SBOI-SELECTIONS 2: MAN OF MIRACLES - Abode of Peace and Many Wonders

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<<preceding selectionsAbode of Peace and Many Wonders"This earth alone is not

our teacher and nurse, The powers of all the worlds have entrance here." Sri

Aurobindo, Savitri.

I travelled by bus from Madras to Bangalore. Some friends in that city provided

me with a car and I set off north along a country road to find the retreat of

the wizard of Puttaparti. I was travelling alone with an Indian driver as Iris

was not able to get away from her duties at the Theosophical Society

Headquarters. The way led out of Mysore State into Andhra Pradesh, mainly

through barren open country pimpled here and there with outcrops of round stony

hills. I did not even see a mention of Puttaparti on the signposts until we

reached the last stretches of the hundred-mile journey. Then we were on a road

of broken rocks and loose sand, like a track for country carts. At one place it

became a narrow alley, squeezing itself between the tumbled buildings of a

lonely village. In other places the road sauntered across the sandy near-dry

beds of rivers. Such crossings are fordable except in seasons of very heavy

rain. But I was told that if the cunning rogues living nearby are in need of

money they dig a deep ditch in the shallow water of the ford. Then they wait

for cars to get stuck, and bargain for a high price to push them out. Gone,

however, are the days when visitors finished the Puttaparti journey by

bullock-cart, or on foot across slushy fields of paddy. Despite the rugged road

in the year of my first journey there - 1966 - cars and even big buses could

negotiate the final obstacles and reach the ashram gates. Sai Baba's retreat is

beside the village of Puttaparti, which nestles in a narrow farming valley

between pewter-coloured hills of bare rock. The valley, gentle green in the

season of young crops, is remote and silent, untouched by the twentieth

century. As I drove in through the gate the sun was setting, spreading a golden

glow over the buildings. Most of them stood around the perimeter of the large

compound, facing inwards towards a large white central building. It was the

time of the evening bhajan, that is, the singing of sacred songs and chants. I

was informed that Sai Baba was with the crowd in the big hall which occupies

most of the ground floor of the central building, and as apparently only he

could say where I must sleep, I sat on my bedroll outside the hall and waited.

