Papaji Amazing Grace: Interviews With Seekers Of Enlightenment...And How They Found It

Table of Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1 Peter

Chapter 2 Suresha

Chapter 3 Eoin

Chapter 4 Chandi Devi

Chapter 5 Scott

Chapter 6 Soma

Chapter 7 Hans

Chapter 8 Johan

Chapter 9 Pratima

Chapter 10 Patrick

Chapter 11 Yogi

Chapter 12 Swamiji

Chapter 13 Sathya

Chapter 14 Bansi

Chapter 15 Ram Charan

Glossary

Introduction

Papaji, who was responsible for the Amazing Grace in these stories, was H.W.L. Poonja. The familiar name Papaji was given to him by his Sangha (community), which established itself around him in Lucknow, North India from 1990 to 1997. In his early years as a teacher, he was called Master by his disciples. These tales are archetypical of the leela (divine play) that occurs between any master and his disciples. They illustrate the possibility of Awakening for anyone who has the longing for Truth.

Amazing Grace, because the inner longing brings a master into the seeker’s life. Grace, Amazing Grace from masters like Papaji, acts to awaken the seeker to the Eternal Self.

Perfect Awakening is possible here and now

for every human being, regardless of background,

practice or personal circumstances.

You are already free!

Anything gained afresh will be lost.

What is eternal is always within you, as your own Self.

Papaji

These are the stories of a housewife, a businessman, even an officer of a nuclear powered aircraft carrier. Each person, whatever their background, had the common longing to discover the eternal Truth of who they are. When this longing is strong enough, a Master appears.

Although everyone is already free, his or her body-mind is caught in the apparent reality of everyday life. This book could be called Posthumous Tales because each person has gone through a death. Not the death of the body-mind but rather the death of the attachment to the conditioned mind or ego. Each person has woken up to the understanding that they are not the conditioned ‘I,’ me, my story, but rather the Eternal Self, ever constant.

This book could also be called Papaji’s People because all the tales are told by seekers for Truth who came to Lucknow from all over the world to visit Papaji. Some Awoke and became members of the Sangha. This was a group of perhaps eighty people who lived permanently in Lucknow and another one to two hundred who came and went with the extreme seasons. In summer the temperature could reach forty-seven degrees. In winter sweaters and electric heaters were necessary and all year round dust, exhaust fumes and noise pollution were common. Many hundreds of guests came and went or passed through just long enough for that climactic Awakening in his presence.

A Satsang (meeting in Truth) room was built as an addition to a private house and above it a restaurant was made on the roof. Many Sangha residents lived by running guesthouses and this led to competition and jealousy. When the dramas of love affairs and changing alliances were added to the pot it was not always a happy family! As Satsang only happened for two hours five mornings a week there was much free time and so gossip became a major sport.

However, from the moment Papaji walked into the Satsang room, mind games were set aside and hearts opened and became one. This phenomenon was enough to keep the Sangha together for several years to the huge benefit of new arrivals. In the Sangha, people supported each other in coming to the understanding that would lead to an Awakening. Gradually the Satsang room contained many Awakened longer-term residents.

When I first arrived in Lucknow in 1992, Papaji was actively engaging most of the people who sat at his feet in Self-enquiry. Later things changed. The arrival of Osho disciples brought a more playful and heartful atmosphere and Papaji responded so that celebration, music, singing and dance gradually increased the devotional emphasis. Finally in the last years he was simply content to sit in the hall, knowing that when someone was ready, the necessary transmission would take place.

In the presence of Papaji, I had my own Awakening. A week after the event he called me to sit in front of him and asked me to talk about Truth. Like everyone before me I was only able to mutter a few sentences that perhaps pointed in the direction of Truth. Later it occurred to me that in a relaxed situation one to one, people could perhaps point closer to this Truth.

