Daughter of Fire Read online

  14th January

  THIS MORNING he looked wonderfully well, the bluish light from the window on his bronze skin made his face look noble, even regal. I prayed for him.

  Later, when we were all sitting outside, he told me not to go to bed immediately after a meal, but walk up and down in the room, or pray, or meditate for a while.

  “As soon as you lie down, sleep comes; this is not good; try to meditate and fall asleep while meditating.”

  14 The Four Doors

  15th January, 1962

  MEDITATED LAST NIGHT as ordered. It went like fire, and never before could I pray as I did. Now, the prayer seems to come from the heart, without effort seemingly, and it is the pouring out of the Soul to God….

  Could not sleep well, was awake from 2 a.m. Each time I pray I see his face clearly before me, as if I am praying to him. Is it because my God has no attributes? Infinity of Life, the Eternal Immutable Law?

  Is it because he is the mediator between IT and me, that I see his face and seem to pray to him??

  16th January

  I AM REDUCED to the state that I see his mental picture everywhere.

  Not for one second am I alone. It is a strange feeling. A fire is burning somewhere deep inside the body, but cannot locate it. Even a feeling of heat is felt, and wherever I look I see him in everything, as if he were all-present and the whole world was him. Strange….

  This morning he did not come out at all. I was sitting alone and felt annoyed. When L. came, she went inside, and when she came out, she said that he will not come out at all, so we decided to go to Allan Forest.

  Half an hour later we went by rikshaw. It was a lovely, sunny day.

  We had a pleasant, peaceful afternoon. L. was telling me about his Guru Maharaj whom she met one year before he died. He was very small, delicately built; he was over ninety and nearly blind.

  “Old age for me could never represent beauty; we in the West are far too much conditioned by the Greek concept of beauty which is youth and vigor,” she was saying. “And still I found him so beautiful. Could not speak to him for he did not know English; all I wanted was to become his disciple. But he said, pointing to Bhai Sahib who acted as interpreter: ‘He is my boy, he will look after you!’

  I was not too happy, for I wanted him to be my Guru, but one year later he was dead.”

  18th January

  HE CAME OUT as though lit with internal light this morning. I have never seen anything like it. He seemed to sparkle, though his health is not good; he is weak and does not eat for days. I just look and look… this light—from where is it coming? It seems to radiate from his skin and is all around him as well.

  VISION: (this morning between sleep and waking) His face in blinding light; the beard standing out like living flames; the eyes unseeing, terrible, the eyes of deep Samadhi—and this face is smiling at me… like an irresistible call, this smile, and I throw myself into it, like a swallow when it is diving in flight. For a splitsecond there was a moment of the most perfect, most unbelievable bliss, hard to bear… as if the utmost bliss and the utmost pain were one, the very same thing, not to be separated, and clearly I knew that there is no difference between absolute happiness and absolute pain. It is only our reaction to it. My heart was still beating wildly when I became completely conscious and the vision was gone. When completely awake, I was full of amazement… wondering. Like a moth, I thought. Oh, like a moth to be dissolved in Light, to disappear forever! The bliss of non-being: is it THAT???

  19th January

  HE CAME OUT THIS MORNING all dressed in white and sat down. My mind became blank with the suddenness of a switch turned off. L. arrived and sat there quietly. Nobody spoke. His lips pressed tightly; he looked far away.

  “What happened last night?” he asked suddenly, looking me straight in the eyes. He startled me.

  “I don’t remember,” I stammered, “no memory at all; but please do tell me!” I said it timidly, for his face was so cold and severe. He shook his head.

  “Such things are not told, if you don’t remember. But Manas helps sometimes,” he added thoughtfully, and then closed his eyes.

  And sometimes it doesn’t, I thought. Felt completely dazed, could not keep my thoughts together—like frightened mice, they seemed to dash about. Manas…. How right he is: Manas is nothing! For there IS something else; so tremendous, so wonderful, and Manas is helpless—it knows nothing about it.

  Then he proceeded to tell us how one merges into one’s Teacher, when two Souls become one.