The rhythmic sounds of the singing deepened the peace of the evening hour. Dusk

gathered, the lights came on gently, the haunting music continued. It seemed to

seep through me, soothing my tired body, and calming my impatience, washing

away my worries and anxieties. Presently someone came and took me to the room

Baba had allocated to me. It was in the small guesthouse, and was well

furnished with its own private wash-room and a flush toilet. This was much

better than I had been led to expect or dared to hope for. One of the first

people I met at the ashram was Mr. N. Kasturi, a retired History professor and

College Principal of Mysore University. He was now the secretary of the ashram,

editor of its monthly magazine, Sanathana Sarathi, and the writer of a book on

Sai Baba's life. He had also translated into English many of Baba's public

discourses which had been delivered in Telugu. These, published in several

volumes, contain the miracle-man's spiritual teachings and give an idea of his

mission and message. On my first morning Mr. Kasturi arrived at the guesthouse

with copies of all the books which had been printed in English. "They are a

present to you from Baba," he explained. Mr. Kasturi is not only a scholar, but

a deeply religious man whose face glows with devotion and benevolence. Now he

told me something about the ashram. Its name is Prasanti Nilayam, meaning the

"Abode of Great Peace". About seven hundred people live here permanently, while

hundreds are coming and going all the time. The residents occupy the

inward-facing terraced houses around the perimeter. The visitors occupy

whatever space is available at the time perhaps a room in one of the large

buildings, perhaps a spot of floor in one of the open sheds, perhaps a corner

on the Post Office verandah, or at times of great festival crowds, the bare

brown earth beneath a tree. People like myself, who have been softened by the

creature comforts of western civilisation, Baba usually puts in the furnished

guesthouse. In the early morning I had heard strange but soothing sounds of

Sanskrit chanting. Now I learned that it came from the school where boys and

youths are studying the Vedas. They are not only learning to read the Sanskrit

of these works but also to recite it by heart. They are being taught by pundits

to chant the texts with the correct intonation and emphasis, as was done in

India's ancient days. The reason for this is that the uplifting spiritual

benefits of the Vedas come from the mantric effect of the sound as much as from

the meaning of the words. That is what the ancient writers tell us, and having

been subjected to some of the chanting myself I don't find it hard to believe

them. There are very few schools like this one in India today; perhaps because

it normally takes about seven years to learn one Veda, as Mr. Kasturi informed

me, and there are four of them. Over twenty years to master the lot, and no

commercial rewards to speak of at the end of it all! But Sai Baba seems

determined, against the surging tide of materialism in modern India, to revive

her ancient spiritual culture. The ashram also has its own canteen where I had

been invited to have my meals, but I was told that as I was Baba's guest I must

not pay. The accommodation was also free and I had been given a set of free

books! It seemed I was not allowed to pay for anything. But perhaps I could

make a donation at the end of my stay, as one does at most ashrams in India.

This point I queried with Mr. Kasturi. "No," he said emphatically, "Baba will

not accept donations. He never takes money from anyone.He seems to have some

wealthy followers," I replied, "Perhaps they give financial help to the ashram."

"No," Mr. Kasturi smiled. "But don't take my word for it; ask them yourself.

Many will he arriving in the next few days for Sivaratri.What's that?" I

queried. He explained that it was the great annual festival to the god Siva,

that many thousands came to Prasanti Nilayam for it, and that during the

festival Baba always performed two great miracles in public. I decided then and

there to wait for the festival Of Sivaratri (Siva's night) and see the miracles.

In the meantime I would read Sai Baba's story as written by N. Kasturi, talk to

his followers, and get close to the great man himself whenever I possibly

could. Kasturi gave me hope that I might be called for an interview fairly

soon, although Baba was very busy. During the next few days, in fact, I was

fortunate in being invited to several group interviews. For these a dozen

people gather in one of the interview rooms at either end of the bhajan hall,

or "prayer hall" as it is sometimes called. Sai Baba sits either on the one

chair, or else on the floor - depending, it seems, on his whim - and the people

sit cross-legged on the floor, fanning out in a rough circle about him. On each

occasion I managed to get as close as possible to him and sat to his right

within a couple of feet of the hand that performs the magic. These group

interviews usually begin with some talk on spiritual subjects. Baba invites

someone to ask a question; then in the answer he expounds on such matters as

the meaning and purpose of life, Man's true nature, and the way he should

strive to live in order to reach the goal. The teachings are always clear,

vivid, and intensely practical. Towards the end of each meeting, if some people

have personal problems, he may take them into another room one by one or in

family groups. But never a meeting went by without Baba producing at least one

item besides the vibhuti he always produces, with his theurgic hand-wave.