These stories are the result of this idea. The interviews begin with the interviewee’s early life, creeping up quietly to the main point, which is to shine light on the nature of Truth. After each interviewee’s initial attempt I encouraged them to try again from a different standpoint. The editing of each interview maintains the unique character of the original conversation.

Most of these dialogues took place in Lucknow from 1992 to 1996, while I was an active member of the Sangha or, as Papaji preferred to call us, ‘passengers in the airport transit lounge, with the plane approaching.’ Normally these dialogues occurred a day or two after the Awakening, when the heat of Truth was burning bright. There was no selection of the interviewees; the meetings happened spontaneously.

The stories lay fallow for many years until a friend, reading one of them, insisted enthusiastically that I collect them into a book. At that time I found myself in Tiruvannamalai at the holy mountain, Arunachala. Arunachala was the home of Sri Ramana Maharshi, Papaji’s master and one of India’s most respected modern saints. Since Papaji’s death in 1997 many of his disciples regularly visit the mountain and Sri Ramana Maharshi’s ashram.

In the presence of Arunachala, ten years after his interview, I repeated the interview with Ram Charan, as the original tape had been lost. Further interviews were conducted as I met other interesting characters from the Lucknow days. Finally in 2004 in Munich I met Patrick, who had been living in Papaji’s house when I arrived in Lucknow in 1992. He was Papaji’s daily attendant for three years. Including his interview, conducted in Germany at the Open Sky Satsang Community near Cologne where I now live, brought the book to maturity.

Twelve years after the original interviews, I offer this book in homage to Papaji and as another medium to share Truth. In response to a question about the quality of a well-known master, Papaji once said, ‘If you want to test the quality of the orchard, you taste the fruit.’ This book gives a taste of the fruit from Papaji’s orchard, revealing the greatness of this Master, H.W.L. Poonja, fondly known by his loving devotees as Papaji.

Premananda 2006

Published by Open Sky Press, Smashwords Edition

Peter

My one meeting with Peter was intense and total, Self to Self. He was brought to me by his new lover, an old friend of mine. They left for Rishikesh the next day leaving me with this wonderful, sweet tale of surrender. We never met again. Our meeting illustrates the synchronicity and flow that occurred in making this book.

‘Papaji looked into my eyes. It was complete surrender without me doing a thing. There was no thought, no decision to surrender. It was completely automatic.’

I was born in Switzerland in the German speaking part, in a town called Bremgarten, near Zurich, into a family of two children. Looking back, I would say not a particularly happy situation. Much trouble, with our parents living a life of jealousy and unhappiness. It wasn’t an ideal childhood.

I spent much time escaping to nature, into the forest to a beautiful river nearby. I wanted to get away at an early age. I remember my grandfather used to tell me stories about when he’d been in Africa and South America in the jungle, although in fact he’d never left his village in Switzerland. He was a very good storyteller and whetted my appetite to travel.

When I was a young man a strong urge to travel to India came upon me. It was the sixties with the Beatles saying things like ‘Let it be,’ and talking about their Guruji. They had a lot to do with my interest in India. My interest became stronger. I was working as a dental mechanic. I didn’t like the profession because I was shut up in a laboratory all day. Later I did an apprenticeship as a merchandising executive. Finally the time came to leave Switzerland.

I travelled first in Europe. I joined the hippies in the South of France: in Nice, Cannes and St Tropez. My family was concerned of course, so I told them I was going to Israel to work in a kibbutz. They thought that was an excellent idea, that it would be a good experience for a young man. But really I had other plans (laughs)! I reached Istanbul where I met people coming back from India. This was 1971, and I was about twenty years old.

There was something about these people that attracted me. They had wide-open eyes and an expression that I could not fully understand, but liked very much. It was mystical and a little calm. They were beautiful people. I wanted more and more to reach India.

Did you get there?

Eventually I got to Afghanistan, but I fell ill. I lost all my possessions and had to return to Switzerland. Soon I made a second attempt and reached India finally. As I crossed into India a tremendous warmth came over me. It was like coming home. