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Part 1: A Sacred Gathering for Mahāprabhujī’s Mahāsamādhi Good evening, brothers and sisters. I believe you have had a pleasant journey from your physical homes to our spiritual home, which is here in the āśram in Strilky and, of course, in every place where Guru Dev dwells. Even though Swāmījī is not physically present here, his presence is very intense. I am sure we will have a beautiful seminar, and it is always lovely to share the fact that we can be together, practice together, meditate together, enjoy satsaṅg, and sing bhajans together. So once again, good evening, and have a beautiful seminar. I would like to welcome all of you here to Mahāprabhudīp Āśram. I am sure you had a nice journey from your physical homes to this āśram, which is your spiritual place for development. It is always very nice to be together, to share satsaṅg, āsanas, meditations, and all the programs. I would like to welcome Svāmījī Gajānanda and Sādhvī Pārvatī Jī here—though it is very hard to welcome them because they are staying here! We are simply happy to be here with them. So once again, I welcome Sādhvī Pārvatī Jī and Svāmījī Gajānanda. Śrī Dīp Nārāyaṇa Bhagavān kī jaya. But you know, somehow we are not staying here. I just returned from Poland, and Pārvatī Jī just returned from Prague. Thank you very much. Can someone now help me also? They belong to Mahāprabhujī, huh? The mic is quite strong, is it okay like this? Yeah, good evening, everybody. It is nice to be together again here in our yoga family. Coming to Mahāprabhujī’s Mahāsamādhi celebration was always something special for me. I always looked forward to the program with Swāmījī, but that ended when I went to India. In the last eighteen years, I didn’t have it anymore. Now, today Swāmījī is not with us, but still, I hope we will have a very nice celebration in the glory of Mahāprabhujī. The program is known to everyone—do you know what it is? No? Okay, maybe just an overview first. This evening we have satsaṅg, that’s clear. We will start our morning program at six o’clock. Mahāprabhujī is the guru of the gurus, so definitely we should begin with meditation on the Guru Gītā—but in this case, really as a meditation, listening very carefully, not as a chant. Because we have three language groups, we will be in three different halls at that time. Czech and Slovak friends will meet here. There is a group from Austria, so in German we will have the Guru Gītā in the Nipel Hall, just on the other side. We requested the Hungarian version—did someone bring it? The Hungarians will meet tomorrow morning at six o’clock in this dining room, but not the main room; on the left side there is a smaller, heated room. The Kattu hall would be much nicer but is not heated at present, which is a difficulty. So we will meet at six o’clock in the three halls and start with the Guru Gītā. You have one hour; if it is shorter, you can continue with a little meditation at the end—at least the German version lasts a full hour. At seven o’clock we all meet here for prayer, then āsanas and prāṇāyāma until 8:30. Breakfast is from 8:30 to 9:30. At a quarter to ten we meet again, and I will show an old video lecture of Swāmījī speaking about Mahāprabhujī, including some impressions from the Kāṭhu Āśram and Mahāprabhujī’s room there. Afterwards we continue with meditation—since the morning only had Guru Gītā meditation, we will also have proper meditation then. Lunch is from 12:30 to 1:30, then one and a half hours of free time; those with personal kriyā can practice then, no need to squeeze it into a few minutes in the morning. From three to four is yoga nidrā time, then about an hour for āsanas and prāṇāyāma. At five o’clock we hope to have a Skype interview with Swāmījī. I spoke with him this week; most of you know he is in India. I know the place is actually very good, as I was there twice. He is inviting anyone who can come in the next weeks, as he will still be staying. He seems quite busy, as always, with a list for Skype interviews, so it just depends if the technical conditions are okay at our scheduled time. After that, dinner is from six to seven, and at seven o’clock evening satsaṅg. Sunday morning has the same program until breakfast, then a goodbye satsaṅg at 9:30. Lunch at 11:30 is still included in the seminar, so whoever is still here is welcome. So the most important thing is the start: six o’clock in three different groups. Czech language in this hall, German in the Nipel Hall opposite, and Hungarian in the side hall inside the main eating