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CHAPTER TWO
The Physical Journey of Babaji

Once I knew that Babaji existed in a physical body, I became determined to meet him. I immediately wrote for permission to visit him and completed my plans as I waited for his reply. Two months passed with no word, but I was not going to take "No" for an answer. I had not received a reply from Babaji but I left anyway. My thought was that even if he sent me away, it would be worth while just to see him. The difficult journey that lay ahead of me did not concern me. For some reason, nothing mattered. My inner self seemed to know that everything would go well. I flew to Delhi where I contacted Joshi, whose name and address Leonard Orr gave me. Joshi then directed me to take an overnight bus to Haldwani.

The journey lasted about nine hours and I sat on a hard wood bench as we traveled over bumpy roads. All the while I hoped that I was on the right bus. The numbers were in Hindi and no one seemed to speak English. Whenever I would ask a question, people would respond with funny gestures and strange mumbling in Hindi or some other language. I had no idea what they were saying, yet I was amazed at how calm I felt. We were hit by a monsoon storm halfway through the journey. It felt as if the sky was falling. The bus had to stop several times and, lucky for me, I did not know how dangerous it was to travel at night. We arrived in a little town at 4:30 a.m. When I asked if this was Haldwani, all I received were stares, more mumbling and gestures. I was left hoping that I had arrived at the right place, and I was now a little worried.

Emerging from the bus, I found that the water out­side almost reached my knees. I cried out in disbelief, "Come on, Babaji, is this some kind of a joke?", as though he were the one at fault. My luggage which had been on the top of the bus, was soaking wet. Doubts began to flood my mind. I hoped it was really Babaji that I was going to meet and not some kind of a nut, I thought to myself. I hope I am not crazy to go through all this. Even with my doubts, my inner knowing kept me amazingly calm. I could even see humor in the situation, as though it were some kind of a movie in which my sincerity was being tested.

Taking control of myself, I asked for a taxi and again faced strange gestures and mumblings. My God, I thought, it is getting worse. Even the word "taxi" did not seem to mean anything to anyone.

I stood for a half hour in the water, not knowing whether to laugh or cry, yet feeling strangely serene. A young boy on a bicycle with a small carriage came over to me and mumbled some strange sounds as he motioned to the carriage. Did I dare to risk having him take me to the address that I had written down? I asked whether he knew of the Kailash Hotel and heard only more strange mumblings. Come on, I told myself, you know that you are going to be all right. Nothing hap­pens to you when you go to see Babaji. That thought came from Autobiography of A Yogi. So I let him guide me.

The boy took my piece of paper and we started moving along the rain-soaked roads. He stopped to ask some people for direction, leaving me to hope once again that I was in the right town. We finally arrived at a gate and my guide banged over and over again. No one answered. We waited around for what seemed like hours, before a small skinny old man arrived and opened the gate to let me in.

I asked if this was the Kailash hotel and only heard more strange mumblings. It felt almost like a setup. How was it possible that no one knew how to respond in a way that I could understand? I gave a few rupees to the young boy then followed the old man.

"Babaji?" I murmured, hoping for a response to reassure me that I was on the right track. All I heard were more unintelligible mumblings.

The old man opened an old musty room that looked as if it were a part of a chicken barn. There was a bed made out of ropes in the room.. Exhausted, I laid on the bed, hardly believing that I could have allowed myself to go through all of this without asking specific details ahead of time. I had just taken it for granted that every­thing would work out fine. The magic of the possibility of Babaji really being around had blinded me to all else. I guess I knew that nothing would have stopped me from going to see him, no matter what the risks. Why bother to find out anything in advance?

Little lizards, or what looked to me like lizards, were crawling around and I started itching from different kinds of bites. I couldn't sleep and I tossed and turned as I waited until the morning. I was still not sure that I was in the right place, but my inner knowing reassured me that I was.

I longed for the morning, and I don't remember now whether I slept or not. I got out of bed as soon as it was light and looked around for another human being. I needed to have some information. I saw the little old man and asked him "English?" He mumbled. Discouraged, I waited around for a while. Finally, I met Joba, who came over to me and spoke English. He talked to me about Babaji. I was so relieved. I realized that I could have enjoyed myself and this trip much more if I had trusted my inner knowledge more. Total trust is the answer.

I was in ecstasy, for I was coming nearer to Babaji. Joba told me that it was too dangerous to climb the mountains at this time, due to the monsoon, so I waited around in that squalid environment for a few days. Now, nothing else mattered to me but to see Babaji and my surroundings became like a palace. I felt convinced that Babaji was the Mahavatar described in Autobiography of a Yogi, and Joba's stories were in line with what I knew. The food was awful, spicy, and strange to my palate and sometimes even repulsive. I ate what I was given and even loved it, sometimes.

On about the fifth day after my arrival, the weather cleared and we started climbing. I was not accustomed to mountain climbing, and I tired very often. At times, I could not keep up and feared that I would lose my way because I was so far behind the others. We climbed for most of the day. As we finally neared our destination, my body felt like that of a zombie. It walked like a robot, with hardly any feeling in my limbs which had become numb with pain.

When we arrived, we bathed and then waited for Babaji. After awhile, I heard a commotion and there was excitement all around. Babaji was coming. I saw a few Indians walking near and I felt disappointed that I could not identify the one who was Babaji.

Then I saw a young man who stood out among the others. He looked so simple. This is Babaji?, I thought, as I felt my heart sinking. He looked so ordinary. I feared that I had come to the wrong place. The trip had been all for nothing. He could not be Babaji, I thought. People were bending over, touching his feet with their hands and heads. I thought that their actions were dis­gusting and felt that I could never do that. Putting my hands together in the usual Namaste posture, I nodded in his direction. He stared directly into my eyes. Some women pushed me over to touch his feet and I resisted, feeling very awkward and embarrassed. Then I relented, thinking, "Oh, what's the big deal?" I may as well please them, I thought, as I quickly touched his feet with one finger. As I looked around, I saw many Westerners with shaved heads and the sight made me feel that I had been wrong to come. I had wasted so much time.

As these thoughts filled my head, Babaji called me over and asked, "Why did you come?" I tried to think of an acceptable answer and decided to simply say, "I don't know."

"You don't know, you go. Tomorrow you can leave." Babaji's reply was swift.

I was not sure whether to take him seriously or not. On the other hand, I was not sure that I wanted to stay there, anyway. Joba pleaded on my behalf with Babaji, "She came all the way from America alone." The decision appeared to remain firm.

I was placed in a room with two bald German women. Because I had not realized that I had to bring a sleeping bag, I spent the night on the bare floor. It was very uncomfortable, and I felt something or someone touching my feet all night. I was too scared to get up and see what it was. Instead, I lay there frozen. At the same time that I was outwardly uncomfortable, I felt a strange peaceful inner knowing that kept me calm and serene.

In the morning, I spoke with other Westerners to see what their impressions were of Babaji. They all felt sure that he was the real Babaji and their strong convictions made me feel that I should ask to stay for a few days, so I could judge fairly. At around 6 a.m., people gathered for the ritual devotional singing (aarati), and at around 7 a.m., Babaji came for darshan. (This is the time that Babaji would sit with the people. The word literally means "seeing or being in the presence of a great saint.") At that time, he again told me to leave. Upset by this, I stood up, put my arms on my hips and confronted him. "You are not really Babaji," I said boldly. "You are just a village boy pretending to be him, and it's disgusting the way people bow down to you. It is dangerous, why are you misleading them? I am leaving." Sheeladevi who was translating what I said told me later on that she felt too embarrassed by my behavior and told Babaji that it was not important to translate. Babaji told her to trans­late each and every word, not to miss out anything.

Without any show of being upset, he then started to answer many of the thoughts that I had on my mind. I felt bewilderment and fear rising inside. How did he know this one? And that one? I had not said that to anyone. I don't remember all of those thoughts but some concerned two people that I thought were weird and I also had thought that there were many Germans around.

"You see these two people," Babaji said, "they are nearly saints, and I like Germans."

