TV Channel

Holy Gurujī says the highest state of consciousness is Paramapada. This I received as a prasāda from my Gurudeva. But today we have more of the physical prasāda here. Gurujī says that the highest state of consciousness, Paramātmā, I got as a prasāda from my Guru. But now we have a little more physical prasāda. Paramapada Payaare Sathagurthi Parasad, Sathagurudatta Kirpa Kini Sunayasu. Apanam Satguru dasa kirtanadha sunnake hansa jatah, Nadha sunnake hansa jatah. Manvaahua sattvasat parampat Payaare Satguru ke parasat, Parampat Payaare Satguru ke parasat. Satyāgraha ke para saath me amit kya vād vivād param padh pāyare, satyāgraha ke para saath param padh pāyare, satyāgraha ke para saath. God bless you. Now, according to the old tradition from Swāmījī, the children receive a special prasāda. Please, all children, come to me now. The smaller ones may come with their parents. According to Svāmījī’s tradition, children get a special candy, a chocolate candy. For you? How many more children? Up to maybe 15? Not 15 years, 15 years old. Then I would have to say up to 62, no? Good, then enjoy your prasāda. You know that Swāmījī, in the Skype interview yesterday, mentioned—and Gajanan will translate—this one bhajan. Of course, this is Guru Līlā. I know quite a lot of bhajans, but not exactly that one, of course not. But it is Guru Vākya, so I have been working for about five hours to learn the bhajan and to translate it. That will be the lecture tomorrow morning then. How is it in the groups? How is your sādhanā going? Are you satisfied? Would you teach us and with yourself? Is there any problem we have to solve? I think our karma yoga today was also quite successful and joyful. If the weather allows, we will continue on Friday morning. And on Friday morning, Sārdvīp Parvatī will continue her lecture about the Vedas. Where is the MUC team who wanted to speak about the Vedic wedding? Are you ready for that? Not today? Tomorrow, okay, good. Who else wanted to... Prem Prakash, who wanted to speak about Ahiṃsā. Prem Prakash, who wants to speak about Ahiṃsā. Or maybe I’ve confused the name? Who spoke with me just now? Is your name right? Prem Prakash, yes. So she wanted to share some experience with us. She will come just as a translator. I’m not sure I can translate into English. Prem Prakash's Story: When my children were little, I had a very interesting experience. We lived in the children’s houses; those who were there, I’m sure they still remember this. Some years ago, as my children were little and we were staying in a cottage, there were rats in the pipelines. I was shocked because I read in a novel that they can be very dangerous. In the sewer, there were rats, and I was afraid of them because I read somewhere that they were very dangerous. I read that they would tear things apart. I was very scared when I realized there were rats there. I told the lady with whom I shared the room that I would go to the reception and tell her that there were rats there, that rats may eat up little babies. So I told one of my friends that maybe we should inform the office. She told me that maybe this wasn’t a good idea because they may come and may kill them. But I, as a mother, was very afraid for my child, so I decided to go to the office. As I was walking on the road, Swāmījī came with a group of people who had just started walking, and they completely crossed my path. Swāmījī didn’t say anything, but as he was looking at me, it was as if he gave me a very strong, effective blink. Then I understood that this was really a reference to the fact that I shouldn’t go to the office and inform them, because they really may kill them. I turned back and was going to my house. Due to some noises, in that very moment, a big mother rat was coming back into the pipeline. One could even hear that the little rats were very happy about their mother, that she could come back. Then I remembered one of Swāmījī’s teachings, that even among animals, there is a kind of love between mother and child. This was a very strong experience for me, as I saw this teaching in practice. It was so shocking that after that, a kind of shock broke out on me; it was very strong. After this strong and impressive experience, where I could see this teaching in real life in a practical way, I started crying out of shock. For me, this was a very interesting and impressive experience, that after practicing yoga for years and having been vegetarian, I could see Swāmījī’s teaching in such a practical way. It was a very deep feeling to have such an experience. Thank you so much. Gajanan's Response: Thank you. Which bhajan do we have about that? We have a bhajan about ahiṃsā, so we will sing it. Ahiṃsā dharma is not our dharma; it is the Dipatayalu Bhataya. Mahāprabhujī said there is no higher teaching than ahiṃsā. Shrī Narendra Govannakīrti. A Hungarian Disciple's Story: I am from Budapest. It’s funny because it looks like tonight will be a Hungarian evening. The story is also somehow similar. It looks like Hungarians don’t like animals, because her story was about a rat; my story will be about bugs. Some years ago, Swāmījī sent me to Jadan for some months to do Karma Yoga. I stayed there from August till December. August and September is the monsoon time. I have been a disciple for eight years, but I have many weaknesses. One