Well of course I can explain but I would just be repeating PIP. So I'll post the appropriate chapter of PIP instead and the paragraph:
Maharaji recalls crying for several days without
stopping. He loved his father/master more than he could possibly say, and the
loss was deep and substantial. At the
same time, his mother was beside herself, lamenting, “Why didn’t he give any
indication? He wasn’t even sick!” She ordered Shri Maharaji’s body to be packed
in ice, a customary practice in the heat of India to preserve a body until the cremation. However, the
truth was, she believed that maybe her husband was not really dead, but rather
was in a deep meditation and eventually could be revived. Was it denial or her
belief in the extraordinary powers of the man she had married? No one can say
for sure, since shock and grief can cause people to think and act in unusual
ways.
Andrea loves the "No one can say" and "What really occurred" even though all she had to do was ask Rawat ...
The Succession
Bihari
Singh debated with himself all the way to
St. Joseph’s. The night before, he had returned Shri Maharaji’s
body to Dehradun. This morning, he was filled with grief and disbelief, and it was difficult
to make a decision. Should he tell Sant Ji and his brother Raja Ji the real
reason he was picking them up from school early? Or should he just drive them
home and let them see for themselves?
When Bihari appeared at the door of Raja Ji’s classroom,
his face told a painful story. He whispered something in the monk’s ear, who
then waved Raja Ji from the room. Together, Bihari and Raja Ji walked down the
hallway to collect Sant Ji.
“Why did you come to take us out of class?” Raja Ji asked
Bihari. “I thought you and my father were away on tour. Is Shri Maharaji home?
Does he want to see me? Did he come back early?”
“He is back,” Bihari Singh said.
Sant Ji was allowed to leave his fourth-grade
classroom, and the three of them drove in silence to the residence. The boys
had no idea what had happened or why Bihari was crying. But they knew something
was wrong the moment they got out of the car, as everybody was milling around
outside, crying and speaking in hushed voices.
Sant
Ji went directly to his father’s room. There sat Shri Maharaji in eternal
meditation, his. eyes closed. Sant Ji approached his father’s motionless body,
touched his feet, spent a few moments in silence, and walked outside. “I
wanted to feel him one last time,” says Maharaji. “And I was filled up. It was
a beautiful experience, and yet it was terrible, too. Like it was the end of the world.
Afterwards, I realized that something had just sprouted within me, that the
beautiful fountain was really within me. The world had ended, but it had also
begun, and everything was different.”
Maharaji recalls crying for several days without
stopping. He loved his father/master more than he could possibly say, and the
loss was deep and substantial. At the
same time, his mother was beside herself, lamenting, “Why didn’t he give any
indication? He wasn’t even sick!” She ordered Shri Maharaji’s body to be packed
in ice, a customary practice in the heat of India to preserve a body until the cremation. However, the
truth was, she believed that maybe her husband was not really dead, but rather
was in a deep meditation and eventually could be revived. Was it denial or her
belief in the extraordinary powers of the man she had married? No one can say
for sure, since shock and grief can cause people to think and act in unusual
ways.
Early the next morning, Shri Maharaji’s body was
placed in the top section of a van and driven to Prem Nagar, his final destination.
Word had traveled quickly that Shri Maharaji had died and would be cremated at
Prem Nagar. Hundreds of stunned and grief-stricken students were hurrying there
to pay their last respects. When they arrived, they began searching for
fragrant sandalwood (not readily available in stores) on which to cremate the
master’s body. In the twenty-four hours from the arrival of Shri Maharaji’s
body to Dehradun to his cremation the next morning in Haridwar, people managed
to collect forty pounds of sandalwood by gathering a little bit here and there.
On
the day of the cremation, Sant Ji stayed home with his mother. In Indian
tradition, those present at the cremation poured coconut oil and ghee (clarified
butter) over the pyre just before they set it
on fire. As Shri Maharaji’s body burned
and smoke rose to the heavens, his students had various reactions—from sobbing
and covering their eyes to feeling a beautiful peace.
According to Hindu custom, a mourning period of
thirteen days was prescribed, during which time the male family members shaved
their heads. On the thirteenth day, the mourning would end. There was a general
anticipation among the mourners because they hoped that when the mourning was
over, it would be clear who the new master would be.
As the days passed, more and more people arrived at
Prem Nagar full of anticipation. Shri Maharaji’s students needed someone to
take his place, someone who could guide them and inspire them, but there were
no preset rules as to how the next master should emerge. Shri Maharaji’s
master, Swami Swarupanand, had not left behind written instructions, which had
led to the various opinions and ensuing confusion as to who should succeed him.
Shri Maharaji did succeed him in
the eyes of a few, but because the others were not clear that he truly was the one, he had to start his work from scratch.
And just like his master before him, Shri Maharaji had left no written
instructions before he died.
