Infinite Grace: The Story of My Spiritual Lineage

Mercy

Preface to the First Edition

This book narrates the story of my spiritual lineage.

My most revered Guru, the late Yogacharya Swami Kripalvanandji Maharaj, had two gurus. He was only 19 years old when Swami Pranavanandji Maharaj initiated him into the practice of yoga. Ten years later Udasinacharya Swami Shantanandji Maharaj initiated him into the ascetic life. After becoming a sannyasi (an ascetic monk) he spent about 15 years as a recluse, wandering from place to place, giving discourses on the Bhagvad Gita and involving the masses in spiritual matters. In those days he used to narrate many episodes from the holy life of Swami Shantanandji. Later on, when he took a vow of silence, he used to relate some of these stories in writing. But hardly anything was said about Swami Pranavanandji, except that he was his yoga Guru. Therefore the people did not know much about this great saint.

Guru Swami Kripalvanandji had the great fortune to spend fifteen months in Bombay with his Gurudev, Pranavanandji Maharaj. Although during this period he had witnessed many wonderful events, he maintained total silence about them for nearly 40 years. Pranavanandji had told his young disciple that he should neither speak about him nor write his biography until he, Kripalvanandji, had attained nirbij samadhi.¹ At the same time he also gave Kripalvanandji permission to share these experiences with his favorite disciple. That is how I acquired this treasure of extraordinary stories about the revered Pranavanandji Maharaj, known by all as Dadaji², from my Guru Kripalvanandji, who was lovingly called Bapuji³ by his many disciples.

While teaching me yoga, Bapuji would reveal the deep mysteries contained in certain scriptural passages, while at other times he would talk to me about various facets of Dadaji’s extraordinary character. On hearing these episodes about Dadaji I would plunge into an ocean of sheer ecstasy. I realized that Bapuji was behaving as affectionately towards me as Dadaji did towards him. But Bapuji gave me similar instructions, "My son, I have told you all this per Dadaji’s wishes, but do not make it public at present. Make it known only after I have attained samadhi. You alone will have to disclose it in the future."

Bapuji, however, did narrate some stories about Dadaji in a public speech that he gave on the completion of his twelve-year vow of silence. This was the first time that his followers had discovered anything about Swami Pranavanandji.

Three years later, during the celebration of his 60th birthday, his followers decided to bring out a commemorative volume highlighting his life, thoughts, and philosophy. At that time I approached him with this request: Bapuji, we have decided to publish a commemorative volume on the occasion of your diamond jubilee. May I have your permission to narrate a few more episodes about you and Dadaji in this volume?

He thought for a while and answered, All right. You may relate some stories, but ask for my approval about the incidents you intend to narrate. I told him that I would do so.

Thus, with Bapuji’s permission, I published an article entitled "Guruji and Dada Gurudev" in the commemorative volume Vandana in 1974.⁴ Only a few episodes were included in that article. I still had a large reserve of such episodes in my treasure trove.

Towards the end of 1981 Bapuji left this mortal world. Now it was left to me to decide whether I should make the episodes from Dadaji’s divine life public. For a considerable time I experienced mental strife over this question. I thought that it would not be proper of me to hold back the treasure of these invaluable incidents from others. If I were to die suddenly, this precious collection would vanish with me and therefore be of use to no one. Thus, after two years of consideration, I finally decided that I would speak about the great gurus of my lineage at the yearly gathering of my Guru brothers and sisters on the anniversary of Bapuji’s maha-samadhi (leaving the mortal body). Thus I narrated many episodes involving Dadaji and Bapuji between 1983 and 1988. All these talks were then serialized verbatim in Urja, the Gujarati quarterly published by the Kayavarohan Tirth Seva Samaj.

In 1989 I thought of editing this material for a book which would serve as Bapuji’s biography. This required that I also include some episodes involving Bapuji and Swami Shantanandji Maharaj, who had initiated him into the ascetic life. Moreover, since I was associated with Bapuji during the last twelve years of his life, this period was included as well. Thus this book tells Bapuji’s story from his birth to his maha-samadhi. However, because it was not possible to tell his entire story and reveal all the aspects of his multi-faceted personality, it would not be proper to regard this book as his biography. Therefore I thought it fit to entitle it Mari Guruparampara (The Spiritual Lineage of My Gurus), since it incorporates various episodes, some involving Bapuji and his two gurus, and others involving Bapuji and me. This was the genesis of the book that was first published in Gujarati in July 1989 by Shri Kayavarohan Tirth Seva Samaj at Kayavarohan, and later by Life Mission at Vadodara, Gujarat, India.

