Issue 36 - October 2014

[Guru Fatha Singh Khalsa]

Return

With their return to America scheduled in a scant three weeks, the tour group of yogis and Sikhs made the most of their remaining days in India. Because of the danger of another attack by the thugs of Yogiji's former teacher, security had become a daily consideration. Still, there were Gurdwaras to visit, places to go, people who wanted to see them. Wherever they went, they travelled with their police escort. 

Remarkably, on every occasion, Yogi Bhajan spoke as “we Americans”. He told the people of India, “America is not a country of sex and sensuality. America will create those great potent people who will not only be teaching God realization, but they will achieve God realization.” Not everyone he spoke to liked to hear this, but Yogi Bhajan was not one to care.

The Americans were the focus of a good deal of attention. One gentleman even offered to Yogi Bhajan that he should like to marry one of his healthy, happy, holy entourage. Yogiji approached Devorah and, with her agreement, a Sikh wedding ceremony was quickly arranged.

Sadly, the marriage only lasted a couple of days. It was long enough for those who wished Yogiji harm to foist the question of the legality of the marriage. The union of an American and an Indian citizen, was quite a rarity in those days. Yogi Bhajan's arrest and detention emerged as a real possibility.

The seed of other difficulties also took root when Ralph, a student of Yogi Bhajan's arrived in India late for the tour. Ralph innocently made his way to Gobind Sadan in Delhi, where he was adopted and stayed with the Baba there as his prize American disciple. After a few years at Gobind Sadan, Ralph Singh would become an outspoken representative, fluent in Punjabi and English, of the Delhi Baba.

For all the accolades Yogi Bhajan and his students received, this tour was never easy. Challenges and risks abounded. When it came time to go back to America, Yogiji gathered his students together and cautioned them of the difficulties still ahead, “Look folks, we have come to visit the house of Guru. We shall go back. Chant 'Guru Guru Wahe Guru Guru Ram Das Guru'”. We'll be protected somehow.”

Someone asked, “How, Yogiji?”

“I don't know. All I know is we are innocent. Something will happen that nothing will happen to us. We'll get out of this whole cloud. I know the time is hard. I know we are in a problem. I know we are encircled by police for our life protection. I know we cannot go on the town. I understand all that, but dear ones, keep on chanting. Everything will vanish.”

Then Yogi Bhajan prayed, “Lord, I do not know. I came to they house. I brought these people to thy house. They don't know who you are. They have never seen you. They have come on sheer faith. It is a divine faith. And if you will not maintain the divine faith, tomorrow nobody will come to the House of Guru Ram Das. Period. You should hear it very clearly too. I don't care if you have a house of gold and marble. I don't care. I know you have. I have love for you. But these people are new. They are here. They have enjoyed. It was a height of bliss and pleasantness when we were with you. Now the clouds have come. In your house we have been honoured. In five hundred years of Indian history, they have never respected any foreigners with that respect they have given us. God bless you. Thank you for taking care of the children.”

Just then, on a perfectly cloudless day, the sun the revealed itself as a double corona. Yogiji spoke to Sardarni Premka Kaur, “These children have come to the house of their Guru. This is an unusual sign. Someday the kids will write a history. Why don't you put your camera and snap it?” And she did.

On the day they were to leave, Yogi Bhajan called together the group of those who were returning, although a few were planning on staying behind for a time. He said, “Look, if we are honest and if our God and Guru are with us, on the twentieth of March I'll be speaking in San Francisco at that conference where I have been invited by the AMA and all that stuff. But if we are not righteous and if I have earned any bad karma, I'll be left. Then it is up to you sons to like me or dislike me. But if you can leave, as many as you can should try to leave.”

On the road to the Delhi airport to catch their scheduled flight out of India, Yogiji was stopped by Tarlochan Singh, longtime friend. After some conversation in Punjabi, Yogi Bhajan turned around from the front seat and said to Krishna Kaur and Sardarni Premka Kaur, seated in back, “I am going to have to stay here because they are planning to arrest me when I get to the airport. You have a choice: to go ahead and go ahead with the group or stay. It is totally up to you.”

