How I Met A Guru

Sometimes I try to figure out what kind of person I really am! You know, the kind of identity crisis that sometimes grips you? The problem arises because we are all so very different in the different worlds we inhabit; at home, in the office, with friends, with your girl/boyfriends or your husbands/wives, with your children and parents. I observed that I play different roles with different people. But who am I in reality?

Well, the question haunts me because I have no logical explanation for it, but let us get on with the main story. I sum myself up as 60% material, 20% religious and the balance 20% spiritual. This, in practical terms, means that I am neither a true believer or a true atheist. I simply believe when convenient. But there are times when things happen, and then you realize that God is very much alive and kicking!

The story begins with my wife. In one of her many troubled times, she stumbled upon a spiritual sect called “Radhasaomi” headquartered in Dayalbagh, Agra. What attracted her to Dayalbagh can be a separate story in itself, but she began pursuing the faith of Radhasaomi with great passion and belief. This story is about how I got drawn into her faith, without my volition, without any faith.

One fine day at my office in Mumbai, sometime in the year 2009, I received a call from my dearest friend in Kampala, Uganda. The call was innocuous but little did I understand then that it would teach me a very important lesson in spirituality. He was requesting me to find some good candidates for a senior post in his group. I sent him half a dozen resumes of friends I knew who could fit the bill. He wanted more and requested me to put in my resume, though he knew I was not interested. 

The chairman of this group and my dearest friend visited Mumbai and held interviews and to my horror, I was on the final shortlist for the post of CEO of the company in Dar-e-Salaam, Tanzania! I protested and my friend pacified me saying this was the old man’s choice and not his. He advised me to find a good excuse to wriggle out. In the final meeting, the old man asked me if I was serious. I should have said NO, but somehow, my tongue slipped and I said YES. My Yes was conditional, I told him, upon my getting clear permission from my Guru in Agra. 

I know I had lied. I had no Guru in Agra and I did not have sufficient faith in Dayalbagh Mutt; my wife was the believer and it was her Guru, not mine. Yet, I had lied. I told my wife about it, expecting her backlash. Instead, she was calm and explained that it was all a divine intervention. She hated me for changing jobs and berated me for running after career and money, but here she was advising me to take it seriously. She wanted me to go and meet the Guru, and she would help me.

We reached Agra without any prior notice and a disappointment was in store for us. There was a Bhandara for Bengal and Bihar disciples and no other devotee from other regions were permitted. There was no way we could have a meeting with the Guru.

My wife, unlike me, is a very dogged lady and doesn’t give up easily. She suggested that having come thus far, we could at least attend the early morning field duty before departing. Field duty was a free-for-all and no special permissions are required. We registered ourselves and reached the fields early next morning.

The assembled devotees were instructed to thrash the rice pods from the harvested crop. Meanwhile, those who had registered for a personal audience with the Master were assembled on one side of the field. Soon, Mr. Dheer, the coordinator, arrived in a Trekker and started shouting instructions on his megaphone. My wife and I rushed up to him and finding the occasion, my wife explained our situation and requested for an emergency audience. Mr. Dheer rejected the plea outright, saying emergency meant only life or death cases and not jobs or promotions. My wife persisted that I was not a satsangi (formal initiate), and sought special permission, given the fact that I had to say yes or no to the offer immediately. Mr. Dheer would not budge; he berated my wife for being a satsangi and still arguing against the established rules. We moved away wondering what else to do. I was getting thoroughly disappointed, having come all the way without even confirming about the Bhandara. There was this nice young man who asked us our problem; after hearing us out, he suggested that we just sit and thrash the crop and seek indirect blessings of the Master. 

I told my wife to be calm, for she was in a state of animated agitation. When such a thing happens to her, she tends to get a bit hyper. We sat together and I began picking up bushels of paddy and thrash out the rice. I noticed my wife, beating the paddy rather distractedly, her eyes searching out for people who can help and her mind racing for solutions. Even as I began to find consolation in paddy thrashing, my wife jumped up, leaving her bags behind and rushed out somewhere. I went on with the Seva (service) as calmly as possible, and soon I was enjoying the service.

About ten minutes later I spied my wife animatedly waving at me from a distance. I knew then she had achieved a breakthrough, had done the impossible. I picked up the bags and rushed to her.

“Quick; take out the folder with your offer letter.”

“What happened?” I asked

“Rush let’s go to Mr. Dheer.”

“Not again; he has refused thrice, and would now thrash us like paddy if we pester him.”

While doing the service I was observing how Mr. Dheer was organizing the enlisted devotees. He would shout

 “Everyone with a heart problem, stand here.” People with cardiac problems would then reach the spot he was indicating. 

“All those with diabetes, mental disorders stand here”, Mr. Dheer would shout.

 This would go on, those with family problems (tyrannical in-laws, oppressive husbands), wayward children, childless couples, boys and girls with problems in studies, girls wanting to marry, boys wanting to find suitable girls, jobless devotees, business problems, tension at workplace, promotion cases, job change; Mr. Dheer, by sheer experience, knew exactly what the various human problems could be and had them neatly classified.

Once the groups were formed, volunteers would go to each person and seek details of his/her case. To enable the Master to quickly assess the problem, medical cases were required to keep the latest test reports, etc handy; those with new job offers should keep their appointment letters ready; those wanting change should fill up a slip giving details of existing and new jobs. Those wishing to thank the Master for fulfilled wishes (Shukrana) stood with sweet boxes. Seeing this, I was amazed at how limited our problems were. The entire range of problems of mankind was classified into seven to ten major heads and these were the problems that challenge our peaceful co-existence!

My wife pushed me to Mr. Dheer and asked me to show him my offer letter.