"Yes, Germans liked Hitler, too," I responded. "They obeyed his orders, too." I started feeling scared. He could kill me, flashed through my mind.

I decided to test him. "Maybe I should smoke some grass. I sometimes become more sensitive when I smoke," I said.

"Grass is not allowed in the ashram," he responded. "I can read peoples' thoughts for hundreds of miles," he said.

I reflected on some of my thoughts and started to shake.

I don't remember the rest of the conversation. Later, I was told by Gaura Devi, a long-time Western devotee, that Babaji must have liked me because he rarely had such long conversations with people. She suggested that I apologize and ask him whether I could stay.

I walked around for awhile, thinking and reflecting inwardly on why I had come. I remembered Autobiography of a Yogi and how Babaji had been described there as the purest teacher that the planet has ever produced. It was that pure teacher for whom I yearned. Tears started to well up and I noticed the beautiful scenery of the mountains and the river below. I began to feel that I was not deserving of this paradise, after all. At that point, Babaji appeared in front of me, as though out of nowhere, and motioning to the mountains asked me, "You like this?"

"Yes," I responded. He continued walking. I remembered that I had not waited for written permission to come.

If I am not deserving, then of course I should go, I thought and went to my room to collect my luggage. There were some other people who were leaving and I walked over to the tea shop to meet them. I saw Babaji in the tea shop standing on a stone. He motioned to my luggage and asked, "Can you carry this?"

I looked at my luggage and I knew very well that I could not possibly carry it through the mountains by myself so I shook my head, "No".

You want to wait for a horse?" he asked.

"Yes," I said with delight.

O.K., you go on horse tomorrow."

"O.K.," I responded, feeling relieved.

"He is asking if you would like some tea," someone translated. I accepted gratefully, wondering what might happen next.

"He is asking if there is anything that you want, any­thing at all," said the translator.

My mind started racing. I remembered that Babaji can fulfill all desires and I began to feel somewhat foolish and embarrassed to admit that I still believed that he may be the real Babaji. I told him that I wanted a mat­tress to sleep on.

"O.K.," he said. "What other desire do you have?"

Don't miss out on this one, I thought. He was giving me another chance. Ask for something that you really want like enlightenment, success, money, wisdom, peace, etc. All I could respond, however, was, "a blanket."

"O.K.," he said. "You can have a third wish, anything that you want."

Feeling even more embarrassed than before, I sheepishly told him that I wanted a pillow.

"O.K.," came his quick reply. A consoling thought passed through my mind. If he is really Babaji, then he knows what I am thinking and he will probably give me what I want whether I ask for it or not. I felt a little hopeful but I was disappointed in my responses. It is probably all a game, anyway, I thought. I doubted that the place even had a mattress, a blanket and a pillow to spare.

Babaji later came to me wearing a look filled with love and gave me a thin quilted mattress. I felt happier and I started to feel his presence everywhere. I felt very well looked after and protected. All of my needs were being slowly taken care of.

Life in the ashram was supposedly very difficult, yet I generally felt as if I were in paradise. For me, a main difficulty was that there were no toilets. To go to the bathroom, I had to climb down and then up again, 108 huge steps. Having a bowel movement created major difficulty which involved finding two stones to sit on that did not dig into my skin, and finding a substitute for toilet paper. I had to learn how to clean my bottom with little stones and water. To my dismay, I soon dis­covered that I had worms in my stools, which, apparently, is not at all unusual. Once I fell into my feces and had a heck of a time trying to clean up the edges of my sari, as well as my body, without polluting the river water.

Among other physical difficulties was the excruciating heat. I also had difficulty falling asleep, due to some vicious bites. I seemed to itch all night long. There was also the constant awareness of how often people became seriously ill here.

Looking back now at that first encounter and considering my desires at that time, I find that the wishes that I was not courageous enough to tell or to ask Babaji directly, have all been fulfilled. Since then, new wishes and new dreams have emerged.

