated a
conversation with him. Before Sardar Bahadur did anything, even rising from his seat to
leave a room, he would momentarily close his eyes, first contemplating on his Master’s
form within. He was a living example of perfect faith in his Master.
Sardar Bahadur had centred his life so firmly around meditation, satsang and seva
that when he moved to the Dera on retirement in 1943 no change in his routine was
necessary. He simply continued his life of devotion, with the added benefits of daily
darshan and more time for meditation.
From April 1948 he devoted himself to the duties of Mastership with the dedication,
self-discipline and earnestness he had displayed in carrying out his college duties. The
only difference was that in his college days he was younger and his health was much
better. But neither age nor ill health could prevent him from hard work and service to his
Satguru’s sangat.
His words, “I am powerless by myself to carry out his commands, and it is his
benign grace alone that enables me to do his bidding”, reflect Sardar Bahadur Jagat
Singh’s great humility, and should be an object lesson to all of us who wish to make
strides on the path of Sant Mat.
From July 1951 his health began to deteriorate, but he continued to carry on with his
duties of satsang, initiation, interviews, correspondence and Dera administration. By the
middle of September Sardar Bahadur Maharaj Ji became very weak, and everyone felt
very anxious about his health. He was unable to give satsang. One day, despite the
doctor’s advice, he did go to satsang and gave a discourse for about half an hour.
On 22nd October 1951 Sardar Bahadur Maharaj Ji called Rai Sahib Munshi Ram and
asked him to prepare a will in favour of Sardar Charan Singh, and to send him a telegram
summoning him to the Dera. The will was read by the Master who then signed it in the
presence of everyone who was there, after which all those present also affixed their
signatures.
At 11 pm that night the Master asked Dr Hazara Singh to give him an enema, after
which he had Pundit Lal Chand sponge his body and dry it thoroughly. He used a new
towel to wipe Maharaj Ji’s mouth, beard and head, after which the Master put on a new
shirt and pyjama. He then said to Pundit Ji and the doctor, “Look, now I am clean and
have changed my clothes. Do not wash the body or change the clothes after I go.”
The Master told Gandhi Ram, his personal attendant, “I shall give you a sign when I
leave my body.” He turned on his right side and covered himself up to the shoulders with
his shawl. He then took his attention inside. At exactly 2.38 am the Master knocked on
the window by his bed. The Master’s face reflected spiritual beauty and profound peace.
He discarded the physical body to merge back into the source – the Lord. It was forty
minutes past two in the morning.
Sardar Charan Singh received the telegram summoning him to Dera. Together with
his father he left the family farm by car. Unfortunately, because of flooded roads, and
later delayed by engine trouble, they had innumerable delays.

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 Between 2.30 and 3.00 a.m. Maharaj Charan Singh Ji who was driving the car, saw
dazzling light accompanied by the form of Sardar Bahadur Ji. His attention could not stay
on the driving, and the car went down a slope on the side of the road and stopped. Resting
his head on the side of the steering wheel, he closed his eyes.
After a few moments’ silence, his father asked, “What is it, son? Are you feeling all
right?” Maharaj Charan Singh kept quiet for some time, then said, “Please drive, Chuck
Ji, I cannot.” Maharaj Ji then said, “Sardar Bahadur Ji has gone.”
When they arrived the Dera was deserted, for Sardar Bahadur Maharaj Ji’s cremation
was taking place at the riverside.

Maharaj Ji set out for the cremation grounds with his father. When he arrived
someone said to the sangat, “Here is the new Satguru.” At the same time two of the
Master’s friends came forward and bowed at his feet.
He now knew that Sardar Bahadur Maharaj Ji had appointed him as his successor.
Tears streaming down his face, he immediately left the riverside for the Dera.
Although Maharaj Charan Singh Ji had great devotion and love for his Satguru
and possessed the qualities of kindness and sympathy, tolerance and understanding,
serenity and humility – qualities rare among human beings – and although the Great
Master, through his own personal association and contact had, it seems, imperceptibly
groomed him to bear the burden of Mastership, the now new Master, on his part, had no
desire for this august office.
From his own close contact with the Great Master he had seen that the mantle of
Mastership was in reality a mantle of nails.
Yet he could not refuse the orders he had been given. Maharaj Charan Singh Ji took
over the Mastership with great humility and love for his Master. He said, “I do not
consider myself worthy of putting on the turban of such great saints. But, compelled by
the sangat’s love and faith in Hazur Maharaj Ji, I have submitted myself to the sangat,
and the sangat can do as they see fit.”
He started initiating on 26 October 1953. He travelled extensively throughout India
on satsang tours, and in 1961 was the first Satguru to tour abroad. From 1961 to 1971 he
undertook seven tours abroad. He also visited South Africa for the second time in 1982.
As a result of his many tours abroad Sant Mat grew in leaps and bounds.
At this time there are 31 Sant Mat centres throughout the world outside India. The
largest centres in the west are America, Great Britain and South Africa. The first western
country to have a satsang ghar was South Africa. This was expressly by permission of
Maharaj Ji.
Maharaj Ji inaugurated the first eye camp at the Dera in 1965. Although it was a
makeshift type of operation, it had a 100% success rate. All types of eye surgery were
performed, but the majority were for cataracts. The eye camp has since become an annual
event.
Over the years Maharaj Ji built more and more wards, together with sophisticated
operating theatres. Today the Dera has the reputation of having the best eye camp in
India. Patients are not asked whether they are satsangis, and treatment is entirely free of
charge.

