This Monk From India - The Divine Life Society

THE POWER THAT PROTECTS
I went with a few friends to meet Swami Chidananda at the London airport. At that time I
was ill and condemned by the medical board. I was so sensitive that the sight of any suffering upset
me deeply. We were all talking happily in the car about our meeting with Swamiji when suddenly
my body became as still as a rock, my eyes closed, my face became very still. Everyone stopped
talking and were looking at me in wonder when suddenly there was a terrible shock, a silence, then
cries for help. No one in our car was hurt, not a scratch was there, but in the other cars people were
wounded, people were killed. I did not come out of my meditative state until we reached the airport,
and I heard nothing about the accident until the evening. I realised that everyone was much more
struck by the miraculous way in which I had been protected than by the accident itself. They all told
me, “Swamiji protected you, he protected all of us,” and they were very much moved.
One day I slipped and fell on the wet mossy ground. As I stood up, I did not feel the pain in
my shoulder and in my wrist, but was worrying about my clean beautiful white embroidered, newly
ironed dress. To Swami T., who had come to help me, I said, “Look at my dress!” He laughed and
said, “Never mind the dress, what about your body” I answered, “Oh, my body knows how to take
care of itself,” and I went away to change my clothes.
As I came into my room, my first look was for Sivananda-Chidananda on the altar which
was just opposite the door; and before I had time to close the door, my injured arm, which seemed to
be hanging loose and seemed paralysed, started to move upwards in strong revolving movements
and I felt my shoulder come back into the right position. For weeks, during my Asanas which
always came automatically, new movements appeared. I was putting all my weight on my damaged
wrist, but felt no pain. In the end I was even doing what I thought must be the peacock position, and
my damaged wrist became stronger than it had ever been.
Swamiji does not like to go anywhere empty-handed. When he travels, he always carries
with him a bag full of sweets and some leaflets for distribution. As I was leaving the Centre one
night, he handed out to me some pamphlets and said, “Distribute them in your hotel.”
My hotel was a very modest one, and some men were there drinking at the bar as my friend
Inge and I went in. We were having our meal in the very same room when suddenly I remembered
Swaimiji’s leaflets. Inge did her best to stop me.
“Not here, don’t you see they are gross people, drinking too much”
But nothing would stop me. “Swimiji told me to do it.. He knows...”
“They will be rude to you. Don’t obey so literally. Have some discrimination. You don’t
know what these men can be like.”
But I only answered, “Swamiji told me. I must do it.”
So up I went to the bar. The men’s surprise was great. They looked at the pamphlet then at
me, frowning, and put their glasses of beer on the counter. There was a silence. They discussed
among themselves in a low tone. I could see the face of the man behind the bar. He was jeering
while he read from the pamphlet.
39