Memoirs of a A'nanda Ma'rga Monk: Continued

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Pandemonium with a purpose

Though Ananda Marga’s permanent global office is in Ananda Nagar, the global camp office is presently in Patna. —it is here that Baba lies in a poorly ventilated, inferior jail cell. Patna is a half-day’s bus ride away from the Nepal border. It is an ordinary congested Indian city filled with poverty, filth, and hidden mysticism. How can I describe our global office? It is certainly not like the stereotyped image of a yoga school or spiritual center, —beautiful, calm, immaculately clean, organized, disciplined class programs, healthy food shared collectively, everything moving according to fixed schedule, and a staff who reflect only profound inner peace. Rather, at first glance it appears to be the direct opposite.

The three-story concrete building is overflowing with paper work, maintained in shabby, irregular files. Old office equipment in various stages of disrepair occupy much of what would otherwise be our living space. Scores of Dadas and Didis dressed in every shade of orange scurry about, struggling to fulfill unannounced, urgent social work targets. They say the number of workers increases to four or five hundred at the time of their monthly meetings—somehow everyone adjusts. In every room, nay, in every corner, different schedules are followed—many work throughout the night and get little, if any, sleep. Irregularity of meals due to the pressure of work is the norm rather than the exception. Aa common example of a hurried meal is peanuts, puffed rice and a banana. Yet there is something wonderful here! One hears conversations and sees documents concerned with medical clinics, cheap kitchens, disaster relief, philosophical publications, cultural clubs, poor students’ book cooperatives, anti-exploitation movements. At any moment, in the midst of the apparent chaos, there is someone singing devotional songs, and someone else sunk in deep meditation. In between the paper work they practice their yoga postures.

Their enthusiasm, their laughter, their disagreements, their unperturbed concentration amid constant distractions. It all clearly demonstrates the Tantric spirit, the zeal to fight against any difficulty for the upliftment of self and society. Who can enjoy this? Somehow I do. Here is where I’ll finish training. I arrived today with another trainee who passed the second phase with me, a German named Praveda. Our trainer is a highly elevated Dada. Some say he naturally exudes power to those who sit in meditation with him. Recently he completed a 40-day protest fast which was the first of its kind in Ananda Marga. A demonstration against the injustice of Baba’s incarceration, it gained widespread newspaper coverage, if nothing else.

Our coursework consists of copying and memorizing various notebooks concerned with our spiritual and organizational functions. The trainer will also give us regular classes. Living conditions are slightly better than Benares. We two westerners are staying in an Ananda Marga students’ hostel 500 meters 83 away from the global office, and living space is sufficient. We receive a small weekly allowance with which we purchase and prepare our meals. I guess I’ll be able to save money while still eating in a way which for me now seems luxurious. Today, for example, we breakfasted on tomatoes, puffed rice and yoghurt. I can’t help but feel it seems God-sent.

Invisible devotees

New Delhi. I am here to extend my Indian visa, and then I’ll go back to Patna. Ravindra and Sadhana, a devoted Margi couple, have invited me to stay in their house during my stay in Delhi. Ravindra is the head care-taker of the Delhi Zoo, so their house is in a quiet area near the Zoo.

Today I was alone in the house. While meditating in the small room which they keep solely for that purpose, I heard people singing kiirtan: Baba nam kevalam. “What is this?” I thought. “Some other Margis have come?” I broke my meditation, stood up, and walked out of the room in the direction of the kiirtan. But after taking a few steps outside the room I couldn’t hear the kiirtan anymore. I went outside the house. Only birds were singing. “Strange,” I thought, and went back to resume my meditation. When I sat down, immediately my mind became concentrated. A few minutes later I again heard people singing kiirtan. “Maybe some Margis are playing a trick on me,” I thought. “But this time I’ll catch them!” I jumped up and ran toward the singing. But once more, the voices disappeared without a trace. Everything was perfectly peaceful.

Scratching my head, I went back to meditate. After a short while, the kiirtan appeared again. “It must be inside my head,” I thought. Partially ignoring the kiirtan, and partially enjoying it, I went on with my meditation. The kiirtan also continued. Perhaps twenty or thirty minutes later I noticed it was no longer there.

A couple hours later, Ravindra and Sadhana came home. “Were you comfortable in our house when we weren’t here?” asked Sadhana.

“Yes,” I said. “But I had a peculiar experience in your meditation room. I heard people singing kiirtan again and again, but nobody was there.” The two of them immediately started laughing. “It’s a common experience in that room,” Ravindra said. “When our meditation is deep, we often hear that kiirtan. A few other Margis have heard it too.” “Well then, at least it’s nothing to worry about,” I said. “Do you know the explanation?”

“Invisible devotees, I suppose,” said Sadhana.

Though we all laughed, I felt her idea was not far from the truth.

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