  “When I was young with my first wife, I rarely had any intercourse with her. Every night I merged into my Revered Guru Maharaj. There can be no greater bliss imaginable than when two Souls are merging into one with love. Sometimes the body is also merged. How is it done? Well, the Soul pervades the body, you see, that’s how it is done. The body partakes of it, is included in it by reflection, so to say. And no bliss in the world is greater than this: when you are One with your Teacher.”

  20th January

  THERE IS THIS QUESTION OF SURRENDER. I wanted to know more about the merging; it was not at all clear to me. How can one achieve the physical surrender on higher planes of consciousness? He always said that physical surrender is essential as well. I cannot imagine how it can be done? How can one understand the possibility of reconciliation of the dense physical and of the atmic level?

  “Please help me, I feel so confused,” I pleaded. I was lost and discouraged, thinking and thinking, getting nowhere, trying to understand something which seemed completely beyond understanding.

  He listened smilingly, lightly fingering his mala.

  “I did not want to mention it to you before,” he said quietly.

  “Some things one should not mention freely, until the time comes for it. As you have said yourself, the surrender of the body can be achieved much deeper, more intimately and more completely than in the sexual union. In sexual union there will be always two. How can there be oneness? But it is done and it can be done. I told you yesterday, the Atman, or the Soul pervades the body, is present in every cell, every atom of the body. So you see, spirit merges into spirit; there are not two bodies as on the physical level—but one.

  That’s why it is so complete. Physically, naturally there will be always two in union; but not so in the spirit. There is nothing to understand really… so simple.” He smiled.

  “But how will the mind reconcile it? To understand it seems impossible!”

  “Manas will be able to reconcile it, by and by. Let time come.”

  I had to be content with that. He looked so well today, no tiredness, his face shining with golden glow, dressed in white, the eyes full of light, difficult to look into, and difficult to bear his gaze.

  People began to arrive. Plenty of people. Much talk and laughter, some were sitting as usual in deep Dhyana. He was full of fun and sparkle, laughing and joking. He had a great sense of humor; he could laugh at himself and at others, but in such a way that it never did hurt—he never hurt anybody’s feelings.

  It was a windy day. White clouds were chasing each other. He sat on his chair, legs drawn up, chin resting on his knees—the conversation was mostly in Hindi. Suddenly he turned to me: “Supposing there are four doors leading into the Spiritual Life: one of gambling, one of drink, one of theft and one of sex. And supposing you are told that you have to pass through one of them in order to reach spirituality; what would you do?”

  He looked at me with a radiant smile. I had to avert my eyes: he was surrounded by blinding light; even his white garment seemed to emanate light. My heart made a helpless jump against the ribs, then stopped. I caught my breath. The mind became completely empty .. . I looked at him helplessly.

  “He did ask you a question about the doors, and you have not answered it!” said L. He looked at me expectantly; I felt all the eyes on me.

  “I don’t know the answer, my dear,” I answered, trying to control my wild breathing.

  He repeated it again: “W
ell, what will you do, tell me, if it is only through these doors that you can reach your God.” He laughed now outright, looking straight at me.

  It always creates a difficult situation—I cannot even think when he looks at me, and to speak, well, I am conscious that I make a muddle of it. This time the effort to be coherent seemed superhuman.

  “Well,” I hesitated, “I suppose that if I have to take the door of gambling I will have to gamble first, in order to pass through it; if it is the door of drink, I suppose I have to get drunk; if of theft, I have to steal something, and if… ” and here I stopped. There were many people sitting, looking at me, mostly men, listening to every word.

  “And if it is the door of sex?” he asked with a wicked little twinkle in his eyes and just a suggestion of a smile.

  “Well, I suppose I will have to do it too,” I said quickly. I was really perplexed, not knowing what he was driving at. He threw his head back and laughed heartily, greatly amused. I don’t know why I had a sudden feeling of a foreboding. His laughter… why?… somehow it made me shiver.

