MIRACLES - BY KATYA OSBORNE

[Soorya]

MIRACLES

ONCE upon a time and long, long ago, there lived a great sage and teacher. In those days esoteric knowledge was not openly available to all, instead one had to find a teacher who was willing and able to impart this knowledge and apprentice oneself to him. Such a man was the sage of this story and he would take only three pupils at a time for ten year periods. The lucky three came to him with offerings of fruit and flowers and then their instruction would begin.
Ten years passed and the students were told that their education was completed and they could leave. They came in turn to receive his blessing, and after again offering fruit and flowers the first acolyte asked for the master’s approval and permission to go out into the world and take up the work he had learned.
“And what have you learned?” The master asked “Revered one,” answered the student “I have learned to conjure gold and precious jewels out of the air. I have learned to make myself invisible. I have learned to transport my body to any place that my mind can imagine.”
“And are you content?” asked the sage.
“Oh yes great one.” Answered the student.
“Then go with my blessing.”
The next student came along with his gifts. The question put to him by the sage was the same and the answer was nearly the same, except that he had also learned to transform his appearance so that he could resemble any deity.
“And are you content?” asked the sage.
“Oh more than content great one.”
“Then go with my blessing.”
The third man presented himself and he too had learned all the knowledge that the other two had acquired.
“And are you content?” asked the sage.
The man stood with his head bowed but did not reply.
“What troubles you?” asked the sage.
“I have learned all these tricks,” answered the man, “but what has that to do with spiritual wisdom?”
The sage smiled at him. “Come with me,” he said. “You I will teach.”
This story was told to me many years ago, and growing up in and around Bhagavan[Ramana Maharshi] I felt that it reflected the flavour of his attitude towards life and miracles. Everything was so low key that one could never be sure if he had interfered or not. He was never dramatic or flamboyant. A nod or smile was the most one could hope for. And yet…we all…including the children, knew without question that he could do anything at all, anything he wanted.
And even at that very young age we knew that he never wanted. And yet people came and beseeched him for favours and boons. I suspect that many times people got their wish but in such a personal and private way that no one else was aware of it. Perhaps even they were unsure whether Bhagavan had helped them or not. But mostly peoples’ faith in Bhagavan remained unshaken in spite of his personal trade mark which was…everything low key and quiet. Nothing ostentatious. Ever.
A bullock cart driver came one day when I was sitting in the hall. It was monsoon time and it poured. This had been going on for days and it was expected to continue. His problem was that his wife had died and he had to complete her cremation ceremony by that afternoon. He was a very poor man and could not afford a cremation under cover. He explained all this to Bhagavan who looked out of the window and said in the manner of any one of us: “It may clear up later on.”
That was enough for the man. He went off and made all the arrangements and of course, sure enough, it did clear up that afternoon long enough for the cremation to take place, and then it poured again. That was so typical of the way Bhagavan did things. One could never be really sure that he had done anything at all.
The most spectacular thing I ever heard of during all the years, even taking into account the way that stories grow in content and how exaggerated many of the tales become over the years, happened at the biksha given one year at Jayanthi. All the food was prepared for a thousand people but someone had forgotten to order fruit and there was none. Flushed and worried the man in charge came to Bhagavan and explained his dilemma and that he was in deep trouble over his negligence. Bhagavan didn’t say a word, but he listened.
The man got back and reported to the Sarvadhikari in the office and he was just in time to hear a phone call from the station master of Tiruvannamalai saying that they had a large consignment of oranges on the station platform. The sender’s name was lost, in fact the paper work was lost altogether but it was assumed that they were for the ashram so would someone please come and get them. As I recollect, there was no ooing and ahing. In fact no one was unduly surprised. Someone had asked Bhagavan for help and received it…in his inimitable style. Low key and no one could actually point a finger and say wow, miracle! It was just a parcel without an address. These things happen.
Everyone who lived in or around the ashram back then had a story, but infected as we were by the spirit of Bhagavan, most of us kept our stories very private. Life was always ostensibly undramatic for all of us.
My own unforgettable memory happened when I was about ten years old. A lady from Delhi came to the ashram. In those days all foreigners were sent to our house as my parents spoke several languages and could understand a number of travellers. Also in those days whether a person came from New York, New Zealand or New Delhi, they were foreigners. This particular lady told us her story which I thought was unutterably tragic. She had married against her parents’ wishes, but she married for love and the first few days of her marriage were blissfully happy. They went to the seaside for their honeymoon and she sat on the sand while her husband went for a swim. She actually saw him being caught by a shark and killed in front of her. Since then she was a nervous wreck. She then started a trek around all the ashrams and holy men of India. Why? She wanted to know. How had they harmed anyone and why should they be visited by such a terrible punishment. The point came when she could not stand to listen to any more ambiguous anodyne answers, so she had written her questions down and her list went with her whenever she came to a new holy man. No one was going to fob her off any more. If there was an explanation she wanted to hear it, and if not why not. What I recollect most about this lady was that she was so tense and nervous that it was a strain to be in her company. I was not an especially sensitive child, but sitting in the same room as her was excruciatingly uncomfortable. I started to escape but my mother caught me.
