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Gurujī is good. He is good because then you can tell many stories about Gurujī. I was fortunate to spend a year with Gurujī in his cellar. I will confess, at the time, I sometimes did not think I was lucky. Sometimes I wondered, "Why me?" But those things become so golden when you look back on them. Even now, when I reflect on them, I begin to appreciate what he was giving at that time. I will begin with a story from when I first met Gurujī. Of course, I had met him before, but this was the first day I was in his cellar. It was in Nepal. Gaṇeśa Kājī was in seva before me and was still there. It was to be a sort of transfer of duty; he would explain what I should do, and I would also learn from the people in Nepal. Gurujī was there, but because so many people were present who could serve him, I received a different training to start with. I think many of you, having been in a program this far, already know this program: it is just sitting. Sitting and sitting and sitting. So when you are with Gurujī all the time, normally you have to get up and get him something, or bring water for people when they come, or go and cook, or bring a book from here and there. In those times, you get some relief from sitting. Because Gaṇeśvarjī and others were there, they were doing all those things. I was really just sitting next to Gurujī, doing nothing. Nowhere to move, no chance to go and do anything. This went on from early morning, perhaps 5:00 or 5:30, and it was already 5 o'clock in the afternoon. My knees were finished. I could not find any place to sit or any way to sit that would not hurt. The greatest relief came only when Gurujī would get up to go to the toilet. Then I could stand up. Gurujī got up and went to the bathroom, and I was enjoying it so much—straightening my knees and stretching. When Gurujī came out of the bathroom, he walked over to me with a big smile on his face. He just slapped me on the shoulder and said, "Beto," which means, "Sit down." That was how it started: learning to see. Step one, first class. Just now, you were singing a bhajan that Swāmījī wrote about Gurujī. Last night, Gajānandī and I were talking about the fact that he would translate it today, so I think now is a good time to translate that bhajan. Although there are, surprisingly, many bhajans written about Gurujī, I know hardly any that have been written down or published in a book. After Gurujī's Mahāsamādhi, there was a time when some bhajan singers were coming from the Nepal area. They were coming up with one bhajan after another about Gurujī that they had written. Perhaps one day we must collect them and give them to Siddhārtha Śrīdīkṣā in the morning. That they are not published is a sign of Gurujī's humility. That is also the reason why we see that these Bhaktas' works were never published. It was also very difficult to sing this bhajan. When Gurujī was present, he would say, "Oh, sing about Mahāprabhujī." When Swāmījī was present, he would say, "Sing from someone else, not from me." So basically, only on Holy Gurujī's birthday could we not refuse to sing it. I was thinking, how old might this bhajan be? I remember it is right from the beginning in our bhajan books, so it must be at least 25 years old. I have been Swāmījī's disciple since 1987, and by then Swāmījī had already stopped playing the harmonium and singing himself—very rarely. So I guess it must have been from Swāmījī's beginning time, when he was himself active, playing the harmonium and singing as a bhajan singer. I believe it was from the beginning because Swāmījī was very active then, and he himself played the harmonium for the Dhyāna. Swāmījī addresses Holy Gurujī here as Prabhu, as we always sing for Mahāprabhujī. Prabhu simply means the Lord, God. So it is a very deep feeling toward his guru, addressing his guru in front of him as his God. Ānanda Deja, please grant me the bliss. God is the bliss; please make this bliss in me. We all are your servants, Seva Hindu, please accept our Seva. That is not something automatically granted; we pray for this every day in our evening prayer. In the evening prayer, in the first part, we always say, "Please accept me, please give me the chance to serve." That is what we sing every day. I am surrendering to you everything: my body, my mind, whatever I have. And I want only one thing, I request only one thing, that I get the chance to serve you. That is all we can do for the Guru. And even that is a grace, because in the end, the Guru is serving us. Anantarakasura, what am I? The past has done so many mistakes, created so many karmas. You are the merciful one for those who are poor. Please, bestow your mercy on me. Samundar means the ocean. You are the ocean, and we are the waves. I remember once in India, during a satsaṅg with Swāmījī and Holy Gurujī, a disciple asked Holy Gurujī a quite intelligent question: "Why has God separated us? First, He creates the separation, and now it is our struggle to try to reunite with God." Yoga, as Swāmījī always says, is reunion. Holy Gurujī just smiled and said, "Nothing is ever separated." Then he gave this example: "Is the wave ever separated from the ocean?" We are already one. Only we do not realize that. For that, we need the mercy of the Guru to realize this. You are the ocean, and we are the waves of the ocean. Now, Swāmījī plays in a beautiful way with his poetry, with this word "ocean." The