I am happy to see the English language version being published now.

Swami Rajarshi Muni

Kayavarohan, India

¹  Nirbij Samadhi- the final stage of yoga in which the yogi achieves complete absorption in meditation.

²  Dada means grandfather; the suffix ‘ji’ is added for respect. Dadaji, then, means respected grandfather.

³  Bapuji means respected father.

⁴  Vandana is published in the Gujarati language.

A Brilliant Child

A brilliant child was born on the 13th of January 1913 to a devoted and cultured Kayasth Brahmin family of Dabhoi, a town in the Vadodara district of Gujarat State, India. His father, Jamnadas Majmudar, and his mother, Mangalaba, named the boy Saraswatichandra. The family called him by his pet name, Hariprasad¹.

His parents were staunch Vaishnavites, members of a Hindu sect devoted to Lord Krishna, and this was a predominant influence in the formation of the child’s character. In his adolescence Saraswatichandra also developed respect and devotion for Lord Shiv as well as for Saraswati, the goddess of learning.

Jamnadas served the state and owned a little tillable land, but the large family of seven daughters and two sons was very poor. Jamnadas, like other devotees, was altruistic and generous. This further impoverished the family. Jamnadas died when Krishnalal, his eldest son, was fourteen and Saraswatichandra was only seven. Krishnalal had developed a predilection for devotional life and had been averse to worldly affairs since childhood. Thus the responsibility for the family fell to Mangalaba. Over time the family’s debt steadily increased until they faced the confiscation of their home. In later years Saraswatichandra retained a vivid recollection of the family’s possessions being put out into the street when the house was taken from them.

In these troubled times Saraswatichandra continued his studies through the seventh grade and secured top honors each year. Despite his excellent performance, the family’s poverty forced him to leave school in 1927 at the age of fourteen.

In order to improve the economic condition of the family he suppressed his aspirations for further studies and, instead, accepted a temporary post as a municipal tax clerk. This job was to last for only four or five months. Saraswatichandra then found another job as an accounts clerk in a Dabhoi firm, where he served honestly for three years (1928-1930) and won the favor of the owner, Mr. Kaduji Ganiji. During this period Saraswatichandra read and wrote literature in his spare time. Some of his articles and poems were published in contemporary periodicals. Simultaneously, he learned music. His elder brother Krishnalal, a good musician himself, gave him his primary training. The classical aspects of his knowledge of music came from Ustad Gulam Rasool Khan Sahib of the state-established music school in Dabhoi.²

At the age of eighteen years, Saraswatichandra resolved to save his family from financial crisis by working harder, and he proceeded to Bombay with that purpose in mind. However, destiny had a different fate in store for the youth. His earnings in Bombay were to be spiritual rather than fiscal, for it was in Bombay that he met Sadguru Swami Pranavanandji and received yoga initiation from him. In the years that followed Saraswatichandra became Swami Kripalvanandji and earned fame as a great yogi. Swami Kripalvanandji is my Gurudev.³ He is lovingly known as ‘Bapuji’ by the multitudes of his disciples and is therefore referred to as Bapuji (‘respected father’) hereafter.

Bapuji decided to go to Bombay late in 1930. Dabhoi was a small place in which to succeed and prosper, so he thought that moving to a big city would widen the scope and give him a greater range of options for employment. His fondness for literature and the desire to achieve name and fame by writing prose, poetry, and drama was the factor that settled his decision. At this time drama and stage opera were very popular, yet there were very few good companies performing in Gujarat.

Bapuji wrote to a friend who was married and settled in Bombay. He expressed his desire in a letter: I am troubling you because I want to get a job in Bombay. Write to me if you think it likely that I can find some occupation there.

His friend replied promptly, Dear Hariprasad, come to Bombay at your convenience. You don’t have to go to anyone else. Please stay with us. Once you are here, together we’ll search for a job for you. In a big city like Bombay it will take only a few days, or a week or two at most, to find some work for you.

