Publication of My Spiritual Experiences

In order to cultivate my spiritual aspiration and lead it to its climax, I have, by God’s grace, resorted to varying practices. The knowledge of those steps in sadhana is still fresh in my mind. It would be an interesting chapter in the history of my spiritual progress if I write it. These practices will be published when the time is ripe, i.e., when God’s grace gives a green signal for the publication. I am in no hurry about it. It is not true that the world and our society are sure to gain at least something from the publication of spiritual experiences.

There have been so many ‘avataras (God’s descents in human form) in our country. There has been no dearth of saints and sages here, and right at the present time Mahatma Gandhi loudly speaks from house-tops in order to exhort people to behave in a non-violent, peaceful manner. But how many have the moral strength to follow his advocacy of non-violence? People do not care a bit for a moral or spiritual way of living.

Lord Shree Krishna was God incarnate. Even his clansmen and family did not recognize him as such. Near relatives, the Jadavas, got heavily drunk, fought among themselves and thus committed mass hara-kiri. True, both the holy books, ‘Shreemad Bhagavat’ and ‘Mahabharata’, state that Lord Krishna himself wanted the destruction of his clan and so it happened*. But my purpose in writing about that notorious event is different. It is an indisputable fact that though Lord Krishna was a perfect manifestation of God in human form, even his influence on his blood-relatives was very little — at least not as much as it should have been.

Though there have been many ‘avataras’- and many more sains and sages who have revealed their spiritual experiences and left immortal literature behind them — mankind remains where it was; it has gained very little from their precepts and examples. They have been brushed aside, completely neglected.

I don’t mean to say that there is absolutely nobody who has absorbed the holy sanskaras of highly evolved souls. The ‘Bhagawad Gita’ asserts that God decends upon this earth in human form to save his devotees from harm. But that means that only those who are devotees, who are spiritually ripe for it, can gain anything from ‘avataras’ and ‘mahatmas’. For that same reason, I am in no mood at present to write down an account of my spiritual experiences.

Then why do I even write these letters? I do so simply because by God’s grace, you are all united with me for the one purpose of your spiritual elevation. It has provided me the necessary cause and hence an impelling, even compelling, motive for writing them.

I do not hesitate to assert that my Sat-guru Maharaj, though physically dead, is vigorously alive and active. It was he who took charge of my soul out of his deep love for me. Of his own accord, he came to my house and initiated me in sadhana. I am impelled today to writedown without any constraint the story of that memorable incident. The reason, which I gave you in my preceding letter, for writing letters to you makes my narrative relevant and necessary.

I wanted to go to Mirakhedi, via Dohad, a town in the Panchmahal District. I had to attend a meeting of the Managing Committee of Antyaja Seva Mandal there. I had even bought a railway ticket to start by the morning train. Just as I was about to go to take my seat in the train, I was amazed by the most unexpected sight of my Sat-guru. He was quietly sitting in a corner near the platform.

Full of delight at this sight, I turned back at once, went to him, and fell prostrate at his feet. He ordered me to give back the railway ticket to the booking clerk. Highly pleased, I did so and wired to Dohad my inability to be present at the meeting in Mirakhedi. Then I prayed to my Sat-guru to come along with me to my house. He agreed and we went home. There, in the exuberance of his joy, Oh! How my master danced and cut capers!

I was then staying in a small house at Narakhi Pole in Nadiad. I put up my Sat-guru in a nearby attic. He had come to me in response to my silent prayer at the end of my four days’ stay with him. He was then staying in one of the sannyasins’ huts situated on the sands of Sabarmati at the right side of that end of Ellisbridge which leads to the town hall. This was my unspoken prayer: “Revered Master! Owing to my adverse and unavoidable circumstances, it is impossible for me to remain any longer with you. Only if you yourself deign to come to Nadiad for a long stay with me, can I get any benefit from your holy company”. At the time of prayer, I did not have any proper insight into the meaning of (spiritual) “ benefit”, but I am sure I did offer that prayer in my heart.

I was astounded and said, “I am a poor man. I have no contact with rich people themselves or with those who can influence them.” Hardly had I finished, when he flared up, would have even beaten me, had I not moved a little away.

Then he burst out, “You are a donkey, a dunce, an idiot”, and so on. And then he said, “ I want not only a big building, but it must also be in a solitary place.”

“My God!” I said to myself, when it is not possible for me to acquire a big building, you impose the new and still more difficult condition of a lonely place!”

That same moment, he got all the more furious and said, “ Now I want a big building and in a solitary place and very near a water store. Get right now and return to me.”

I had absolutely no idea of the way to satisfy this fanciful demand and that immediately. I was deeply perplexed and puzzled; but fortunately, I had a very valid reason for taking some time to find my way out. It was time for me to go to my school. At my request, he allowed me to go. Entrusting the charge of looking after him to my mother, I started to Marida Bhagole where the school was located.