Pendants, chains, rings, necklaces and other objects I have watched him pluck

from the air in this way and then give to some delighted individual. He

apparently knew my suspicions of him were not yet dispelled, because he still

pulled his loose cuffless sleeve up before taking an object from nowhere. But

on one occasion he did not need to raise the sleeve above suspicion. It was a

very hot day and he was wearing a robe with short sleeves that came only to the

elbow. Now, as if he would exorcise, once and for all, the sceptical spirit

within me, he let his right hand lie open, palm upward, on the arm of the chair

within a few inches of my eyes. If I had been a palmist, I might have read the

lines and mounds on the small palm and slim graceful fingers. I could certainly

be quite sure that no items, however small, were concealed there. Then he lifted

his hand from where it lay, and began to circle it in the air about eighteen

inches from my face. One moment the hand was empty, the next it was holding

something big that protruded brightly on either side of his fist. He shook this

out to reveal a long necklace of coloured stones. It was what the Indians call a

jappamala which, like the Christian rosary, is used for prayers. Its regulation

size is one hundred and eight stones or beads. There, was nowhere in

three-dimensional space that a conjurer could have hidden such a bulky object

and produced it under these circumstances. Baba gave it to a grey-haired lady

on his immediate left. When he placed it around her neck, she was so overcome

that her eyes filled with tears and she went down on her knees to touch his

feet. Every day now saw the crowd swelling. The buildings were all full and

people were beginning to spread their beds under the trees. In this gathering

tide of dark-faced, white-robed Indians I was the only western male. Bob Raymer

having returned to his home in California. Among the ladies there were only two

pale faces left ochre-robed Nirmalananda and Gabriela Steyer. Yet I did not

feel like a foreigner: I felt that I was among brothers, and was completely

happy. One could hardly be otherwise with brotherly love shining in every face

and inspiring every word and action. Any stranger was your acquaintance in

minutes and your close friend within an hour, anxious to help you in every way

and eager to tell you about the wonderful things that Sai Baba had done for him

or some members of his family. I soon found that the followers were from all

parts of India and from all classes of society - princes, businessmen, doctors,

lawyers, judges, civil servants, scientists, soldiers, clerks and tradesmen.

Filling the guesthouse there were, in the ladies suite, the Maharani of Sandur,

her daughter and Nanda, Princess of Kutch. Among the men were the Kumaraja

(Prince) of Venkatagiri, the Kumaraja of Sandur, Mr. G. Venkateshwara Rao, the

mica magnate, and myself. These people were all quite rich so, remembering Mr.

Kasturi's challenge, I questioned them as well as other wealthy followers about

money donations to Sai Baba. From all of them, and later from many others, I had

the same answer. They would, they said, love to help support Baba's ashram with

funds, but he would never accept any money from them. Nor did he take any

donations from anyone they knew. I thought what a fertile field was here for

those religious leaders and their organisations always on the look-out for

funds - not only the wealthy nucleus, anxious to give, but the huge numbers

that congregate at Baba's discourses, sometimes up to two hundred thousand.

What a collection could be raised from such crowds by a good rousing

evangelist! But Sai Baba refuses to take a paise. How then does he get the

money he needs? To this question they smile, as if to say, "How does Baba do

anything? He is a mystery we can't solve." Anyway it soon became quite clear

that whatever the motive for his miracles it was not money. Everyone I spoke to

had at least one and usually many more miracles to tell me from his own

experience. My notebooks began to swell with fantastic stories, many of which I

could never hope to verify. But there were others which could be cross-checked

and verified in a number of ways. Apart from the materialisation phenomena of

the type that I had already seen there were tales involving almost every kind

of miracle found in the historic and spiritual records of the fantastic. Among

them were the healing miracles - the curing of many kinds of diseases, some

deep-seated and chronic, some considered incurable by medical opinion. At the

ashram there is a small hospital with two doctors on the staff, and occasional

helpers from outside. The two full-time workers are the Medical Superintendent,

Dr. B. Sitaramiah, and his assistant, Dr. N. Jayalakshmi, a woman doctor. The

Superintendent told me that when Sai Baba asked him some years ago to take

charge of the hospital he had already retired from practice, and felt

disinclined to take the responsibility. But Baba said that the doctor would be

only a figure-head, and that he himself would do the healing. Then Dr.

Sitaramiah, who was a devotee, had no more fears about the job. And that was

the way it had been. "Apart from the routine treatments, I have had Baba's

directions always," he told me. "And there have been many cures of cases that

were quite incurable by any known medical treatment. From the scientific point

of view the cures are quite inexplicable." For my benefit he went into several

case histories in full detail, showing me X-ray photographs, records of medical

diagnosis, and any other documents that were relevant. Below are a few sample

cases to indicate some of the diseases Baba has treated at the ashram. They

also show that he has, as he puts it, "different prescriptions for different

patients". A woman devotee from Mangalore was suffering from tuberculosis.