Satisfied by his friend’s reply, Bapuji decided to leave after the Divali festival⁴ of October and November that was soon approaching. When he arrived in Bombay he stayed at the home of his friends, and the loving couple treated him like a member of their own family.

Though he avoided all unnecessary expenditures, the little amount of money that Bapuji had brought with him quickly dwindled because of the daily expense of city travel. The day came when he had no money.

His friend, who well knew Bapuji’s economic condition, often asked: Hariprasad, do you have money? Don’t feel shy about asking. I am your brother!

Feeling it unfair to be an added burden on a friend who was already helping so much, Bapuji would reply, Yes, I have money. Unconvinced by this response, his friend would often secretly check Bapuji’s coat pockets and, when he found them nearly empty, he would place there a five- or a ten-rupee note. The next day, Bapuji would realize what they had done and would feel even further indebted to these very kind friends. Bapuji’s job-seeking efforts bore no fruit, and nearly two months passed.

Bapuji’s birthday was approaching. It was only natural for a youth turning nineteen to fancy the idea of celebrating his birthday. After all, this was Bombay, the city of enchantment! Even the utmost modesty and frugality should permit the desire to have a cup of tea in a restaurant. Bapuji felt that even this joy would elude him, since he knew that his pocket had been emptied on the previous day.

    On his birthday Bapuji and his friend had their usual light meal in the morning and then parted for their respective duties. On the way, Bapuji realized that his pocket was not empty. His friend had generously placed two ten-rupee notes there. This method of wishing him a happy birthday appealed much to Bapuji! The deep feelings of affection he already had for his friend increased greatly.

Now he was filled with delight, and celebrated the day with snacks and a cup of tea! In the evening he brought home some sweets to his kind friends. Knowing well that Bapuji liked vedmi (sweet, stuffed chapatis), his friend’s wife included it in that night’s birthday dinner menu. Such love and affection, so generously showered on him, filled Bapuji with feelings of joy.

But that night Bapuji couldn’t sleep. He was haunted by thoughts of his two months of futile wanderings in Bombay. He felt ashamed of being a burden on such kind friends. His mind spun with these thoughts and they caused him tremendous pain. He began to hate his unsuccessful life. He felt that it was meaningless and he saw no purpose in living any longer. The only way to be rid of such a pitiful life, he thought, was to embrace death by committing suicide. With the growing resolve to act accordingly, he passed a restless night.

The next day Bapuji set out as usual and roamed aimlessly in Bombay. He felt that his life was useless. He wanted to commit suicide. What despair for a young man who was destined to become a great saint!

In the evening he went to his favorite temple. It was a temple of the Divine Mother, near the Pigeon House at Bhuleshwar. The evening arti⁵ was in progress as Bapuji took his place in the temple. Tears came to his eyes. Through his tears and the shining light of the arti lamp, the form of the Divine Mother appeared to him. He looked at her, thinking that it was the last darshan⁶ of this life. Then the scene of his vision changed to the Sandhurst Bridge near Chowpaty Beach. An electric train was speeding down the tracks. He saw his body tumbling from the bridge. The wheels of the train were crushing away his futile life. When the vision passed, streams of tears gushed from Bapuji’s eyes, and his voice choked as he prayed to the Divine Mother, Oh Mother, I don’t want to live such a futile and loveless life. Let me kill myself!

The arti prayers were over, but Bapuji was grieving so much that he did not move. Though other devotees had left the temple, he still stood there, weeping. Great sobs convulsed his body. At that moment a Mahatma⁷ paused before the great Mother for a blessing and stood silently for a few moments. Then the saint moved straight towards the weeping Bapuji and gently took his hand. Bapuji turned to his sympathizer and fell crying into his arms. The unknown saint caressed Bapuji’s head as if he were his own dear son. He then spoke to Bapuji in a sweet and consoling voice, My son, don’t cry. Come along; follow me.

The saint’s words had a magical effect. Bapuji stopped weeping and followed him without a word or even the slightest hesitation. They walked out of the temple and down the road. Near a closed shop they found a seat and sat there side by side. Then the saint spoke again, ever so tenderly, My son, you have been thinking of committing suicide! Don’t think of it. Suicide is a forbidden act.