area—enter as if going to the kitchen, then turn left. The player is already there; just bring your CD or tape and play it. Is the program clear? Then maybe let’s start with a bhajan. How many bhajans do we have on Mahāprabhujī? Or from Mahāprabhujī? Mahāprabhujī. We came together to celebrate Mahāprabhujī’s Mahāsamādhi. The end of his life came after 135 years. But I think we should not just think about the end of life, but about the whole life. In Christian churches, I sometimes have the feeling they see Jesus only on the cross and not what he actually did for thirty years. The greatness of Mahāprabhujī is in his whole life, and it also shows in the way he left this world. Mahāprabhujī was a saint, a guru, but there are different types of saints. One type—and this could be us, if we struggle and practice, follow the Guru Vākya, do the Guru Sevā, and one day, through the mercy of the Guru, we could achieve mokṣa. In this case, two things can happen. Mokṣa means you are no longer identified with this body. Like now we know we are not the shadow, but we are still identified with the physical body. In mokṣa, the body becomes like the shadow—it was a vehicle to bring us there, but now we are there. Like you need a boat to cross the ocean, but once you are on the other side, you forget about the boat. Many enlightened saints can actually forget about their body; they have no interest in it anymore, neglect it, and leave the world quite quickly. Or they achieve mokṣa in the process of death. In both cases, it is good for them, but not good for us. In some saints, when they get enlightened and their compassion is so great, they stay here for quite some time and become teachers, gurus. This is what we usually call Jīvan Mukta, one type of enlightened saint and guru. Not every Jīvan Mukta becomes a guru; it depends on God’s plan for that soul. Some saints appear eccentric or even crazy, and people laugh at them, but some take on the important role of teaching and become a guru. There are many gurus of this type among us, and I hope many of us will reach that state, Jīvan Mukta. But Mahāprabhujī was not a Jīvan Mukta. That is the counter statement. Mahāprabhujī was enlightened right from the beginning. He was a divine incarnation of the Paramātmā in this world. As we always say in our prayer: Nirguṇa se Saguṇa bannā āye. You came from Nirguṇa and then bannā āye—that is a very nice combination in Hindi. Āye means you came, and bannā means you became. You came and became something. We know from the incarnations of Lord Viṣṇu that he also came in other forms: as a fish, a boar, half-lion and half-man. Basically, God can come in any form. Only for us it might be difficult to communicate with him. So this is what we call an avatāra. But even among avatāras, there are different types. Tomorrow evening I will speak more about that. In Līlā Amṛt, Holī Gurujī already pointed out that Mahāprabhujī is not just an avatāra, but a really special avatāra, as becomes clear as soon as we start reading Līlā Amṛta. If we compare Mahāprabhujī’s biography with the biographies of other saints, who are also seen by millions as divine incarnations—there we see suffering, old age, death. The Buddha, for example, left his kingdom and became a seeker, went to sādhus who practiced strong tapasyā, and one day realized he was not achieving anything that way; he was misusing, even torturing his body. Then he developed the middle path and continued seeking, and after many years of searching and trying, he finally became the Buddha. But now compare this with Mahāprabhujī’s biography. It starts with him as a baby already talking, giving lectures to his parents. The parents prayed that he would become a Buddha—he might start speaking. Remember, first he sang Oṁ, and second he gave a lecture, which is actually given to us. So definitely you cannot speak about any kind of searching, tapasyā, and development. Everything was right there from the beginning, from zero to a hundred, straight away. But we know that Mahāprabhujī practiced a lot. The places where he did his tapasyā are known, and eyewitnesses are still living. Also, it is obvious that Mahāprabhujī did not need a guru, because he was enlightened from the beginning, but he took a guru, and with what devotion he served him all his life! Is there any bhajan from Mahāprabhujī where he does not mention his Guru? In a few bhajans, even the name of Śrī Alakhpurījī, the great Guru. He did all this as guidance for us. When God incarnates on earth, there is only one motivation: compassion, compassion. Seeing us suffering, to