  Then he told us that we are all going to a concert tonight. “Dress smartly,” he addressed L. and me. “So will I. We Sufis are lovers of beauty. Because we have renounced the world, it does not mean that we should look miserable. But neither do we want to stand out and attract undue attention. We do not wear special robes, because that might create a barrier between other people and us. We behave like others and dress like others. We are ordinary people, living ordinary lives. We are smart with smart people, simple with simple ones, but we never give a bad example. We will always lead a life of the highest morality. We will always obey the law of the land in which we live; but in reality we are beyond the laws of men, for we obey only the Law of God. We surrendered somewhere; we are completely free!”

  A rikshaw stopped at the gate. A young man, of the type one meets here often nowadays—cocky, satisfied, sure of himself, halfeducated, vain—came in and sat near Guru. I cannot stand this type.

  Unfortunately, one meets far too many of this kind nowadays in modern India. Immediately, without losing a moment, he began to interrogate Guruji as to who we are, what we are doing, how long we will stay, etc. Then he turned to L. and began the same story. I got more and more irritated because he began a regular interrogation, about her degrees and qualifications. The cheek of it!—to her who has a Doctor’s degree in Sanskrit from the Sorbonne University in Paris, has published books on this subject, of which, I was sure, this young cockerel had not the haziest idea! I could not restrain myself any longer and told him in a rather irritated way that, after all, we are much older than him, that it is most improper to ask about our affairs—it is not his business at all. If he comes here for the sake of spiritual life, why is this idle curiosity? Why does it matter to him anyhow? It is indiscrete and a sign of bad education! He was taken aback and began to apologize. Guru seemed distressed; L. said quickly that she did not mind at all to answer personal questions, and a tense situation ensued. She told me later that the Guru was upset because I was not polite to his guest.

  I arrived back at 4 p.m. L. was there already, looking very smart.

  He was fingering his mala, with the horrible youngster sitting beside him talking non-stop.

  I took time to dress before coming. For years already, I did not fuss so much about my outer appearance. It was as if I was young again once more, when to look one’s best is of the utmost importance. The black velvet blouse with real guipure lace, the golden-green taffeta skirt, my best Italian sandals. Took time to groom and lacquer my hair, and put a drop of the last remainder of my French perfume. We went by rikshaws; I was sitting with his brother, he went with the youngster, L. was with his eldest son in the third.

  The concert was lovely. L. sat next to him and I beside her. Never, oh never, have I enjoyed music so much in all my life! Lately, I seem to listen differently, with the heart and not with the mind at all. I BECOME the sound, the music itself. Was it because of the high musical standard, or was it me in my receptive mood; I don’t know.

  A paroxysm of pure joy was ringing in my soul. Glorious. Endless.

  Ragas (musical scales) were sung by a young woman in a black sari studded with golden stars. Hers was the softest, the loveliest voice, full of devotion. Then came an exceptional Sarod player, who was a master of his instrument; the Sarod seemed to sing almost with a human voice. Sarod (wind instrument) is such a rich instrument, of infinite possibilities; and his technique was superb.

  Lastly came a male singer, very good he was, lovely voice, but it was better not to look at him, only to listen. He showed off, grimaced, made faces as if he were struck by sudden idiocy; his mouth crept sideways, the eyes popping out. The concert was transmitted through the network of All India Radio. The invitation cards were collected at the door by a police officer in gala uniform.

  Bhai Sahib looked very smart—Indian style tight trousers, long raw silk jacket with a high collar buttoned right down. Next day Prof. Radesham kept teasing me because I looked so “devastating,” according to him, in my cocktail outfit. We went home by car.

  Pushpa’s father-in-law gave us a lift. Had a very light meal and, with my head still full of lovely Indian music, went to bed.

  15 The Dweller on the Threshold

  IT WAS THEN, AT THIS MOMENT, just when I stretched out comfortably pulling the blankets over me, that to my surprise I felt a vibration, a SOUND in the lower part of my abdomen. I sat up in surprise. No, I was not mistaken—it was a sound, and I listened to it… never felt anything like that before. It sounded like a soft hiss, and felt like a gentle tickling, as if of butterfly wings, a kind of flutter, or rather a spinning sound like a wheel. Very strange. A suspicion flashed through my mind that perhaps it was leading to some kind of trouble, but what? There was a deep, dark fear, but where? It was so foreign to my body, so unusual, so out of the blue….