“When my father was about to die,” says Maharaji, “he
did not sit down and write a will. He did not dictate to somebody what should
happen next. He did not call anybody into his room and tell them, ‘Ah, you
should do this, and we should be doing this, and I wish I could do this.’ He
simply went into a room, sat down, and practiced Knowledge.”
When Shri Maharaji died, Sampurnanand, like Charan Anand and other
traveling mahatmas, was on tour, returning only after the cremation was
finished. He was bereft when he learned that Shri Maharaji was gone, and he was
crying in the backyard of the residence when he saw Sant Ji.
“Why are you crying?” the young boy asked.
Sampurnanand
was so devastated, he could not answer.
Sant Ji soothed him. “What are you worried about?” he
asked. “Do you think Shri Maharaji has gone? You don’t have to worry about anything.
Knowledge is my responsibility now, and I know how to spread it. You will
never see me not being able to do
that. I’ll take care of it.”
When Sampurnanand heard the boy speaking with such
confidence and faith, he was taken aback. He recognized the new Guru Maharaji
speaking. In fact, he felt certain of it, as he remembered the subtle hints from Shri Maharaji
about his youngest son being the next master. When Sant Ji later took Sampu
into a room, together with Charan Anand, Bihari, and others, and talked tearfully
about times and places where he would be going on tours to continue his
father’s work, it was clear to those gathered that Sant Ji, despite his
young age, was the one.
The family and the senior members of the organization,
however, did not feel that Sant Ji could succeed his father. They seemed to
have forgotten Shri Maharaji indicating that his youngest son would be the one
to someday carry his message. Or perhaps they held too many entrenched ideas
that didn’t allow them to accept this possibility.
On the eve of July 30,
the twelfth day of the thirteen-day
mourning period, people gathered in the large meeting hall at Prem Nagar.
Sorrow and grief hung heavy in the air, and no one stepped onstage to speak
because no one knew what to say. Instead, in a back room, Mataji and her eldest
son, Bal Bhagwan Ji, were meeting with senior instructors and organizers,
trying to decide who would succeed Shri Maharaji.
Charan
Anand and Sampurnanand were purposely not included in the meeting, even though
they had been prominent in Shri Maharaji’s work. Charan Anand was probably seen
as too uneducated, and Sampu was, as usual, taking care of Sant Ji, who was
riding on his shoulders, commanding him to go here and there. When Sampu and
Sant Ji approached the room where the succession discussions were going on,
Sant Ji told Sampu to open the door. But when he did, Sant Ji’s family stopped
talking immediately.
Mataji had been pushing her favorite instructor, the
organization’s treasurer, to advocate her case. “Mataji is the one to lead us
now,” he had said, but that did not meet
with general approval. A woman as master? That would be much too controversial.
Even though Shri Maharaji had appointed as many women instructors as men, he
had received his share of criticism for this, both from traditional religious
groups and from Arya Samaj. The idea simply did not fly.
The people in the room were behaving as if the
master’s family or the organization that had supported him owned his work, as
if the master’s title, like some deed of trust, could be passed on through
administrative criteria such as precedence and seniority. But soon enough, they
would be reminded that the master’s ways defied worldly logic and
predictability.
Out in the great hail, thousands were waiting in
anxious anticipation, feeling the profound contrast to what usually happened
there. Whenever Shri Maharaji had spoken there, the hail had been filled with
inspiration and devotional singing. Now,
many people were crying openly, and others talked in hushed voices.
Behind the stage, Sampu took Sant Ji to a little
window where he could watch the crowd, unseen. By this time, one of the organizers
in the back room had named fourteen-year-old Bal Bhagwan Ji as successor, and
Mataji was beginning to accept that outcome. But in the meantime, when Sant Ji
saw the people’s sadness and sensed the
huge void, a desire to comfort them overcame him.
And so, while his mother, his eldest brother, and all
the “important” people huddled in the meeting room behind closed doors,
arguing and planning the organization’s future, Sant Ji walked out onto the
stage and sat in his father’s chair. Behind him was a large picture of Shri
Maharaji looking straight ahead with eternal serenity, decorated with flowers.
Sant Ji sat for a little while with his eyes closed
while the audience quieted down “In that one moment of my life,” he recalls,
“everything changed The only thing I could do was close my eyes and listen to
the words of my teacher, my father And believe me, his words echoed and echoed
as if he was standing on that platform telling me exactly what to do. There are
rationales I could have gotten into, but I didn’t give myself a chance. I went
for it. I have absolutely no doubt in my mind that my destiny was changed in
that moment. Absolutely.”
“Don’t cry,” were his first words to the thousands of
mourners. “You don’t have to cry. That which you loved about Shri Maharaji
will always be with you. Nobody can take that away from you.”
