15 Paul Ivan Hogguer Radha Soami Satsang 12th January 1981 |
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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.
Yes, yes, yes — he laughs — your paper
is telling 12th and you are coming too soon! Pritam Singh Nagpal Respected Brother, With my best regard, 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.
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: 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.
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? But how did you manage
to come here? Was that because you
wouldn’t eat meat? How did you travel? 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. 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? Where you given the full
initiation? But were you initiated
into the Sound Current? 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. The next day? But was
it different from the Soamibagh initiation? Were you given the initiation
into the Sound Current? Dadaji gives satsang
twice daily? How long is it since
you first arrived here at Dadaji’s? How much time do you
spend in meditation? Dr. Prasad is still teaching
at Agra University? I suppose that means
sex life within marriage, and for the means of procreation only? But when you say a sex
life, you mean within marriage? Are you married to that
lady? I see. Does Dr. Prasad
give initiations regularly? How does your guru choose who is ready? 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. Do you mean the inner
realization? Are you in contact with the inner guru in meditation? Well, can you talk about
the goal of your sadhana? But in all branches of
Radha Soami the disciples meditate, and I know of some who get very high experiences. 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. Are you saying you are
realized? 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? True. How far are you
realized? That fight is common
to all paths. How far have you been able to conquer these influences since coming
here? Can I ask about Dadaji’s followers? Does he have any
other Western disciples? He has never travelled
abroad? Do you have a job here? How do you support yourself? Do you see yourself living
here for the rest of your life?
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. |
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© Malcolm Tillis 2006 |