PART 1
CHILDHOOD EXPERIENCES
A crystal-clear early memory or dream, which I can’t place at any particular time: I am flying fast through space towards planet earth, which I see far below me, compelled by the feeling that I have something important to do there.
I was born in the mid 1950’s, in a relatively tranquil, prosperous and egalitarian Aotearoa New Zealand and grew up at the foot of Maunga Kie Kie (One Tree Hill), a large volcanic cone in Auckland. The maunga was a constant, solid presence in the background of my early life. The Māori named it for the abundance of kie kie berries which used to grow there. Having a ‘backyard’ like that was a wonderful connection with nature in my early life. As we crossed the fence into the reserve, my friends and I immersed ourselves in a different world. For us, the maunga, with its old kumara storage pits and sculptured fortification terraces, was a constant source of mystery and adventure as we ran free across her slopes.
One significant day at primary school we learned about atoms. After class, I stopped in my tracks staring at a huge brick wall, amazed that something so solid-looking was made of billions and billions of unseen atoms. It was a great revelation to know that there was an invisible reality behind what I saw with my eyes.
Soon afterwards a teacher told us in religious class, “God is everywhere”. While dreamily walking home that day I was hit by a sudden realization: if God is everywhere, he must be with me right here and now and not just in some distant heaven! I can still remember the exact place on the footpath where it happened. An imposed fear of hell ceased to trouble me.
AN INFLUENCIAL UNCLE
I usually spent my holidays with Uncle Bill on his farm in the Waikato. We would get up at four o’clock to milk the cows and return for a hearty breakfast of steaming porridge, fresh milk and blackstrap molasses as the early sunshine streamed into the kitchen. Uncle was considered something of an eccentric by the rest of the family. He practiced yoga and ate whole meal bread back in the 50’s and 60’s before it was trendy. His bookshelf was filled with esoteric books on ghost sightings, yoga books with photos and more profound books which I couldn’t understand. He would sometimes demonstrate uddayana mudra, drawing in his stomach cavity and rolling his stomach muscles around, much to my fascination and to the mild revulsion of guests.
In the hot, clear, summer afternoons I would unhook a grateful Jim, the black, white-chested farm dog, and we’d take a leisurely walk down the dusty cow races, occasionally stopping to investigate the side drain for eels and tadpoles or to admire the bright turquoise flash of a startled kingfisher. Usually these meanderings led to the “Māori fort”, a small, historical, Māori village. The surrounding defensive ditch was still visible and would have been much deeper in its day, but the wooden palisade on the inner rim of the trench had long disappeared. Many Maori relics had been found there in the past, but now there were only the smooth, round, river rocks which the occupants had carried from the river for domestic purposes. The site had later been planted in pine, which made it a cool, mysterious oasis on those summer walks
On Saturday nights the farming families of Patetonga would converge on the local hall-cum-cinema to watch a ‘film’. At intermission, people would buy treats from the canteen, greeting and chatting with neighbors. Sadly, this community get-together was ended by the relentless inroads of television into living rooms. My uncle, aunt, cousins and I would also gather in front of the TV after dinner, with one unusual difference; at some point Uncle Bill would get down from his armchair and invert himself in the headstand for a full ten minutes, his face turning beet red. One possible outcome of this posture, due to excessive blood pressure on the brain, is the augmentation of irritability and anger. Uncle Bill, despite an otherwise congenial nature, did exhibit irascible outbursts.
DISSATISFACTION
At the age of fourteen a group of us were to be confirmed in the church we attended. Special preparation classes were held, and the bishop was to come to give us his blessing. The event was given a big build up and I expected it to be a deeply significant experience in my life. The auspicious day came; the bishop stood at the altar attired in his full, gilded regalia and one by one we went before him to receive his blessing. I knelt and he laid his hands on my head. But what was this? I felt nothing – just a heavy physical pressure on my skull! It was a huge letdown – nothing but a dry ritual! I had anticipated something enlightening and inspiring. This disillusionment sparked a couple of years of adolescent rebelliousness before I began my spiritual search in earnest.
‘Desaterata’ is a poem by Max Ermann which was set to moving background music in the early 70’s and played regularly on the radio. It’s sage message impressed me and some of my friends: ‘Go placidly amongst the noise and haste and remember what peace there may be in silence….You are a child of the Universe, no less than the trees and the stars. You have a right to be here, and whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the Universe is unfolding as it should.’