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 Top ophthalmic surgeons are present, as well as qualified doctors, nurses and
technicians involved in all aspects of medicine. Thousands of satsangis have been given
the opportunity of serving the Master through their loving and devoted seva.
In the 1990s, through the inspiration and direction of the Master, land was purchased
across the main road of Beas village for the purpose of building a general hospital that
would serve satsangis and non-satsangis alike. This enormous task was set in motion by
Maharaj Ji’s grace and enthusiasm. Many hundreds of satsangis from nearby villages
came in their droves to offer their loving seva.
Local and overseas architects were in constant consultation with Maharaj Ji at the
start of this project, and in fact were present right through to its completion. This
imposing building, with its beautiful gardens, stands as a monument to our beloved
Master in his compassion for suffering humanity.

I have barely touched on the innumerable achievements of Maharaj Ji during 40

years of divine seva. How incredibly fortunate I have been that for some 33 years of my
life he was my guiding light.
Kabir writes:

If the whole earth were my paper,

All the trees my pens
And the seven seas my ink,
They would not suffice
To write to the glory
Of my Master.

Although Maharaj Ji was not granting private interviews in Delhi because of the
short duration of his stay, and because of the large number of foreign visitors there, he
graciously granted my wife and I an interview in his private lounge at the Delhi satsang
ghar. Little did we realize that that would be the last time we would see our Beloved
Master in his physical form.
When we entered the lounge at the Pusa Road satsang ghar Maharaj Ji was sitting
very relaxed waiting for us, a cup of tea in his hands. I said, “Maharaj Ji, I know how
busy you are. We will only take a few minutes of your time.”
Maharaj Ji answered, “This is my tea break. Allow me to drink my tea, and take as
long as you like.” We sat opposite Maharaj Ji and had the full benefit of his gracious
darshan.
I asked a few personal questions, and was very happy with the answers. He then
veered the conversation to more mundane topics. During that period South Africa was
still in the grip of the apartheid laws, but there was a slight stirring of change in the
country. Although we had free rein for ‘mixed’ audiences at our satsangs, there was
always a little feeling of trepidation that we might be investigated.
This was the trend of Maharaj Ji’s conversation. He showed great interest in Mrs
Winnie Mandela, who was making headline news in the Indian newspapers. She was the
wife of Dr Nelson Mandela who was [then] still incarcerated and had been for over 20
years. He wanted to know her background and her political interests.

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 I told him as much as I knew, not being very politically motivated myself. He then
spoke about the apartheid regime, and said it was an evil system which would have to go.
On that note our half-hour with Maharaj Ji ended and we said our goodbyes, assuming
that we would be with him again the following year.
Who would have guessed that four years later the breakdown of apartheid would
begin with the release of Dr Mandela from prison.
As the rest of the world now knows, South Africa has become a free society after our
unique and peaceful elections. Dr Mandela, our [then] new President, breathed new life
and meaning into our country. The majority of our very diverse peoples have accepted the
new government, and together are working towards enjoying the freedom that true
democracy can bring.

Three long years had passed without his darshan. What can one say about separation from
our Beloved? Once Maharaj Ji was asked if he missed the physical form of his own
Master. He replied: “It does not mean that by attaining the Radiant form within that one
does not long for that physical form.
“In fact, one longs for the physical form even more, as most of us are involved in the
world.”
He went on to say: “How lucky you all are. You have videos and tape recordings of
your Master. I have nothing like that. I remember Baba Ji’s words: ‘The perfect Master
separates the loving disciple from him physically to enable him to settle his worldly
accounts, but never from the Shabd’.”
A week before Maharaj Ji left his physical form he delivered a satsang poignant with
meaning. He had experienced cardiac pain in March 1990, and his doctors advised him to
curtail and slow down his activities. But the usual round of his duties at the Dera
continued unabated.
Although he often appeared to be physically tired, he never slackened the pace of his
daily programme – interviews, English meetings, langar activities, morning satsang,
administrative and other meetings, and so on.
For many years before he left us, Maharaj Ji used the Bible to explain Sant Mat and
also to reveal the true meaning of the parables and utterings of Jesus Christ, according to
the Gospels of John and Matthew. How many times had he told us he would not be with
us forever. It all went over our heads. It never entered my mind at any stage of my life
that Maharaj Ji would leave his body, let alone leave it before my time came to depart this
life.
Amir, the Hindustani poet, says:

Thou wilt remember me after I am dead,

O my pain in love, for I have given thee place all through life in my tender
heart, and have fed thee with my flesh and blood.

That dreadful day, 1 June 1990, dawned like any other. Little did I know what pain of
heart I would have to endure.
An American couple, Mr and Mrs Steve Segal, were due to arrive in Johannesburg
that morning from neighbouring Malawi to have medical check-ups, as there were no
facilities in Malawi. My wife went to the airport to meet them and take them to their

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hotel. About 3 pm I had a call from London and heard the news that Maharaj Ji had
passed away.
I listened to the message in disbelief, but the caller assured me it was true. Within
minutes I received two more calls, from America and Australia, to confirm my worst
fears. Although my waiting room was full of patients I just broke down and sobbed
uncontrollably. They were very understanding and left immediately, leaving me to my
tears.
My wife returned and, seeing me in that state, exclaimed: “What’s wrong – are the
children all right? Whatever has happened?”
I managed to blurt out, “Maharaj Jig has died.” We huddled together like two little
orphaned children, clinging to each other in our grief.
And then the phone started ringing, with calls coming in from all over, including
other countries: “Is it true, is it true?” Indeed it was.

John 14.28: Ye have heard how I said unto you I go away, and come again
unto you. If you loved me, you would rejoice, because I said, I go unto the
Father. For my Father is greater than Thou.

How can I rejoice, a miserable earth-bound fledgling? What is going to happen to

me? All I could think of at that stage was what are we going to do without our Beloved?
Our hearts were desolate. Couldn’t there be some mistake? But as the day wore on and
more and more calls poured in, all doubt was removed from our minds.

John 17.4: I have glorified Thee on the earth. I have finished the work
which Thou gaveth me to do.

