May - Ruhani Satsang USA

KALKA JI, April 6When we left Chandigarh, it was earlymorning and mist obscured the streets.By 10:OO a.m. we arrived in sunnyKalka Ji, a beautiful village nestled inthe Himalayan foothills. As Master'scar rumbled through the twisting, narrowcobblestoned streets, many townsfolkrecognized thc great Saint, andchased His car on foot, hoping to catcha favored blessing.To reach the Sawan Ashram of KalkaJi, we had to climb to the top of a largehill, traverse by foot a narrow path leadingdown into a luxuriant ravine, wherein a large grassy square stood the solitaryAshram building with billowing awningsspread out over the field. Over a thoussandmountain folk waited below, thethrilling mystic chants echoing againstthe mountains. As Master approached,unrestrainable lovers broke away fromthe disciplined ranks and flung themselvesbefore their Beloved, weeping allthe while. The Wine of God was flowing,the intense joy unbearable. Nimbly sidesteppingthe Feet-touchers, Guru Devmounted the dais, bestowing love glancesand mighty words. All around in livingembrace stood the green hills and loftymountains; a beautiful transient settingfor the Eternal Jewel.- ' The world may be busy about itstasks, entirely oblivious of this spectacle,but here He sits, a King on the throneof Nature, with Bhaktas clustered at HisLotus Feet, just as it has always been.Leaving Kalka Ji, Master took us tothe fabled Mughal Gardens of Pinjorewhere a delicious simple repast was taken,cooked and served by Tai Ji's blessedhands. We sat out of the sun's heatbeneath a graceful pink stone cupola onthe cool marble floor, our eyes rivetedon Master as He silently partook of alittle food. His attention never seemedto be lost from God, whether in a crowd,speaking, eating or resting.The ideal atmosphere inspired a deepand radiant meditation. Dear old Tai Ji,mischievous as a schoolgirl, sought totest my absorption by placing a piece ofice against my forehead. After a fewminutes the attention gradually returnedand I opened my eyes. 1 noticed at theperiphery the giggles of laughter, but atthe center was my Beloved, and Hepiercingly returned my gaze. How seriousHis countenance!Our vantage point overlooked the majesticvalley below, through portals ofcarved marble edifices roofed with gracefulshining domes, reflecting the splendourof an India of long ago.Looking down over the marble screenrailing, gesturing at the spectacle spreadout before the eye-the many stairs,levels, fountains and buildings laid outin symmetry descending for miles intothe valley below surrounded by lushmango and lichee orchards-the Masterdetachedly uttered, "There are five levels."I asked myself, "How many levelsare there to Master's words?"BABA LEHNALeaving Pinjore, we digress from themain highway, turning along a bumpyroad for several miles, making anotherturn into a wide path hedged by sixfoothigh, four foot thick mud walls seenall over India, used by village farmersas a hedge against stray cattle andthieves. We reach a tiny isolated villagecalled Majori; I am overwhelmed by thenatural beauty and simplicity of the villageand its sturdy inhabitants. Theyclustered around Master like bees in thepresence of Nectar. Baba Lehna Singh,the Headman of the village, is an oldspiritually advanced disciple of BabaSawan Singh Ji. With great love and respectBaba Lehna touched the Feet ofHis Master's Successor, but the LivingMaster caught him by the shoulders,SAT SANDESH