Silence filled the hall as Sant Ji continued. “I ~el
that Guru Maharaji is here. After all, what is in me? I h(ave only flesh,
nerves, blood, and bones. And I do not
have anything more. But I have got the same soul. The same Guru Maharaji is within
me. He is within you, too. He is within everybody. We must understand that it is Guru
Maharaji himself speaking right now.”
Sant Ji pointed to the photograph of his father and
said, “You are looking for him in the picture, but look in your own hearts, and
then you will understand.” People were crying again, but their tears of sorrow
had become tears of relief. When Sant Ji finished speaking, people filed slowly
out of the hail, feeling that a seed of hope had been sown.
The next morning, on July 31, 1966,
people gathered early in the great hail. Sampu, as usual, was carrying Sant Ji
around on his shoulders The family remained stubborn Even after they heard
about Sant Ji’s appearance onstage and how the people had reacted, they were
still involved in discussions about the future
As
the large meeting hail filled up, Mataji asked Charan Anand to say something
comforting. But when the PA system failed, Charan Anand passed the job to
Sampu, whose powerful voice could reach the back of the audience. Sampurnanand
asked the people why they were so impatient. Hadn’t they heard what Sant Ji had
said the night before? Mataji was not happy with his words, but she couldn’t or
wouldn’t stop her youngest son from stepping on the stage next.
Suddenly the PA system began working, and Sant Ji
said, “Look, good people. This is not an occasion for celebrations, because at
three in the morning of the nineteenth, Guru Maharaji left his mortal body. But
I feel that Guru Maharaji is still here and always will be Guru Maharaji is not
here anymore in his old body. However, I shall explain everything to you. A
guru is never born and never dies Guru Maharaji is and always will be present.”
People started to shout, “Bolie Shri Satgurudev
Maharaj Ki Jai” This meant “Glory to the master!” and was a greeting of jubilation
called out in the presence of Shri Maharaji. Others picked it up, but some
started talking amongst themselves or shouting remarks until Sant Ji said
sternly, “Listen. You must open your ears and listen If you don’t listen, then
I will have nothing to do with you.”
The hall fell silent again “When Guru Maharaji was
here,” Sant Ji said, “what did he do? He gave Knowledge to everyone, and he
gave of himself as if it would never end. Everyone kept taking from that
endless treasure, and now he has passed so much power over to me. He told me to
do his work, and Guru Maharaji is in front of us. He is within my heart and
everywhere.”
In
the back room, senior officers of the organization were preparing to come out
and announce Bal Bhagwan Ji as the next master—until somebody burst into the
room and told them what was happening. They rushed out just in time to see
Charan Anand putting the tilak on Sant Ji’s forehead while Mataji looked on in
surprise. Thousands were shouting for little Sant Ji, his shaven head covered
by a piece of white cloth as he sat in the master’s chair while Sampurnanand,
Charan Anand, Bihari, Gyan Bairaganand, and several others improvised a
ceremony to crown him. After Bihari put a crown on Sant Ji’s head, never again
would the students call him Sant Ii. For them, he was now Guru Maharaji.
When Mataji and Maharaji’s brothers touched his feet
as a sign of respect, he garlanded each member of his family, including Older
Mataji and Didiji. But while most of the audience were ecstatic, some were still
not yet convinced. Maharaji told everyone that the next day he would show them
proof that “Guru Maharaji never dies.”
The next morning, on the first of August, in front of
a full hail, Maharaji told the attendees, “When I was in Dehradun, I was asleep
in bed, and I felt that a man was there. I touched him with my hand and saw
that it was Shri Maharaji. We spoke to each other for a long time. Guru
Maharaji is right here; he is not gone. If you want me to prove it, I shall prove
it to
you. Tonight, you shall see Maharaji right before you.”
That night, eight-year-old Maharaji stood up and began
to dance and play the manjeeras, the small cymbals that his father used to play. Within
a few minutes, the people in the hall witnessed the same radiance they had
seen and felt in Shri Maharaji. Here was Shri Maharaji himself, they decided,
dancing before their eyes, with the same radiant grace, glorious smile, and
shining eyes.
What
really occurred that evening remains a mystery, something that words cannot
describe. People say it was as if father
and son were one and the same in front of them, as if time and death had been
suspended for a moment and life was manifesting in an eternal moment of glory.
When the dance was done, the new master asked his eldest brother to come
onstage and speak, telling the people that he had been looking forward to
listening to Bal Bhagwan Ji with much anticipation. Did Maharaji know what they
had plotted behind closed doors? Did he know when he had been crowned that some
had already chosen his eldest brother as master? It was likely that Maharaji,
in his innocence, was unaware of this until several years later when his eldest
brother and mother turned against him and embarked upon an organized effort to
harm his reputation and push him aside.