As evening drew near, and although there was no scheduled satsang, I had an
irresistible urge to go our satsang hall. It seemed the only place to be in this hour of grief,
the closest association with my Beloved.
I called the Segals, and broke the news to them. The four of us drove to the hall in
dumbfounded silence. But many hundreds of satsangis had equally been drawn there in
their loss. Some sobbed aloud, others shed silent tears. We all just stood there like lost
children.
Someone indicated I should go up on to the dais and say something. I sat down and
choked back the tears, and a great peace came over me, and as I started to speak, a similar
calm descended on the whole group. We all realized that the Master would always be
with us and would never let us down. Tears were wiped away. Maharaj Ji was so close to
us all. We were bonded by our love for our Satguru.
The next morning I immediately applied for a visa to go to Dera on compassionate
grounds, but this was not possible as I was a South African. I then requested my Indian
brother satsangi, Nanoobhai, to go, and within hours he was on his way, together with
Vinod Hari from Durban.
By this time we had heard that Maharaj Ji had appointed a successor. I recalled the
words from the Bible: I am in my successor, and my successor is in me.
At least we would not be like a ship without a rudder.

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 On that fateful day at a meeting of the Dera committee members and the trustees,
Maharaj Ji’s Will was read by the secretary. Rana Ranbir Singh (Maharaj Ji’s second son)
was asked to request the new Master to join them.
On Gurinder Singh Dhillon’s arrival, all got up from their seats and requested him
to take a chair. As much as he tried to suppress his agony at the departure of his beloved
Master, his face revealed tremendous anguish. The secretary, with the Will in his hand,
said: “Please listen to Hazur Maharaj Ji’s orders for you ...” He at once broke down, tears
flowing from his eyes, and sobs filled the room.
Then Rana Ranbir Singh bowed at Sardar Gurinder Singh’s feet, followed by
everyone present in the room. What our new Master must have been going through was
hard to imagine. And when Captain P.S. Grewal (Maharaj Ji’s brother) for whom the new
Master always had deep love and respect, came up to him to bow at his feet, with loud
sobs the Master tried to stop him, and himself fell at Captain Grewal’s feet.
June 2 was the day of the funeral. We wondered how hard it would be for our new
Satguru to face the ordeal of joining the family in lighting the funeral pyre.
But Maharaj Ji had given him a tremendous amount of strength and, looking
extremely sad, the new Master was composed and fully in command of his own
emotions, proving a source of strength to others.

The sangat came flooding into Dera from all directions. By morning all the roads to Beas
were blocked for some 10 miles in every direction.
At 5.30 on the morning of June 2 Maharaj Ji’s body was placed on the dais in the
open satsang ground to enable the sangat to have their last darshan. Men and women –
young and old – and even children, filed past the dais in a disciplined manner, their eyes
filled with tears and with profound grief writ large on their faces.
There he lay – quiet and serene, beautiful and majestic – still the King of Kings that
he always was in life. At 8.00 am the body was placed on a vehicle decorated with
flowers, and it moved slowly toward the cremation ground.
All that was left with us were his sweet memories, pain and longing in our hearts,
and his message of love and devotion, which will always remain as a guiding light
throughout our lives.
A rough estimate put the crowd present at not less than 1,200,000.
According to the tenets of Sant Mat, Maharaj Ji earned his livelihood by
scrupulously honest means, not accepting even a penny from the sangat. In fact, he
spared a sizeable portion of his income for the service of the sangat. We shall remember
him till the very end of our days for his high principles and lofty ideals.
Maharaj Charan Ji’s ministry as a Sant Satguru lasted for nearly 40 years, during
which time he devoted himself wholeheartedly to the task of promoting the cause of Sant
Mat, by his illuminating and inspiring satsangs for which he went on frequent tours to
almost all parts of India and to several foreign countries, and by writing books on Sant
Mat which earned tremendous popularity.

John 15.9: As my father hath loved me, so have I loved you: continue ye in
my love.

Nanak:

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 On hearsay
All speak of his greatness;
How great he truly is,
Only the one who hath seen him can say.
None can assess his worth,
None can describe him,
They who seek to describe him
Have first to merge in Thee.

How can one ever want to visit the Dera without seeing that Beloved, without
hearing his enchanting voice?

To whom can I narrate

The tale of woe,
Except to you, beloved Lord.
My heart is wounded –
The pain I suffer, 0 Lord,
is beyond measure.

But who am I to say I would not go to Dera anymore? My mind recalls accounts of
the passing of the Great Master. Maharaj Charan Singh Ji was so filled with grief that for
many months he would not go to the Dera. One day, Jagat Singh Ji Maharaj, the Great
Master’s successor, visited the farm in Sirsa, and said: “Charan, why haven’t you come to
Dera?”
When Maharaj Ji explained, Jagat Singh said: “How lucky you are, you don’t have to
come. I have to be there.”
With that, Maharaj Ji realized how much pain the Master must be feeling, and then
and there decided to resume his visits to Dera.
In similar vein, how little do I realize the pangs of separation the new Master,
Gurinder Singh Ji, must be feeling. We just have no idea. Our puny little hearts, still filled
with worldly desires, can but glimpse just a fraction what love exists between our
Beloved and his successor.
Perhaps Maulana Rum’s description is fitting:

Weeping is like the clouds, and longing is

like the heat of the sun. Just as the sun’s
heat is the cause of bringing rain from the
clouds, by which the world remains
in existence; similarly separation, longing for
Him and restlessness – all these are like
fires which make the currents of grace and
mercy of God burst out, as the rain does from
the clouds, and pacify the hearts of the devotees.
Tears in the eyes and pain in the heart are the
two pillars between which we pass to Him.