How could a stranger read his thoughts? Frightened, Bapuji became pale and looked at the saint. As an immediate reaction he denied the fact and said, No! No. You’re completely wrong. I’ve never thought of committing suicide. His voice broke as he spoke these words. Bapuji’s guilty conscience had compelled him to hide the truth. Otherwise, he had not intended to tell a lie.

The saint’s eyes glowed with compassion. His lips wore a faint smile of total understanding as he said, "My son, you are a sadhak, a seeker of truth and holiness. Tonight you planned to jump from the Sandhurst Bridge and onto the track of an electric train as it passed underneath."

Bapuji’s mind raced, How could he know these things? But then he confessed, Yes, I spoke untruthfully. Please forgive me. With this admission he bowed before the saint. Within a few minutes this kind stranger had brought a new faith to him.

The saint touched his shoulder affectionately and said, It was only natural for you to hide your plan. You are forgiven. Tomorrow is Thursday. See me between three and six in the afternoon. He then gave Bapuji an address⁸ and said goodbye. Bapuji stood still and watched him disappear into the night.

Ordinarily Bapuji was not easily impressed, but this man had read his thoughts and reached out to him so tenderly in his darkest night. He was deeply moved by this mystic saint. Now Bapuji wanted to live. The idea of suicide had totally vanished!

The Smile of Destiny

The next day Bapuji started off to the saint’s ashram early enough to arrive before six; but somehow, in his confusion, he was late by half an hour. The saint usually gave darshan to the general public just once a week, on Thursdays from 3:00 p.m. to 6:00 p.m. The ashram gate was closed promptly at six and latecomers had to return disappointed. But on this day, amazingly, the gate was still open. Hurriedly, Bapuji went inside. In the darshan hall, seated on a platform, he saw the same kind stranger who had met him the previous evening. His disciples sat before him on the clean stone floor. Everyone appeared to be eagerly awaiting some special guest. Four months previously the saint had told them that a young man who would be his foremost disciple would come on this very evening.

Bapuji placed a garland of flowers around the saint’s neck and offered pranams.⁹ The saint pointed to a nearby seat. As Bapuji moved towards it the saint said, Swami, my son, it is nice that you have come.

Bapuji was surprised. He imagined that the saint had called him ‘Swami’ because of his dark complexion. Many people from Madras province in south India are dark complexioned and have names ending in swami. But the saint clarified: "I have not called you ‘Swami’ because I imagine you to be from Madras. It is because in the future you are going to be a renunciate sannyasi-swami".¹⁰ You may not understand this, and it is not necessary to discuss it further now. Bapuji remained silent, so the saint continued, Now, if you want to stay with me in this ashram you are welcome." The saint knew Bapuji’s future, so he did not hesitate to invite him. Already under the saint’s influence, Bapuji had received an invitation to his liking. Destiny was smiling on him. He promptly accepted the offer. He had two things in mind: he could learn Yoga, and he could render service to this great yogi. As he considered this latest prospect, Bapuji’s heart was filled with indescribable joy.

The next day he set off from his friend’s house with his bag. It was like moving from earth to heaven, a journey from suicide to exultation. When Bapuji reached the ashram he found that the Saint’s leading devotees had made all the arrangements for his stay.

The Saint’s ashram was situated in an affluent locality near the seashore. One of his wealthy disciples had asked him to use this palatial estate as his ashram. It was a handsome, secluded, four-storied building with a pleasant garden surrounded by a compound wall. The setting was enchantment itself.

The public gate in front was kept open only on Thursdays, but a small gate in the back was always kept open for close disciples. The saint had instructed the organizers to arrange for Bapuji’s stay on the same floor that he himself occupied, which was the enormous third floor of this spacious mansion. The size of the upper stories was such that the saint’s living room was four rooms away from Bapuji’s. As a matter of fact, the saint was the only occupant of this entire stately dwelling. Now Bapuji became the second, and he was overwhelmed with happiness. He thought that Lady Luck had favored him and his bad days were over. Only two days earlier he had considered himself a failure in worldly life. Now he was filled with enthusiasm for treading the path of spiritual life.

It is really true: only if we can become useless for mundane purposes can we prove to be useful for serving God.

