11

Radheshwari,
Chandigarh
January 1981

When travelling in India you carry a bed-roll or

sleeping bag. The latter is my companion, and I need it
on the night train to Chandigarh although I am
travelling first class — that is all relative, though. I
can’t sleep, but I have the compartment to myself.
I arrive in the dark, and it’s still dark when I reach the
home of General Joginder Singh, who wrote me that
welcoming letter. He and his wife show their love for
their guru, Sant Gulab Singh, by showering love and
hospitality on a stranger who has invaded their privacy.
They give me a room, make me breakfast, then drive me
to the house where their guru lives and where I shall
meet the American girl I have come to Interview.
I am taken straight into Santji’s room: he is sitting up in
bed eating breakfast not looking his age — he is 104!
He beckons me to sit on the edge of his bed, takes my
head into his outstretched hands and kisses my
forehead gently, sweetly — it’s like being caressed by an
angel. He hands me a piece of his toast, then takes it
back to put more jam on it. Radheshwari brings tea, so
I am now having a second breakfast. There’s no talking,
but you don’t have to talk in the presence of a saint; the
saints talk by showering their love on whoever comes to
them, even if it’s when they are in bed taking breakfast.
I can’t help laughing, laughing because of the great
feeling of happiness and light that has descended.
Radheshwari is also laughing quietly — she has been
enjoying the divine mystery for years. Inner laughter
bubbles out in the presence of a saint. Radheshwari has
lived and laughed with Sant Gulab Singh so long that
she now speaks English with a pronounced Punjabi
accent; she is his only Western disciple, and she is with
him 24 hours of the day looking after his physical
needs. He is extremely deaf so not much talking is
involved. She is there to serve, to let in the devotees
who call, to pass the tea and shine.
The Interview that follows stretches over two days as
we are constantly interrupted. Radheshwari is always
calm and loving and co-operative. Every evening,
Santji is taken by car to the Chandigarh rose gardens
where he walks for a while then calls on a few of his
close disciples, just like a father visiting his children. I
was invited to go with him. He has never had a large
following, and has prevented an Ashram organization
to grow up around him. Once when offered an Ashram
by a rich devotee, he replied: The real Ashram is within
your heart.
But at last the house is clear of callers, Santji is
resting, Radheshwari is laughing in a slightly more
guarded way, time to start the tape rolling.

Interview 11
I was born in Los Angeles and raised in Long Beach,
California. I was attracted towards an introspective life
rather early. My family were upset — yes, quite upset —
that their daughter would hide away in a cell and never
come out again.
To whom were you devoted?
To Christ. My family did their best to make me go to
parties and mix and, you know… But it acted the other
way for when I looked around I saw there were other
ways too, other beliefs. I saw the Unitarian Church,
and they invite Zen monks and yogis and followers of
other religions to speak. So you see, when I decided to
come to India to find an enlightened saint, my family
were not surprised — they knew my inclinations.
I suppose you found most Indians surprised at a young
girl leaving her family.
Exactly. But at least my family is happy now that I have
found what I had been longing for.
How did you make the break and come to India?
I had a wonderful job as a dental assistant earning
much money for a girl of 20. I was with some top
dentists on Hollywood Boulevard, but when I started
looking at my colleagues coming every day, going every
day, taking the money — what for? I said: Let me see
some other life! At the end of the sixties, some of my
friends — they were poets and artists — had been to
Europe and described the life in Spain as much quieter,
simpler. I saved enough money for one year in Europe,
and although I met so many interesting people there, it
seemed to me that everyone was in search of another
way — a real way of life. So a few of us got together to
go to India to look for an enlightened being. I had
meditated in Europe, but I knew that on my own it
wasn’t working. I knew I had to find someone who
could show me.
How did you travel?
By car. We were firm in our goal. We had spoken it out
and decided that on arrival in India we should split up
as the guru meant for one would not necessary be
the guru for the others. We were idealists — there were
five of us and we loved each other, but we knew that
being attached to each other wouldn’t do us any good.
We were like children, and said wherever our hearts
pull us we should go, and only in that way will we meet
the saint who is to help us.
Did it take long to find your prospective gurus?
For some of us, no. One French lady went
to Swami Muktananda; she stayed years with him. The
Englishman stayed with a saint for a year and kept
mauna — silence. I went to a yoga Ashram near
Poona; it had a huge library. There along with
learning hatha yoga and raja yoga it prepared me for
the Indian way of life: how to dress, how to eat, how to
behave. But even though there was a great mystic soul
who helped me — he appeared in my meditations — my
heart told me: You have been helped, but now you
should move on. I continued the search in Rishikesh
where I met several saints, but they weren’t for me. I
received a telegram from one of the five friends asking
me to come to Delhi. Here I met a Baba, so we all
traveled to Simla where I stayed for some time.
That was an interesting, personal opening for me.
During my morning meditations I would literally cry:
Oh, God, show me your saint; I am here all alone, can’t
you send somebody for me? Even throughout the day
my heart was so intense with longing that when I went
out I could hardly hold back the tears. After one month
I met a lady who kept saying: My Santji is coming to
Simla, you should meet him — just like that. When he
arrived, she took me to him — it was Sant Gulab Singh.
He was giving an informal talk to a few devotees in a
house where he had been invited to stay. As soon as I
saw him I was like one struck. I thought: Oh… now
there’s someone! All the doubt, the sorrow, the
confusion vanished — I was in supreme joy. It sounds
too perfect, doesn’t it? But this is how it happened…and
just as soon as I came into the room! I couldn’t
understand a word of what he was speaking; I just sat
at his feet watching him. He was glowing, throwing out
waves of love and compassion. When he became aware
of me, he opened his arms wide and called: Ao, ao, ao!
— Come, come, come! He was smiling and his cheeks
were red and glowing.
Was he speaking in Punjabi?
Yes, and it took me a good six months before I could
understand.

How old was Santji then?

They say he is about 104 now, so he must have been just
over 90 then. It’s a miracle in itself that his memory for
the scriptures is still so sharp, and that he can read
without glasses besides having perfect recall of many
thrilling events from his past. You know, he still quotes
from the Gurbani in Gurmukhi, from the Gita
in Sanskrit, and from the Koran and the Persian Sufi
mystics like Rumi and Hafiz in Persian. You have seen
him walking without help even at his age.
Can you tell me more about his extraordinary life?
He was born in Rawalpindi, which is now part of
Pakistan. He became a lawyer and had a family, but
although he was born into a Sikh family and knew the
Gurbani, he would never go to the gurdwara. He
preferred to visit Sufi saints. His idea was that if you
take only one line from any of the scriptures — just one
— and live up to it, that’s enough. For instance, the
line: God is everywhere. If we really understand that,
can we ever do anything wrong, can we be unhappy or
ungrateful? So from the beginning he said what’s the
use of being a hypocrite attending long sermons but not
taking to heart and living to perfection what is being
said? He still teaches like that; he insists we get to the
essence of the scriptures and live up to it. From his
college days he was called Santji, but he has always
lived a secluded life without a large following and
without an Ashram or organization.
To whom does this rather large modern house belong?
Santji’s eldest brother had one small baby; when this
brother died, Santji took that little boy and raised it as
his own. He owns this house, and claims Santji as his
father, not his uncle, for he says Santji chose of his own
accord to bring him up like a son.
Can you describe how Santji broke away from his
family to devote his life entirely to the spiritual life?
He often tells the story himself. He was fed up with the
life of a lawyer which involved defending fellows often
guilty. The climax came when he had to defend
someone accused of theft. He got the man off. On being
told the fee, the man said to Santji: Give me an hour —
I’ll be back. He did come back and the fee was paid,
but Santji asked where the money came from, and was
told: Oh, there were two farmers standing in a crowd
and one had just sold his horse, so I pushed into the
crowd and took the money from his pocket. Santji felt
so appalled to think he had been living on money taken
this way that in the night he cried out to God: Save me,
Oh Lord, from this profession — what good can come
from money earned when someone is weeping for it? In
that mood of prayer and anguish the whole night was
passed. But in the morning he couldn’t hear: he had
become almost totally deaf — and he says he was
ecstatic: it was grace, a sign from God. He went to the
Court where he was well-known, and announced:
Today I am free from this profession — Today I will
devote the rest of my life only to Him!
Is it known how old he was then?
I think about 55. He told his wife: From today you will
be like a mother to me — I will no longer live in the
house but in a hut in the orchard. He then took to the
life of prayer and study, which went on until Partition
when evil forces took advantage to plunder, rape and
destroy. At that time Santji had large family properties,
and although he intervened to plead with the gangs that
attacked his neighbours, he himself was never touched:
they all respected him as a saint.
However, one day when he was away, the great family
house was surrounded by a mob out for plunder and
rape. Santji’s wife, seeing there was no hope, gathered
all the women and children round the huge well. There
was firing and fighting outside and all the food was
finished. Only Santji’s wife and female relations were
trapped inside. She made all the ladies, the girls and
children –there were 107 of them — stand round the
well and repeat Guru Nanak’s Japji Sahib. Then
grabbing two children, she said: My beloved children,
if you want to save your chastity, follow me! She
jumped into the well, and all followed — finished!
The Muslims had been asking Santji that only he should
embrace Islam and all others would be left untouched.
But although he was regarded as a Sufi, he replied:
How can I deny the gurus? How can I deny the saints?
Even at gun-point he spoke like that. They say that
when Santji came back to his desolated house there
wasn’t even a tear to be seen in his eyes…he said: God,
You have given them, they were Your gifts, You have
taken them back into Your lap, into Your Light. He
quietly picked up a few things and left the place for
Kashmir with a few surviving members of his family
and his guru, Sant Teja Singh.
Can you say how Santji met his guru?
Pitaji has been with many saints. But Sant Teja Singh
and Om Baba have had the greatest impact on his
life. Sant Teja Singh came to Santji’s village in 1937
saying: I have come to take away someone marked for
the service of the Lord! When he saw Santji he
declared: My mission is successful! Santji prostrated at
the visitor’s feet. The saint lifted him up and lovingly
embraced him. From that Santji regarded Teja Singh as
his spiritual master. For fifteen years he basked in that
sunshine, but he now tells us that during those years he
hardly spoke to his master for fifteen minutes. Without
asking for anything, everything was given; whatever
question came into his mind was answered.
After the guru’s passing, Pitaji’s practice of the
presence of God inspired many seekers. His message
was simple: God gives everything — shall I not give all
I have? God protects everyone — shall I not protect
whoever comes to me oppressed? God bestows mercy
— shall I not offer whatever help I can to the afflicted?
God forgives — shall I not also offer forgiveness?
What is a great inspiration to me in the relationship
between Teja Singh and Santji — and you must
remember that Santji was 30 years older than
his guru — is that he once told me: My child, in all the
years we were together he only spoke three sentences
directly to me — he would sit in a kind of ecstasy, and if
he ever spoke, it was in a general way about God and
His saints; he hardly ever slept — such was his
wonderful life.
The other saint who was influential in Santji’s life
was Om Baba whom he met in 1952 when Baba was
an old, emanciated figure living in a hut with a bench
as a bed and a brick as a pillow. At that first
meeting, Om Baba sat up as Santji bent low to touch
his feet, and from his lips came forth a hymn thanking
Lord Krishna for sending his own child so that all
power and love so generously bestowed on him can
now be transferred. At that moment Santji felt a shower
of divine love and grace descend on
him. Om Baba then explained: Until you came, my
door was shut; it has now been opened to you and all
your children. He had lived as a recluse for thirty-five
years; his only food was a cup of tea morning and
evening. He had no money, no house — nothing. All this
inspired Santji to contemplate even more fully the
mystery of God’s beauty everywhere so as to
comprehend His words and dispensation.
Om Baba left the body a few years later. Santji says he
was 110 years old. I only heard the full story last year
from people who were with Santji at the time. It
appears that Om Baba sent a message to his devotees
saying he wished to go on a pilgrimage, for which a
certain sum of money was required, but before he went
he wanted to see Santji. This message was passed on to
Santji who went to the house where Om Baba was
staying. Om Baba got up, embraced him warmly, they
spoke for a few minutes, then Santji took leave. By the
time he’d reached the ground floor someone was
calling from the upper window: He has left the body!
Just see - within the short span of time it takes to walk
down a flight of stairs, the saints can throw off the
physical body! But the strangest part of the story is that
Santji just looked up and said: Yes, he’s gone. And
although they all thought he would turn round and
come back, Santji went on his way.
Can you tell me about the miracles attached to the
photographs of Om Baba, and why Santji gave me
eight this morning?
He really explained this himself. He told you that
should you come across anyone suffering or in trouble,
to give the person a photo. I have never seen him give
eight to anyone before; it must have some meaning. But
I can tell you I have seen the most incredible miracles
happen through Pitaji giving this small photo
of Om Baba. But he usually gives them directly to each
person personally who comes with a serious problem
and he asks that the photo should be placed in a locket
and worn round the neck. I have seen so many return to
tell him their sufferings or problems have vanished, or
if not vanished at least they are able to accept and live
with what is troubling them. A lady had cancer which
after a major operation continued to spread: I think
they only gave her another six months to live. She is
wearing that locket now and doing social work here in
Chandigarh.
These small photos have such power that you don’t even
have to wear them. My own mother suddenly became ill
and thought she was having a heart attack —she only
hinted in a letter that she was ill. They took her to the
hospital and found it was spondalitis; it was so
advanced she couldn’t walk. The doctors told her they
would operate but she would never be able to walk
again. She wrote to me lightly about it but I felt there
must be something serious. I told Santji: Mummy
appears to be ill — just like that, nothing more. He
gave me a photo of Om Baba with his own hands to put
inside my letter to her without telling her anything
except: This is Om Baba — nothing more. She started
getting well, and before she came to see us she was
climbing mountains in California. She was so happy to
see me with Pitaji — my happiness made her happy,
you see.
Did Om Baba perform miracles himself during his
life?
Yes, he did. He had so much love for Santji that he gave
him everything. There was a young married couple who
had three girls, and naturally they wanted a boy. Their
whole family were devotees of Santji. The wife’s mother
also knew Om Baba. When her daughter was pregnant
for the fourth time, she took her to Om Baba. Now the
mother never actually asked for anything, but said: My
daughter already has three girls, and this is her
condition now…He understood, and said: Bring me a
beautiful coconut, and as beautiful as the coconut so
will be the son. The mother looked all over Delhi for
the best coconut, and returned. Om Baba broke it, took
the milk, mixed it with a little ash from the fire in his
room, and gave it to the girl to drink. A son was born,
and within a few days they brought him and placed him
in Om Baba’s lap. Then Om Baba explained: He had
been a great yogi living in the Himalayas engaged in
deep sadhana… I have called him and asked God to cut
one of his lives: this will be his last birth.
Do you possess anything of Om Baba’s?
Apart from his blessings and the protection he has
extended to my mother, I have something most precious.
When I had known Pitaji only six months — he kept me
with him like his tiny daughter and took me everywhere
from the day I met him — well, although he knew I was
sick of the pleasures of the world, still we have to eat
something, we have to wear something, and all this he
provided. He had about six or seven shawls. One day he
asked a devotee to bring them so they were placed
before him. He said to me: Pick one! I looked, then
pointed to one. Oh — he exclaimed - she has
picked Om Baba’s shawl, and taking it to his forehead
with great reverence, he then presented it to me saying:
Daughter, take care of it, this is the only thing
of Om Baba’s we have, and whoever wears it will be
free from illness. My Pitaji has been so kind that after a
few months with him he sent me to Swami Jnanananda
(Interview 6) — (who has in his turn sent you here) —
saying: “Spend some time with him — you will learn so
much”. And of course I have. I have also spent much
time with Sri Pad Baba in Vrindavan and with a great
saint in Gujarat, Jagjivan Bapu; but he has now left the
body. Pitaji would always give his permission every
time I wanted to visit these saints,
but Swami Jnanananda used to tease me sometimes:
You have a greater problem than most devotees — he
would say — because you have many gurus to please.
But Radheshwari, you have been in India so many
years, how do you manage to support yourself?
This question I often wonder about myself. To think it is
enough to send one into ecstasy — it’s perhaps the
greatest miracle. I had an abhorrence of working for
money; there’s joy in work, so working was all right.
But to be handed money for it I felt was insulting,
especially if one puts one’s heart into the work. But here
in India one has a goal: one has come only for God.
One hasn’t thought of the body, so He has blessed the
body with its daily needs. I am lacking in nothing. If
you think of it, Christ said: “Think not for how thou
shall be clothed and how thou shall eat; does not thy
Lord know thou hast need of these things?” I was so
filled, crazy with the desire to find Him, I never thought
about these things. Rather I thought I would prefer to
be without than to be chained to a weekly pay packet.
Do we really need wall-to-wall carpeting? I have had
to do without so many things for a number of years, but
there was joy in the heart and fulfillment in the life.
Sri Pad Baba, who I hope you will meet in Vrindavan
next week, was an inspiration for me. He had nothing
but a blanket to wear. I had nothing but one little bag
with a change of clothes in the early days. Oh, it’s all
coming back to me… at one time I only had a dhoti to
wear, and when I washed it in the river I had to dry it
on my body in the sun. I lived like that for months
— Sri Pad Baba’s influence was so strong. These days,
everything I wear has been given to me because the
devotees see I am serving Pitaji day and night. The
simple food we have always gets shared by whoever
comes — you have seen that yourself. I can’t see that
I’m in need for anything more.
And Santji; how is he supported?
Supported? He’s just sitting in the lap of God! He
doesn’t depend on anyone.
Do you ever think about the future?
A few years back I started to think about security. A
devoted person offered me space on his land to build a
little cottage — this was up in the hills. We talked to
Santji about it. His reply was: Why are you planning?
At this stage you can’t even imagine what will happen
to you — leave off these ideas: you are going to be
happy wherever you are! I let that chance go. Since
then I don’t even think about whether I will be allowed
to stay in India or not – sometimes there’s trouble
getting a visa. Pitaji annihilated all desires, this way,
that way.
I notice that sometimes you refer to Santji as Pitaji.
Pita means father, and if one uses ji with any name it
gives it more respect. Most of Santji’s close devotees
call him Pitaji… he calls us all bachche, children. It is
out of love — and such love he has! — that we call him
father.
Although you are so integrated here, you can hardly
ever meet any Westerners. Do you ever miss Western
society?
Things are in the heart: one remembers sometimes, but
through grace one never hankers after anything. You
must remember when I left the West I was fed up with
everything there; I don’t have to go through all the
boring list of horrors going on then — and perhaps they
are still going on. It has taken me ten years to start
seeing the good side of the West again.
Like you all those years ago, many others have taken
the road towards the East hoping for a better life, yet
many have not found the inner peace and fulfillment
you have. Is there a reason?
The reason is the destiny of each person. There is a
definite benefit in seeing the world — even the Indians
should see America — we should see it all, feel it all,
and know that life isn’t just the customs within the
society into which we are born. Many have been to
India and been disturbed by the dirt and poverty, the
climate and endless difficulties. That had to be for
them. Others see beyond that, at the beauty: then a
stage comes when we see beauty everywhere. But one
cannot fight or alter one’s fate.
Did you find it difficult to adapt to the conditions?
At first I wanted to look like an Indian lady, but it’s
hard even though you keep to the customs because the
Indians themselves see you as a Westerner. The girls
here can’t move about unchaperoned. I wanted to be
free to travel. I soon found that as a Westerner I could.
It’s important not to upset anyone by wrong behaviour
— we’re so free in the West. So I learned to always
cover my head in the company of holy men, and so on.
It was four years before anyone would give me a room
in Vrindavan — they were just not used to seeing
foreign girls move around on their own. No Indian girl
alone would still ever be given a room there. So
sometimes one’s foreignness helps.
Do you see this life you have with Santji as the end of
your search, or could you still go on?
Both. I could very happily jump right out of this body
now, yet I see there’s far to go. Scientists are
discovering that the Creation is endless — so much to
be discovered had been covered, hidden. But what
about He who created all this? Is He not as endless and
full of mystery to be unraveled by His devotees? As
long as life is, there will be mysteries. I have become
happy. Why? - because I know whatever I need He
gives me.
Do you still have any goals?
The one goal is Him. What He wants me to do here, He
will make me do. At the moment it’s to serve Santji -
until he leaves his body I will stay at his feet serving
him. After that, well, that’s the beauty - I don’t know…
but I do know I’ll never serve another as I have served
Santji. About five years ago I arrived back from an
exciting trip with Swami Jnanananda — Pitaji was so
happy to see me. He was laughing in the great mystery
— you see, he is not at all possessive. I was sitting with
him all alone. He never speaks personally to me, so we
sat in silence, and suddenly a flood-wave came on me
— visually — and I blinked my eyes. A rainbow of
colour showered over me, glittering light - I couldn’t
see Santji through it. At the same time my body felt
cool, refreshed but exhilarated…and joy and joy was
that vibrating bliss! Then came to my mind what
Santji had said a hundred times: All the eighteen places
of holy pilgrimage are found at the feet of the guru!
Since that day and that experience I never wanted to go
anywhere. These sayings in the scriptures aren’t just
words: Someone has experienced them as I had
experienced what it means to be at the feet of the guru.
In the two days I have been here, you appear to be in a
constant state of divine intoxication. But do you ever
have moments of sorrow?
We are not above our moods. Sorrow comes. But that
too is as precious as everything else. It’s in the depths
of sorrow — the dark night of the soul — one gets the
greatest revelation of His love, His grace, His mercy.
And when you cry: Oh, God! God! Are you there? Show
me! Show me! — and you are really suffering, that is
the blessing of blessings. I have had my share of pain.
Being a lone woman is no small thing. You have to find
Him. I have seen Him come when you need that love.
Then there’s that ocean, endless ocean of Light. Without
words God will tell you: I love you, I love you most: I
am waiting for every cell of my own self to come back.
So that is what I have been given here: it’s the firm
foundation of faith. This is His body; He will do with it
as He likes, I’m to watch. As it’s His, He must take care
of it. I found out this secret in the greatest moments of
pain, when one had no one else, nothing else to lean on,
no source other than Him. Is it not a wonderful life to
know that?
Pitaji has shown me two ways: To pray in a humble
way for God’s grace to come. The other is to accept
everything as it is and know He wants it that way, and if
you love Him, why question His wishes? Until we find
the guru, the world is the guru. We learn like that —
even the wind will teach us.
When I first met Pitaji — within four or five days — we
were sitting alone in the sun at Simla, he said: My
child, name anything you want, just tell me. I was
thrilled all over, and started weeping… I couldn’t
speak. I knew what I wanted, but how can you say that
you want God? But what was on my mind, having just
found Santji, was staying in India — the visa. How
could I stay? This was on my mind but one cannot ask
for a worldly thing.
I stood up and shouted in Pitaji’s ear: God! God!
But he replied: No! No!.. He is already yours, you ask
for something else!
Tears were still falling down my face but I couldn’t say
anything more.
Of his own accord, Santji turned to me and said: Look,
you can stay as long as you like in India…if it’s some
papers, we will arrange that, you are not to worry. We
will keep you.
So you see, He gave me that. I am not in need of
anything else.

Santji is being taken to General Joginder Singh’s

house; this serves a double purpose: he will be able to
see his loving children, and I will be dropped home.
Santji comes into the house and gives a 10 minute
discouse to an audience of four — he rarely speaks to
great gatherings. When he gets back into the car, he
clasps my hands to say goodbye; I ask him to bless the
work on this book. He kisses me on the forehead again,
and says: I have asked God to bless you!
Sant Gulab Singh lived on for another 4 years but
slipped away in his sleep having reached the age of
108.
12
Omkara Das Adhikary
Krishna Balram Temple
Vrindavan
9th January 1981

I leave Chandigarh a few hours later on the night train

in such high spirits that the descent into Delhi this time
hardly affects me. I have to collect my three-page
printed itinerary from the travel agent: it’s a nervous
traveller’s panacea for all ills replete with name and
number of each train on which I have firm bookings,
alongside numbered seat reservations and much other
information. It’s immaculately typed-out, and in
duplicate! How can anyone go wrong?
Then off to catch the Taj Express — No. 80 UP — for
Vrindavan… but not before meeting a friend
and gurubhai, Pritam Singh Nagpal. He not only insists
that I stay with him in his family home when I reach
Agra (where I hope to meet a Dutch boy who has an
extraordinary story, and where I am to arrive in a few
days) but after consulting my magnificently typed
itinerary, he promises to meet me at the Agra station
and then take me to his home.
I board the train for Mathura filled with gratitude and
happiness, and within a short time we are arriving at
this sacred region associated with the childhood of
Lord Krishna. The train itself dashes on to Agra packed
with tourists on their way to see the Taj Mahal; I do the
rest of the journey to Vrindavan by local bus. Vrindavan
is the heart of Krishna-land, a place of pilgrimage, a
place full of temples and Ashrams.
I don’t know who will give Interviews here, but I am
going straight to the tiny house of Radha Dasi, the first
Western girl to be allowed to live here. I don’t hold high
hopes that she will be Interviewable as she has already
written to me saying: Yes, come, but I prefer not to talk
about myself. Fortunately I have a note for her from her
friend, the laughing Radheshwari who gave the last
Interview, so I am hoping she will change her mind.
Radha Dasi is Australian by birth and has lived in
Vrindavan many years. I watch her read the note, but
from the sweet melancholy expression on her face I can
see it hasn’t moved her to reconsider her decision.
She has been asked — whatever happens now will be
right. She says: You may stay in the room next to the
temple upstairs…I will be happy to take you to someone
who will help you: but I cannot speak about my own
life.
We get into a cycle-rickshaw, the only mode of
transport through the narrow, twisting Vrindavan lanes
where every house seems part temple, part palace. We
get down at the Jaipur Mandir, a huge palace. Here is
housed a rare collection of thousands of manuscripts,
ancient paintings and much else associated with the
history and legends of Krishna’s life spent in this
region. It is called the Vraja Academy; it was founded
three years ago, not by an academic for other
academics, but by a young mystic with matted hair who
is draped in a woollen blanket. This is
the Sri Pad Baba spoken of so warmly by Radheshwari
and my Swiss friend, Swami Jnanananda
Sri Pad Baba is the guru of Radha Dasi; she is taking
me across the beautifully proportioned, if somewhat
neglected, arched courtyard to meet him. He has
folders and papers in his hands and is dictating a letter
to a girl at a typewriter. He appears to be in his mid
thirties. The sight of a tyagi sadhu renunciate with
dreadlocks and a blanket as winter covering, but with a
secretary, could cause bewilderment…it fills me with
joy.
He is also smiling, perhaps having sensed why I am
amused. He greets me, and when he learns about the
book and that Swami Jnanananda has told me much
about him, he sends the secretary away. We talk. He is
thrilled to know who my guru is — he has asked -- then
makes a plan to help me.
He says: You will be able to take four Interviews here in
Vrindavan…and Radha Dasi will give one — but, I
can’t help seeing she has turned her head away.
Sri Pad Baba

And so, after lunch, which we eat sitting crossed-legged

on the floor, Radha Dasi takes me to my first port of
call, the nearby Hare Krishna Temple, introduces me to
Omkara, then slips away.

The Hare Krishna movement — ISKCON — at this

stage is hardly 15 years old, yet its founder, Srila
Prabhupada, has turned it into a world-wide
organization. Omkara is the head priest of this temple
and he speaks with a pronounced French accent, all the
more attractive when he launches
into Sanskrit phrases.

Interview 12
I was born in France in 1944 into a Christian family
which followed the Christian rules. I was called
Christian Roblot-Coulanges. After the Christian form of
initiation — the Confirmation — I decided I could not
accept it. I was 12 when I reacted against the Church,
and this went on for many years. I became a decorator
and designer, and success came my way… money,
fame, so many things. But in my heart I was never
satisfied — you cannot be satisfied by material things. I
turned my back on the success: I went to live in the
country to live a simple life on a farm. We had no
electricity for many years, and to get water we had to
walk a mile. I started thinking about God, how to find
God. I tried many ways…many people showed me
many ways. But I was not happy. Then twelve years ago
I decided to come to India — 1969. I met teachers.
Finally, I gave my heart to Shiva, and followed the
teachings as given by my guru in Almora. But soon I
found that I couldn’t accept Shiva as God.
Did you live in an Ashram then?
No. You see, I never took that guru as guru — more like
a teacher. I tried to serve him, but eventually I returned
to France. I took another farm as an Ashram so that
friends could live together a simple life of devotion. But
I never found God. My wife became unhappy with me:
I wanted to go back to India to find a real guru. But at
this time the person who gave us the farm wanted to
take it back. I said: I must not be attached…I will give
it all up. In Avignon there was a festival of handicrafts;
I went to sell my things so that I would be able to come
back to India. But I heard some people
chanting Krishna’s name. I was attracted to it, so I told
them if they didn’t have a place to stay they could take
food with us and stay a few nights. One man came. He
was a Hare Krishna devotee but he never told us, he
never preached to us.
As it was Krishna’s birthday, he wanted to take my
small son to Paris and show him the Krishna temple and
celebrations — I hadn’t been to Paris for many years
and I didn’t want to go. But a car stopped at the farm,
the driver said he was on his way to Paris, and
somehow we all got into the car and drove off. We
arrived five minutes before the deities’ darshan at the
temple. There were about 300 devotees; even in India I
had never felt so deeply the spiritual atmosphere — so
powerful, so potent. When I saw the deity in the form
of Krishna I knew I had found God. I had found what I
wanted. Three days later I shaved my head and stayed
in the temple. At the time my wife would not agree to
this new life — 300 devotees in a small building after
living independently in the country! But what does
tapas — austerities — mean? Surrendering everything
to Krishna; it means giving up everything you like best.
That’s how to serve him.
After I had been in the temple seven months I asked for
initiation. Srila Prabhupad was in London. I wanted to
go, I wanted to meet him. But they told me there was no
need, I could have it right there. He sent me my new
name — Omkara is the personal name of Krishna, the
Supreme Personality of Godhead; Das means servant —
so the full name means the servant of Krishna. Later
when I met Srila Prabhupad I was completely
surrendered to him and I had a deep association with
him.
How long did it take to meet him?
I came back to India in 1974, straight to Vrindavan. But
I met Guru Maharaj in Mayapur, the place where Lord
Chaitanya appeared on this planet.
When was it decided you could stay in India?
First I was not allowed to stay. When you want to live
in a temple you have to get special permission from the
authorities. I never wanted to go back, but only if He
wants you is it possible. It seems that He wanted me.
You don’t have visa trouble?
Visa is a material thing. It all depends on Radha Rani
and Krishna — it’s by their grace I stay. Look,
Prabhupad said so many times, people want to come to
Vrindavan; they buy their tickets, get passports, but
something happens — they never come. No-one can
even enter this sacred place without the mercy of Radha
Rani. No-one can stay without her mercy. I have been
here six — no, seven — years now. You can’t do that on
a three-month tourist visa.
How many Western devotees live in the temple?
45 to 50. There is also a school with 60 children from
the West.
What is your daily programme?
From the beginning I wanted to serve Krishna; I had to
learn. In one year I became a pujari — head priest of
the temple. This means I am the personal servant
to Krishna. I wake him up, give him food seven times a
day, bathe him, dress him. I get up at 3 a.m., take my
bath, chant some japas, wake Krishna at 3.30, dress him
in fresh clothes, offer him fruit, milk and sweets. Then
there’s mangala arati in the temple till 5.30 — I have to
look after that. Then I give Krishna his ceremonial bath
with the other deities, dress him again in fresh clothes
and garland him with flowers. More food is offered —
it’s all made by devotees. At 2 o’clock he takes rest for
two hours. There’s another arati ceremony in the temple
in the evening during which he gives darshan. At night I
undress him, put him in night-clothes, and then to bed.
That’s the end of my duties.
Am I right in thinking you have designed all the deities
clothes and that they are made here?
Yes. But I am a demanding person, never satisfied; I
want the greatest opulence — only the best —
for Krishna. One day my guru called me and said: You
have the experience, why don’t you take charge of the
wardrobe? — you could design the clothes for all the
ISKCON temples. For the last few years I have done
this service — it’s very blissful. I have many orders for
clothes now; when I sit at my desk, Krishna gives me
all the ideas.
Do you have many assistants? The clothes are so
elaborate, especially with so much appliquéd jewels
and sequins?
When there’s much work we have 50 to 55 helpers —
sometimes 70 — but usually only 35.
Are they all devotees?
They are all local people born in Vrindavan —
everybody here is a devotee of Krishna. There are a few
Muslim families; it’s considered bad karma to be born
Muslim in Vrindavan.
Can you give a brief account of Krishna’s teachings?
He says everything you do, everything you want to do,
should be offered to him without thought of reward. It’s
the path of bhakti yoga — the path of devotion. We are
to transfer all desires, all actions into service to Krishna.
This is the way to purification, the way to become
transcendental. This of course is a very brief summary.
But what is the purpose of all this service?
To serve God. We have passed through so many forms
of life; only by Krishna’s grace do we get the human
body. As animals we knew no better than to eat and
have sex. In the human body we have discrimination;
we are to reach for the higher life by using this
discrimination. We are to understand we are not the
physical body or the senses, but a spiritual being living
in this body using the senses. To stop further samskaras
— impressions carried over from one life to the next
which cause us to come back over and over again to this
world — we have to use the gift of discrimination. By
serving God, knowing we are part of His great Spirit,
we become liberated. We never ask for anything for
ourselves; we do everything to please Krishna.
You are all strictly vegetarian?
Krishna says in the Bhagavad Gita: I can accept your
offerings of flowers, fruit and water. He never says we
are to offer meat or eggs. Devotees only
eat prasad which can be offered to him; we never
actually cook anything for ourselves — we offer
everything to Krishna first.
What are the other rules?
There are 4 basic rules — religious principles. No
intoxicants — this includes no tea or coffee. No meat,
fish or eggs. No illicit sex. No gambling. These are not
great things really, it’s a matter of giving up
attachments.
What are the benefits you have found in this new life?
I have learned never to ask for anything. A true devotee
doesn’t mind even if he has to take birth again. I only
want to remember Krishna all the time — I want to be
his eternal servant.
In that way your life has become higher, fulfilled?
I hope so.
Did you find it hard to follow the Indian rituals and
the Sanskrit teachings?
I found it difficult to follow the Western rules and
rituals…it’s easier for me to live this life. Whenever I
think of the past I wonder how I ever managed to get
through that life. My only prayer to Krishna is to allow
me to live this way here. Look, I wear these
simple dhotis. As for the teachings, they have all been
translated into English and French and so many other
languages. Prabhupad was asked many times about
studying Sanskrit; he replied: No, if you are French,
take the teachings in your own language — they have
been translated for you. If I ever have to go back to
France it will be to teach — that’s the only thing I’ll do.
We must preach. It’s our duty. All disciples have that to
do. And it’s better to do it in one’s own language.
Do you keep up with what goes on in the West?
I was never interested… so it’s less now.
But could you adapt should you have to go back?
Definitely. Remember, for six years I lived there like a
tyagi sadhu, without light or water. I only wanted to live
as a human being. It would never be a problem now.
But to me Vrindavan is the highest place in the world to
live. One has done much austerities in one’s past to be
able to live here. All demi-gods pray to Krishna for
rebirth in this place — they are waiting to come here.
In some Ashrams fees are paid for initiation. What is
the custom here?
Everything is free. The ISKCON knowledge, teachings,
living — all are free. But there are rules. Anyone can
stay here for three days without obligation; after that
there’s a choice: you can either become a bhakta and
follow the Ashram rules and give whatever service is
required at the time. Or you can move into the guest
house and rent a room.
How is this large organization maintained?
By donations and the sale of Srila Prabhupad’s books
which are sold all over the world. There are thousands
in print in all languages.
Can you tell me the significance of the painted tilak on
your forehead and the special way you drape your
robes?
Tradition. The tilak is the symbol of Vishnu. I wear
white because it shows I am a married man. I don’t
have to think what to wear and how to wear it — it’s the
same every day.
I know your family is living with you here, but does
your work take you away from them when you travel?
Only when Krishna asks me. I may go to Jaipur for one
or two days to order materials for the deities. I never
actually go far.
Have you come across many Western seekers since you
came to live in India?
Oh, yes. They are looking, looking. They have to find a
bona fide guru; that’s the only way to find Krishna. I
have explained how I had to search and how I was
never satisfied until I found Krishna. The
real guru practices what he teaches, for where
a guru goes, that’s where he takes you — he can only
take you that far.
Your great guru left the body some years ago. How is
the spiritual work going on now?
For me Srila Prabhupad is eternally my guru. There’s no
need for me to look for another. One day when
Prabhupad came back from the West he was sick and I
was serving him: that was my duty in Vrindavan. I was
washing his feet. He had changed so much, his body
was so frail. I started weeping. He saw me and touched
my head, saying: Don’t be so attached to my body. I
will be eternally here! And he pointed to his books. I
have never felt that he has gone. I’m thinking all the
time a telegramme will arrive saying he is coming back
from a tour, please set up his room. But his room is all
ready as if he is here — I can show you. He can come
right now and everything is ready. For the new
devotees, however, Prabhupad nominated eleven
elevated devotees to continue to teach and initiate. He
made all this clear.
You get on well with them?
Of course. They are my God-brothers, I have known
them for many years. I respect their knowledge but as
they are my God-brothers I can also argue with them.
The relationship between God-brothers is very high and
special. Srila Vishnupad, the Acharya for Vrindavan, is
known to me for many years. He is at this moment in
Australia as he is also the initiating guru there. If you
want to go to the top of a mountain and you don’t know
the way, and if you see someone already at the top you
can ask him the best way up. That’s the work of
the guru: he tells us the way back to Krishna, he shows
us the supreme aspects of Godhead.

As your wife and little boy have just come in, I would
like to take a photograph of you together. But first can
you tell me a little about your family?
Apart from my wife who lives here with me there is my
son of 11 years old and my daughter who is 16. Two
years ago she was married with all the orthodox rites;
she is the first Western girl in ISKCON to be married in
such a proper way, at an age which the Vedas advise
before puberty. Her husband is the temple president
although he is only 28. Three months ago she gave birth
to a boy.

13
Gopi Jai Krishna
Vraja Academy
Vrindavan
10th January 1981

I have at last started taking the photographs; I began in

Delhi, continued in Chandigarh, so now I am feeling it
less of a burden. Perhaps by the time I reach Agra, my
next port of call, I will be as comfortable with the
camera as I am with the tape recorder.
On my second morning in Vrindavan I go back to the
Vraja Academy. Radha Dasi is still acting as my guide
but still will not speak. Sri Pad Baba has another
young lady lined-up instead. He also introduces me to
Asim who is busy showing him some manuscripts and
who has been with him for years. Asim has been asked
to give one of the Interviews; he is not too keen, but
as Sri Padji is watching, he agrees to meet me at
Radha Dasi’s this evening.
Meanwhile, Gopi Jai Krishna is sitting waiting in the
magnificent porch, relaxed and beautiful in her white
saree. She has a child-like quality, all open trust and
wonder, yet I sense a firm determination also. Her
awareness is centred, her speech clear, her life full of
single-minded achievement.

Interview 13
I was raised in a Catholic family and became
disillusioned as I found it unfulfilling. When I heard
about the different yogas I wished to study them.
Where was all this taking place?
In America, where I was born. One day I was walking
by the sea in California, and I saw an old man sitting in
a yoga posture. I walked past but I felt an incredible
purity emanating from him. I remember telling my
mother about it. The next day I went back; the old man
was there, but I was afraid to disturb him. But I was
impelled: I went up to him and said: I feel you can teach
me.
How old were you then?
13. He asked me what I wanted to know, so I replied: I
just know I can learn something from you. From that
day I went to him practically every day; he told me
about different philosophies. He wasn’t Indian, but he
came from a foreign country as he had an accent. He
had lived on raw fruits for many years, and he
explained we shouldn’t eat the bodies of dead animals.
From the day I met him I changed: I couldn’t eat animal
flesh, and I decided to find the perfection of life. I was
with him one month and he taught me much about a
pure diet.
Later I heard there were yoga Ashrams in Hawaii.
Although I was still in school, I convinced my mother
to let me go there. I was 15 but I found there were
several Ashrams in Hawaii so I stayed in different ones.
Everyone who has come on the spiritual path has heard
about Paramahansa Yogananda and can never forget his
story about the deathless Babaji. One day I saw in an
advertisement that this Babaji who had been living in
the Himalayas for hundreds of years, was sending his
disciple to give lecture courses and initiation in Hawaii.
So I was able to attend them.
Did you have to pay for the courses?
Oh, no. At the time I was living with another girl in a
hut made of bamboo with a roof of canvas. We studied
ashtanga yoga and some hatha yoga. We rose early
every day, bathed and practiced certain asanas. At the
end of the course, the teacher said: Now you set up your
own Ashram!
You were still only 15?
Yes. I thought: We have no money, and here we are in
the jungle living on fruit, but if we are meant to do this,
we will do it. Someone then gave us a typewriter and
sponsored us: we started. We were following
the advaita philosophy — non-dualism. This teaches
that God’s presence is in everything, every molecule —
Sat-chit-ananda: Eternal-consciousness-bliss. We set up
the Ashram, had retreats, and with divine grace,
everything came to be arranged. When the teacher came
there were many followers. His name was Tishananda.
There were seven stages of initiation. I completed five.
But throughout this whole study I felt something
missing. I was certain the Supreme Absolute exists.
This philosophy teaches that when Krishna appears, he
has the personification of Brahman — each avatar is the
personification of Brahman. Everything is the
personification of Brahman, and when one
reaches nirvana, at that stage one ceases to exist in
individuality: there’s only consciousness of the whole
— we are absorbed in bliss.
I was always attached to Krishna. Then one day I met
devotees from ISKCON. They were having kirtan and
distributing prasad. They stayed with us and when they
left they gave us some books which I read.
I had already realized that to achieve pure devotion
to Krishna would be the perfection of my life
because Krishna is beyond Brahman, he is the source
of Brahman. The first sloka of the Isha Upanishad says
that Krishna eternally exists, he is all that is, and,
simultaneously he exists aloof from that. This means
that all this is Krishna, in this realm and also the
beyond, where he is eternally sporting in Satchitananda.
I decided to study with a branch of ISKCON.
Where did that take place?
Still in Hawaii — I was there for several years. But I
had moved to a ladies Ashram-farm; we rose early,
had puja, read scriptures and worked in the garden. I
cooked for everyone. Every day was the same. There
was one teacher, Siddhaswarup Ananda Goswami. He
was a magnetic personality who had attained perfection:
to hear him speak made the mind clear — one felt one
could overcome anything in one’s sadhana. I studied
with him for some years. But due to differences with the
management, he broke away — I won’t say any more. I
don’t want to be offensive in any way. He told me we
should not be dependent on living in an Ashram. During
all that time I had many incredible experiences, and
devotion was growing in my heart.
Can you describe these experiences?
When one develops attachment to Krishna who is
beyond time and space, one experiences freedom from
the limitations of matter. As one progresses, one sees
that Krishna takes care of his devotees wherever they
are, whatever they do. I would go about without money;
I just had a piece of plastic and a blanket. The island
was filled with peace and beauty, stillness and
goodness. I just walked in the forest; I would do a job,
sleep by the sea. I never strived for anything —
everything came. It was one long miracle…someone
always gave me food; everything that was needed was
provided. In the Bhagavad Gita it says: One who is
completely surrendered, for him I provide everything he
lacks. You asked me about these experiences…well, I
can only say I had nothing but experienced that!
Siddhaswarup Ananda had told me: It is time for you to
leave everything and depend entirely on Krishna. I had
been living in Ashrams for years depending on
schedules, friends and now I was in the street. It was
then I knew the time had come to go to India — to
Vrindavan. To make the money for the fare I swept
leaves in a park. When I arrived, I had no friends, no
Hindi, no money.
How long ago was that?
Six years ago. I knew wherever I was to
go, Krishna would look after me, would protect me. I
went to a place near here called Radha Kund; I didn’t
know it was a special place. Then I realized it was
special to Krishna; if one goes there and bathes, one
attains the love of the gopis. I stayed and studied there
for some time. After that I traveled to Mayapur in
Bengal, the birthplace of Chaitanya Mahaprabhu. I was
all alone, sleeping in railway stations with no one to
talk to.
After a time, as I had a return excursion ticket, I
returned to Hawaii where I spent one year living in the
jungle on pineapples and avocados, which grow freely
there. I chanted and had the realization that the ultimate
perfection was that the soul was to be devoted to that
personality who is the perfect Krishna devotee. That
personality is Shrimati Radha Rani — Krishna’s
beloved. I started singing bhajans to her — singing,
singing, singing, becoming absorbed and meditating on
her lotus feet. In this way I had one or two experiences
of other worlds that no one can understand unless they
too have experienced them.
But can you not give us some idea of these experiences?
One thing that happened was when I returned to India,
as I couldn’t extend my six-month visa, I prayed: Oh,
Shrimati Radha Rani, tell me what you want me to do;
if I leave India I cannot continue my sadhana…
tomorrow is my birthday; if you want me to continue
living in this body, you must make a miracle happen
tomorrow, otherwise I will go to Barsana where I know
a deep well and I will tie rocks round myself, throw
myself in and die in your own holy birthplace! Then I
told her a rather complicated thing…I said: Krishna is
Satchitananda, and the only way I can stay in India
legally is to marry an Indian citizen; so
if Krishna appears like that in the form of a young man
who will marry me, I will take it as a sign that you want
me to continue in this body - if not, I will drop this body
in the well!
I had actually written down this prayer in the form of a
letter to Radha Rani and placed it on the altar. In the
morning when I got up, I was all prepared to go to the
well - there was a knock at the door. A boy was there
saying: I am Satchitananda. He was a yogi and his name
was actually Shiva — I had met him a few days before.
But here he was saying I am Satchitananda…he then
explained: There I was sitting in my room and all I am
hearing is Shrimati Radha Rani telling me: You go and
help Gopi Jai Krishna! I couldn’t meditate; I am not
even a follower of Radha Rani, so how can all this be?
He was an Indian boy devoted to another sect?
Yes, yes! At first I told him I was very busy, I have
something planned in Barsana. But then he said: Look,
I’ve brought you a present, I’ve brought you some
sweets - but listen, Gopi; you just marry me and
everything will be all right! All I could say was: What?
So you see, Satchitananda had manifested through that
boy, who is now a guru with so many of his own
disciples.
But what happened next?
I realized this is what Radha Rani wanted. That boy was
about 30. But how to make the wedding arrangements?
He had been a yogi since the age of 6; he lived in
jungles kissing snakes…he never had a birth certificate.
They told me: How can you marry such a person? It
was a matter of papers and nothing could be arranged.
But I saw this was one of Radha Rani’s tricks to stop
me doing that awful thing at Barsana. I was now
prepared to go back to America.
Because you couldn’t get married?
No, because I couldn’t get the visa.
I see, something was broken.
Yes, that was the miracle. He went his way, I went
home content. Once again I saved money to get back,
but this time I stayed.
This is your third time?
Yes…but now I have a proper entry visa — and that
was another miracle, for this now entitles me to stay for
the purpose of spiritual study. In America I prayed: All
right, Krishna, to come back to your place I will do
anything. There is someone in Pakistan who gives
Americans a visa; the Indian Government on the whole
is not sympathetic. I knew my only chance to stay for a
long period without all the bother and heartache of
begging for 3-month extensions was to get to Pakistan.
My plane ticket only took me to Bangkok, but there I
found there was no flight to Pakistan. I didn’t know
what to do — no airline could help me. I saw the
manager of P.I.A. and told him I must go to Pakistan.
He asked: But why? I explained. He must have taken
pity on me.
He told me not to worry, he would arrange something.
He was a Muslim and told me: Allah is telling me to
help you…you are my daughter; don’t be afraid. You
can stay in my house, and in the morning I will be able
to help you. I stayed with one lady in his house, where
he later explained: I have a friend in the Government of
Thailand, let’s see what he can do! But I knew it was
absolutely impossible to get an entry visa into India
from Thailand — it’s against the law to issue anything
but the normal tourist visa.
I was taken to see a prominent Sikh gentleman. He in
turn took me in hand and told the authorities: Look, this
poor girl is stranded here, and all she wants is to be able
to carry on with her sadhana in India. They kept me a
few hours, then we all went to the Indian Embassy. As
soon as this Sikh gentleman walked in, everyone stood
up. He just told them: Give her two years! They replied:
It cannot be done until tomorrow. It was not only ready
the next day but I found the visa was not just for two
years but extendable for a further five years!
The manager of P.I.A. then allowed me to fly direct to
India on a ticket for half price. His last words to me
were: “It is all the will of Allah!” And I began to realize
Allah is another name for Krishna.
Now that you are here for an extended period, how are
you supporting yourself?
I had saved some money, but I came under a
sponsorship letter, although I wasn’t expecting too
much. But it enables me to stay with ISKCON; they
have been taking care of me and giving me a small
allowance. This enables me to look after my small son.
How did you get the son?
One year after that dramatic birthday when I was back
in America when I was sitting in front of the deity, I
said: If you want me to marry you must let me know
tomorrow. I only speak to Krishna when I am very
serious. I had been wandering about all over the world
always alone. I thought if I don’t get a reply, I will put
the idea of marriage out of my head for ever. The next
day someone came, and as he walked into the room
asked: Are you married? — if not, would you marry
me? I started laughing and called my girl friend, but as I
had said this to Krishna and she had been present, we
decided to ask permission from the people under whose
care I was.
This boy was an artist and had been painting pictures
of Krishna for years.
I should say he didn’t know why he had asked me to
marry him, but it was decided that it would be good for
us to marry. I took it all as if it was meant to be. I still
wanted to come back to India, but it was decided that
we should have a child. There’s a certain ceremony that
you have to observe, and all the time I was praying to
Srimati Radha Rani, because we have to be strict even
in married life. We have to be celibate except when a
child is to be conceived. I prayed: If I have to go
through this, then send me one of your devotees. So it
was under these circumstances that my child was
conceived. Later my husband said: I would like him to
be called Ram Chandra…but I, being attached
to Krishna, wanted to call him Barsana Prem. On the
day of Ram Naomi, which is the birthday of Lord Ram,
I started with labour and the child was born on that day.
And of course, everyone called out: Ram Chandra has
come! So that’s how I had Ram Chandra on Lord Ram’s
birthday. His name is Ram Chandra Hasna — the smile
of Lord Ram.
How old is he now?
Two and a half. But after the birth, my husband started
having trouble with his sadhana and he became
involved in the movie business. He wanted to make an
animated film of the Ramayana. He was a good artist,
but then I hardly saw him as he was just painting,
painting. I wanted so much to return to India. Gradually,
through the association with the movie industry, my
husband got contaminated. I became more and more
lonely although I had the child to take care of. Only
now could I see we had different ideals. There was no
point in dragging out our differences, so it was decided
we should divorce. I had a lovely son, so the ISKCON
people said we could live with them.
Now you have this wonderful extendable visa, I suppose
you will never feel like leaving Vrindavan.
I will never leave; I see my son is so much clearer and
stronger here. In the West one is exposed to so much
contamination, it is inevitable we too become
contaminated. One can’t avoid the influence of bill-
boards, T.V., magazines and so many other associations.
And no one understands you. Here in Vraja we have the
ideal atmosphere for sadhana. I don’t want to leave… I
never want to leave.

14

Ellen Schector

Vraja Academy
Vrindavan
10th January 1981

Click for a printable view

Ellen was the girl at the typewriter when I arrived

yesterday. She is to give the next Interview, but as she
offers me tea she starts making conditions. I know it’s a
matter of nerves; I am told not to ask her this or that, or
rush her, to be patient, not to call her by her Sanskrit
name, to promise to send her a copy of the transcript.
What else can I do but agree?

We move out of the shade into the pale winter sunshine.

Sri Pad Baba passes carrying an armful of office files.
No, no, everything is fine — I assure him — we really
are, finally, well almost, ready to start…

Interview 14

I grew up in a family of Jewish atheists with strong

humanistic values. The primary target of family jokes
was God and religion. All this was in Chicago where I
was born 31 years ago. I don’t trace my connection to
India far back; it was more after LSD that I began to
have longings beyond America and American life.

How old were you when you started LSD?

About 19. I tried it seven or eight times, had some
profound experiences and some devastating ones —
panic, extreme panic. The first two trips were nice and I
wanted to have a repeat, but being immature, my ability
to continue stopped quickly. I kind of used up all the
positive effects I could get from the drug and moved
into the negative aspect: anxiety and panic. But I had a
connection to something more important than I had
experienced up to then.

I had no idea what to do with my life or how to get to

that level of consciousness I had tasted. I didn’t know if
anyone else was having this experience or not or if one
was supposed to talk about it. I continued taking the
drug as I was eager to reconnect to the positive aspect
of it but had more bad experiences. It came to the point
when I had to accept that my survival depended on not
taking any more. I tried getting back to that high with
grass, but I easily flipped back into the negative state:
Oh, my God! — I’m here again and I’ve always been
here. The word flashed through my mind: Insanity —
this is it! Although I was in a vulnerable state, I got
back into college, studied, did some service with kids
who were wards of the State and some work with old
people.

A lot of my friends were moving into the country,

building their own houses. I visited a friend and had the
sensation of being in touch with myself; it was so quiet
in the country I became aware of an inner dialogue.
This was a turning point for me. I bought some land,
and knowing that I would have to work making a
garden, took to yoga to strengthen my back. At the end
of the yoga class there was ten minutes meditation.

Where was this?

California. Very quickly I realized what was happening
in those few minutes meditation. I responded. I was
changing rapidly. I began reading Ram Dass: Be Here
Now. The Only Dance There Is, and living a quiet life.
What I began hearing in all the books — the thing
significant to me — was that to take on this life one
needs a teacher. I had bought the land but I knew I had
to find a teacher and re-establish the knowledge I had
experienced under LSD. I just knew I could get it
through meditation. I found an Ashram I could move
into, and for six or seven hours a day I was involved in
meditation, yoga, chanting and sitting in silence with
my guru.

Where was all this?

San Raphael, across the Golden Gate from San
Francisco. Now I should tell you that from the age of 16
until I was 19 I had a tremendously difficult period of
emotional turmoil which led at the age of 18 to
spending time in a mental hospital. That’s where I was
introduced to drugs and did my tripping. The key
feature of the turmoil I had as an adolescent was
compulsiveness coming out in eating. I could put on 30
lbs in two months, and I did it many times. I went up
and down punishing myself continuously and creating
pain for myself. The whole trip of living in the country
with peaceful people was a kind of benevolent way for
me to live, and everything was coming together.

However, when I moved into the Ashram, the turmoil

came back intensely, and was so unexpected — I never
thought I would have to face that again. I had enough
perspective to know it was a cleansing process. Every
vulnerability within me was having to come out through
meditation…to become strong one has to face every
weakness. So in a way I was able to withstand it.

There was a song Ram Dass popularized: Rejoice in the

Lord Always. I remember one night walking the streets
singing this song, saying to myself: Rejoice always, not
when you are happy but when you have to accept
painful things…recognize it, tolerate it. I was crying,
but I kept on singing. Twice I packed my things with
the intention of leaving the Ashram — not that I had
anywhere to go, but I knew I had to get out. I had
reached my limit. But then something worse would
happen, and I would stay. Things would ease up. Then
the stress would come on again because the compulsion
returned, and I was eating and eating and eating,
gaining weight. I kept saying: I don’t want to get fat
again, I can’t face it…that nightmare is over!

The critical point came when I learned my brother was

to get married. I was so happy; there was no question, I
would go to the wedding. But here I was getting fatter
and fatter, and I couldn’t face being with the whole
family obese. I couldn’t go, yet I couldn’t not go either.
The pressure was building — I didn’t know what to do.
Finally, I addressed myself to God: Whatever You want
to make me go through, I’ll go through. It was a
release…not that I stopped being compulsive. But I
accepted the fact that I was going to be fat.

And I got fatter and fatter, fatter than I had ever been. I
was very unhappy — that was the surface, the
emotional state. I cringed if my friends wanted to be
affectionate or to touch me. I couldn’t talk about my
condition. But underneath all this I had a connection
with myself, and the discomfort was surface: that gave
me the ability to survive. If the inner connection would
not have been there I know I would never have
survived.

Living in that Ashram was nice but not fulfilling. After

two years I was able to leave. I had wanted to come to
India, so now I took a job, worked seven days a week to
save enough money. Within a year and a half I bought
the ticket and came.

What did you have in mind?

I was being pulled here; I knew I would get guidance; I
knew I would meet people with spiritual awareness. I
had read books by Ramakrishna Paramahansa, Ramana
Maharshi, Yogananda, and I knew this culture was
producing beings like that. Now I am here — it’s
getting close to two years — it’s like the fulfillment of a
dream.

Did you have any plan when you arrived?

A friend told me of a man who had walked round the
world for the International Peace Movement — from
Delhi to Moscow to Paris to London to New York. His
story interested me. I went to Bangalore to see him. He
invited me to travel with him, and we went to Vinoba
Bhave’s Ashram. I was living a regulated life just eating
Ashram food — whatever was served. Up till leaving
America I was as compulsive as ever…

What sort of weight were you?

When I came I was about 175 lbs (79 kg)…

And now?
I range between 125 and 130, but I may go up to 133 —
no more — I’m just not gaining weight. A compulsive
fat person never believes she is ever going to be thin,
and although I had seen some of my friends go to India
fat but come back thin, I never thought I would ever be
out of the nightmare. At Vinoba’s Ashram I was up to
185 lbs; then I became ill with tonscilitia with a fever of
105. They thought I wouldn’t get through; I decided not
to take medicine, no antibiotics, no matter what. The
time came when I said to the doctor: If I’m going to die
you better tell me — I’m not afraid — I would like to
write to my parents…He assured me I wouldn’t die, but
I never believed him — I was burning! The fever broke,
I spent weeks fasting but I still wouldn’t take
medicines. They told me I was getting thin, but an
Indian’s conception of thin is different from mine. Six
weeks later I got out of bed — I knew I had lost weight
— the scales said: 125 lbs! My goal had never been
more then 135: I was joyful. I left the Ashram and
decided I would have fun: I bought ordinary clothes —
shirts and jeans — things I had never been able to wear
as an adult. I knew this happiness was superficial, but
for a month I let myself enjoy thinness.

But with all this new-found bliss, did you stop looking
for the inner bliss?
For that whole month I was euphoric. Then I went to
Bombay to hear Krishnamurti. The whole guru fantasy
— the reason for coming to India — was suddenly
shattered. Every conception I had about spiritual life
had to be given up. Everything was taken away, and
nothing was left. For some time I recognized this new
turmoil was needed for growth and that something good
was happening. So I spent some time in Goa trying to
disconnect from everything. I put myself in a room, not
reading, doing sadhana, and faced the stress of sensory
deprivation. In a short time there was much growth.

But I started to long for the Himalayas. So I spent a

month at Badrinath(1) and ran into someone who had a
new book by Ram Dass on Neem Karoli Baba(2). I read
it; it was a mind-altering experience. I felt a strong pull
towards Neem Karoli Baba. This helped me counter the
Krishnamurti concept of the guru-disciple relaltionship
being void. I had no doubt how high a guru can be, so
then I wanted to get close to Maharaj. This is why I
came to Vrindavan — his samadhi is here.

But as Neem Karoli Baba left the body years ago, do

you not feel the need for a living teacher?
My feeling about him is that his living in the physical
body or not doesn’t matter for a relationship with him. I
also know it’s possible to still have his darshan,
although he’s left the body.

So India has proved to be a tremendous experience for

you.
After only being here for a few months, I was given the
gift of thinness. No one who hasn’t lived through a
compulsive eating nightmare can understand what that
means — the sense of freedom when it passes. People
say anything can happen in India: we have all read
about the miracles — well — that was a miracle, and it
happened in my life.

Now that you are stable, do you still watch your diet?
I eat whatever I want. There’s no stress, so there’s no
compulsion; there’s no extra weight. In the past I could
gain 30 lbs in six weeks. At the most now, if I go
through a slight strain period, I can gain 3 lbs — no
more. I know there’s some force controlling things —
it’s not subject to reason or logic.

As a final question can you tell me how you come to be

staying at Sri Pad Baba’s Academy?
I have been here twelve days — it’s a new experience
for me. I had been at the Neem Karoli Guest House near
the Ashram, but the limitation period of seven days was
up. I wanted to learn Hindi, so I was directed here and
spoke to Sri Padji. He told me I could stay here, eat
here, study Hindi — no charges — but what was really
nice was as he knew of my connection with Maharaji,
he asked me if had I read Miracle of Love?(3)

That was like a light flashing on, for that’s why I came
to Vrindavan; and here was this other guru talking about
it. Sri Padji told me someone had read parts of this book
to him; he spoke warmly of it, then said: You can stay
here if you want, or I can speak to the people running
the guest house so that you can stay on there. That was
the second light flashing on — he was giving respect to
my relationship to Maharaj. He was saying: I’ll give
you everything I have here, but if you want to stay
there, I can arrange it. I moved here next day, started
my Hindi, started doing some typing for the Academy,
started to get to know Sri Pad Baba, and I would say
that he is the first person I have met in India who fulfills
my idea of the kind of teacher I wanted to learn from.

There have been so many turning points since I arrived

in India, but now I am thinking: O.K. I’m here. It’s
happened. This is what I came for.

Ellen is happy with the way the Interview went — she

says she trusts me, there’s no need to send her a copy of
the transcript. I can’t help thinking that if everyone is
going to make such conditions I will have to get a
secretary.

Radha Dasi has made me supper and we are waiting for

Asim; he’s late, so she talks, not too freely but — well
— perhaps she might let me press the magic button, but
no. Isim is now so late we accept the fact that he is
detained somewhere. Radha Dasi I see is firm… she is
not moved to change her mind. She says:

Why not stay on an extra day and catch Asim

tomorrow?

Good suggestion. I

I explain that I must catch the morning train to Agra as

a friend has promised to meet me at the station so that I
can stay with the family...and I do not have his address,
so I really must be there.

I say goodnight and go up to my room. Vrindavan has

an atmosphere of its own, but I am leaving with only
three Interviews instead of the predicted four.

I set off in the morning never-the-less with a promise.

When I tell Sri Padji he should verify or deny the many
stories that are growing up around his extraordinary
life, he replies: What I have to tell cannot be said in one
hour — you will have to come back to Vrindavan again
to hear all that.
Yes, God willing, that will be something worth going
back for.

Sri Pad Baba

Ram Alexander has sent me the following description of

the passing of this saintly sadhu:

Sri Pad Baba had been a child yogi often lost within
himself in divine mood. He roamed freely around India
as a young man filled with God-intoxication. He was
closely associated with many holy men and also
Anandamayi Ma, who at their first meeting when he
was still a boy called him, Chhota Baba, little father. He
was particularly drawn to the very young Swiss born
Swami Jnanananda (Interview No. 6) who writes
movingly and at length about their inseparable early
relationship in his inspiring autobiography,
“Transcendent Journey”.

Once on being told that winter was an unsuitable time

of the year to pilgrimage to Gangotri as it would be
under snow, Sri Pad replied: Real austerity means to be
in the hottest place in summer, in the wettest areas
during the monsoon, and in cold regions in winter. This
was his youthful reasoning typical of his determined
temperament. In early middle age Sri Pad became
involved with the Vraja Academy which seemed to
cramp his original free-wheeling paramahamsa life-
style although he continued his ideal of distributing the
art of devotion and the preservation of spiritual culture
through the subtle charisma of his divine being.

In 1996 he suffered silently from a fatal illness, refused

medical treatment, taking water only but meditating
most of the day. During his last days he never lay down,
and when it was time for him to leave, he remained in
the sitting posture. He was 50 years old. His devotees
immersed his remains in the River Yamuna at
Vrindavan. The river was covered with flowers thrown
by chanting devotees in boats. It is said that Baba’s face
in the sunlight looked beautiful and shone with an
ethereal splendour. He had returned home to the River
of Love where he had bathed so often for hours on end.

The Academy is now closed, but in the garden some

100 cows are looked after by a Sadhu.
15

Paul Ivan Hogguer

Radha Soami Satsang

Hazuri Bhavan
Agra

12th January 1981

Click for a printable view

The Taj Express is on time, and I jump into the first

class section. As we are pulling out of the station, the
conductor rushes up to me saying all seats are full.

I explain that I have a confirmed reservation, and take

out the lovely sheets of beautifully printed proof.

Yes — he is saying, checking — but for 12th January,

today is the 11th!

I am so stunned, dazed, that he lets me sit on his

wooden seat in the passage-way. It appears one can still
be hopelessly untravel-worthy even with the most
professionally prepared itinerary. An extra day in
Vrindavan would have allowed me to finish all my
work, but — oh, horror! — I am beginning to realize I
shall be arriving one day too soon in Agra and I will not
be able to contact my friend, Pritam Singh Nagpal, for
24 hours!

I am saying to myself: there must be a purpose behind

all this - there must be - I am not to be confused or
anxious, I am to flow with all currents, under all
circumstances, through whatever is awaiting me. And
yes, yes, I know there’s a benevolent hand over my
head guiding me, so to be in the wrong place, at the
wrong time, must have some meaning.

We are pulling into Agra. The tourists are being directed

to the waiting de luxe coaches off to see the Taj Mahal.
The porters are barging through the rush of passenger
activity. They kick the stray dogs out of the way. They
walk round the noble cows. I stand still on the platform
surrounded by my sad luggage; we are waiting for the
excitement to simmer down.

But who is this running towards me, laughing,

shouting? Pritam Singh Nagpal — my friend — here?
He embraces me with rib-crushing zeal while I am
asking: Is it the 11th or the 12th?

Yes, yes, yes — he laughs — your paper is telling 12th

and you are coming too soon!
As we pour out of the station he starts telling me how
he comes to be here although I am totally, irrevocably,
ridiculously in the wrong place at the wrong time.
When we get to his house, I ask him to write the whole
incident down. I am reproducing
it here as it came out in his own words:

Pritam Singh Nagpal

Belaganj, Agra-4
13th Jan. 81

Respected Brother,
When I met you in Delhi you had shown me your
program of reaching (here) on the 12th by Taj. We were
all looking forward to your visit and had told many
brothers and sisters about your programme. I invited
them to meet you on the 12th evening at my place.
On the 11th morning, I was still lying in bed fully
awake, when I saw my Master, Sant Kirpal Singhji,
with you smiling a little behind Him. And my Master
told me, pointing towards you that, “He is coming today
— receive him at the station”. And slowly the light was
withdrawn. I was expecting you on the 12th and here
was a positive and clear direction to me to go to meet
you. On the one hand I was overjoyed but found it
difficult to tell my family.
As we were to go to the Sunday Satsang, I made up my
mind to leave my wife there and then go to the station. I
had to rush and found the Taj had steamed in. It took a
couple of minutes to leave my scooter and purchase a
platform ticket. I knew you had a first class Indrail Pass,
and as the first class compartments are towards the
engine side, I made my way there. You were there
looking towards me. I was happy I had received the
right direction from my Master — that he chose me for
this small service to my brother and in His Grace to
save you from any inconvenience.
Perhaps I am not able to express myself fully, but
brother, on your journey now and hereafter on this earth
plane, you are fully protected by our Great Master – this
proves so much. And for myself, I am also under His
benign Grace. I have recorded this in my own limited
manner, but the whole thing can be felt rather than
explained.

