Yesterday evening we had some talks. One person spoke about pain, character formation and other things - of mice and men. There is one article written by Babuji Maharaj. It has been published in the Patrika, it is part of Voice Real, and it is strange but many people don't read it. It is called My Pain. There, Babuji Maharaj writes about his own pain, you see, and in his inimitable concern for us, love for us, in his inimitable etiquette, he claims that pain to be only for himself. He says, "But it is for me alone," and he also told me once or twice that Lalaji Maharaj had assured him that others would not have to suffer that pain. When I first heard this I was shocked. I was annoyed, too, shall we say, because how could I imagine my Master having something in which I could not share? I would not be a true son if I wanted only the golden apples and a share in his house - I mean spiritual house, of course - and eventually, when he nominated me as his successor, it would have been a living lie to refuse to share, except in His totality. So pain became probably the most important inheritance that I have received from my beloved Master. I welcomed it and I was grateful to him, because on one occasion in Shahjahanpur at midnight we were discussing so many things, including whether there are ghosts; what is a brahmarakshasha; and how to deal with them if one should meet them, and he very affectionately and smilingly offered to call a brahmarakshasha for me to see. Now ghosts are one thing of which I am very afraid, you see, so I told him, "No, Babuji, I don't want to see a ghost - not even a brahmarakshasha." He said, "Why are you afraid? If you should meet one, just say you are Ram Chandra's disciple and it will run away." I said, "Babuji, please spare me this one experience, because I am not happy with ghosts." He laughed and he said, "All right, but remember that sometimes in the future when you are given the work that I am now doing, you may have to deal with ghosts, brahmarakshashas, too." I said, "Lalaji has spared you so much. Why don't you spare me some of this?" Then he told me Lalaji never spared him. One of the first assurances Lalaji gave him, or a promise he made to him was, that he shall not have a single moment of rest. Babuji said, "Hujoor. I accept." The second was that for any breach in his work, though nobody else would ever be punished, he would be punished. Babuji Maharaj said, "Hujoor. I accept." And then of course the third thing was, "You have become me and I have become you, and now none can any more say that there is any difference between you and me." Babuji Maharaj said he wept, and said, "How can I ever be like you?" and Lalaji, in the spiritual sense, embraced him and said, "You already are, because you are my son." Then Babuji smiled very lovingly at me and said, "You want to become like me, isn't it?" I said, "Yes." He said, "Then everything I have suffered, you have to suffer." So you see, it was at the same time a promise, a gift, and a sentence. Now I considered myself extraordinarily blessed that he gave me three gifts all in one - a blessing, a gift, and a sentence. And he did add that he would always be with us, guiding my work from above - and you know, because I was tending to be a little upset with all this, what I thought, morbid talk about when he goes away, what I will become, and all of that, I said, "Babuji, I don't want to hear of your passing." He said, "Don't worry, I'll be here for a long time - till 2006, 2007," and then he gave me a short talk on the value of pain. He said, "Fools run away from pain. Those who wish to become saints have always embraced pain and have asked for more and more." Sometimes to the extent that, according to Babuji Maharaj, even God is surprised. He said, "How can I give you more pain?" Now, whenever I speak of pain and death in the West, in the occidental countries, there is always a little fear in the abhyasis, a little resentment perhaps - quite a bit of anger. "Why is this blighter talking to us about these unsavoury matters? Did not Babuji Maharaj say, 'It is for me alone?' Why is he talking of this pain?" Even to speak about pain is not welcomed by people. They think that it is a threat. They would accept any other gift - gifts of love should not confer pain! Isn't it? But every woman knows that the first gift of love that she receives is an enormous dose of pain when she has her first baby. No child is born without pain to the mother. Physical pain? Yes, it is easy to bear with. What about the subsequent pain of bringing up that child? All the worries that we suffer from. Every time the child goes to school, the mother has a trauma, you see, especially in countries like the United States where every mother is afraid whether the child will come back, whether somebody will, you know, kidnap it, rape it. Who knows what can happen between going to school and coming back from school? Then we realize that pain is a part of life. Pain is very much a part of life. I would go a step further and say, "Life is pain." Psychologists - there are some here - may give other definitions. But human beings we all are. Any one of you has just but to look into yourself to find that inside you there is nothing but pain, which is perhaps one reason why we are so anxious to have some pleasure in life, why we are frantically looking for pleasure, for fun. To try and in some way remove this pain which is inside. But the wise man if he is wise, the wise woman if she is wise, soon understands that this pain is not of this world. It is a pain born with us. It is a pain created by the soul's longing to return to its source, to its original home, as Babuji Maharaj said, and until we do that, this pain cannot go. So any frantic search for pleasure in which to forget this pain, deaden this pain, dull this pain, is as good as taking narcotics - drugging ourselves insensate. So you see, the only way of easing our pain, of removing our pain is not by psychological methods, not by clinical methods, not by medical means, not by going to, you know, casinos, getting drunk, not in women, not in drugs, not in possessions, not in gold, not in silver, but in wisely turning away from this life - outward life, physical life, sensual life - to a truly spiritual inner search for the origin of that pain. Pain is the beacon of a lamp lit in the windows of our original home, shining out in the darkness, and we have only to follow it back. We are the ancient mariner to whom that lamp beckons. It is a lighthouse guiding us back. Pleasure diverts. Pleasure makes us deviate from our path. Pleasure pulls us down into ignominy, into insult, into bestiality, until we lose all semblance of a human existence. Our wisdom is lost, our wealth is lost, our health is lost, our bearings are lost, and in that state of friendship and pleasure we have only friends similarly positioned in life - they can only drag us down into that mire, into that cesspool, into that whirlpool of misery and sickness and loss. Like unfortunate friends who do not know how to swim, trying to help a drowning man - all drown together. Pleasure is where people drown together. Pain is where one can find his way back home alone, being guided by pain in the right direction, provided we accept it. Provided we accept that pain is the fortunate, the divine remnant in me, created by my longing for my original home. Longing for not only going home, but to be united with my beloved who is waiting for me there, and then it becomes an unerring guide and beacon to guide me back. (Excerpt from a talk given in Lenasia, S. Africa, April 13, 1993. Reprinted in Constant Remembrance, July 1993.)
|