of these is that I don’t like bugs. I shame myself, but I find them disgusting. I was grown up in Budapest and was absolutely not close to nature. I arrived in August, monsoon time, with a lot of bugs everywhere. I did not know how to cope with them. Somehow they put me in a room where there were, every day, some geckos, some bugs, some ants, but slowly I got used to them. After one month, they moved me into another room which had been empty for months. It was not funny for me because the floor was really black. There were so many ants, and there were some small black bugs in the room. All over they were, but in my room there were hundreds. In the morning, I would get up and sweep them out. Once I tried to count them; I reached 400 and then gave up. I was always complaining about this; everybody was laughing at me. It was really hard for me because I was afraid to enter the room. Usually they came during the night. In the morning when I woke up, there were a lot; I would sweep them out, and during the day it was somehow okay. But one night after satsaṅg, when I went home, I don’t know how many there were because I didn’t count, but my room was full, really full of these bugs. I tried to sweep them out, but suddenly when I swept them, they flew back. I did not know they could fly. Nobody told me that... they looked like small dots. When I saw they could fly, I swept here, and then I took the sweeper like a tennis racket and tried to... but I couldn’t. After some minutes, I spoke to them all the bad words I know in the Hungarian language. Well, of course, it didn’t work. They got more angry and came back more and more. Somehow I had a feeling—you can say I’m crazy, maybe I am, but not so crazy—that I heard or felt that they communicate somehow to each other and that they are angry with me. It became a real battle. Suddenly I saw the situation. I was crying, shouting, and all of a sudden I saw myself from outside and found it very funny, so I started laughing. I still kept trying to pull them out, but I couldn’t. At once I felt that it’s a real fight, a battle; they want to come in, and I stepped backwards and closed the door. Then I sat on my bed and started crying for about an hour. For me it was a hard situation. It was a Gurubhakti; Swāmījī sent me to Jadan, but I felt I could not cope with this. I did not know what to do—give up and go home, or what? I sat down on the bed and cried because I felt I should do this Gurubhakti until the end, but I simply can’t handle it. I was crying and crying, I don’t know how long, and at once it came to my mind what Swāmījī teaches about loving all creatures. Then I started thinking: do they hurt me? They don’t do anything. They’re just there in the morning and maybe during the day, but they don’t do anything to me. I realized that I have no choice. To go home is not a choice for me; I won’t be happy if I give this up. Then I thought, maybe they have a right. They were living here, staying in this room, so they think it’s their room. I came here and swept them out, so it’s normal they are angry with me. Because I had no other choice, I started praying to Swāmījī. I said I don’t know how to cope with this, so I hand it over and please help me to accept this situation. You can imagine, I was very tired after a battle like this, and I just went to sleep. In the morning, I forgot everything. I always got up very sad there in Jadan and would start to look with one eye first and then with the second, to see how many visitors I had. For the first look, I didn’t realize. I didn’t realize that I didn’t see anybody. Then I opened both eyes and looked—this side, that side, left side, right side—there was absolutely not even one bug in my room. I woke up, looked everywhere, and I can say that really not a single bug was there. For me, it was a miracle. But since I was still there for two or three months, and of course in all of Jadan there are bugs, but in a normal way—two, three, ten, I don’t know, but not these hundreds. I really experienced what it means to accept things and what it means when you hand everything over into the hands of the Gurudeva. Thank you. Good day. Gajanan's Response: Thank you. After a strong speech, let us have another strong bhajan, "Sandeshovālo Lagesa." Gajanan's Story: Let me also contribute one story. How did Swāmījī train me as a bhajan singer? Many of you, when you first come in touch with Indian culture and music, you love it. From that day on, you hear only such music. But that was not my case, because I am deeply rooted in Western classical music. I could respect it, but I didn’t really like it so much. But Swāmījī has his ways. He sent Bhajanandjī—at that time Swāmī Bhajanand—to me in Hamburg. For two years, I was his host. He was busy with bhajans all the time. After some time, I also started a little bit. But this is real, original Indian singing; I still had a lot of problems. Then I became a Swami, and Swāmījī sent me to India. I tried my best, and Swāmījī was very happy. Swāmījī encouraged me and always was praising me: "Yes, very good, go on," and so on. In my way, I was singing the bhajans for some time. And then the training began. From one day to the other, suddenly everything was wrong. Swāmījī was always shouting at me. I couldn’t sing properly. I couldn’t pronounce the Hindi properly. I couldn’t