There was bleeding and X-rays showed a cavity of the right lung. Medical

opinion was that the disease was probably curable but that effective treatment

would take about two years. Instead of undergoing the prescribed treatment, she

came to Prasanti Nilayam. Sai Baba gave her vibhuti from his hand, and she was

put in the hospital. About a week later, when I visited the hospital myself,

she was still there convalescing. But all symptoms of the tuberculosis had

gone, the doctors assured me. She had been cured in a week instead of two

years. A young man living in Bombay, but recently returned from Switzerland,

was suffering from internal trouble which doctors in both Europe and Bombay had

diagnosed as cancer. He was not a devotee of Sai Baba, but a friend had urged

him to go to Prasanti Nilayam. In desperation he went and stayed, not in the

hospital, but in a building near the canteen. There he waited and prayed to

Baba for help. One night he had a dream in which, someone visited him, carrying

a shining knife. When he awoke that was all he could remember, he told Dr.

Sitaramiah and others, the vague visitor and the clear bright knife. Perhaps it

was not really a dream. To the canteen manager who took him breakfast in the

morning he showed a large, mysterious blood-stain on his sheet. Had Baba

performed an operation while he slept? Such strange things had been known

before. Anyway, all signs and symptoms of the cancer had vanished. It was about

a year after this experience that I wrote to the young man to enquire if the

cancer cure had been complete. His reply came from Switzerland where he had

returned to his job. He was in sound health and not a day passed, he said, in

which he did not think of Sai Baba and offer a heart-felt prayer of gratitude

for his miraculous cure. A 58-year old man, suffering from hyperpyrexia, was

brought into the hospital. He had at another hospital been under treatment for

fever and dysentery for about two months without relief. At the ashram hospital

various treatments were tried by the doctors - quinine, penicillin,

chloromycetin - but all to no avail. The patient's temperature kept above 103

degrees; he was delirious, and his general condition worsened. He lost

consciousness and there seemed to be no hope of his recovery. Then Sai Baba

came to the hospital to see him. Taking vibhuti from the air in his usual way,

he smeared it on the forehead and put some in the mouth of the unconscious man.

Within a short time the temperature began to drop, the patient regained

consciousness, and his condition improved rapidly. Soon he was back to normal

with no signs of the dysentery. When strong, enough he was discharged from

hospital. A cripple, unable to walk, stand or even sit, was brought to the

ashram. This man, a wealthy coffee planter from the Mysore State, was about 50

years of age, and for the last twenty of those years, he had suffered from

severe rheumatoid arthritis. He had been through a variety of medical

treatments without any success. And now, in addition to his other troubles, he

had a damaged kidney which was not functioning. His temperature stayed around

103 to 104 degrees. At Prasanti Nilayam hospital he refused any orthodox

medical treatment, saying that he had complete faith in the power of Sai Baba

to cure him. On this occasion Baba waved his hand to produce a small bottle of

liquid medicine and, prescribed two drops to be taken daily in water. Fifteen

days after the treatment began the planter could walk with the help of a stick.

Now Baba gave him a mantra to repeat as he walked daily a certain number of

times around the prayer hall. Within a month he was walking without the help of

a stick. Furthermore there was no more trouble from the kidney, it was

functioning normally again. Before returning to his plantation, he tried to

express his deep gratitude to Sai Baba. But the latter replied: "Don't thank

me. It was your own faith that cured you." I asked Dr. Sitaramiah if the cure

had been permanent or if, perhaps, the troubles had returned. "It seemed to be

permanent. I heard a long time afterwards that the planter was still quite fit

and well," he said. In the months ahead I was to meet many people who had

themselves experienced dramatic and miraculous cures of serious, sometimes

deadly diseases and, others who could bear witness to such fantastic healings

among members of their families or friends. A good proportion of these were

well-known leading citizens of their communities, they have permitted me to use

their names, and their cases will be described in later chapters. But now at

Prasanti Nilayam Dr. Sitaramiah informed me that Sai Baba's own temperature was

up over the hundred mark. The doctor had been checking it each morning as he

always did at this time of the year, with Baba's permission. The high

temperature was a sign of the approaching miracle that takes place annually at

the Sivaratri festivals, the doctor explained. I awaited this event with

eagerness, having heard devotees descriptions of the miracles performed on

previous occasions. And yet I felt a little sceptical as there was to my

knowledge nothing like it in the chronicles of miraculous phenomena.

Source:Howard Murphet's Man of Miracles

 

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