  It did not take me long to discover. Without the slightest indication that it may be coming, I was flooded with a powerful sexual desire. It was just the desire, to no object in particular, just the desire, per se, uncontrollable, a kind of wild, cosmic force. I sat there helpless, shaking with fear. Good heavens, what is happening? Tried to listen, TO FEEL from where this vibration came—where was it exactly? Then I knew: it was at the base of the spine, just above the anus—I could feel it there distinctly. It must be the Muladhara Chakra! (psychic center at the base of the spine). I went ice-cold with terror. This was the coup de grace!—I thought… he activated the Muladhara Chakra at the base of the spine; and he left the Kundalini there, to cook myself in my own juice….

  The most terrifying night of my life began. Never, not even in its young days, had this body known anything, even faintly comparable, or similar to this! This was not just desire—it was madness in its lowest, animal form, a paroxysm of sex-craving… a wild howling of everything female in me, for a male. The whole body was SEX ONLY, every cell, every particle was shouting for it, even the skin, the hands, the nails, every atom. I felt my hair standing up as if filled with electricity, waves of wild goose-flesh ran over my whole body, making all hair on the body stand stiff… and the sensation was painful.

  But the inexplicable thing was that even the idea of any kind of intercourse was repulsive and did not even occur to me. The body was shaking… I was biting my pillow not to howl like a wild animal… I was beside myself—the craziest, the maddest thing one could imagine, so out of the blue, so sudden, so violent!

  The body seemed to break under this force. All I could do was hold it stiff, still, and completely stretched out. I felt the overstretched muscles full of pain, as in a kind of cramp; I was rigid, could not move. The mind was absolutely void, emptied of its content; there was no imagery, only an uncontrollable fear primitive, animal fear. And it went for hours. I was shaking like a leaf… a mute, helpless trembling jelly, carried away by forces completely beyond any human control. A fire was burning inside my bowels. The sensation of heat increased and de
creased in waves. And I could do nothing… was in complete psychological turmoil.

  I don’t know how long it lasted, or whether I slept out of sheer exhaustion, or if I had fainted. The whole body was shaky and trembling in the morning. The cup of tea tasted bitter. Felt like vomiting.

  21st January, 1962

  WHEN AT HIS PLACE kept looking at him full of fear. I seemed to be all right now. The horrible vibration was gone. The body seemed normal, only very weak. The horrible youngster was sitting with him talking. He answered from time to time, but clearly he hardly listened—he was mostly in a deep state. I sat down and looked around; everything was as usual. If the body were not so weak and feeling as if wounded, it would be difficult, even impossible, to believe that the happenings in the night were real.

  Who are you? I was thinking, looking at his still face, so serene, so far away, obviously not in this world. Who are you? Who can do such a thing with the body of another human being?

  He did not seem to take any notice of me. But I observed that each time he answered, before drifting back into the deep state, he gave a look in my direction with a kind of cruel half-smile, his eyes unseeing; or seeing perhaps, looking at something beyond the physical world. Every time he did it, a swift, piercing pain was felt in the lower part of my abdomen, like a stab of a dagger at the base of the spine. The vibration began, at first very gently, then quite noticeable… no other sensation except a low humming noise. It was so mysterious, so terrifying. This will be the end of me, I thought. I am not young; this body will not bear it and will go to pieces. Even the strongest constitution will not be able to bear this sort of thing for any length of time.

  Felt very tired. Tried to rest in the afternoon, but the body was as taut as a string, and something deep inside kept burning, burning, and I could even HEAR the soft, hissing sound… it was dreadful….

  In the evening he told us the story from the Mahabharata: when Draupadi was going to be burned alive together with her dead husband, as it was the custom in ancient India, Bhima killed all those who wanted to do it. Arjuna lived in disguise as a eunuch at the King’s court. He was teaching the ladies to sing and to play flute. “Oh Arjuna,” said Draupadi, “what are you doing here? Why are you in disguise, doing nothing? Look at your brother, at his deeds, he is so strong and powerful!” “Oh Draupadi,” said Arjuna, “Yes, I am in disguise. But soon the time will come, is coming now, when you will not recognize me any longer, and you shall see how strong I am again!”