On my way to school I had to pass through the locality of Bohras (a Muslim Sect). Since we were students of the Gujarat Vidyapith (Mahatma Gandhi’s University), we had an earnest bent of mind for Hindu-Muslim unity. Prompted by that sentiment, I regularly accosted Kasamsaheb, a Muslim gentleman there with the loving salute of “Assalaam Alayakum”. Since I was very punctual in passing through that locality, he also would be sitting daily on the verandah of his house and waiting to reciprocate my salute. It was not just a formal affair. Friendship had grown up between us and it was a loving exchange of our salutations.

On that day, however, my mind was deeply preoccupied with the problem of supplying my Guru’s demand: “a big building in a solitary place with a store of water nearby.” That was why, though Kasamsaheb was standing on the plinth of his house, I did not see him and proceeded past him about twenty foot steps. Then suddenly I remembered our daily meeting, retraced my steps and begged Kasamsaheb’s pardon for forgetting to salute him while absorbed in thought. “What on earth was the matter with you?” he wondered. “What was it that made you so lost in thought?”

“That’s not all”, I replied; “He is asking for the impossible “. Then he asked me what that impossible demand was. When I explained the matter, he rushed to my rescue.

“My dear Bhagat’, he said in a soothing tone, “there’s my bungalow on the road to Dabhan. A big bungalow, in a solitary place on the bank of Ramtalavadi (a pond) to boot. Fits in exactly with your olia’s conditions. It’s vacant. You can put up your olia there”.

I knew the bungalow very well, but had forgotten about it. Our Harijan Ashram was near there and I had been the Manager for a long time when the Ashram was in the charge of Indulalbhai*. Oh! The joy I felt at the solution of that jig-saw puzzle! And the complete satisfaction of my Sat-guru’s three very hard and ill-adjustable conditions as well! No words that I can call forth can give you an idea of my joy, much less describe it.

The burst of emotion was so great that I had a strong urge to run back to my house, fall at the feet of my Sat-guru, and tell him the startlig good news. But even at the height of that upsurge, I had a deep stinging consciousness of my duty at that particular moment. It enabled me to resist the temptation. I continued my walk to attend to the work allotted to me. I went to my school at Marida Bhagole, performed my duty for the fixed hours and then returned home. Instantly, I narrated the whole story. My Sat-guru and I then went to stay in Kasamsaheb’s bungalow and I was initiated in sadhana by him.

This incident has been carved indelibly in my mind. The vitality is created in my heart has always saved me from collapsing under cirtical situations. That only for my sake, my Sat-guru came to Nadiad is a glorious instance of his unbounded grace. I have never underrated that grace or forgotten it.

I have never kept his photograph with me. Even if I had had the inclination, I had not, at that time, enough money for the purpose. All the same, by the grace of God and impelled by my heart’s devotion to him, I have always been able to conjure up his bodily form before my eyes. My intense longing would first awaken his vivid remembrance in my heart. After that awakening, I would pray to that concrete form to come to my aid. The result would be that invariably I received help and inspiration from him. Complete reliance upon a Sat-guru, and his concrete appearance in flesh and blood as the result of one’s deep love and devotion, is a unique event in the annals of an aspirant’s sadhana.

That big building, that lonely place, and that pond — Ramtalavadi — are extant even today. It is a holy place for me, where I was initiated into the spiritual development of my life. All the same, I have not gone there to sanctify myself because, after all, it is a grossly material object. This does not mean that I lack reverence for it. How can I forget to pay homage to that place where I received the remarkable impetus to my spiritual aspiration?

By God’s grace however, since the very beginning of my sadhana, I had acquired the understanding and awareness to prefer qualitative subtlty to any gross material form. Hence I kept myself engrossed in the subtle (such as the devotion of the heart) and not in the material (such as the worship of a holy place).

Some jiva (living being) may not be able to create before his eyes the concrete form of his Sat-guru in flesh and blood and pray to him. The question then arises, is there any meaning or effectiveness of his heart-felt prayer?

Reflection on this point shows that sincere feeling (bhavana) many be due to some grave affair, some mental reaction to shock or to the remembrance of his Sat-guru (literally, the resort he has taken for his spiritual progress). It might also be that one is in dire straits or sorrowing and seeks some relief in prayer. Whatever the impetus, creation of deep feeling in the heart is an essential requisite for prayer to have any meaning.

In the case of jiva* who cannot create before his eyes the bodily form of his Sat-guru, it is necessary that his devotion to his Sat-guru must be really sincere, not lukewarm. It must reveal itself in some way in his behaviour towards the Sat-guru. Only then can his devotion be termed right and effective.