guide us. And the Guru does this in two ways: on the one hand through practical teaching, and on the other hand through his own life, his own example. In many cases, that alone is an immense inspiration for others. The physical form which God takes also has a power. It radiates that which is behind. I remember an example from Hamburg. We made an advertisement for Swāmījī’s seminar, and I fixed a bigger picture on a pole in the city. A lady passed by, saw it, showed interest, asked who it was, and where and when to come. She was interested in coming to the seminar with Swāmījī. She walked away, and after about twenty meters she turned around and asked, "Actually, what is he teaching?" She was not at all aware that Swāmījī was teaching yoga; she was just reacting to his picture. It touched something, and she knew, "I have to go there." This is how the light attracts everyone. The radiance of a saint attracts everyone, especially those who already have a karmic connection to this Guru Paramparā. We were already connected to this guru line, and now we find our way back. The connection to our master and the mantra he gave us—these are the best parts of our karma. So Mahāprabhujī was such an avatāra, teaching mainly through his life and also through his words. His mission was clearly to teach everyone, the simple people. Therefore, he made hardly any effort to write thick books, which are often studied by intellectuals. His teaching is in a very popular form—in the songs that people sing. The main teaching of Mahāprabhujī is all the bhajans we have. So when you are asked which book Mahāprabhujī wrote, point to the bhajan book. And then also from all the saints who came, from all the worlds that come from him, there is something special in Mahāprabhujī’s tradition. Not only did he compose so many beautiful bhajans, but at least five of his disciples—Holy Gurujī, Swāmījī Madhavānandajī is one of them, Maṅgilālajī, and others—convey the same teaching; we can hardly distinguish one from the other. What we know about Mahāprabhujī we know basically from Līlā Amṛt. And you know how Līlā Amṛt came to us. Mahāprabhujī did not want it to be written. Holī Gurujī requested permission repeatedly, and Mahāprabhujī did not give it. Only in the last moment, at the time of his Mahāsamādhi, did Holī Gurujī first write about his own experience with Mahāprabhujī. For about twenty years he served him day and night—not an easy job. Then he went from village to village, collecting what people told him, and this is ongoing. So there are many different versions of Līlā Amṛt. It was funny for me once when I looked on one of those websites against Swāmījī and someone said, "Oh, Līlā Amṛt, that’s all a fantasy," because more and more people’s stories were invented. I am the first one who knows that, because I built up the library in Jadan and took great effort to collect all these different versions, to save them for us and see how Līlā Amṛta actually gradually developed. In German and English, I remember first a small booklet titled "My Master," and then it was extended—more and more stories came up. What we have now as Līlā Amṛt, I tell you, is also not finished. Traveling in India, they still keep hearing new stories not yet in our Līlā Amṛt, but they should be. I remember one story Swāmījī told recently. I hope I remember right; you can correct me. It is a story about Śrī Devpurījī. Once he came to a village and ordered them to dig a hole for a pig and then put the pig inside and cover it with sand—a little like putting it into a grave while still alive. The people thought that was cruel and didn’t understand. After some time, they dared to ask him about it. Śrī Devpurījī very relaxed said, "Oh, it felt so hot." The people said, "It’s a desert here," and in the hole it is not cooler. Śrī Devpurījī said, "No, no, it’s in the water." They thought he was a little confused. Then he said, "Okay, you can go and get it out." They removed the sand and saw the animal very happy in the water. So, one of many miracles. I am not sure if I remember every detail precisely. Another two stories I heard from Swāmī Jasrāj just this week. On the webcast, he met in one village an old man in his eighties who was with Mahāprabhujī in the 1950s. They were together in the old Kāṭhu Āśram outside the desert. Mahāprabhujī was there, and people didn’t understand what he was saying, but he was very clear and said, "In this mountain, in this place, there is gold." He predicted later that there would be a reason for fighting among the people to get this gold. The village elders came