The saint planned to begin teaching Bapuji the yogic texts the next day. Accordingly, he scheduled the lessons for an hour each morning and an hour each afternoon. At 10 a.m. the next morning Bapuji presented himself for his first lesson. After prostrating himself at the feet of the saint, Bapuji sat on the floor in front of him.

Since it was the first session, Bapuji should have remained silent, allowing the saint to initiate the discussion. But his everlasting curiosity compelled him to speak: May I ask a question?

Certainly, answered the saint, granting permission.

Have you seen God?

I am identical with God.

How did you achieve oneness with God?

Through the practice of Yoga.

How can Yoga be accomplished?

First, one must purify the body and the mind.

What should be done to accomplish that?

"Practice asans and pranayam and observe yogic vows."¹¹

What is to be done after achieving physical and mental purification?

Manolay.

What is that?

"Thoughts are barriers to self-realization. They should be exhausted gradually, and ultimately annihilated. When the mind is thoughtless, it becomes absorbed in God. This state is called manolay."

"How can one achieve the state of manolay?"

"By practicing dharana, dhyan and samadhi."

"It seems you are recommending the practice of ashtang yoga."¹²

You have understood correctly.

"Will you be teaching ashtang yoga to me?"

Yes. But before attempting the actual practice, you should understand the basic theoretical knowledge behind it.

Then, please teach me the theory of yoga.

It is exactly for this purpose that I have told you to come to me everyday for two hours.

I am highly indebted to you for that.

Then the saint gave Bapuji his first lesson in Yoga. At the stroke of eleven, the teaching session ended. Just then, a lady disciple peeped into the room and said, "Gurudev, lunch is ready." He stood up and signaled Bapuji to accompany him. They passed two large rooms before reaching the dining room.

Here Bapuji was stunned to see two gold-plated and two silver-plated low stools laid with plates, cups, jugs, and other utensils of gold and silver. Before he could recover from his surprise, the saint forced him to sit on a gold-plated stool. Then, the saint himself sat on a silver-plated stool and said, My son, greatness lies in one’s character and not in worldly substances like gold or silver. If that is so, what is the difference between a seat of gold and a heap of dust? A diamond always remains a diamond, whether it is embedded in gold or silver or lost in mud.

The saint was an accomplished yogi, whose mind was influenced neither by rags nor riches. Only a truly emancipated soul could know and feel such detachment from worldly glitter. The average human would be swept away. Being human, Bapuji naturally felt proud to be sitting on a gold-plated stool and eating from a golden plate. A pauper until the previous day, he reveled in this fabulous wealth. He was so excited that he could not even remember how much, or what, he ate. Afterwards, Bapuji went for a long walk to digest both his lunch and his experience! But he couldn’t erase the gold and silver from his mind.

Again that afternoon he went to the saint for a study session. As he bowed, the saint touched his head lovingly and said, Swami, why are you so fascinated by gold and silver? They do not even belong to you, and yet you are so proud of them. It is sheer foolishness to be excited and proud over such worldly and illusory things. Forget about gold and silver forever.

On hearing these words, thoughts of gold and silver vanished from Bapuji’s mind. The next day in the dining room all four stools were gold-plated. Because the saint had taken a seat on a silver one the previous day, his millionaire disciples had replaced them. Money was no problem for them. But on this day Bapuji was unimpressed. Gold and silver were no enticement. His attraction for ostentation had vanished. He was able to eat in a calm and peaceful frame of mind.

The Mahatma

Mahatmaji had arrived in Bombay six months before he met Bapuji. When Laxmichand Seth, a Bombay merchant, first encountered Mahatmaji it was an extraordinary event, a milestone of an introduction to this great man.

Laxmichand was a millionaire Marwari¹³ businessman with a flourishing business in Bombay. Though he had little formal education, he was a wise, virtuous, and polite man. On his daily visits to a temple in the Madhavbagh area of the city, Laxmichand unfailingly gave alms to the beggars who sat in front of the abode of the Gods. One morning, while offering charity after worship, he saw an ascetic who sat leaning against a pillar a little distant from a group of beggars. He approached him and offered him some money.

I am not a beggar, the ascetic said.

Mahatmaji, I know you are not a beggar. You are an ascetic, a monk. I understand that. I am offering the money with the thought that you, too, may sometime need it. Kindly accept it. If you feel this is not enough, or have another requirement, please tell me. I will try to fulfill it, said the polite businessman.