With my best regard,

Yours-in-Him,
Pritam

From this moment, how can I ever feel confusion,

doubt, anxiety? Everything I am trying to do on this
sadhana/journey is controlled. Everything is as it should
be. Everything that has to be accomplished will surely
be accomplished.

In November 2005 the following message arrived from

Pritam Singh Nagpal by email dictated to another dear
gurubhai, Prof. Vinod Sena. I knew he had moved from
Agra to live in Delhi and had given up working as a
naturopath doctor, but little more:

Dear Brother,
Today I am visiting Vinodji who has been asking about
my health and that you have also been enquiring about
me. I must confess I could not contact you earlier
although last year I received your book “New Lives”
from the publisher…it was a year of bad health (I must
now use a Walker) and also of bereavements, including
that of my eldest son.
I am in better health now but not very active…as it
should be at my age (80). I have managed to come to
see our dear brother so that he can send you this
message and the photo he has just taken.
I remember you so well and delight to recall old times
at the Ashram when the Beloved Master Kirpal was
physically there. There are many happy memories
which I can’t forget.
Yours in Him,
Nagpal

Pritam Singh Nagpal at 80

I spend my first night in Agra in blissful peace. To be at

peace with the world and oneself is the height of luxury:
millionaires can rarely buy that.
The next morning I am taken to the historic house of
Rai Saligram, popularly known as Hazur Maharaj, a
19th century saint and the second guru of the Radha
Soami Faith. This Movement was founded by Shiv
Dayal Singh who was born here in Agra in 1818. Since
those days, there have been many splits, and the
Movement has spread all over Northern India. There are
now many thriving centres in the West.

Dr. Agam Prasad Mathur, who is head of the History

Department at Agra College, is a direct descendent of
Rai Saligram, is about 50, and is the living guru of that
Radha Soami branch.

In Agra alone there are three non-communicating

branches: the teachings are very much the same, the
gurus different. Although I had asked to see the Dutch
boy who is Dr. Mathur’s only Western disciple and who
lives with him, I am shown into the guru’s presence
instead. He is sitting on an elaborate bed chewing beetle
nut. He appears to misunderstand the purpose of my
visit for he starts an uninterruptible discourse:
Yes, yes, a good idea, but the book should open with a
historical survey of the bhakti movement as it started in
medieval India leading up to its modern flowering last
century…and…

After ten minutes of invaluable but unusable advice, the

learned Doctor pauses to spit out the red matter he has
been chewing; I take courage, point to a fair-haired boy
who has just prostrated at the feet of the guru and crept
to the back of the room.
I say: Forgive me, it is this young man I have come to
Interview.

Dr. Mathur recovers quickly: Yes, yes, of course…

Paul…take him to your room…give him a copy of my
book and show him round the samadhi…so kind of you
to come, goodbye!

Interview 15

I am Dutch by birth. Although I am now 26, by the time

I was 16 I had done everything that was good and bad
— busy peeping my nose in all fields, always liking to
be first. It had been predicted by a lady who could see
the future — my worried mother went to see her — By
his 16th birthday he will change, you will be proud of
him.

Since 14 I had lived away from my parents in

Amsterdam. I became part of the drug culture: fast cars,
fast company, girls. And whatever there was to do I did
even at that age. It was hard living — many times I was
moneyless; but there were many experiences. So by the
time I was 16 I was feeling: All this is no use to me, I
will go home. I phoned my parents. They said: Let’s try
again.

I went back one day after my 16th birthday. There was a

talk: Are you willing to go back to school? — Do you
want to work? — Please think about it. But I became
privacy conscious; I demanded my own room; I wanted
to think. The body was 16; the mind was already far
away from things with which my parents were
concerned. There was pressure. I must do something,
must! But I couldn’t accept anything. Daily talks about
schooling, daily paper searches for jobs, all of which
the mind rejected. Internally I knew I was searching for
something else.

Four months passed. My mother came up with a

suggestion: Take a job in a nearby hotel. I started
working as a cook. I developed an interest in cooking,
so I went one day a week to school. Then my father
who is a businessman with enough money, began
talking about opening a restaurant: You learn to be a
chef in Switzerland, learn all the nice preparations…By
the time I was 17½ I had worked in several good hotels,
but I happened to pick up two books by Paul Brunton.
(1)

The moment I put my nose into them there was a

transformation in my brain. It was telling me: Your life
is for this, get hold of it! I’m a fast reader. I finished the
two books in one day and started searching for others
like them. The fantasy in my mind was: You’ve had a
past life as a yogi — you have come back to go on. At
last I knew what I had been searching for. But my
parents didn’t welcome the news: What’s this new
nonsense?

My interest in cooking dropped; I studied spiritual

books. I couldn’t stop reading. One day I saw that
Mahesh Yogi was in Holland, so I went to see him as I
knew I had to do something practical. I never liked
organizations, but I wanted to learn a meditation
technique. I even took initiation, started practicing, got
interesting results, but couldn’t give myself. I went back
to reading…all the Theosophical books and so many
others.

One day at a Transcendental Meditation meeting, I saw

a lady; my mind said: Make friends with her, she has
much to teach you. She was about 40. I was then an
ascetic fanatic unable to accept Mahesh Yogi but
knowing the real guru is waiting for me somewhere. I
spoke to that lady and we became fast friends. She was
a vegetarian, she was pure. She had a lot of knowledge,
but she was still searching. We played the I Ching, the
tarot cards, I read her books, met her friends. We went
to different groups, to Switzerland to see Krishnamurti.
We meditated together, and we dug out a lot of things.

But the day came when my mind said: She had given
you all you need, she has done her job. At that moment
something came between us…she saw it; I said: I am
meant to go on alone. I told you I was a fanatic. Had I
met my guru then and had he asked for my life, I would
have given it. My ideal was the Himalayan yogis. I
knew I had to go there. She didn’t like that – neither did
my parents.

How old were you then?

17 and half to18. Once I started, development went fast.
I was on a staircase — I had to go up. I went to forests
to meditate. The inner experiences were good. At the
transcendental meditations, the checker-uppers — poor
fellows — were surprised. It was arranged that I could
attend a teachers’ course free if I would cook the meals.
I never wanted to be a teacher, but I wanted the
knowledge. And here I met a boy who had been to
India. When he mentioned the word India, such an
energy force entered me. I knew my time to go was
near.

But how did you manage to come here?

I had bought my ruck-sack and clothes. I should tell you
that for two long years at every meal there were fights
with my family, there were long faces and tears.

Was that because you wouldn’t eat meat?

I left off meat, fish and eggs. It was weeping on my part
as well as theirs. My father said I was mad. I would
pray to God — I didn’t have at that time a particular
God: Why is it like this? Why can’t my family
understand? Why can’t I find my guru? Why is
everyone pestering me? I sold everything I had to
prepare for the journey. But a month before I was to go,
I was called for an Interview to join the army. It was
another puzzlement. But somehow I was the only one to
be rejected, surely the working of a super-power. I was
free to leave.

How did you travel?

Have you heard about the Magic Bus? Lots of hippies
from all countries going to India on a German Bus with
French papers and an English driver! Interesting. It was
to leave on 31st August 1974. I sat in my seat detached.
My mother had taken pills to calm herself. My father
was asking me to get out. I was already like a free bird.
The staircase was beckoning. If the Queen of Holland
had asked me to stop, I could not. Now a funny thing
happened; my father has a big car business, and when
the bus was to start, the engine failed — we all had to
get out and push. The face of my father! He pushed an
extra 200 guilders in my hand saying: Just in case…at
least take a train. But we were off, and the six weeks to
India were wonderful, no breakdowns but many stops to
enjoy the countries through which we passed.

I saw a Dutch boy in the bus; my mind said: Listen to

him…he has something for you. He sat in front of me. I
had given myself the idea that I would no longer speak
nor smoke. Up till Switzerland I never spoke, but I
handed round some toffees. That boy took one, contact
was made. He asked: Are you going to India to smoke
or for a spiritual purpose? I told him. He said: I am a
follower of the Radha Soami Faith; I have been initiated
for six years but not allowed to see my guru, so as I am
on my way to Australia I will go to Beas to see him. He
then gave me a full account of the teachings. When I
heard them, I thought: Yes, I know all this — this is
right. So I then told him if he didn’t mind I would also
like to see his guru. I later fell asleep and saw a face; up
till now I think it was Swami Shiv Dyal Singh, the
Radha Soami founder. I had been planning where to go,
what to do, but all this went, even my idea of becoming
the disciple of a naked yogi living in a hole in a wall. I
wanted nothing but contact with this Surat Shabd Yoga
as explained by this boy.

We left the bus at Amritsar — bye-bye — took a train to

Beas, then a tonga to the Dera. I was nervous…here I
am seeing the first guru. We went inside, and the
problems started. That boy was not having a letter
giving him permission to see his guru. The secretary
said; No permission. No place to stay! We couldn’t even
stay the night. I was more upset for that boy. This is an
organization so they have to behave like that.

It was dark outside but we saw a tea shop; the owner

heard our story and said: You stay with me — many
foreigners have that problem. It was a gift from heaven:
the secretary had rejected us, not the guru! Next day we
peeped inside the gate, hiding our faces from the
secretary. When I saw the guru — at the first glance —
I knew he was not for me. I attended his satsang in the
second row, and at one moment our eyes met. Such an
explosion came in my mind…all the accumulated dirty
thoughts burst. I couldn’t look at him any more; he had
sent a cleansing current into my little head. Then his
face became bigger and bigger like the sun filled with
light. I couldn’t look any more. At the end of the
satsang I knew I had experienced some of his power,
but the mind said: No, he is not for you. I took a bus to
Rishikesh, having said bye-bye to that boy and the
secretary, the headache-man.

All my thoughts about yogis and asceticism were

finished, but I had to try again. I spent 24 hours in a
second-class train — bad experience; I was still only
19. At last I bundled myself into a bus, and in Rishikesh
I went to the Sivananda Ashram. But because I had not
written a letter I was not allowed to stay…thank you, I
am beginning to expect this, good bye! I stayed nearby
in another Ashram. Here I saw a lot of nonsense going
on; I couldn’t get the Radha Soami teachings out of my
head.
I looked at everything under a big light, going from
Ashram to Ashram, but I rejected everything. I went up
in the hills but I saw even with great austerities, yogis
are proud, jealous and not necessarily spiritual at all. All
thoughts about asceticism were now finished. But
although I wanted to follow the Radha Soamis and
couldn’t accept the Beas guru, I was not knowing that
there were other branches in India with other gurus. It
was a puzzlement. What to do? Then I thought I would
continue travelling, looking at gurus, but if I didn’t find
anyone better, I would return to Beas.