next line, Sāgara, also means the ocean. But now he speaks about the Kṛpā Sāgara, the ocean of mercy. "Please, let us be part of this ocean of mercy. You are the ocean of mercy; let me dive into it." You are the sun, and we are the rays. I think it is a beautiful picture when you think about it. The origin of the light is the sun. But it does not keep it; it sends it out in every direction to everyone. And we are the rays; we are actually the messengers of this light. How beautiful, thinking that the Guru actually sends us into the world to spread the message, to spread the light. Again, he plays around with the light, the sun. The next line, "Andhera" means darkness. He speaks about the darkness of ignorance, the darkness of confusion, of doubts. "O Lord, please, with your divine light, remove all darkness, all doubts. What I understand in me and in others." Now the next verse is a little different from this whole Dhyāna. It does not address his master, Mādhavānandjī, but Mahāprabhujī. I was thinking, why does Swāmījī put this verse here? It says: "Śrīpucce bhagavān dina nārāyaṇa," so addressing Mahāprabhujī. And saying, "Bhakta uddhāra avatāra," for rījo. Avatāra, you know this? Divine incarnation. Avatāra, phir rījo means, "Please incarnate again as an avatar in this world." Bhakta uddhāra for the upliftment, for the liberation of your devotees. So I was thinking, why does Swāmījī, in his prayer clearly dedicated to Gurujī, suddenly address Mahāprabhujī? I think the answer is found in Līlā Amṛta. When we think about Swāmījī's birth and who actually requested it, it was Holy Gurujī requesting Mahāprabhujī: "Please, send again a great saint into this world to bring the light to everyone." And Mahāprabhujī's answer was, "Yes, I will. One of the seven saints from Satyaloka will incarnate in this world." He clearly mentions that he will be known later as Swāmī Maheśvarānanda. Also, Mahāprabhujī refers to Śrī Devapurījī, that this blessing had already been given there to that English officer on the Naki Lake. I think Swāmījī is very much aware that Holy Gurujī, you could say, provoked Swāmījī's incarnation. And now it is Swāmījī's turn to think about the future, how the teaching will continue. That is why he, as the successor, requests again, "Mahāprabhujī, please incarnate in this world." Maheśvarānanda Nijamānasepukhara—here we have the word man, which we usually understand as mind. But that depends very much on the context; man can also mean the heart. So here it very obviously has this meaning: Maheśvarānanda calls you deeply from the heart. Bhaktakīpūkhara Tathākāla Sunālīju, please immediately listen to this request of your devotee. Now we do not know exactly whom he is really addressing. Is he addressing Holy Gurujī or Mahāprabhujī? But as we know, Holy Gurujī was one with Mahāprabhujī. The older he became, I had the feeling he even physically appeared like Mahāprabhujī. In the end, it is one. That is why Holy Gurujī did not like it so much when he, as a person, was addressed; for him, Mahāprabhujī was everything. The greatest love you could show to Holy Gurujī was when you showed your love to Mahāprabhujī. And this is exactly what Swāmījī did here in this bhajan. I want to tell one story because Govinda Purī is not here. It is better when he is not here. Some of you may have heard this story, but it is a story of how Gurujī worked, and perhaps we will never understand it. We were in Jādaṇ, and I was sitting with Gurujī in the Bhakti Sāgara. Gurujī was doing his mālā. Suddenly, he opened his eyes and said, "Call Govinda Purī quickly." So I went and found him and pulled him out. Gurujī said, "Govinda Purī is hungry. Take him upstairs to my room. Give him three cakras." It is like a papad, but made out of wheat flour, so it is halfway between a chapati and a papad—very dry. "Take him up to the room and give him three cakras, and he should sit there in front of Mahāprabhujī's picture and eat them. Let him sit in my room, let him eat and watch Mahāprabhujī's picture." Okay, no problem. Of course, as we were going out, Govinda Purī was saying, "But I'm not hungry." I said, "I don't know, but if Gurujī says you're hungry, you must be hungry." So up we went, and I got the cakras that were in Gurujī's kitchen. He sat down in Gurujī's room opposite Mahāprabhujī's picture, which was huge. I left him there and went back down to Gurujī in the Bhakti Sāgara. Gurujī was doing his mālā, and after a few minutes he opened his eyes and said, "Govinda Purī is so hungry, go and give him two more cakras." Upstairs I went, brought him two more cakras, and he said, "What?" I said, "You're hungry." He said, "Hey brother, I'm not hungry." "Yes, you are." I gave him the two more cakras and went back down to Gurujī. Gurujī was there doing his mālā. After a few minutes, again he opened his eyes. "Govinda Purī is so hungry. Go upstairs and give him four more cakras." I went back upstairs and took the cakras from the kitchen. By this time, I really wish I had taken a camera to get a shot of Govinda's face when I came into the room. He was sitting there on the floor, and he just looked at me and said, "Oh, no." He said, "Sorry, you're so hungry here. Can you bring me a jug of water?" So I did. I brought him a jug of water, and he was still sitting there. I went back down to Gurujī, and it was nearly time for prayer. Gurujī opens his eyes again. "Govinda Purī is so hungry. Go upstairs and give him