I learned that Babaji's simple teaching can show every human being how to achieve their desires. These teachings can be summarized as follows: TRUTH, SIMPLICITY, LOVE, OM NAMAH SHIVAYA, AND KARMA YOGA. As simple as that.

"...And truth creates success, for one who speaks the truth and lives according to truthful principles is successful in whatever he does. This is because truth evokes will-power. A person in a struggle, for example, who lives and speaks the truth, will automatically have the will-power to win that struggle. Therefore truth, with its attendant will-power and success, is the first principle of Babaji's formula." Simplicity means to be devoid of self possessions and egotism. As to love, "to love other people is to love God." (Interview with Babaji by Dio Neff, Yoga Journal - May/June, 1980)

OM NAMAH SHIVAYA is a Mahamantra, great mantra. It is a shortened and more powerful version of the mantra central to all four Vedas. It is called a beej mantra, a `seed' mantra. The smaller and more concentrated an object, the more powerful it is. A seed contains within it all necessary power to create a mighty forest tree, and so, by comparison, it is much more powerful than the tree. So it is with `Om Namah Shivaya', it is the beej or seed of the longer version, and thus is a very, very potent mantra. I remember Babaji saying that everything is possible through the repetition of Om Namah Shivaya. It should be repeated 24 hours a day and one should even suggest to the mind to repeat it while sleeping.

My life at Haidakhan was a fascinating mixture of fairy tale and reality, sometimes extremely serious and other times hilariously funny and playful. Sometimes it was paradise, sometimes painful. Even while I thought I was going through hell, I felt very much as an observer, as though I was watching a movie. Babaji would often seem to just appear out of nowhere and give me feed­back on my thoughts and actions. When I had a lofty or a noble thought, he would suddenly be there either to confirm or to reinforce my thought by words, by gestures, or by giving me a piece of fruit, candy, clothing, or perhaps an invitation to a tea party.

After my first day with Babaji, when I still thought that I would have to leave, I asked Gaura Devi what I could do or say that would allow me to stay longer than till the next day. She suggested that I speak to Babaji from my heart. When I saw Babaji, I apologized for my arrogance and told him that I was willing to let him guide me. I asked if I could stay longer. "As long as you wish," was his reply.

Thank you so much, Babaji, for being my teacher! What a miraculous teacher! How is it possible that I forget so fast? How is it possible that I doubt so much? How is it possible that I need to trust others in order for them to approve of me rather than to trust myself? Why is it so difficult to grow up? Why is it so difficult to stay in the place where I love life, where I am pure love, where I love to serve genuinely, where it nourishes me as well as others? I feel exhausted. I try so hard. Babaji, I give you permission to take over 100% of the way. Sri Mahaprabhuji Ki Jai! Victory to the Purest Energy!

Who are you, anyway? Whoever you are, you are wonderful. I have never felt such reverence, delight with life and my body. I look forward to living life fully each day. To enjoying the here and now to the nth degree. You are freedom, the ultimate. I am longing for the day when I can solidify that center within me and not allow anything to topple me over.

I remember a time in Ahmedabad that, as I was walking toward my room, I felt so healthy and together, thinking I can be who I am, I do not have to be Babaji and imitate his style. I can adopt my own style. I felt a strong knowing that that was the truth. I suddenly made a quick turn around, as though looking to see if Babaji would confirm this. My body felt so free! My inner self knew that Babaji would be there to confirm this even though it was his rest time and he is never out at this time. He was not there - a part of me felt disappointed, but another part persisted "I know he is here to confirm it", - "Oh well I guess I was wrong I should go back to my room" another thought - "but it's impossible" I heard myself as I was gazing at the steps in front of me. Right then my eyes opened with amazement and surprise to see Babaji, and Shastriji materializing on the steps. I walked over to greet Babaji. He said something to me and I did not hear it, but I knew that if I did not hear it then, it was not important for me to hear it. I did not attempt to ask him to repeat himself. I knew that he knew, and would have repeated it if it had been appropriate.

He did repeat it and told me "you sleep here tonight" he motioned to the balcony. That was another reward for trusting my inner knowing and persisting I now understand. That night was one of the most beautiful nights I remember.