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 The night after Maharaj Ji’s passing was endless. Sleep came fitfully, with the
realization that I would never see his beloved physical form again. How could I survive
without the Master?
These thoughts which tormented me were nothing less than self-pity – never once
did I consider the Master: the happy release for him from that ageing body; the 40 years
he had sacrificed for his disciples; the love he gave all of us in his unstinting seva, from
early morning to late at night, completely dominated by the endless demands on his time.
He never had the freedom of simply walking unhindered or unattended – in the
Master’s own words, I am a prisoner of my lovers. He had hardly a moment to close his
eyes in sleep, or to withdraw and merge with the Lord. Who am I, in my selfish misery, to
want him to remain in this world of pain and suffering?
The time for meditation came. I staggered out of bed, hoping I might get a glimpse
of Maharaj Ji within. My chaotic mind conjured up pictures of Maharaj Ji’s beautiful
body being consumed by the flames of the pyre. The more I struggled with my mind, the
more vivid the picture became.
Suddenly, a great peace came over me, as I let go of my anguish and realized that
Maharaj Ji was not of this world, but here for only a season. His great work was
complete, and how lucky I was to be one of his flock and to have had so much personal
contact with him. He had gone to prepare a place in the mansion of the Lord for all his
disciples.

He is a denizen of the land

Where every day
Is a day of celebration,
Where flows the nectar of love,
And in the reservoir of light
The lotus of lover’s heart
Blooms with boundless joy.

He is a denizen of that land

Where in his full splendour
The true one reigns,
Where there is not a shade of pain
Nor a flicker of pleasure,
Where all days are filled
With undiminished bliss.

As I paged through the book on Kabir these words made me understand and be
happy for my Master in his release from the physical. With that realization was the
knowledge that he was closer than my hands and feet, and in my fervent simran and the
silence of my meditation, his closeness would always be with me.
The following morning at Sunday satsang I sat on the dais and gazed at the upturned
faces of the satsangis, sombre and many with tears streaming down their cheeks. With his
grace, after an hour of satsang, the mood of the sangat changed, and we all knew in our
hearts that Maharaj Ji was very close and would be waiting at the eye-centre to receive us
one day.

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 After a few more days had passed news filtered through that Maharaj Ji had
appointed a successor. We would not be like a ship without a rudder.
To meet the new Master was of paramount importance. Many and varied were the
descriptions of the Master – one more beautiful than the next. I had to see for myself, and
planned a visit to the Dera as soon as it was opened to the Western satsangis, in October.
During the next few months only the balm of meditation eased the pain of separation.
As the day drew nearer for my departure for India I was beset with myriad thoughts.
What would the new Master look like? How would I take to him? Would I be able to give
him my love and devotion?
I then came across a few passages from the book, St John the Great Mystic, and this
seemed to settle my mind.
In chapter 14:19 we find: Yet a little while, and the world seeth me no more; but ye
see me; because I live, ye shall live also.
In Maharaj Ji’s own words he illuminates this saying of Jesus:

How am I going to help you? Very soon I am going to leave this world and
can no longer be seen with the physical eyes. But you shall be able to see
me in my radiant form. And because I live, you shall also live.

After the Master has initiated a soul, for that individual the Master never dies,
because the Master has made his abode within the initiate since the time of initiation, in
his radiant form, and it is only for the disciple to contact the Master within himself. So,
even though the Master is no longer down here at the human level, the disciple can go up
to the Master’s level when he has made sufficient progress on the path.
The Master within is continually attracting the disciple upwards, and the purer the
soul, the better and faster is the attraction of the magnet, the Master.
The Master never forgets a disciple and is not only waiting for him, but is also
attracting him to himself, the speed depending upon the disciple’s purity and receptivity.
As long as we are mired in attachments to this world and the pleasures of the senses, we
are not even aware of that attraction. But when we do the spiritual practice as instructed,
we are gradually cleansed of our sins and become pure and receptive to his grace, and
this attracts us back to him.
The time to leave for Dera was approaching fast, with more conflicting thoughts
running through my head. Although two South African satsangi brothers had long since
returned from the Dera with glowing reports and obvious love for the Master, I had to
have my own experience.
Again I paged through St John the Great Mystic and found the following paragraph.
Even ten and twenty odd years before Maharaj Ji passed on he had been trying to instil in
our minds that he would not be here forever. The time would come in most of his
disciples’ lives when they would have to go through the experience of physical
separation, but at the same time they should be very grateful that he had left us his chosen
successor.

In St John 14:12, it says: Verily, verily I say to you, He that believeth in

me, the works that I do shall he do also; and greater works than these shall
he do; because I go unto the Father.

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 Maharaj Ji explained in his own words: The Master is always in the Shabd or Nam,
so he is always creating love and devotion to the Shabd or Nam in us. Therefore, if you
have faith in me, you will love me and will also be able to do what I am doing.
Master is also referring to his successor, when he says that ‘greater works than these
shall he do, because I go unto the Father’. Every Master praises his successor, and says
that the successor will be greater than he is.
You will remember that John the Baptist also said the same about Christ. They do
this out of their great humility and to inspire faith and confidence of the disciples in their
successor. Otherwise, the disciples might think that the successor is only one of us, he is
our brother disciple, and how can he all of a sudden be the living Master?
When the Master appoints a successor, the Father also makes the successor fit to be a
perfect Master, for then the Father is in him and he is in the Father, just as is true of every
perfect Master. So, if the disciples really love their own Master, they will also have faith
and love the successor appointed by him.
They will realize that it is the Father in the successor who is incarnated in the flesh in
that personality, just as he was in their own Master; and that it is the Father who is doing
the work, as was also stated by their own Master.
All Masters are great, but the predecessor always claims that his successor will be
greater.