“Bhai, this is bad you know. You should know this is Bhandara time; Ok you are not satsangi but at least your wife should know. You could have found out if you had enquired properly.”

I mumbled something about my wife asking her branch secretary in Mumbai and how he had not briefed us about this event. My wife was supplementing my incoherent statements with one clear message “My husband is a non-satsangi and for the first time it has come to his mind that he should meet Master…” 

Taking the cue from her, I nodded vigorously “Yes it is my desire that I should seek Master’s blessings.”

Mr. Dheer jumped at this: “Be very clear; you want master’s blessings or you want to take his permission?” 

I quickly corrected myself: “Permission and blessings; permission of course.”

 I understood the import of blessings; it meant I had already decided and wanted to inform the Master. What if the master said No? I remembered my wife asking me this. I told her that if he says no, I would not go. What is the use of asking permission and then not following the master’s advice?

Mr. Dheer shouted at a volunteer to provide me with a form for a job change. As he moved away shouting “those who are mad only should stand here”, my wife and me thanked him profusely. We hurried to the volunteer who offered to fill up the form for us. It was a simple two columnar table, one side for the present job and the other for the new job. On the vertical axis were parameters like name of the company, length of my service, designation, salary and the last one reading reasons for the change. I quickly supplied information to the volunteer who filled the slip and asked us to show it to Mr. Dheer for his approval.

Mr. Dheer pointed out two things after seeing the slip. “Are Bhai, at least spell Tanzania correctly (the volunteer had written Tanjania), and what is the reason for a job change? You have written better prospects, but is there any problem with your present job?” I told him that it was uncertain and he asked me to write it out. I wrote “Job Uncertainty”. We were asked to stand next to a boy who had come with a job offer. Standing there, I looked at my wife with respect and awe.

“How did you manage it?”

My wife was showing no signs of excitement. Her eyes were not sparkling with a sense of achievement and she looked quite embarrassed at my question. 

“Well, I spoke to Dr. Fateh Singh who is from Bombay. I told him that you are non-satsangi and for the very first time the thought of seeking master’s permission came to your mind. I told him how you would feel if we could not meet the master. He then spoke to Mr. Dheer and somehow he agreed.”

“Nothing short of a miracle,” I said.

“No no, nothing like that,” she said.

“I had given up, you know, and I would not have dared approach Mr. Dheer again after all the abuses he flung at you. The moment you jumped up, I knew you will not give up. I felt bad for you, that you should go again for me and listen to his abuse. So, it is because of your persistence that we shall be meeting master today; it is a miracle for me.”

We waited for the master to arrive. Meanwhile, volunteers were circling, asking each individual about his case in detail. They wanted to make sure that everyone stood in the appointed place. There was this man who had somehow gate crashed without an appointment and was standing in the wrong place. He was shooed away quickly. Another volunteer was drawing a line, like a Lakshman Rekha, which was not to be crossed at any cost. There were some rules to be followed when the master arrived. No one should turn around to look at him; one should not turn sideways to listen to what he was saying to the person next to you. The documents should be held at a height just appropriate for him to easily look at and read. When he spoke one should listen. You should not speak on your own unless the master asked you something.

Finally, the master arrived. He first took a round of the dairy and inspected the devotees who were thrashing paddy. He then came to the queue of people waiting with their problems. The Master spent time with each one individually, reading, listening and speaking. He was approaching closer and closer to where I was standing.

I suddenly thought about the possibility of the master asking me not to take the offer. I had already told the chairman and my friend that I was interested in the job. If the master said no, there was no way I would spurn the advice and accept the offer. What would I tell my friend? He would be mad with me. My mind was already searching for various reasons I could offer for the rejection. The one valid excuse I had, lack of passport, was not available anymore as my passport was under process. Another voice was sternly asking me to maintain balance. Why should I think negative? Have faith, and leave the rest. I quickly brought my mind to a single positive point. What will be will be, then why worry with negative thoughts?

Master was now addressing the boy next to me. I dare not look sideways, but I could not control my ears that were straining to hear his voice. The boy, it seemed, had just completed his studies and had received an offer for some job. The precondition was that he had to undergo a long training for which the company would charge him a handsome amount of two lac rupees. His final selection for the job will be on the successful completion of the training. Master took in these details carefully and then told the boy that it was not a good offer to accept. The boy, the master said, had done well in studies so far and he should pursue some more. The present offer, said the master, meant investing a huge amount which did not seem proper. With this master moved over to me.

During the few seconds it took for the master to reach me, my mind was a mixie. My earlier fears that master may reject my offer rushed in as if someone had suddenly opened the floodgates. Thankfully, there was no time for these thoughts to sweep me away, for the master was there before me. He glanced at the sheet I was holding up for him and said: 

“You have been working for five years with this company, why change?”

 I told him briefly about the company’s license having expired and the regulators not yet renewing it, thereby putting a question mark over the running of the company. 

He said “I see, regulatory problems; you have no option then; you should go. Before you go, talk to people there to ensure living conditions are proper.”

 “I have spoken already sir…” I began but was cut short by Mr. Dheer who had suddenly appeared from thin air, sternly telling me to listen and not to speak. I allowed the master to complete his sentence, after which he moved on. Mr. Dheer beckoned us to leave.

My feelings were mixed; I should have been elated but the emotion would not rush forth. I looked at my wife as if to say, “that’s it”, and she seemed to be lost in some other world. The first real feeling was that of an immense sense of relief that it was all over and I had been blessed by the master. We left in silence.

My wife later asked me what if the master had said no? would I have obeyed the master? 

Well, to be very frank, I do not know what I would have done.