When I was sixteen, I read a booklet about socialism. The idea that wealth be shared amongst everyone and not hoarded by the few seemed to me a much fairer way of doing things. I remember passing a laden fruit tree in someone’s yard and thinking, “No one can really ‘own’ that, it’s been given by nature.” I was planning to join a socialist group, but that didn’t eventuate . Prout’s progressive socialism would later fill this need for me.
By the age of 17, unsatisfied by typical adolescent experiences, a stronger note of spiritual search was starting to sound. I had tried marijuana for 6 months seeking expanded states of consciousness and creativity, but found it only made me feel passive and dull. One long weekend, I had been out with friends for two nights in a row and, starting to feel strangely unsettled, I declined their invitation for a third night, preferring to stay alone at home for the day. I passed the time in reading and quiet activity and noticed a feeling of peace and tranquility steal over me. I started to look for this experience more consciously.
I did feel some peace from the services of the Spiritualist Church, which Uncle Bill had recommended. It was the idea that there is continuance and evolution after physical death gave me comfort and purpose. There was also the large sign on the wall affirming, in the gendered language of the day, “Brotherhood of Man and Fatherhood of God” – a concept that struck me as true and noble. They talked about spiritual development and service to others, which I felt were important, but for them this meant developing mediumship – contacting disembodied souls – and helping others by conveying messages from ‘the other side’. I was already aware that spiritual development was about attaining higher states of consciousness, not mediumship, and my idea of service was more practical – feeding the hungry, serving the sick or some other concrete project.
PREPARATION
In 1975 I was in the first year of an arts degree at Canterbury University with a teaching career in mind. One of my lecturers in our Eastern Religions course had been to India and had a good intellectual grasp of the deeper concepts of Hinduism. I really enjoyed his expositions of mind-expanding themes like the vast cycles of creation and destruction; reincarnation and spiritual evolution; the gunas and the concept of Saguna and Nirguna Brahma. Somehow it all felt very familiar and acceptable to me.
I started seriously looking for a spiritual path and an effective form of meditation. I had learnt TM a year earlier which I had done sporadically and eventually stopped. Meditating from a book hadn’t satisfied me either and the spiritual groups I had visited seemed nice but didn’t attract me strongly. It was becoming clear that I needed a reliable spiritual guide. Stemming from my Hinduism classes I read a book about spiritual seekers and gurus in India. It sparked a deeper desire and I decided to go to India myself to seek my own guru. After reading the book I wanted only a perfectly realized teacher, or sadguru, into whose care I could entrust my spiritual life with full confidence. Perhaps, I thought, I would find my guru in the Himalayas or in an Indian ashram. I sensibly planned to travel in a couple of years after getting my degree, however, my tardy plan was about to be superseded!
INITIATION
A couple of days later two friends and I were in my hostel room debating what meditation was. There was a knock on the door and an orange-shirted young man opened it announcing a lecture on meditation about to begin in the chapel downstairs! There was something focused and confident in the way he spoke – perhaps he had taken second lesson before knocking. I immediately decided to attend. Despite the amazing synchronicity, my friends declined the invitation.
Posters for this lecture were plastered throughout the university, but the advertised topic, “War of Dharma”, struck me as outlandish and out of touch – I decided to stay well clear of the event. In fact, no one showed up for the lecture and that’s when the organisers went impromptu door-knocking, inviting us now for a lecture on meditation. This successfully brought six of us down to the chapel. On entering we saw an orange-clad, lotus-bound yogi meditating on a chair under the large cross at the front. Ringlets of blond hair curled down from beneath his turban, framing a serene, lightly bearded face. I had read of yogis in Kashmir with Caucasian features and surmised that he must surely be one of them. We had all cautiously seated ourselves in the back row, leaving the monk alone at the front. He finished his meditation and with a confident and gently chiding wave of his hand summoned us to sit up in front of him. Dada Kashyapa’s Italian-accented lecture on meditation, mantra, Guru and the importance of social service, struck a deep chord in me. This was exactly what I wanted! A strong, inspiring energy was coming through him with an intensity I had not felt in my visits to other spiritual groups. Comparing notes with a friend afterwards, we were both on a contact high from the monk’s talk.
After an initial visit to the Ananda Marga center I read “A Guide to Human Conduct ” cover-to-cover several times. As it was written by the guru, I felt that I would only take initiation if I agreed with it. I was an immoderate pacifist at the time and struggled at first to accept the interpretation of Ahimsa (non-violence), although another part of me had to recognise its rationality. As I entered the jagrti a few days later, Dada asked, “Did you decide?” “Yes,” I affirmed, and he sent me off for a chilly wash before sitting with him. I made the commitments required of me and listened carefully to the instructions from the guru’s representative. As I repeated the mantra I felt a moment of floating timelessness and then it was over. I knew that I had found my path and that Anandamurtiji was the Sadguru I sought. I didn’t have to search the ashrams of India – perhaps my sincere willingness to do so was enough. The following Sunday, while LFT Jaideva, (whose dedicated door-knocking had brought me to the lecture), taught me asanas at the jagrti, something deep within me said, “I’ve come home.”
EARLY MARGII DAYS
I had previously tried and failed several times to give up my addiction to cigarettes, but immediately after initiation it was simply gone – I never had the desire to smoke again. The sentient force injected during initiation must have blown the desire away, although I did find myself in uncomfortable situations in lifts, buses and trains inhaling the secondary smoke of others, until nonsmoking laws gradually came into effect – perhaps the remainder of the samskara had to be served in that way. I also became an overnight vegetarian, though I had never considered vegetarianism before that. Subtracting meat from the hostel meals didn’t leave much of substance. The Margiis suggested I get some soya beans, then considered the vegetarian wonder food, and a kind lady in the hostel kitchen helped me cook them.
One student in the hostel, who I didn’t know particularly well, came to my room and gifted me a small card with an image of Shiva meditating in the mountains. This person had heard that I had started meditation and thought I liked it very much and found Shiva’s tranquil, meditating image affirming me on the new path I was treading.
A few weeks later I was loaned a beautifully edited book of the guru’s discourses called ‘Baba’s Grace’ which inspired me very much. I photocopied the photo of Baba sitting blissfully with a group of children and adults, put it in a frame made from coloured cardboard and sat it on the ledge in front of my meditation spot. I didn’t know that such make-shift photos of the guru were not permitted, but I did know that the peace and fulfilment I was experiencing through my meditation were closely connected to this man.
I had learned the concepts of Saguna and Nirguna Brahma in my university classes. One day at the jagrti Jaideva added a new dimension to these ideas. He drew me a diagram on a scrap of paper – a circle representing Saguna Brahma and a straight line passing and just touching the circle’s edge for Nirguna Brahma. “The tagent point where they touch is Taraka Brahma,” he explained. “Taraka Brahma takes human form as the Sadguru, who has one foot in the Nirguna state and the other in Saguna.” I recently read Baba’s description of Taraka Brahma as “that point of mercifulness of the Supreme Entity, who can move with ease between the realm of materiality and consciousness. Taraka Brahma is the one who constantly delivers the message of consciousness.”
MANTRA DISPELS CLASH
“Along with the obstacles there will also be certain forces which will assist you.” – Shrii Shrii Anandamurti
A month or so after my initiation a visiting Dada encouraged me to go for LFT training in Sydney. I wanted to go, but it would mean quitting university in the middle of my first year. There were family expectations around my studies and friends of the family had even helped with my university expenses. This set up a clashy dilemma for me.
To go or to stay? For several days my undecided mind got pulverized between these two grinding stones. Doubts, pressures and clashes wrestled around inside my head. When the inner turmoil peaked, I threw up my arms and flopped down in a chair, mentally worn out by the whole experience. The continuous mental churning must have forced me to surrender my intellect; suddenly, the idea popped into my head to start repeating my Ista mantra. I silently repeated the mantra three times in conjunction with my breathing – the result was astounding! The dark clouds of confusion and anxiety simply vanished and I was flooded with relief and deep happiness. I knew exactly what I should do. It was so obvious now! Despite having lost interest in studying, I decided to finish the year off and try to pass my exams. I could then reasonably justify taking a break from university to do the LFT training. Everything felt clear and right in my life.
I went home to Auckland for the term holidays and Uncle Bill happened to pay a visit. He was very happy that I had been initiated into meditation practice, though he had never taken it up himself. He asked if I had read “Autobiography of a Yogi” by Paramhansa Yogananda, which I hadn’t. “You must read it!” he enthused. “I’ll take you to the spiritual bookshop in town and buy you a copy”. Yogananda’s inspiring story was my satsaunga those holidays and spurred me on in my sadhana. One day I went to visit Auckland University and did noon meditation there. Afterwards, walking around, I felt this love for the world and for people in general and thought, “This meditation is the real thing!”
A DESIRE TO PLEASE THE GURU
I knew that Baba had been stressing the importance of the 16 Points* and realised that adopting them would be an effective way of pleasing my guru. I was already following some of the points like sadhana, asanas, diet and half-bath. The first time I practiced point number 3 (soaping, oiling and combing of joint hair) I felt a subtle, salutary vibration throughout my system. It affirmed my good intention and showed me that the practices work. A group of us drove together from Christchurch down to Dunedin for a 16 Points seminar led by Dada Dharmapal (later Dharmavedananda). It happened to be a fasting day and everyone was fasting, so I did my first fast during the seminar. It was a dry fast and in the afternoon I felt a little nausea as the toxins were clearing out, but after that the fast (and future fasting) went very smoothly.
(*The physico-psycho-spiritual practices of Ananda Marga.)
LFT TRAINING
Since starting meditation, I had found the student lifestyle increasingly superficial and was just going through the motions with my studies. When exams came around, I selected likely questions to study and meditated before each exam. This approach proved successful, as I passed all the subjects, with an ‘A’ in my forte, Eastern Religions. When I sat that paper my answers had
flowed from a place of conviction and inspiration within me. My family was pleasantly surprised at this successful outcome and my absorbed interest in meditation and Ananda Marga was vindicated – I now felt free to go to training. I had the feeling even then that my break from university may become a permanent one. After exams I helped LFT Girish set up a jagriti in Christchurch where we both stayed while earning enough for our airfares to the coming sectorial retreat in Sydney, after which I would go to LFT training. We used to do our practices together, which I found supportive and my diet vastly improved as I learned of the variety in the vegetarian diet.
After attending a vibrated sectorial retreat in Sydney with around 200 others, it was on to LFT training. We were twelve brothers and sisters living in a large two-story house in North Sydney. We all had fulltime jobs to support the training center and the sectorial office, doing our practices together morning and evening. We looked on these jobs as ‘samskara burning’ exercises. As I had a heavy truck license, my duty was to drive the newly donated AMURT truck which was used for service work as well as commercial cartage. The truck’s newly painted white cab displayed the blue AMURT logo on each door. In the evenings and weekends our two trainer Didis gave us classes. One night a week we would all jump into the truck and go to attend disaster relief training with the State Emergency Services.
It was inspiring to see those LFTs already posted in the field when they occasionally visited. Except for giving initiation, some of them were working like acharyas. Four or five LFTs had recently gone to Acarya training glowing with rijuta*. Baba was lying ill and fasting in a dingy prison cell in Patna but was releasing incredible energy into his mission. There were about twenty LFTs working in Australasia at the time, plus we twelve in training. The sectorial office in Sydney was a large, old, two storied brick house in the inner suburbs – a bustling hive of activity with twelve busy LFT’s and any acharyas who weren’t on tour at the time.
(*The mental effulgence created by the one-pointed flow of the mind toward welfare.)
Baba, our guru, the inspirational source of our sadhana and ideological life, was unjustly imprisoned with his life at risk. The ‘Free Baba’ campaign was in full swing with large posters, which had a silhouette of Baba’s head and underneath “Free Baba!” in large letters, were put up in the major cities. There were protest fasts and protest marches which drew media attention. Politicians and officials were approached to write to the Indian government about Baba’s case. The Indian government, from its side, was busy disseminating slanderous propaganda against Ananda Marga through its embassies to government officials. We used to do a lot of Nagar kiirtan in those days – going in a group to a busy public place and doing kiirtan and sadhana to spread spiritual energy. One or two Margiis would be ready to explain to onlookers what we were doing. All over the sector Dharma Prachar work and service projects were going on.
“Dharma Magazine” was popular with the alternative-minded public. It was published regularly, with general content including vegetarianism, natural health, spirituality, social justice issues and gave us a platform for Ananda Marga related material. As an LFT working in the field pre internet, it was always inspiring to receive “Dharma Magazine” and “Pranam”, the sectorial newsletter, especially when the latter featured the stories of Margiis who had just visited Baba in jail. We had our own printing press in sectorial office which did our printing as well as commercial jobs. An Ananda Marga school was running successfully in an outer Sydney suburb, VSS (Volunteer Social Service) Department was active with regular training camps and a security patrol in the notorious Kings Cross with the aim of helping any innocent person needing protection or assistance.
BACK TO NEW ZEALAND
After passing my LFT exam I was posted to work in Wellington, NZ. For several years I had full-time paid work to support the jagrti and activities, doing my LFT work in the evenings and weekends. The in-charge of the sector at that time ruled that the young, healthy LFTs should not take the unemployment benefit to support themselves as it would create a negative impression in the public mind. I had jobs as a builder’s laborer, a hospital orderly and as a clerk in a government department. I also worked as a volunteer for the Tenant’s Union which was started by Victoria University students. We would get called out to support tenants who were having problems with their landlords, informing them of their rights.