together and discussed it, but could not make any sense of it. It turned out to be a very, very precious stone with a golden color and many other colors inside, making it very beautiful. This stone is very precious and is now exported to Italy and other European countries. For those who possess it, it became literally a mine of gold. And unfortunately, the prediction also became true: now the people are actually fighting about it. And another story Swāmījī told recently. When he was in a small āśram between Jadan and Jaitaran, there was a Mahāsamādhi function for a saint who left the world 200 years ago. There was also a very old man who remembered Mahāprabhujī. He said that when Mahāprabhujī was traveling from Kathu to Balaguda, he always came through that village and often stopped there for satsaṅg. Once, he pointed to a certain place and suggested the villagers dig a well there. They did. With their technical equipment it was not very deep, but it was a good well. This well turned out never, never to become dry. It has always sweet water, and in Rajasthan that is not normal—it is really a desert of drought. I think Swāmī Jasrāj told more stories. Then something came to his mind: they had cows, and when the cows had a wound, they took a little oil cake made from a clay pot, a very small piece, put it on the wound, and that’s it—it would be healed. He did the same on Prabhujī’s shoulder, and after a few hours, the wound had absolutely disappeared. The fantastic thing is that now the third generation has a hospital, and they treat people with this same material. Every day about fifty people came to this hospital and were cured successfully. In the hospital, they received advice to go back to Mahāprabhujī’s āśram, sit under the banyan tree, and pray and meditate. There was another story, but now it doesn’t come to mind. Part 2: Reminiscences of Mahāprabhujī and the Path to Mahāsamādhi Does anyone recall another story? Any other story from Jasrāj or Swāmījī? Come, don’t be shy. Who is it? Very well, perhaps tomorrow. I myself tried to arrange something, but unfortunately it did not work out. I know of an Indian gentleman from the village of Ghenari. In his family home they have a bed of Mahāprabhujī, and the whole family was very close to him. When this man was young, he became a personal disciple of Mahāprabhujī. He is now in his seventies and lives near Atlanta in America. I spoke with him twice when I was in America, and my wish was to conduct a Skype interview with him. I also asked Swāmījī about it. The problem is he seems still to be in India, and I cannot reach him. He told me that, unlike what Swāmījī does nowadays, the gatherings in those days usually had no loudspeakers. People came and sat in small groups. Mahāprabhujī would move from group to group, speaking with each for some time. But now I cannot say much more because I never really began. I had hoped we could speak with him this weekend, but most probably not. I still hope that sometime in the future we can arrange it and listen to him. From him we might even get another chapter for Līlā Amṛt. The people who knew Mahāprabhujī personally, or who are even his direct disciples, are still among us. So there is no need to put the whole thing into doubt, as some people try to confuse us by saying, “Oh, that’s all fantasy.” I remember, many years ago when we were travelling with Swāmījī — perhaps ten to fifteen years ago — we were in a village and an old woman was asked to speak to us. You will recall the story from Līlā Amṛt where parents brought their dead child. Mahāprabhujī was at first a little reluctant and said, “What are you bringing? This is not a graveyard.” But he saw the faith and devotion of the parents and, out of his divine mercy and power, he awakened the child. That woman then said, “I am that child.” This memory just came to mind during a satsaṅg. The radiance of a saint remains where he lived. The whole atmosphere, everything, is loaded with his energy. Swāmījī emphasised this already when I first went to India in 1987. I was a fresh disciple and had received only a few days of mantra. Towards the end of our journey we also went to Kāṭhu Āśram, and I will tell you how I personally felt the radiance of that holy place. I was a very intellectual type, emotionally very controlled, and somehow there was a wish in me to open up so that I could cry. Now we were in Kāṭhu Āśram, in this most holy atmosphere, in front of the Mahāsamādhi of Mahāprabhujī and Śrī Devpurījī. We were a small group of about twenty people, and Swāmījī gave a talk. I remember it