Although their visas were due to expire on that day, there was no question in Krishna Kaur's mind. “If you stay, I stay. When I left LA, you said I was going to be your attendant and that would be my privilege and responsibility forever, and so until I get back to LA, I'm here.”

Sardarni Premka Kaur concurred, “I'm staying also.”

The threesome followed Tarlochan Singh to his house. There followed hours of intense telephone conversations and activity as efforts were made to clear a way for their departure. Finally, by the end of the day, things were settled and Yogiji and his two stalwarts flew off to Bombay (Mumbai) to join the rest of the entourage for the journey home.

Krishna Kaur, for her part, chanted to Guru Ram Das at the airport and all the way to England on the plane. When they stopped over in a hotel in London, she was still chanting lest anything go wrong. But Sardarni Premka Kaur was beyond keeping up. She was exhausted and needed to be hospitalized. Premka would remain in England for a couple of weeks. Yogi Bhajan too showed some of the strain of the journey, the betrayal of his former teacher, the separation from his family, and all the other tribulations. Gray hairs had begun to show themselves in Yogiji's beard.

During their day-long stay in London, Yogi Bhajan gave a yoga class at the ashram his students, Vic and Debbie Briggs, had begun at 34A Saint Stephen's Gardens. Vic had played bass guitar in a group called The Animals and Debbie was a former actress. The Indians affectionately called him “Vikram”.

Yogiji also went out to meet with some people he knew there from his days in India. Seated among them, there was an Englishwoman who fancied herself a Sikh and was encouraged in her delusion by the immigrant community. In typical style, Yogi Bhajan poked gaping holes in the notion that one could be a Sikh without living the lifestyle. Another delusion dropped by the wayside!

In the course of his discussion with the Sikhs living in England, the subject of Yogiji's former teacher, the Delhi Baba, came up. After some intense conversation, Yogi Bhajan switched to English, “When I left India, he was an angel. When I came back to India, he was a demon!”

The class, the feasts, the keertan, the meetings over, Yogi Bhajan and his students boarded their plane for New York and the final leg back from India.

Eight hours later, the airplane carrying them descended from the clouds, hurtled along the runway and came to a halt outside the big terminal building of John F. Kennedy Airport in New York. Outside, two big police cars with sniffer dogs awaited everyone.

When Yogi Bhajan looked outside and saw them, he protested to God, “No, this is not divine! We are not carrying any marijuana and we can't go through this process. We are not going to remove our pants and get sniffed! No, No! O God, you saved us from bullets. O Guru, you saved us from that tragedy. Now we are back and what are you going to do with us here? God, no! You can't betray these people. They came on a yatra. They came to visit the holy places. They can be shot, they can be fired at, and they can be sniffed by the dogs. No problem. But at this time, we are not being exposed. You are being exposed. Protect thyself!”

Yogiji went into an altered state of consciousness. All he could say and think was “No, no, no...”

Having an Indian passport, Harbhajan Singh was separated from the rest of the group. Yogiji gave his passport to the customs officer. The officer said something and all Yogiji could say in reply was “No, no, no.”

“Where is your baggage?|

“No, no, no.”

“Take it away.” Then the officer wanted to go through Krishna Kaur's baggage.

Yogiji continued, as though in an ecstacy, “No, no, no.”

“Alright. This is no offense.”

In a few minutes, everyone was clear. No one was detained or searched. It was a minor miracle.

At this stage, everyone from the east coast of the United States separated and Yogi Bhajan continued on to California with the remainder of his students. Another long flight above the clouds, and they were there.

Baba Singh brought some coconut water to the airport for his Master. Yogiji was still in a trance.  “Is this San Francisco? No, how can it be? Where are we?”

“Sir, it is Los Angeles.”

“No, how can it be Los Angeles?”

“The aircraft was so scheduled that it came into Los Angeles, and then you are going to San Francisco in one hour, forty-five minutes. We received a phone call and so we came here.”

Finally, it felt as though a pall were lifting. The travellers had been protected in so many ways and now they were safe and home again to continue their adventure in the spirit of Sat Nam in America.

***************************************************************