My wife and I arrived at Dera at night. All was quiet and peaceful. We were shown to our
room, after having a snack supplied by Mrs Desai, who waited up to greet us and to
welcome us.
It was like being at home – nothing had changed in the few years that I was not able
to visit the Dera. At breakfast many familiar faces were seen from all over the world.
The satsangis informed me that Maharaj Gurinder Singh Ji would be visiting Louise
Hilger before satsang, as Hazur Maharaj Ji used to do, and if I wished to have my first
glimpse of the Master I should join the rest of them just opposite the stairs leading up to
Louise’s apartment.
I had no intention of starting my visit by joining the jostling crowd hoping for
Maharaj Ji’s darshan, and went to my room instead. Suddenly, an overwhelming urge to
see Maharaj Ji came over me. I left my room and pushed my way through the crowd, my
wife timidly following me. I stood at the bottom of the stairs, knowing that the Master
would come down directly where I stood, but not knowing what to expect.
Maharaj Ji appeared and made his way down the stairway, and then extended his
hand and said, “Hullo, Sam, I have known you since I was eight years old.” I mumbled,
“Yes, Maharaj Ji, I remember a little boy together with Hazur Maharaj Ji’s three children.
I used to spend time and play with you all on Maharaj Ji’s farm.”
Maharaj Ji overwhelmed me with his beautiful smile and friendly manner. It seemed
as if I had known him all my life. I managed to call my wife and introduced her to
Maharaj Ji. He shook her hand and said, “I will see you both later.”
It was morning satsang. The crowd waited expectantly for the Master to arrive, while
shabds were being sung. Suddenly a rippling whisper ran through the audience to the
very last row. It sounded like the wind soughing through a wheatfield. I realized the
Master was there.

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 His actions were so reminiscent of Hazur Maharaj Ji as he bowed his head to the dais
before taking his seat. That so-familiar white bearded form of Hazur Maharaj Ji was
replaced by a young, black-bearded, immaculately turbaned form of Maharaj Ji.
It was indeed strange. For 33 years I had sat at the feet of my Master, and now
Gurinder Singh Ji Maharaj was there. Those words of Hazur Maharaj Ji rang in my ears,
‘When the Master appoints a successor, the Father also makes the successor fit to be a
perfect Master, for then the Father is in him, and he is in the Father, just as it is true of
every perfect Master.’
I bowed my head in acquiescence and offered my humble prayer and love in seva to
him.
The Master sat immobile, his body in perfect posture. He then turned his head slowly
from right to left, his dark eyes sweeping the audience with loving darshan. Then gazing
forward, hardly blinking his eyes and without a sound coming from his lips, he sat as still
as a statue until the satsang, given by a sevadar, was over. With head slightly bowed and
hands together, Maharaj Ji left as silently as he had come.
Evening satsang brought questions and answers for the Western group. It was here
that I heard the wisdom of a saint. The sometimes foolish and often tactless questions
from some of the Western satsangis were treated with absolute patience and love by the
Master. His answers were deep, thought-provoking and inspiring.
When one or two requests were made to talk about Hazur Maharaj Ji, as Hazur
Maharaj Ji used to speak about the Great Master, he brushed them aside, knowing that
our wounds were still very raw, as were his. He emphasised that the Master was waiting
for us and that we were capable of finding him within, if our love was sincere enough.
We were his initiates, and the Master was here to nurture the seeds and to water our love
and inspiration to go inside.
That was the first day.
Although acutely aware of the absence of my Master’s physical form, I was
completely accepting of the perfect gift Hazur Maharaj Ji had given us. That night I went
to bed with a great sense of relief, and looked forward to my first meeting with Maharaj
Ji.
A few days passed without any word from the Master regarding our promised
meeting. Mr Desai, who was in charge of the Western guests said, “Why don't you phone
the Master? Here is his number, and he is in his office at present.” I dialled the number,
and waited in trepidation.
“Hullo,” it was Maharaj Ji who answered. When I replied he immediately recognised
my voice, and asked if he could help me. I said, “Maharaj Ji, I have been here for three or
four days and wondered if I could see you?” We made the appointment for the following
morning.
The next morning Ruth and I were ushered into the Master’s spacious office to await
his arrival. How this room had changed! It was originally Hazur Maharaj Ji’s lounge/
office. It had now been transformed into a hi-tech office. A large desk dominated one end
of the room, together with a very big and most beautiful picture of Hazur Maharaj Ji –
one which I had never seen before. Computer, calculator and modern telephone were
close at hand.
Master arrived finishing a conversation on a cordless telephone, and made his
apologies for being a few minutes late! Hazur Maharaj Ji had certainly left Maharaj Ji an