well; it was about pravṛtti and nivṛtti — those who still search on worldly paths, especially those who always run after sensual pleasures. And then he spoke about Nivṛtti, the spiritual path, where such desires no longer exist. It was towards the end of our tour, and Swāmījī said, “In a few days, when you board the aeroplane and leave this country, you will cry, because you will realise what you are leaving behind — this spiritual radiance.” He spoke then about the holy land of India. And when he said, “Then you will cry,” it was as though he pressed a button. I started crying and could not stop. For about half an hour, while Swāmījī continued his talk, the tears just flowed. But it was not sadness; it was something deep within me that was touched and opened. This was, on the one hand, Swāmījī’s words, and on the other, I am very much aware, it was that holy, pure atmosphere. Two years later, when I was again in India, I spent a little more time in Mahāprabhujī’s small room. For those who have not been there, you have the main room with the altar, and in the back a small doorway — always open, it cannot be closed. Behind it, Mahāprabhujī’s room was just a few square metres, with one bed. Some pictures of Mahāprabhujī now hang there. By then I had been practising yoga for about two years. I made a special exercise for myself: I did trāṭak on Mahāprabhujī’s picture, on his face, while standing on one leg, to increase my concentration. For quite some time, for several minutes, I fixed my gaze on Mahāprabhujī. And then, I think by special mercy, his face changed, and changed again, and kept changing all the time. I saw so many different people in his face — men and women, children and old people. I saw the whole of mankind appearing one after another, as if giving me a precious message: “I am in all, and you should see the all in me.” That is what Holy Gurujī always says: one in all and all in one. This, too, I feel, could only happen there in that special, holy atmosphere. If any of you would like to share some experiences now, especially with Mahāprabhujī, you are most welcome. And just to remind you, this beautiful little book we have, Divine Perceptions — I think copies are lying outside even for free — please, whoever does not have it, do not miss the opportunity to take one. An Indian man speaks in it about his meditation experiences, deep meditation, seeing Mahāprabhujī again and again. I hope everyone has studied it, so I do not want to speak about it here because I assume you all know it. Can you sing the bhajan “Guruvara, māy…”? No? Can anyone sing? Well, then I will sing. Someone who can sing this bhajan? Otherwise I will. Please bring me the harmonium. Is there someone who would like to contribute some experiences with Mahāprabhujī? I know one person who is not here — Swāmījī. He spoke quite often and said, “Oh, I received a message from Mahāprabhujī.” Yet Swāmījī clearly says that in physical form he never met Mahāprabhujī. I am sure that in his long life in this place he must have touched each and every stone and each and every speck of dust here. This whole place is loaded with his energy. And he suggested to us, “Go and collect one stone.” When he has touched it and now you touch it, it is as if you touch Mahāprabhujī. So I went and collected one, and I still have it — a beautiful stone from Kāṭhu Āśram from 1987, and I keep it on my altar. I keep it in my heart. Now I am not so sure because so much construction work has been done there; perhaps the dust is a little more mixed than it was, I do not know. But surely that atmosphere is there. Let us sing the bhajan “Guruvāra māy cāluṅsā unā deśa.” As far as I know, we do not have a bhajan directly about Mahāprabhujī’s Mahāsamādhi. But we do have a bhajan from Mahāprabhujī, which he wrote on the Mahāsamādhi of Śrī Devpurījī. I remember very well that when we had the Mahāsamādhi celebration with Swāmījī, we always sang this bhajan. One time we sang it three times in a single day. For me it is a special bhajan. I will speak about it and then translate. This bhajan tries to describe the indescribable. It says, “I want to go with you to this divine world where you are going,” and it attempts to depict that world. For me it is therefore a very peaceful, very pure bhajan — not a powerful one so much as an extremely gentle one. This is the bhajan of Mahāprabhujī, dedicated to Śrī Devpurījī when he left the world. It is our Mahāsamādhi bhajan. But perhaps first we should think for a moment about what Mahāsamādhi actually means. Swāmījī explained that when someone dies, when