Gertraud Reichel - Babaji - Gateway to the Light

The time came when I could face Babaji again. When he laid his hands on my head and looked into my eyes he nodded, and I knew the struggle was over. From that second on I was able to share my husband's joy. And this not only applied to him, but also to others. Whenever I became aware that somebody was receiving a present, be it large or small I sensed their delight by way of energy flowing along my spine. Moreover, the issue became increasingly unimportant as the process of inner growth and transformation and the strengthening of my inner connection to Babaji grew more important.

After three years of apprenticeship, however, I was once again overwhelmed by the same craving "I want to have!". I thought I had been healed of such intense urges after the last experience, but it occurred again while on a journey through South India.

We were staying at Baroda in the state of Gujarat. It was a refreshingly cool afternoon and Babaji was sitting on a swing in the garden at a disciple's family home. Gently he moved to and fro while people sat on the lawn beside him. One after the other, a line of people moved forward to bow and offer gifts. I was one of those sitting watching the colourful spectacle. Babaji had nonchalantly thrown an exquisite yellow saree over his shoulders. It had been offered to him during aarati, and I kept staring at this gorgeous thing hoping that he might pass it on to me. Thoughts started to race through my mind. Yellow, the colour of wisdom. Who'll be the lucky one to get it? Will it be me? For the life of me, I had no way of stopping this torrent of thoughts.

Suddenly I heard my name being called. It was Babaji calling me. I stood up and moved towards him; the heat of shame and embarrassment surged through my body. ft didn't take much guessing as to why he had nominated me. When I reached him, he grabbed the saree from his shoulders and flung it violently into my limp arms. I wanted the ground to open and swallow me up forever when I realised what his gesture meant.

"Don't I give you enough? Aren't you getting everything you need from me? Why do you attach yourself to material things? When will you ever learn?!"

I don't know how I managed to return to my seat. I only know I hesitated for weeks before deciding to wear the wretched saree.

Of course Babaji continued to test me over and over again. He used to show me pieces of jewellery and ask me if they were genuine. Each time I would look within to examine my feelings and check if greed were present. Eventually I lost all interest in these things. It was then that Babaji gave me the jewellery I had valuated; as a prize, so to say, for passing the tests.

***

A yagua followed aarati. Out on the spacious terraced roof, which could easily fit two hundred people, a square fire pit coated with red clay had recently been constructed. Like a gazelle, Babaji leapt up the stairs to the terrace leaving behind a lot of surprised faces. In an instant he was at his place at the havan. As he shot past me he whispered "Come!" and gave similar short instructions to some others. The hostess took her seat to his left, while some other women, looking a picture in vibrantly coloured sarees with silver and gold borders, squatted behind him. Their way of participating in the ceremony was to place the tips of their fingers on Babaji's back and shoulders. Normally only the men are allowed to sit around the fire pit and toss in the offerings. Sri Muniraj was on the right of Babaji as usual, and Shastriji stood near him reciting mantras from the holy scriptures. >When Babaji ladled the ghee (melted clarified butter) onto the fire, dazzling flames soared up to the heavens. Apart from this swish, a cavernous silence reigned over the gathering; the crackling of burning wood and the murmur of mantras lingered only like far-off echoes. Everyone was deeply concentrated as prayers were said for the benefit of the universe and every being. I wanted to participate in the yagna on an inner level. I asked for purification by the flames of the holy fire and for greater opening of the heart to receive the Divine. Ultimately I wanted to experience unity and to melt totally into it. Babaji represented this all-embracing unity to me. An endless yearning took hold of me.

Thoroughly absorbed in these thoughts I barely noticed Babaji stand up at the conclusion of the ceremony and go and look out over the city. Somebody nudged me which brought me down to earth again. I vaguely thought of clearing a pathway for Babaji as he was likely to pass by here on his way out. There was already a little gap in the crowd so I began to push a bit to widen it when I felt a nudge again, only this time a little harder. What was going on? I looked around and met Babaji's roguish eyes. He was signalling me to come over and when I did, he placed into my arms a saree he had been given earlier and had wrapped around his shoulders during the fire ceremony. I was stunned.

"For me?"

My fingers gently touched his feet. I was sobbing. Babaji pressed his foot on my hand and wouldn't release it. The yearning I had just felt poured out to him like a flood. When at last I got to my feet, Babaji pointed to the tail-end of the saree left trailing on the floor.

"Yours!", he said. I picked this end up.

"Yours!", he repeated and smilingly pointed to the other end, now also touching the floor. I laughed as I cried and picked that up. We stood together in silence. It was as if no-one else existed.

What a precious gift this was! The saree served as a graphic means to convey his promise: "I will give you plenty. So much inner treasure that even with both hands you won't be able to grasp it all at once. Just focus your sights on the eternal, on the Divine only!"

Once again the yagua appeared before my inner eye. Every day for twelve days we performed the havan on the terrace. Was it a coincidence that this ten-storey building also housed a government laboratory for nuclear experimentation? But then surely there are no mere coincidences in spiritual matters. Babaji had often spoken about probable, massive destruction on earth set off by nuclear energy. During his stay he made a visit to the laboratory, and the devotees present with him reported that he picked up a piece of uranium with his bare hands, which is a real no-no, and paced back and forward across the room several times. What was he up to? Did he want to reduce the probability of a major catastrophe?

Once the morning ceremonies were over, Babaji would sometimes visit the homes of various devotees or lead an excursion to places of spiritual significance. Anyone who managed to squeeze into one of the cavalcade of cars could go along as well. With at least eight or nine bodies packed tightly inside a vehicle, the car chase was on again. Apparently the plan for today was to drive to Dakineshwar and Daknath. Dakineshwar is a temple complex situated on the banks of the river Ganges. Ramakrishna had lived there more than a century ago. The saint, renowned worldwide for his religious tolerance, had died in 1886. Like Babaji, he emphasised the need for unity of all religions and all people, irrespective of their colour, creed and nationality.

We drove through wide avenues with elegant shops; overpopulated, busy steets, passing by water sellers, cows chewing on cud, cyclists, craftsmen, rickshaw drivers and noisy overcrowded buses. Then along the Ganges with its foamy waters and deserted beaches. The temple of Dakineshwar was a sanctuary of soothing silence. Babaji, graceful and nimble, leaped up and down the many steps leading to innumerable temples, staying longer in one than another. In Ramakrishna's room he withdrew to a corner and remained silent and still.

Everybody had trouble keeping up with him. Like Babaji, we all had to go barefoot. It was useless having shoes and leaving them outside each temple because as we entered one temple, Babaji had already left through another exit. No time to return and fetch anything. Babaji was gone before we had time to catch our breath.