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enormous responsibility, but it was quite obvious that even in the few short months of his
succession he was more than capable of carrying the burden, and had already changed
things dramatically for the future efficient running of the fast-growing local and
international sangats.
I felt very aware of the constant demand made on his time in the short while that we
were there, and felt quite guilty in encroaching even further. He soon made us relax, and
in a short while his lovely wife brought in a tray of tea. We were introduced to her, and
after serving us our tea, she quietly and unobtrusively left us to the Master.
Before I could open the conversation Maharaj Ji asked if I would give him an in-
depth description and function of the South African sangat, which I did.
I then said, “Maharaj Ji, I would like to offer you my full co-operation and loyalty of
my seva as I had done with Hazur Maharaj Ji.”
Master graciously replied, “Sam, you are the father of the South African sangat. You
must continue with your seva, and keep a fatherly eye on the sangat.”
He then went on to say that he wished to visit South Africa in 1991, and would I map
out a programme of his tour for his guidance. I based an itinerary on Hazur Maharaj Ji’s
programme of his 1982 satsang tour of South Africa, and left this information with him a
few days later.
During lunch we were told that Maharaj Ji would be away all afternoon as he was to
attend a family wedding, but he would be back for evening satsang. Maharaj Ji arrived a
few minutes late for satsang. He apologised, and went on to explain that he could only
stay for a short time, as he had to leave for Delhi, where his Uncle Shoti was very ill.
How gracious and considerate the Master is. He came straight from the wedding
ceremony to be with us very unworthy Westerners, and left immediately for Delhi.
The Grand Trunk Road to Delhi is a tiring journey of five to six hours. The road
itself is not good, and the traffic a non-stop nightmare 24 hours a day, with an incessant
stream of hooting buses, heavy transport vehicles which carry the bulk of India’s internal
trade, interspersed with old-world animal-drawn vehicles bringing the traffic almost to a
halt. I have been on this road many times with Hazur Maharaj Ji, and know the hazards.
Master arrived about two hours after Shoti had passed away. We were told that
Maharaj Ji immediately made arrangements to transport the body to the Dera – and all
this without rest.
The news of Shoti’s death had spread like wildfire. Thousands of satsangis were
streaming into the Dera to pay their last respects to our Beloved Master’s brother and the
present Master’s uncle. Within a very short time the Dera seva machinery was set into
motion. Barriers were erected to keep the huge crowds from coming too close to the
cremation site. The family relatives, Dera staff and Western guests were allowed to be on
the inside perimeter of the barriers.
That day the body was prepared and lay in state in Shoti’s apartment, which adjoined
the house that Dr Johnson had built many years ago. We, together with many others, were
allowed to file passed the body and to pay our respects to the family.
I have used Shoti’s abbreviated name without disrespect. Shoti and I were born
almost within weeks of each other. We had become like brothers over the many years that
I had known him. We also spent a great deal of time together on the farm, and on the
many occasions we had been together at the Dera and in other parts of India.

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 As we filed out of the room where Shoti’s body lay, I noticed a number of men
sitting in the courtyard facing the room. As I glanced at the faces of these people, I
suddenly found myself looking straight into the eyes of Maharaj Ji. He was sitting
inconspicuously in the centre of the group.
When our eyes met he acknowledged me with a slight nod of his head. That nod was
just for me, as when I enquired of the group if they had seen him, not one of those present
had noticed the Master sitting quietly among his family members.
Once again the Master had to personally conduct the cremation procedure, and this
after hardly five months had passed since our Beloved Hazur Maharaj Ji had left his
mortal coil.
Maharaj Ji had great love and respect for his uncle, and showed this love in his
painstaking arrangement of this sad event. Before finally lighting the pyre Maharaj Ji
wheeled our Beloved Master’s and Shoti’s mother, who was in a wheel chair, close to the
body. She took Shoti’s hand and gently kissed it. What deep unimaginable sorrow she
must have felt to see her two sons leave this earth plane in such a short time.
The Master then lit the pyre, and as the flames grew in intensity sobs could be heard
and a deep murmur rose from the huge crowd. Those flames rekindled the painful
memory of that awful day when Hazur Maharaj Ji’s physical body was consumed and lost
to us forever.
The time came to leave. Our hearts were full. Maharaj Ji had done so much to
assuage the pain of Hazur Maharaj Ji’s passing. He enveloped us with his divine love,
and we left the Dera inspired to do our spiritual practice and continue our seva with
unabated enthusiasm.

In December 1990 Maharaj Ji advised members of the South African board of

management who were visiting Dera that he would arrive in Johannesburg on 12 August
1991. Four centres would be visited for the purpose of holding satsangs and meeting
satsangis and seekers. That same day the representatives in South Africa were telephoned
from the Dera to tell them the wonderful news, and to advise the sangat that once again a
perfect Living Master would walk among us.
Eight months seemed a long time to plan and organise the tour. It was decided to
hold a board meeting early in January 1991 to assess the situation countrywide. This was
just as well, for it was only when everything requiring action and attention was detailed
and recorded that we realized what wonderful and extensive seva lay ahead for so many
satsangis.
Maharaj Ji arrived at noon on 12 August, together with Mr Krishin Babani, Mr
Madan Gopal Singh, Mr H. Balani, his brother and their two wives, and Jasbir – Hazur
Maharaj Ji’s son and Maharaj Ji’s cousin. I was able to meet Maharaj Ji and his entourage
as they stepped off the plane.
With me was a high-ranking security policeman who was employed by us together
with his satsangi counterpart to oversee Maharaj Ji’s safety. In no time they had taken
them through our rather difficult Customs, where members of the board were waiting to
welcome the group.
We drove straight to the hotel, so that the group could freshen up before Maharaj Ji
was due to give darshan to the 2,000 satsangis and seekers waiting expectantly for their
first sight of the new Master. While in the hotel Maharaj Ji queried the tariff rates we

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were paying at the various hotels. We gave him the details and the reasons for our choice,
and he stressed the fact that we should not waste sangat funds.
This reminded me of a remark made many years ago by Daryai Lal Kapur (author of
Heaven on Earth), in a similar situation with Hazur Maharaj Ji, when he said, “How can
you put a diamond in a matchbox?” We all wanted the very best for our Master.
The Master entered the Johannesburg satsang ghar, which was crammed to capacity.
All heads were turned towards the entrance, eyes waiting to catch that first glimpse of the
Master. A shabd was being sung quietly and the whole atmosphere was so reminiscent of
that memorable time when Hazur Maharaj Ji first entered the same building in 1982.
Twenty minutes of darshan began in which everyone’s eyes were glued to the Master.
The whole audience consisted of satsangis of Hazur Maharaj Ji, with the exception of a
few who had applied for initiation to Maharaj Ji. After darshan he inspected every corner
of the satsang ghar. He was very pleased with what he saw.
That evening satsang was held at the Standard Bank Arena – a beautiful new venue
with seating for 3,000 – 4,000 people. I had the honour of sitting on the dais with
Maharaj Ji and Krishin Babani. After welcoming Maharaj Ji to South Africa, especially
after so soon becoming the Master, I gave a short discourse on the principles of the path.
Mr Babani then gave a thorough discourse on Sant Mat, followed by a most illuminating
session of questions and answers by Maharaj Ji.
The following is an extract from an article written by a disciple of Hazur Maharaj Ji
who was finding it difficult to accept the new Master:

It was wonderful to hear about the new Master. I loved to listen to satsangis who
had met him, singing his praises. I could not, however, understand that they
seemed so happy and contented. After all, he could never, ever fill this void inside
me. Sure enough, for his initiates he would be beloved. But my Master’s children –
how could they be so radiant, so glowing?
This seemed beyond comprehension. But nevertheless it would be wonderful
to have him visit our country.
The first morning I went to the hall early, to get a good seat, but the feeling of
excitement was totally absent. I calmly awaited his appearance, knowing that he
would be just another person for me, but quite willing to admit that, of course, he
is a perfect Master – for others.
And that was exactly how it was that first day. He was beautiful, serene,
graceful. A lovely Master. I was glad that such a being was the one to follow in my
Guru’s footsteps. But, of course, I had known that all along. He would not have
been appointed unless he was all these things.
So, I would attend all gatherings I could when not doing seva, because I knew
from my Master’s teachings that even just being in the room with such a One was
grace without measure, and if he said so, so it is.
The next morning I went to the Standard Bank Arena and, somehow or other,
I ended up quite close to the dais. I was sort of passed along by the sevadars for the
seating arrangements, and then a young girl showed me to a chair marked VIP. I
hesitated – was it not meant for someone special?
“Don't worry,” she smiled. “I'm giving it to you. Today you can be a VIP.”

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 After a while the Master came. Once again I became aware of his magnificent
presence, his perfection. Once again I knew that he would be an unbelievably
wonderful Master – to his disciples.
He started giving darshan. Slowly his eyes moved over the souls gathered
together to see him. The atmosphere was so peaceful, the beautiful shabd being
sung sounded pure and somehow so appropriate.
I thought, let me try to forget that he can never replace my Master for me. Let
me do what my Master taught me. Concentrate on his forehead and eyes. Try to not
even blink.
And then his eyes moved and he looked directly at me. Into my eyes, my
heart, my soul.
And time stopped.
Everything ceased to exist. There was nobody and nothing else in the whole
of creation but Him, the Creator, and me. I knew in that instant, absolutely, that
there was no difference.
I sensed, with a sense of complete certainty, that the whole line of Masters
was there, on that dais. His form seemed to shimmer, revealing their forms, and
then merging again into the form of this beautiful Being, sitting, so calmly and
serenely, looking down at me with a love and compassion beyond human
understanding.
I have no idea how long this lasted. Probably only a few seconds. To me, ages
passed. The tears were streaming unheeded down my face – I only became aware
of this some time later, when the worst (or should I say, best) of the daze I found
myself in had passed.
Now I understand the radiance and excitement of the others. Now I knew
what they had been talking about.
A Stranger came. A Perfect Master visited. A Beloved Satguru left.

Maharaj ji was very gracious in seeing so many seekers and satsangis. There were
times when I tried to remind the Master that many people were still waiting to see him.
He gave each one his full attention and for as long as they wished.
The day before we were to leave for Cape Town we were standing in the grounds of
the satsang ghar. Maharaj Ji pointed to the property next door and enquired who the
occupants were. We told him that the whole area, as big as our satsang ghar, was owned
by Kodak and was their photographic processing plant.
I mention the above incident because a year or so after Maharaj Ji left, this property
was up for sale. He insisted that we make an offer for it. Acquiring it seemed an
impossibility as we had limited seva funds, and the price they wanted seemed
astronomical.
However, we did make an offer with tongue in cheek, not expecting a positive reply.
To our utter amazement our offer was accepted. We were given time to raise the money,
but were all rather subdued wondering where it would come from.
Little did we realize that Maharaj Ji’s idle words would see the sale bear fruit.
Money seemed to fall from the veritable heavens, and the property was paid in full on
due date. At the time of writing this chapter the sangat is slowly converting the old Kodak

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headquarters into a magnificent arena that, with his grace, will be completed in time for
his next visit to South Africa in August 1995.
My purpose is not to write in detail regarding Maharaj Ji’s visit to South Africa, but
purely to mention a few points of interest. Two such incidents occurred in Cape Town.
During Master’s whole tour he insisted that he did not want any time off for
sightseeing. In his own words, I am young and strong; you can work me as hard as you
wish. However, one evening he said, I have no programme tomorrow and would like to
go by cable car to the top of Table Mountain.
We were all excited, as there is a most magnificent view from the mountain of Cape
Town nestling in the valley, of the docks, and on the other side the lovely stretch of
various beaches, with the waves foaming in to crash on the rocks and the gentle swell
breaking on the beach as it reaches the shore.
The next morning, to our dismay, bad weather had come up during the night. The
whole of Cape Point was covered in heavy mist and a fine steady drizzle was falling. We
telephoned the cable-station and were told that the station was open, but advised that
visibility was nil and that no purpose would be served by going there.
We told Maharaj Ji the bad news, especially since he only had one day without a
programme. He immediately replied, “Never mind, let’s go!”
Sure enough, when we reached the cable car starting point the weather was really
foul. Mr Babani elected to sit in our vehicle and wait for us – a wise decision on his part.
There were quite a few of us in our party, plus four or five foreign tourists who were
braving the elements for a seemingly useless excursion.
The cable car was open to the weather. Maharaj Ji, in his wisdom, had brought a
blanket that shrouded him from head to knees. He was in the centre of the group where
the drizzle could not reach him! I had a position right in front, and bore the full onslaught
of freezing mist and drizzle.
When we reached the top of the mountain at 1,000 m, most of us were soaked and
cold.
I said, “Maharaj Ji, there is a restaurant a short distance from here, perhaps it is open
and we may be able to get a hot drink.”
I led the way through the thick mist that swirled and eddied around us. The
foreigners followed on behind.
The restaurant was open, with a huge fire burning in the grate. What a welcome
relief! We all stood around the fire drying ourselves while tea was ordered.
The tourists were standing on their own talking and gazing at Maharaj Ji. They were
obviously intrigued and impressed by his majestic turbaned figure. I noticed that they
were talking in Spanish. Suddenly Maharaj Ji spoke to them in Spanish, and walked over
to them for a while, where he continued his conversation with them.
What wonderful, strange karma for these people – all the way from Spain to meet
Maharaj Ji on the top of Table Mountain, especially in such inclement weather! It
appeared to me that their sanskaras had brought them to this point in time and place to
have the darshan of a perfect Living Master.
After warming up and having a cup of hot tea, we made our way back to the cable-
car station and descended to the base.