they leave this body and this world, there are actually three different ways. Most people, when they die, have to come back. According to their karmas, this is called mṛtyu. That means we have to run in circles, waiting for the next incarnation. According to our karmas, we are compelled to return; it is no longer our choice. It was our choice to perform the karmas, but afterwards the choice is gone. Theoretically it could even happen that we do not come back in human form, but this does not actually apply to bhaktas, to spiritual seekers. Swāmījī made this very clear some years ago when he changed just a few words in the bhajan “Abbāsopādhyāya.” At first I did not understand why he was so particular about changing a word that made almost no difference. One verse, the third verse, began with “Joe” — meaning “if.” “If I come back in human form, then let me be the worshipper of your holy lotus feet.” Swāmījī did not like that. He said, “This includes doubt; it might not happen.” So he changed it from “Joe” to “Jabbā jabbā,” which means “Whenever I come back, then let me be the worshipper of your holy lotus feet.” And then Swāmījī said, “If someone is a real bhakta, he should have no doubt about that.” So if we keep the minimum rules — to be vegetarian, not to create huge karmas — it is certain. Svarga-nivāsa is the attainment of heaven. That can happen if you do many good karmas but still retain some selfishness. Specifically, the selfishness of thinking, “I am doing something good” — identifying oneself with the good deed. We have a good weapon against that: our mantra, Nāhaṁ Kartā. So when we act in the spirit of “Nāhaṁ Kartā” and the action is good, we know it is not my good but my Prabhu’s. I could practise this very nicely last weekend in Poland. On Saturday we had a workshop that was too much for me, and by the next day I really had no energy left. In the evening there was a public satsaṅg, and I had no idea how to do it. Yet in the end it was a beautiful three-and-a-half-hour satsaṅg, and I knew very well, “Nāhaṁ Kartā” — that was not me. It is so good; you have nothing to hold on to, the ego has no chance. Thus Svarga-nivāsa can happen when we do good karmas but do not overcome selfishness. Then we receive the reward of our karmas: heaven, enjoyment. We can say heaven is a kind of enjoyment, a loka. But we cannot act there; we cannot create new karma — that is the problem. However long one stays there, it might be millions of years, but still it is counted, and one day those millions of years are over. That means that karma is finished, and then the next one comes, and you have no idea what will follow. I remember Swāmījī sometimes saying that even Lord Indra, the highest of the devas in heaven, when his karma is exhausted might have to return as a small ant. So heaven is still part of the cycle of birth and death; you are not liberated. Therefore it is not really our aim. Our aim is truly the Mahāsamādhi, the highest samādhi, the final merging into the divine consciousness. In India the term Mahāsamādhi is not so much used; instead the term Brahmalīna is more common. When Holī Gurujī left, they said, “Gurujī Brahmalīna ho gaye.” Brahmā is God, Brahmā. And Brahmalīna means to merge, to dissolve into Brahman. That is actually our aim. Now this bhajan was composed by Mahāprabhujī when Śrī Devpurījī was about to leave. Guruvara māy cāluṅsā unā deśa. Guruvar means “the best of the gurus,” a respectful term. Cālanā means to go, especially to go together with someone. So it means, “Let me go together with you. Take me with you.” Unā deśa — to that country, to that world where you are going now. And in the next line Mahāprabhujī refers to what the people around are thinking and doing: Lokālāj tajiṁ tyajaṁ gṛha vāsa. When someone is leaving the world, everyone has certain feelings. Some are confused, thinking that a saint in physical form would never give up his body. There may be a kind of shame, or a sense that “now our guru has died.” Others do not understand that it is actually Mahāsamādhi and weep as though someone has just died normally. In certain traditions, old women come and cry loudly, making much noise. Lokālāj means all this worldly noise, all this conventional correct behaviour. Of course, as a bhakta we are also sad; we saw it in Swāmījī. When Holī Gurujī left and the Mahāsamādhi chamber was just closed, even Swāmījī cried in public. But we must understand there is joy in that, because it is samādhi — the greatest samādhi, the final victory of life. Therefore it is our aim. If we achieve mahāsamādhi, our whole