Do you earn this money?

Yes, by the grace of God I have a good income and I offer a small part of it as alms.

When you need money, you too are a beggar. You cannot offer anything to me. The wealth that I posses is so great that no one in this world can match it. Since you are running after money, you are the beggar, not I.

From their conversation Laxmichand realized that this was not an ordinary monk. So he told him again, "Mahatmaji!¹⁴ What you say is true. But I don’t boast of my property. Almighty God has graced me with abundant wealth, and it won’t run out if I offer some of it to the poor and the beggars. With this understanding I donate to whatever extent possible. Kindly take it if it’s acceptable to you, but I have no objection if you don’t accept my offerings. It is only you who should be pleased. After worship it is my practice to offer a gift to every needy person sitting here. It gratifies my mind."

If you have an abundance of riches go straight to your home and save your son with it. If your money can save your son you are not a beggar but truly a rich man.

Laxmichand was puzzled. He asked, What are you talking about? I don’t understand what you are saying.

First go back to your home. Then you will understand, the Mahatma said.

I just came from my home. It is my routine to come here for worship before going to my office, said Laxmichand.

But today you should go back home immediately.

All right, said Laxmichand. But, in fact, he drove straight to his firm’s office instead. He thought that the monk was an eccentric.

As he got out of his car, he saw the manager of his firm running to him. There was a phone call from your wife asking that you should return home at once, said the manager.

Any reason? inquired Laxmichand.

She did not say, replied the manager.

Laxmichand, now apprehensive that there might be some truth in the Mahatma’s words, hurried back home to find that his only son, an eight year old, had suffered a bad fall from the top floor of the house. The boy was lying unconscious. Doctors attending him were not optimistic and told Laxmichand: He is unconscious and is not responding. Breath, heartbeat, and pulse are not discernible. We do not have much hope.

If your money can save your son then you are not a beggar. The words of the Mahatma rang in Laxmichand’s ears. Realizing the situation, he drove back to the temple and found the Mahatma sitting by the pillar in the same posture. When Laxmichand approached, the Mahatma asked, Why have you returned? What happened?

Laxmichand fell prostrate at the feet of the Mahatma. With an emotion-choked voice he said, Forgive me, Mahatmaji! I did not recognize you. I blundered. You told me, but I did not go directly home. Please forgive me if, in my ignorance, I said any unworthy thing to you. You are a Supreme Being. You know everything that has happened. It will be unbearable for me to lose my only son. Have mercy on me and do something! Come with me to my house. I humbly beg and implore you to revive my son. Have mercy on me! I shall ever be indebted to you. Laxmichand wept freely as he spoke.

The Mahatma looked compassionately at him and asked, Do you have a container? The merchant did not, but he ran to the temple and returned with a bowl made of leaves. Mahatmaji poured some water from his kamandal¹⁵ into the bowl of leaves and told the merchant, I do not go to anyone’s home, but give this water to the boy.

When the Mahatma declined his repeated requests to accompany him, Laxmichand gave up insisting and hurried home with the water to attend to the crisis. All were anxiously awaiting his arrival. He put one spoonful of water into his son’s mouth. Events took a mysterious turn, for the boy slowly opened his eyes! The father was elated and offered all the water to the son, who drank it. The bewildered doctors checked the boy thoroughly and found him to be quite normal, with no signs of injury. Recognizing the greatness of the ascetic, Laxmichand ran back to Madhavbagh and fell at Mahatmaji’s feet. He held them closely and entreated, O, Supreme Being! You have given my son, even me, a new life. I beg you to grace our home and give us an opportunity to serve you.

Have you realized now who is the beggar?

Yes, I thoroughly understand that I’m the beggar. Your assets are indescribable. There is none and will be none in this world to match your riches. Your wealth has no limits; what can we, the beggars, offer to you? asked the overwhelmed businessman.

What service can you render to me then? I do not find it necessary to take any service from anyone. Of what use would it be for me to accompany you? I do not go to anyone’s home.

O Divine Being! You may not come to my home, but by your grace I also have another mansion lying empty. Please come there and make it your ashram. I will make all arrangements to serve, but I won’t let you go anywhere else! I do not know your name, nor do I know from where you have come. Yet, from today you are my guest. You must give me and my family an opportunity to render our hospitality and service to you. Laxmichand’s plea was a heart-felt prayer.