“Take her to the hall.” She instructed me. I had things to do I told her, but my mother said “GO”
I went.
When we got to the ashram I pointed to the hall where Bhagavan was sitting and then took myself off to read my book in a mango tree.I heard the bell for lunch and dragging my feet I went to fetch the lady home for food. Never in my life, neither before nor in all the years since, have I noticed such a change in anyone, and in such a short time. The lady was relaxed and at peace. I trailed behind her on the way back, too shy to ask her what Bhagavan had said but aching to know. Why oh why hadn’t I stayed in the hall with her.
Whatever the words were that Bhagavan had spoken, they must surely be the most important in the world. I wanted to know them for posterity. The rest of my life could be transformed by the words I hadn’t heard. However I knew that my mother would ask her so I stuck around like glue in order to hear the magic formula.
My mother of course noticed the difference immediately. One couldn’t miss it. She asked the all important question. What had Bhagavan said to her?
“Nothing.” The lady replied. She had sat there all prepared, with her list at the ready, then Bhagavan looked at her. He just looked, full of understanding and compassion, and she suddenly lost interest in her crusade. It didn’t matter any more. She had found the peace she craved.
Nothing could be more miraculous than what happened to that lady, and nothing more typical of Bhagavan. He didn’t say a word.
Bhagavan’s touch was always exquisitely light but sure. He would hint but never be obvious, whether he was performing a ‘miracle’ or letting a person know what was best for them to do. And yet a hint from him should never be ignored. If he takes the trouble to make us aware, well then, we disregard it at our peril.
When I was about nine years old I fought my mother on a daily basis on the business of brushing my hair. She wanted to. I didn’t. The whole business became a major battle which reached crisis point on a daily basis. Left to its own devices my hair resembled a haystack. One had to look at my feet to see which way I was facing! One day my mother ran me down near the cowshed where Bhagavan was sitting and talking to Lakshmi the cow. She semi-jokingly complained to Bhagavan about my recalcitrant attitude and so I ran away again.
Later, in the dining hall Bhagavan looked at me and made a comic face as he put both hands up to show a huge mop of hair. It was funny and I laughed with everyone else. It seemed as though making a serious fuss about one’s hair was not really worthwhile, there were more important things to deal with in life.
I didn’t comb my hair however.
When I came home from school for the holidays that year, the issue of my hair had evaporated, but the picture of Bhagavan teasing me in the dining hall remained. I always knew that nothing Bhagavan did was without significance and it was brought home to me that in his gesture there was a message.
Bhagavan is watching over us, and he may make suggestions, however obliquely, even possibly as a comedy, but he is doing it for a purpose and perhaps as one gets older his subtle guidance becomes increasingly important. It probably does not hurt as much to learn one’s lessons when they are relatively trivial, one is young and they are only as painful as dragging a comb through tangled hair, whereas making a drama over something essentially unimportant can be destructive…even self-destructive. Also it is often only a disguise for the glorification of the ego.
There is a definite feeling that Bhagavan’s infinite compassion spills over onto us all our lives and he can admonish us out of pure love. Sometimes the lessons are painful, but only he knows how much more excruciatingly agonising our lives could be if we proceeded without the benefit of his help, or if we ignored it out of ignorance or hubris.
It is hard to accept that pain and grief and sickness are possibly a great kindness when viewed overall. My brother, who played at Bhagavan’s feet as a baby, who spoke to him daily as a child, and who loved him as a figure of wonder, suffered for many years from Organic Brain Syndrome. Towards the end of his life he could neither walk nor talk nor understand, and yet when he died there was an amazing feeling of peace and fulfilment. He had completed his tasks and endured all the vicissitudes that had accrued to him, and he had done it in a compacted record time. It was hard for him to live through, but in his compassionate way Bhagavan arranged things so that Adam hardly knew what was going on. Now it is over. I believe that he never needs to come back to attend to unfinished business.
When Adam’s condition started to deteriorate badly we found it very hard to move him from place to place. He was a big man,6’3" tall and well built. I sat in the hall one day, in front of Bhagavan’s picture and explained this to him. I told him that we really needed some help please. A young lad came to ask for work. He said he would like to help to look after my brother. Suresh is 5’1". His hobby is weight lifting and he could lift the big, heavy man as though he were a baby!
This happened only a few years ago but it really doesn’t matter whether one speaks to Bhagavan today or many years ago when he had a body we could see and relate to. No ego means no fizz and flash. No handle to attach to an event so that it can shine out and glitter. Bhagavan was/is, more than a great guru. He is a jnani and he hears us all the time whether we want him to or whether we do not. He himself said that if we take one step towards our goal then the guru will take the other nine. Learning to put our whole faith and trust in him is a possible step. Believing that he does not abandon us, but stays with us to teach us what we need to learn, albeit sometimes in a painful way, is hard but rewarding. At this point trust is difficult but necessary in order to understand what it is that we need to be taught. Everyone has their own inner dialogue with Bhagavan and their own personal route map of where they are going. Coming to him at all in the first place is our first step.

- BY KATYA OSBORNE, in Mountain Path

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"Travel only with thy equals or thy betters, if there are none travel alone."

~ The Buddha