every single cakra which is in the kitchen. And tell him that he should sit there until he's finished them all." I went up, and there was a pile like this in the kitchen. I have to be honest, I was really starting to enjoy it. I walked with this pile of cakras. "Oh no, please," he said. I said, "Sorry, and you should sit there until you've finished eating them." I went back down to Gurujī, and then there was prayer and bhajans and satsaṅg. Perhaps an hour and a half later, we went up to Gurujī's room. Govinda Purī was still sitting there, going. Gurujī was walking in, and as he was walking in, his belly started to move. Gurujī was just saying, "Sit down and eat a lot, eat plenty, eat a lot. Gurujī, eat plenty." I think for many days after that, he was not hungry. I do not know if he ever worked out what the meaning of it was, but it was just out of nowhere and for nothing, but obviously it was something that had to be. When you are with Gurujī and he is doing things to you, how do you understand what he is doing? It is just happening. I remember one time with Gurujī going perhaps one and a half days without eating. I was so hungry, it was unbelievable. Because it is one thing when you are fasting and you know you are making this fast, and you know also when it will end. But when it is not in your hands—because I was with Gurujī and we were going around to people's houses, and if Gurujī did not eat, then I could not eat—I was spending all my time thinking, "Gurujī, please hurry up and be hungry, because I am, I am really starving." I was thinking all the time of food, and just my stomach was going... Eventually, we stopped somewhere, and Gurujī asked for food. I was so happy, and I was eating so well, and the food was really good. Of course, Gurujī was sitting there also eating. When I was finished completely, I was really full. Then he ordered from the host four chapatis and put them on my thali. Now, you know, I was already completely full. And now it was going on the other side. How am I supposed to eat these chapatis? And Gurujī is there watching, and it is prasāda, so it has to go in. I struggled to finish those chapatis. But anyhow, I managed, and then we went from that house to another house. Within half an hour, Gurujī had ordered eating for me again. I was already in such pain from the first meal and the four extra chapatis. And he ordered a full thali, and there I am sitting, and he is watching and saying, "Oh, enjoy." And I was just struggling, really struggling. Stomach pain from the other direction. One hour ago, it was stomach pain from no food, and now it is stomach pain from too much food. And of course, Gurujī is saying, "Bring him one more chapati and sabjī, sweet." But we finished there and went to another house. And it was again within half an hour, and he was ordering and eating for the third time. Not for him, but for me. I was sitting there; he was not eating anything. So he had gone from eating nothing and thinking, "When am I going to eat? I just have to eat." And within one hour, I had eaten three full meals and was just thinking, "I never want to eat again." And I was thinking, "Gurujī, I am so sorry for having those thoughts about eating, but please do not go to another place now, not the fourth one..." What to do? That was Gurujī's līlā. Many of you have experiences with Gurujī and sitting with him and feeling that energy which he had. And also, that incredible feeling when you were with him, because you knew that he knew what was going on inside your brain. There was one time when I was sitting with him in a small room upstairs where he stays. He was doing his mālā very peacefully. And I had only one thought that was not very acceptable for this situation. Gurujī opened his eyes and said, "Go sit on the door." He sent me to the main gate of the ashram, just to sit there until he would call me back, which was about three hours. You know, it was not about the thought, but it was just, I would say, a way of showing, "Look, I know what is going on in there." But the beauty of that was that it was also making me aware of what was going on inside my head, because I did not want to disturb Gurujī with it. I can remember many times thinking, "Oh, sorry Gurujī, I am doing my best, but mind is mind. Gurujī, I am doing the best I can, but mind is mind." When you are aware that someone next to you knows very well what you are thinking, then you become aware of all that rubbish and all that is going on in your head. It is like those vṛttis are on high volume. And you see them, you see them completely differently. In one way, it is really hard, because you know that it must be really disturbing for him. In another way, it is so beautiful because everything is presented in front of you, and you can really work with it. Yesterday, Ānandājī was telling a story about when she was with Gurujī. And she almost exactly described what I feel Gurujī was constantly doing with me. The main therapy was ego therapy. He was always inflating my ego and then breaking it, up and down, up and down. I used to feel my ego was like a balloon, and Gurujī would fill it with air so that it would start to float, and then... when it would start to float too high, he would just take a pin and put a hole in the balloon, and it would again come down, crashing back to the ground. This game went on and on. The first time, he would start just saying, "Oh, that was so good what you