life has made sense. If we go into mṛtyu or svarga-nivāsa, we have to come again and try once more. As Swāmījī always said, there are many tragic events in life, but the most tragic is if someone dies without liberation. Mahāsamādhi is liberation. So for the saint, it is his final merging into the divine. Mahāprabhujī says here: “I do not care how all the other people react, how they lament, how painful it is. I renounce my home on this earth. Full of vairāgya, I want to follow you.” Now, one must say, fortunately that did not happen. In this case Śrī Devpurījī did not give his approval. This was in 1944, if I am not mistaken, and Mahāprabhujī continued his mission until 1963. Mahāprabhujī then tries to describe that world: Jahāṁ janma maraṇa nahīṁ punarapi, Karma leśa nahīṁ tila bhara vāsa. Jīvanamukti prabhute kamakora, Brahmānanda hameśa nivāsa. In that world there is no birth and no death; you are free from the cycle of reincarnation. There are no black spots of karma, not even a tiny bit, because karma is the reason we must reincarnate. Then jīvanamukti, liberation, is attained. We should not be confused; Mahāprabhujī uses the word jīvanmukti here with a slightly different meaning, more in the literal sense: the jīva is liberated, the individual soul is now liberated. Thereafter one lives eternally in divine bliss, brahmānanda hameśa. Niravadhi nirañjana jyoti ujālā, Nahīṁ candra nahīṁ sūra nahīṁ agni. In that land there is an uninterrupted, unextinguishable light. It is not a physical light. This light is present, but there is no moon, no sun, nothing like that. What is this light? It is the origin of light, that which gives light to the sun, the light to the moon, and the light to fire — that is deep, and that is Mahāprabhujī. Raṅga na rūpa anūpa anādī, Raṅkā nareśa nahīṁ koī jāhī. There is no colour, no form; it is incomparable, unique. “Raṅkā” means a poor person, a beggar, and “nareśa” a king. He says, “No one can go there — whether beggar or king, you cannot reach it.” In the next verse this is further clarified: Āgam agam jahāṁ santa bihārī, Paramparā ādiśa namo namo. Āgam means inaccessible — like a mountain so steep that no one can ever climb up. This is a clear hint: we cannot reach that world through any kind of personal effort. No climber can ascend that peak. And yet we can reach it, if someone who is already there lets down a rope and pulls us up. This is one of the many hints in our bhajans: through our own effort we cannot liberate ourselves. Mokṣa mūlaṁ guru kṛpā — only through the mercy of the Guru can we attain mokṣa. This, then, is the inaccessible world where all the saints dwell; again and again my salutation to them. Amṛtā dhārā vahī nita vahī, Satguru Indra Sureśa sahī. Amṛt means nectar. Amṛtā is plural; you may say rivers of nectar are flowing there. Now we have two words, Indra and Sureśa. Indra is the highest of the gods, but the gods are in Svargaloka, heaven; so we can say he is the chief of the devas. Sureśa means the lord of the gods. But this is another world — not Svarga, but Brahmaloka, also called Satyaloka, the world of truth and reality. Here the lord is not Indra but the Satguru. So it says Satguru Indra; the Satguru is the Indra, the Lord of all. That means without the Satguru you cannot get there. Siddhi prakāśī mana mere, Phir nahīṁ janma dhāriś. Mahāprabhujī says, “My mind desires such a world, such a place, where you are not reborn again.” Sadara āsana āpa bīrāje, Siṁhāsana sadara bīrāje. Āpa means “you.” Without mentioning the name, he again addresses his guru, Śrī Devpurījī. Siṁhāsana — some of you may have seen photos of Swāmījī and Holī Gurujī — is the lion’s seat, the respectful throne. Sadara means the chairman, the chief. He says, “Please take your place, sit down on the Siṁhāsana, the throne for the chief.” He concludes the whole describing: Aisī nagarī anata nirālī, Jahāṁ nahīṁ cintā kāla na phālī. “Thus is this world, completely free of all worries.” This is Mahāprabhujī’s description of Brahmaloka or Satyaloka, meant to inspire us to strive for that as our aim. Does anyone wish to say something personally about Mahāprabhujī? I know it may be personal and some may prefer not to share, but if you would like, you are welcome. Very well, let us have our prayer. Tomorrow evening I would like to go a little deeper: what really is Mahāprabhujī? What is the Guru? And what is the speciality of Mahāprabhujī among all Gurus? Tomorrow morning we will watch an older lecture by Swāmījī in which he also speaks lovingly about Mahāprabhujī. So then, let us have our evening prayer.