play the harmonium properly. I should learn from the Indians, but still I didn’t like it so much. We sometimes had whole-night satsaṅg; the Indians started singing, and I was inside. After two or three bhajans, I had enough and went out. But in that moment, Swāmījī came and somehow turned me around, and again Swāmījī brought me to that point. Swāmījī got me to the point where I completely stopped singing bhajans and stopped playing the harmonium. It was summer time, so Swāmījī was not there. We had learned a little bit of Hindi, so we were allowed at that time only to write to Swāmījī in Hindi. So, in my seven words of Hindi which I knew, I told him in a letter that I don’t sing bhajan anymore. No response from Swāmījī. About two months later, he came, and I didn’t sing. But then after some days, Swāmījī said, "So Gajānanda, now you sing." Well, I was a Swami; I thought I cannot just go directly against Guru Vākya. Unwillingly, I sang a bhajan, but without harmonium. Next day, Swāmījī said, "Gajānanda, sing, but play on the harmonium as well." Unwillingly, I did. I think it was maybe one or two years later, when I had now unwillingly started a little bit of singing again. I started singing the bhajan which Holī Gurujī loved so much. But I didn’t get so far, because before I was so far, Swāmījī interfered and shouted, "Wrong melody!" All wrong! I thought, "What’s going on? I sang the bhajan so often, and I knew the melody so well." But then something astonishing happened: Swāmījī sang. And he sang like this, and this is how he started to sing. I thought, "What’s that?" It’s the same melody. I said, "But what is it? The melody is the same." He said, "Now sing again." So now I was in real trouble because where was the difference? I didn’t know any difference. But Guru Vākya is Guru Vākya, so I tried. Even though I didn’t figure out really the difference, I somehow tried to imitate Swāmījī, how he sang. So I sang like this. And now came the really astonishing thing: suddenly, he was satisfied. I was stunned. I don’t know what’s going on. After the satsaṅg, I sat together with myself and said, "Gajānanda, what was now the point?" I tried to figure out what’s the difference between my singing and Swāmījī’s singing, which I tried to imitate. I had always tried to make the bhajans nice, to sing them in a beautiful way. The only difference I could realize is that Swāmījī sang it quite, I would say, neutral, plain. Then I realized exactly that was the point. Swāmījī just sang the bhajan as it is, but I tried to put something in the bhajan. I tried to express something through the bhajan. So what is that? Naturally, my feelings, my emotions. Somehow I realized, yes, I use the bhajans to express something from me. But that exactly is what we should not do. Then I realized, what was the point of this whole training? When Swāmījī said, "Wrong melody," it was not about music. Swāmījī is not a music teacher; he is a spiritual teacher. And everything is just about the ego. When he said wrong melody, it would say that was the melody of the ego, of your ego, because we don’t need to put anything in the bhajans; they are already perfect. Our bhajan book is not just a song book. That is all Guru Vākya. These are experiences, these are teachings of saints. Our bhajan book truly has the quality of a holy scripture. When we put something from us in the bhajans, then somehow we misuse them. I realized it’s a huge difference when I sing a bhajan and someone comes and says, "Oh, you sang the bhajan so wonderfully," or I sing a bhajan and someone comes and says, "Oh, you sing such a wonderful bhajan." Do you get the point? That’s a subtle point, but a very, very important point. This is what I realized in that moment when I tried to understand Swāmījī’s teaching. We should just be a humble instrument to bring out the beauty which is in the bhajan. We should not try to express ourselves through the bhajan. The interesting thing is, since I realized that, Swāmījī hardly ever criticized my singing anymore. This is a tricky thing with Swāmījī, because he uses whatever he can to train us. If we cook for Swāmījī, or we sew dresses for Swāmījī, or we make interviews, or we sing for Swāmījī—Swāmījī takes every chance to train us. He will speak in the normal language, say, "You don’t know how to cook, you don’t know how to sew dresses," and so on. And we think, what is this, correct? Swāmījī uses everything to train us, to train our ego. And we have to be alert to find out that point. So the training between guru and disciple depends on both. The guru gives the training, but the disciple has to figure out what the point is, what they have to learn. So far, my story. It’s now 9:30. Should we close the satsaṅg, or maybe one bhajan for the end? Then I would like to sing one which is very dear to me, "Tumma binareyo na jai," from Mīrābāījī. "I cannot live without you, oh my beloved one, please come and give me your darśan. I can’t live without you, my love, come and give me your darśan." Now the rhythm can be a little softer. Kamalakṣaṇa bīnarājana, Jala bīna kamalakṣaṇa bīnarājana, Sthūma dikhyā bīnasajjana, Sthūma dikhyā bīnasajjana. Actually, Mīrābāījī was whispering something in my ear—I forgot to ask if someone has a birthday today. Anyone? No one? Good. Yes, then I wish you all the best. Good night.