cooked," you know? And you go, "Oh, I just cooked something really good for Gurujī," you know that? And then, as soon as you start to get an inflated ego about that, the pin would come out, and he would say something else, and boom, back down. A chance, a gun, a punch, a gore, let you know who is a igloo to proboosh, yo, it a go, a power dollar. And the next day, he would say again, you know, that was... so good, what you cooked? Anything? No, good. You cannot get me with that one again. Druga done me a recall. Druga done me a recall. Oh boy, Yako, Yako, Fina Schloss is cool. How ya see me? See the nail? A putman, a chestnut. Would I know that trick? You are not going to put the air in my balloon with it. And then, for example, someone else would come, and he would say to them, "He is such a good cook." The air was back in the balloon, the balloon was going up, the pin was out and chung. And the next day, it would again be, "Oh, such good eating," and, "You cannot get me with that one." So I wanted to come and, you know, he is such a good cook. Ha, Gurujī, you cannot get me with that. Come on. I am intelligent now. But sure enough, within five minutes again, the balloon was full of air from something else, and it was going up into the air, and the pin was out. And this game would just get longer and longer and longer. No, you cannot get me with that one. No, I know that one, Gurujī, I know that one. And then he would get me from the other side. Because I would feel like he had given up, and I would think, "Now I know all the tricks." Of course, that was like air going into the balloon. I thought, now I know all the tricks, and he gave up, but of course it was my ego again. And it went on and on for a year, that balloon went up and he hit it with a needle. He had a deep bag of tricks and knew how to do it. We feel like we were in seva, or I felt like I was doing something for Gurujī. But in reality, that whole time, he was just constantly doing therapy on that ego. And so, patiently going through this process again and again and again, just to grind it. When we are doing seva for Swāmījī or for Gurujī, I think that when you look at it realistically, we can never do as much as what we get back. We are just kidding ourselves if we think that we are the ones who are doing something special then. Yes, it is special, but compared to that, what is coming back is just... Back to that same story again, the one with Draupadī and that small piece of cloth which she gave. That small seva, and so much came back from Kṛṣṇa. We had that opportunity with Gurujī to do that seva, and also we have it with Swāmījī. And perhaps, unfortunately for us—and I can say for myself when I was with Gurujī—I had no idea of what he was doing. It took me years and years after finishing that to even appreciate the slightest bit about what he had done. And perhaps one day, before I leave this body, I will really understand what he did. It does not really matter, because he knew what he was doing. From my side, I felt my job was just to remain there, just to survive. As Āśā Rāmjī was saying, just to hang on to the feet and just keep going. And really, that was about all you could do sometimes. There was one story that Govinda Purī was reminding me of the other day. He reminded me of it. I must confess, I had not thought about it for years. Because in reality, it was probably a day that was so hard that I think I repressed it from my memory until now. There was a time Gurujī was in the hospital in Jaipur, and he was very sick. The doctor had said that he is not allowed to have any water. Absolutely, strictly nothing he can drink. Only we are allowed to put cotton wool on his lips to keep them moist. I talked to Swāmījī about it, and Swāmījī said, of course, if the doctor says it, then it has to be strictly done. But Gurujī was not impressed, and we spent—it could have been hours—where the conversation went, "Give me water." "No, Gurujī." "Give me water." "No, Gurujī." "Give me water." "No, Gurujī." The conversation was almost an hour long. "Give me water; do not push me." "Give me water, do not push me. Give me water." Again and again and again. And between that, it was just, "Why are you trying to kill me? Why do not you give me water?" One day, now he has not given me water. Gurujī thought I was torturing him, but it was such a torture for me not to be able to give him that water. The doctor was not compromising. He said there is no chance; it will be very serious if he drinks water. And of course, Gurujī is saying, "Call Swāmījī and ask him," and Swāmījī is telling me, "No, no chance." Swāmījī was in Jhādaṇ at the time, but the next morning he came to Jaipur. This had been going on already for about 36 hours, this constant tension, and Gurujī was not sleeping. All night telling, "Give me water, give me water." Then Swāmījī came for lunch. You can imagine what the first thing Swāmījī did. He gave Gurujī a glass of water. Swāmījī can do that. That is a different thing altogether. And of course, as soon as Gurujī finished drinking the water, then he started on me. You see, for weeks afterwards I was hearing again and again, "This boy, he was just torturing me, he would not even give me water." Can you imagine? And Swāmījī comes and immediately gives me a glass of water, and there was no problem. My God, what a līlā! You know, in those situations, you really have to be clear about what you are here for, what you