All right, as you wish; I have come to stay in Bombay. If you so desire, I will live in your vacant mansion.

Extremely happy to hear the Mahatma’s decision, Laxmichand took him to the mansion. He made all the arrangements according to Mahatmaji’s desires. From that day onwards the mansion was converted into the saint’s ashram.

All this occurred on the day of Gurupurnima¹⁶. Laxmichand crowned Mahatmaji as his spiritual protector and he and his wife took mantra¹⁷ initiation from the saint. Thus, Laxmichand was Mahatmaji’s first disciple in Bombay.

Another Gujarat millionaire, Govardhanbhai Seth, a neighbor and friend, came to know about the restoration of Laxmichand’s son’s life. So he, too, wished to become a disciple of this great Mahatma. On the recommendation of Laxmichand Seth, he was given mantra initiation. Within two weeks the news of the saint’s miraculous powers spread, and numerous other well-to-do people fell under his spell. Wealthy housewives started visiting the ashram for his darshan. They came from as far away as fifty miles and felt blessed to be able to render even the smallest service in the ashram like washing a cloth or a utensil or two or even cleaning the bathroom. Usually Mahatmaji sat meditating in his room, but when he left his seat to take a bath, more than a dozen women would enter his meditation room and quickly sweep and mop the floor and tidy it up. All the devotees yearned to render any service to this high soul.

In no time the number of devotees increased to several hundred. They all came to the ashram regularly for darshan and seva (service). All of them were permitted darshan at fixed times in the morning or afternoon. They also had to finish their services within a stipulated time. Except for a few close disciples, none were permitted to enter the saint’s meditation room. Most had to be satisfied with darshan from a distance. The door of the meditation room was kept open day and night. Therefore, everyone could at least see him from the doorway without any difficulty.

Mahatmaji’s serene personality had a magical effect. Anyone coming into personal contact with him came under the influence of the spell. People were instantly charmed by his personal charisma. He had not given even a single rule for the management of the ashram, yet all of his disciples knew exactly what they were supposed to do. The discipline and holiness of the ashram were never disrupted. Everyone did his or her bit of service in a disciplined manner, smilingly and happily.

Mahatmaji often won over his disciples with nothing more than a glance or a few casual words. Normally he would not speak to anyone without a special reason. When he did speak, he always finished the conversation within two minutes. Moreover, he always talked to a person in his or her own mother tongue. He spoke any language with great ease and fluency. However, while addressing a congregation, he chose to speak in Hindi. Though he rarely gave a discourse, everyone was spellbound by his wisdom-filled speech whenever he did speak. His sermons were full of solid, wholesome truths.

Mahatmaji treated Bapuji very well, and embraced him like a beloved son. Because of this special favor, Bapuji’s heart was filled with joy in the new atmosphere of the ashram. Mahatmaji now appointed Bapuji as the manager of the ashram. Though Bapuji was entrusted with the responsibility of organizing the ashram, he did not have to do any work himself to accomplish a task. There were many willing devotees who would carry out his orders. He had only to distribute the work among the devotees and supervise its implementation. Of course, sometimes he found it hard to distribute tasks to every person, because all vied with one another to render service. But everyone respected and obeyed Bapuji because, in his absence, Mahatmaji had told all of his devotees: Swami is my chief disciple. This was reason enough for all of the devotees to hold Bapuji in high esteem.

One day, as Mahatmaji lovingly stroked Bapuji’s head, the young disciple was so filled with joy that he said: "All the devotees coming here to the ashram call you Gurudev. I have asked many of them about your name as a sannyasi. But they say, ‘We don’t know. He is God Incarnate. He can have countless names. All names from every letter of the alphabet are His name’. But it is said in the scriptures that the Guru’s name is a great mantra for a disciple. I wish to know your name. Please tell me your true name. I intend to chant it as a mantra."

In that case, it will do if you chant the Pranav mantra (OM)," said the saint¹⁸.

Is Pranav your name?

"What have you to do with the name? If it is jap that you wish to do, then the Pranav mantra is the best".

"Whether a worldly person or a renunciant, everyone must have a name. Out of necessity, you named me ‘Swami’. In the same way, we too may have such