VICTORY TO BABA!
I never doubted that Baba would come out of jail – my feeling in sadhana told me that nothing could happen to him without his will – but with the fall of Indira Gandhi’s regime in 1977 our expectation and anticipation shot up. Baba’s acquittal and subsequent release from Bankipur jail in 1978 were times of vindication, triumph and joy. Surviving several attempts on his life, inhuman jail conditions and a five year, four month fast to protest his poisoning, Baba had unflinchingly faced down the focused enmity of the Indian government and all its corrupt machinery. He maintained his equanimity and optimism throughout, and what’s more, Ananda Marga had spread all over the globe during this time. It was an historic victory of Ista and Dharma which will always be celebrated in the annals of spirituality.
In 1979 a new sectorial secretary (Australasia in charge), Dada Japasiddhananda, was posted. He had recently toured with Baba in Europe and became an avadhuta during that time – one of the first non-Indians to receive this initiation. He came to visit New Zealand and I went to meet him at the airport. When I saw him about 25 meters away, the air between us actually seemed to crackle as a charge of energy from him hit me! I don’t think he did it consciously, except probably repeating his mantra – perhaps Baba was sending me an energy booster through him.
THE RAWA HOUSE
The RAWA House was the main project of Ananda Marga in Aotearoa during the late ‘70s. We were six, Margiis and LFTs, staying in the jagriti in Mt. Victoria, Wellington – Jyotsna, Kavi (Dada Nabhaniilananda’s brother), Nitya, Kabir, Devapriya and myself. With Dada Vachaspati, our dynamic regional secretary, the idea came up to establish a cultural center. Kavi spoke to some Labour department contacts and we were given use of a disused government building at the top of Cuba St, very near the CBD. The first year was rent-free while we renovated and low rent thereafter. We were all put on an employment scheme which provided a basic payment for those working full-time on community projects. We were strict about working the requisite hours and operated as a collective, putting this income into a common fund which paid for the renovations and our living expenses.
It was wonderful to now be putting my full-time energy into our own Ananda Marga project. We would go together daily in our van and work on the renovations under Devapriya’s guidance. It was a big run-down double story building needing a lot of work. We gib-boarded the ceiling and used a grinder on the rough brick walls, emerging covered head-to-foot in red brick dust and, despite facemasks, coughing it up from our lungs. The brick surface was finally varnished to give an attractive natural finish. The old worn wooden floors were also sanded off and varnished to bring up the natural bright wood grain. Working hard and seeing the project progress was immensely satisfying
BABA IN CONTROL
One night during this period I was doing late night meditation in the front room of the jagriti when I heard a woman shouting outside. I initially thought it was just drunken behavior, but soon felt the urgent and distraught tone in her voice as she called for help. I quickly jumped up and informed a few sleeping brothers, then grabbing a torch I headed out into the street. I was moving in a calm and efficient way, and surprisingly, felt no fear as I went out alone to face the unknown situation. It seemed that Baba was in control, using me just like a machine to get some work done. I approached the car where I heard her cries and called out, “Are you alright?”. Suddenly a youth burst from the car and sprinted away, but the woman had been raped and was very traumatised. Kabir had also come out and we took her inside where she was comforted and given a cup of tea while we called the police. I saw first-hand the devastating impact of rape on the victim.
Some months later Kabir and I were grape picking in Northland when the police arrived looking for us. At first the vineyard owners thought we were in trouble with the law, but the police were there to summon us as witnesses in the rape case and we were later flown down to Wellington for the trial. As I stood in the witness box and gave my testimony, I could see the shame and pain etched on the faces of the accused and his family as they listened. They were from a traditional, church-going ethnic group.
The RAWA house opened after a year’s hard work with the place wonderfully transformed. There was a small stage for live musical performances and the varnished brick walls were perfect for art exhibitions. Nitya was at the helm of the kitchen which served great vegetarian food and snacks. We held events such as fundraising dinners for AMURT’s disaster relief work and film nights to spotlight social justice issues such as the then Indonesian occupation of East Timor. On the platform of Renaissance Universal we organised a forum with leading intellectuals from Victoria University participating. Devagyan, a new Margii, had good contacts there. I don’t remember the topic now, but there was a good public attendance and the program was a rewarding success. The RAWA house ran for several years, becoming well known in Wellington’s alternative circles.
CHAPTER II: WITH BABA IN CALCUTTA
Coming soon…