are doing. My job was to serve Gurujī, but I felt it was my job to serve Gurujī's health, to maintain that body. And of course, if Swāmījī is also saying the same thing, then what do you do? You have to go through with it. But at the same time, that līlā which Swāmījī can play—because, you know, he can make things happen with that water—if I had given Gurujī a glass of water, I am sure the story would have been completely different. Swāmījī at the same time plays the same līlā. He probably came and gave him water. Probably, if I had done that, this whole story would have been completely different. It is like you are in a relationship with Swāmījī, and sometimes something seems so logical to you, but then you cannot understand it. Give up thinking because there is nothing that you can think that can help you to solve that situation, and then you just end up automatically. You have to act from your heart and just from what you think, what you feel is right. It is the same when Gurujī is working, and Swāmījī also is making you so tired, sometimes cutting your sleep completely, because you get tired to a point where you cannot protect yourself with your mind and keep your stereotypes there of what you think you are. You end up somehow open so that they can work, and then you are just doing things. It is just somehow flowing because that restriction is not there anymore. I developed a special āsana with Gurujī because you do not get much sleep. Gurujī did not sleep at night, but he did sleep in the daytime. But while he was not sleeping at night, you should not sleep. But if I would sleep in the daytime—"You think you are a yogī, how can you be sleeping in the daytime? Yogīs do not sleep in the daytime." So I developed this type of way of sitting. Mālā was here. If you sit about this far away from a wall and you lean back on it, when you fall asleep you do not go over sideways. So I would sit there against the wall and Gurujī would be sleeping. Of course, as soon as Gurujī would wake up he would say, "What are you doing?" I did not count it as lying, because if I am living in the present moment, when he asked the question, I am actually doing my Mahāprabhujī. It was the only way I knew how to get by. But there was one beautiful thing, you know, I had this awareness at the time. There was such a connection with Gurujī and an awareness of just what was happening with him. Even if I was sleeping, if the sheets would start to move where he was sleeping, I would hear it. I would always be awake before he would move to sit up. I guess, you know, I see that awareness sometimes with mothers with really young kids. When that baby starts to cry, even if it is in a really loud room, or if they are talking with people and the baby is in the other room and it starts to cry, that it is woken up, and immediately they hear it, whereas others do not hear it. The same way, sometimes if your mobile phone rings really softly, you hear it first before anybody else hears it. And that connection was there with Gurujī, that I would hear even if I was sleeping, and I would really already be awake before he was coming to sit up. And he never really complained about me sleeping against that wall. But I always felt if that awareness was not there, if I lost that connection, I do not know, I would still be sleeping on the wall when he sat up. That he would probably be over there, awakening the sleeping swan again. That kind of awareness we need to have with our own sādhanā, with our own mantra. You know, when Gurujī is there, it is easier to maintain that type of awareness. But we have to have that with ourselves, and with our awareness of our own spirituality and what is going on inside. That even when we are doing other things and moving in the world and doing our daily routine, that part of our mind is always there with our mantra. There with Swāmījī, or there with that inner peace which we have. It may not be that our full awareness is on that, but a small part will always be there that can hear if something needs to be heard. And it should just constantly ring in the background. You know, we have from Gurujī so much of a legacy in the bhajans, in his example of how he lived. I think everybody has that image in their mind or can recall that image of Gurujī sitting and doing his mālā. And of the peace which was there when you used to sit near him or sit in the satsaṅg with him. And the peace that he had when he was with Saṅga, when he was with him. That joy that he had while he was listening or singing bhajans. That is an example. We should keep that in us, remember. Because that is one of the things that nourishes us and shows us the way. When Gurujī was in Delhi in the hospital, he was in intensive care, and he was actually in some sort of a coma. I was with him in the room. His mālā was on the table. But imagine, in that unconscious state, his fingers were still going like that. They were still moving his mālā. And the nurse was just sort of looking and going. Completely, there was nothing there; he was not conscious of anything at all, but this was still moving. Okay, we will not come to that level, but the example is there. That is the job I do. And I suppose so humble a city, Nārāyaṇa Bhagavān, a key chance to see their puruṣa, Mahādeva key, Dharmasamrāṭ Paramahaṁsa Svāmī Mādhavānanda Purījī Mahārāj, the key to Viśvaguru Mahāmaṇḍaleśvara Paramahaṁsa Svāmī Maheśvarānanda Purījī Satguru Deva key.