I don’t know how many places I saw: Benares,

Allahabad, Lucknow, Kanpur, Bangalore — all the time
asking for enlightened beings. The final result: they
were all negative, they were all talking, they hadn’t
gone inside.

I became ill with dysentery and malaria, and the doctor

gave me thirteen different pills; I wouldn’t touch them.
I was so tired of travelling after six months, I went to lie
in the Goa sun. Soon I got back into meditation. I
swam, relaxed, made my own food — had a holiday. In
my heart there was a seed of bhakti; I knew that I had to
give that love to a guru.
But also in my heart there was much weeping because if
my guru was calling me, why was he giving me such a
hard time? Why was he kicking me around? If I can’t
find him, I will not live, bas — finished. Then one day I
passed a bookshop. I went in; the first book to catch my
eye was Radha Soami Faith, A Historical Study. My
mind was telling: That book is standing there for you,
buy it. Without looking through it, I paid and left. My
mind was blank, but I felt happiness inside. I started
reading; first I was puzzled as I knew the Beas books
are not sold in shops. But it explained itself. Do you
know the book?

Yes, I actually have a copy.

You know it gives the background, the teachings, but
most important, all the different splinter groups which I
didn’t know about. I read it three times. Although it lists
so many groups, I knew for the Radha Soamis there can
only be one sant satguru — the perfect one. This was
clearly explained by the author, Agam Prasad Mathur. I
accepted everything, but it didn’t help me find the
correct guru. As everything started in Agra, I decided I
must go there. I must look for my diamond.

After a long journey I arrived. I prayed: If this city has

anything for me, guide me, I’m too tired. The first night
was spent in a hotel near this very house. The next day I
took a rickshaw to Soamibagh.(2)

It is a private colony. I went in with my long hair,

looking like a hippy, carrying my rucksack and sitar. In
those days I didn’t care what I looked like: that was the
outside. Someone came up and said: This is a sacred
place — the place of Soamiji, the place of the Radha
Soamis. I told him I knew all that, so he called another
man and we talked. He was the eldest son of the fifth
guru, Babaji Maharaj, who had departed in 1949. He
became critical of Beas when I said I had been there;
there are all these groups and all the quarrels about the
true succession. When I told him I wanted to stay, he
was happy and it was arranged. Foreigners are not
usually attracted there.

At 5 the next morning I was woken to attend satsang;

people were meditating, the atmosphere was good.
There were four life-size paintings of the gurus; I liked
the first two, but the others didn’t appeal to me. I could
accept Soamiji, the first guru, and Hazur Maharaj, the
second; the others, no. After two days I met a man there
— an old satsangi. His external eyes were blind, but the
inner one was open. He could tell if a man was before
him or if it was a woman; he could see their astral
forms. He said: You had to come here but you will not
stay — mark my words. He had a large library of Radha
Soami books in English which I went through in two
weeks. I was more than ever certain these were the
teachings for me.

Did you receive their initiation?

The eldest son gave it, but when he told me for my
meditations I was to contemplate on the image of the
last guru — his father — I said I would not do that; I
could only meditate on Soamiji. From that moment the
contact broke; they wanted to get rid of me.

Where you given the full initiation?

Full from their point of view, yes — I am not allowed to
reveal the details.

But were you initiated into the Sound Current?

No. Just the contemplation. That caused enough trouble.
I could not accept what they wanted me to do. I went to
the samadhi of Soamiji, bowed my head and prayed for
help. Then the strange thing comes: I had found the
book Radha Soami Faith but it never occurred to me to
meet the author who was also living in Agra. In
Soamibagh they have been building a great marble
samadhi for the last 70 years; I was given work
polishing marble slabs, sitting in the sun getting 4
rupees a day. It was the only way I could stay.
Thousands come to see the temple, so I too became a
tourist attraction.

I spent my nights weeping, praying: You have brought

me here, why don’t you show yourself? I contemplated
suicide. One night I was half asleep; there was a flash of
light and a face I couldn’t recognize — very fast. And I
was hearing a voice: Why are you worried; come to me,
I will help you! I was filled with bliss; who was the
man?

Now another strange thing: in the book Radha Soami

Faith, there’s a picture of the author, Dr. Mathur and, by
then I had read it ten times, yet I never recognized the
face. It was still not time to meet him. Three months
went by. One day I was buying food. A man came
towards me. Without thinking I said: Please listen to
me, and I poured out my whole story to him. He said:
there’s only one man who can help you — it’s Dr.
Mathur. Even then, my mind could not accept it was the
author of that book. Perhaps a shadow was kept over
my consciousness.
We arrived at this house at 6. Dr. Mathur’s wife
received us. We had tea, we talked, and I was struck by
the warmth. After a time, Dr. Mathur came - it was that
face! When he spoke - it was that voice! Now the Radha
Soami Faith is a hidden faith, and it appeared that Dr.
Mathur could not say: I have called you at last. I also
recognized this, so a sort of play went on: How are you
— what is your name? And so on. Finally, he said: If
you want to stay here, I can give you a room. The next
day I received initiation…

The next day? But was it different from the Soamibagh

initiation?
There was something new. The initiation that Dadaji
gave me — Dadaji is the name of my guru — meant I
could contemplate on the guru I was attracted to,
otherwise there was no difference.

Were you given the initiation into the Sound Current?

That came four months later; I requested it myself. I am
convinced my Dadaji is the living sant satguru of the
Radha Soami Faith. I meditated, served my guru as best
I could… this is the path of bhakti, so one must serve
and attend satsang twice daily.
Dadaji gives satsang twice daily?
According to his pleasure — sometimes he comes,
sometimes not. We know he’s always there.

How long is it since you first arrived here at Dadaji’s?

Five years. I can say that within six months I had full
understanding of this path.

How much time do you spend in meditation?

A minimum of three hours. At the beginning I continued
with my hatha yoga, I played my sitar, but slowly these
things went — a lot of things went. But as you see, I
still smoke.

Dr. Prasad is still teaching at Agra University?

Yes. He follows closely the traditions of the Radha
Soami Faith which puts emphasis on asceticism but
while remaining a house-holder and having a job. One
can also marry and go on with one’s sex life. But one
must become a vegetarian.

I suppose that means sex life within marriage, and for

the means of procreation only?
In this place one can do as one likes, even go to
cinemas and eat in hotels, but be detached. Sitting in the
company of the sant satguru cleans one. Dadaji never
says to leave off sleeping with women; after all, a man
must have a sex life…

But when you say a sex life, you mean within marriage?
You are free to have girlfriends. The Indian lady who
just brought the tea, I have been having for two years.
She has been given to me by my guru, but not only to
satisfy my sex life — we are all full of lower
qualities…

Are you married to that lady?

I am not married, thank you! She very much belongs to
me; we are happy together. She is a satsangi for fifteen
years. So because she has been given by Dadaji, it’s a
pure arrangement.

I see. Does Dr. Prasad give initiations regularly?

He never indulges in propaganda; it’s prohibited. Why?
It is meant only for those fit. If many came through
propaganda, most would be unfit.

How does your guru choose who is ready?

The sant satguru is charged with the highest spiritual
currents; he has a direct line with the highest spiritual
consciousness…he is the embodiment of that
consciousness.

Yes, that is common to the teachings in all branches of

this faith; and surely you must know the disciples
within each of these branches take their own guru as the
sant satguru.
The true sant satguru has created ministers with limited
spiritual power to serve him — yes, these are the other
gurus of this line. Seekers who are ready, come directly
here; let’s say they are the select souls…others go to the
branches. All are growing, we are learning, being
cleaned. When we are ready, we get drawn to the right
place. This is my realization.

Do you mean the inner realization? Are you in contact

with the inner guru in meditation?
Sometimes these things are there — we are not allowed
to tell — there are a lot of things.

Well, can you talk about the goal of your sadhana?

First of all, man must realize he is spirit not the body,
mind or senses. When the body dies there will be spirit
only. It is because of the illusion of the world that man
thinks he is the body. We have to contact the spirit
within the body at meditation; that’s what the sant
satguru gives. There are so many layers of
consciousness. Without the proper sant satguru, you
cannot meditate.

But in all branches of Radha Soami the disciples

meditate, and I know of some who get very high
experiences.
If you go to a third class shop for a cake, you will get a
third class cake. If you go to a five star hotel for a cake,
you will get something better. Yes, they are getting
something. But just look at some of the gurus who have
gone to the West with their spiritual tricks. I am asking
you, are they not cheap?

It’s not my purpose while compiling this book to make

such assessments. Anyway, I believe we are drawn to
the guru who is right for us. I am not concerned.
If you have realized, you would be concerned.

Are you saying you are realized?

I have realized they are giving a cheap thing.
As far as I understand it, the goal of the Radha Soami
Faith is to become one with the sant satguru — that is
realization. Have you become one with your guru?
That’s not an easy thing.

True. How far are you realized?

First a man has to realize he is spirit…The rest is the
guru’s grace. There’s nothing we can do on our own.
It’s even grace to come here. But we have to work to
get grace. In the West, yoga is very cheap. They have
made it cheap. They offer instant realization. It is not…
it’s like walking on a razor’s edge. You have to fight the
influence of anger, sex, jealousy, ego…thousands of
things.

That fight is common to all paths. How far have you

been able to conquer these influences since coming
here?
What is required is humility. Without that, we cannot
get anywhere. But our progress is kept hidden. Maybe
you are a high soul, but the sant satguru, to avoid pride,
will keep this hidden from you. You are looking at me,
yes, I’m suffering from all sorts of things, but maybe
I’m nearly free. The goal of Radha Soami is not a small
one…it is Sat Lok, the region of pure spirit, the ocean
of love, the ocean of bliss.

Can I ask about Dadaji’s followers? Does he have any

other Western disciples?
There are a few.

He has never travelled abroad?

No. He has been invited, but as a historian — he is one
of India’s eight great historians. An American university
requested him, but he not will to go. Let me put it very
straight: Dadaji is the distributor, the other gurus who
have gone to the West are the workers — they are doing
the beginning work. Let these people clean up. When
they are clean, he will go, bas!

Do you have a job here?

My job is to attend satsang, and as my seva, I write
letters to foreigners for Dadaji.

How do you support yourself?

That’s a tricky question. For the first year I lived here
without money. Sometimes Dadaji gave me spending
money as well as food and clothing. Then the contact
with my family grew better, and although I never asked,
they send money monthly, which is enough.

Do you see yourself living here for the rest of your life?
I hope so. There’s nothing in the West for me. I am
trying to get a job in the Dutch Embassy, even as a clerk
or gardener. This would enable me to stand on my own
legs. And I would like to become an Indian citizen. I
know in my past life I was here…I have been called
back, bas! [enough!]

Paul Ivan Hogguer stayed on in India and was recently

sighted in the Rishikesh area a few years ago.

My work in Agra finished, I now have a whole day free

to enjoy my cold. The Nagpals are spoiling me with
attention. Their friend, a disciple of Swami
Muktananda, is writing a letter to his Ashram about my
intended visit to Bombay; you will get beautiful
Interviews there — he is assuring me. Let’s see.