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 During Maharaj Ji’s conversation with the Spanish group he learned that they were
indeed tourists and had not yet arranged transport back to their hotel. Maharaj Ji
graciously arranged for them to be taken to their destination in one of our vehicles.
And so ended a very strange experience.
During Maharaj Ji’s stay in Cape Town food was prepared by the sevadars at
someone’s home and brought to the hotel each day. This little story illustrates how
Maharaj Ji satisfied a satsangi’s intense desire to serve him.
It was the last day of Maharaj Ji’s programme. That morning the lady concerned
came to me and begged if she could prepare a meal for the Master that evening. I said it
was impossible for two reasons: first, she was not a Cape Town satsangi, and second, the
Cape Town sevadars had been doing this seva for the last few days and would certainly
not want to give it up for Master’s last meal before leaving Cape Town.
I said, “However, prepare the meal, and just before we are due to return to the hotel
after satsang, bring the food and leave it in my room, and let's see what happens.”
After satsang that evening we all sat chatting in Mr Balani’s suite, where we usually
had our dinner, and waited for its arrival. The sevadars normally arrived before us and
laid the meal out, so that we could help ourselves. Half an hour after we had arrived there
was still no sign of the sevadars. An hour later still no food.
I then said, “Maharaj Ji, someone else has prepared a full meal in case of such an
eventuality.” He replied, “What a coincidence. Please bring the food.” The meal was most
delicious.
We had hardly finished eating when the exasperated sevadars arrived with the meal.
They apologised profusely for the unavoidable delay. Nevertheless, our satsangi had her
desire fulfilled!
Maharaj Ji’s last venue in South Africa was Chatsworth, just outside Durban, and our
largest satsang centre. It was here that Maharaj Ji requested a board meeting that he
would chair. We were very excited at this prospect, and arranged a whole morning for this
event.
In Maharaj Ji’s expert hands the meeting lasted not much more than one hour! In that
time he covered more ground and made more decisions than we normally do in a day.
The main decision made that day was that the South African sangat in future would
be administered in two parts – the administration would be headed by the chairman of the
Board of Management, and the spiritual side, satsangs and initiations, by the
representatives.
From South Africa Maharaj Ji and party were to fly to Mauritius, a beautiful tropical
island off the east coast of Africa. He informed me that Mr Gerald Prinz and I should
accompany him, as there were certain problems to be sorted out. As the saying goes, this
was indeed the cherry on top.
The Master elected a new committee in Mauritius, and gave them a strong talk on
obedience and seva, and explained exactly how the sangat was to be run. We are all
subject to the malady of ego, especially spiritual ego. We have to be on guard at all times.
We can well heed the words of Kabir:

He who bears slander and harsh words

With grace and patience;
Who discards disputes and arguments

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 And gives up ego and pride; Such a one, 0 Kabir,
Obtains the blessing
Of the Lord's Name.

Gerald and I stood at the airport to bid farewell to the Master and his party. Parting is
never easy, but in these circumstances all the more difficult because, during the last 18
days, Maharaj Ji had drawn us so close to him. Right through his visit so many incidents
had reminded me of Hazur Maharaj Ji when he visited our country in 1982.
Just before leaving the Master took my hand and held it firmly, and looking into my
eyes, he said, “Thank you, Sam.”
He was the doer, the inspiration, the giver, and then the words, Thank you, Sam. The
words echoed in my head as a tear trickled down my cheek. I watched the Master
receding through the barrier to the departure lounge. I stood alone with my thoughts,
unaware of Gerald or anyone else – he, I am sure, as absorbed as I was.
Thank goodness I am so much older than Maharaj Ji. I will not be here when he
leaves his body permanently. I will not have to go through the same anguish as I did
when Hazur Maharaj Ji left his mortal coil.
As long as we are in Kal’s world we will have this separation – separation from our
loved ones, separation from the beloved form of our Master. All is pain and sorrow.

Like a creeper that spreads

Over a thorny hedge,
The world has entangled itself
With attachment and desires;
The creeper will break
But not release its hold,
Like a man bound
By an irrevocable Vow.

There is only one way. Maharaj Ji says, “Attach yourself to the inner Master. If you
live in your will it is all suffering; if you live in my will there is peace and bliss.”

Sant Mat is easy if you follow it. The rules are simple – the way is straight and true.
Maulana Rum describes our ultimate destiny in one of his poems. When the soul
merges with the Lord, all identity is lost in the freedom of becoming one with the Lord.

Oh the memory of that moment

In the Palace, you and I,
To the eyes of the beholder
Separate beings, you and I.
In our hearts, well we knew it,
We were one soul – you and I.

Oh the glory of the garden!

Beauteous birds that sing and fly!
'Twas for the Living Fountain,

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Paradise, as you and I.
Cynosure of all the planets,
Went a-wandering, you and I.

And in us they saw the beauty

Of the full moon, you and I;
You no more you, I no more I,
One enraptured entity,
Joyous, free from all the smallness
of the little you and I!

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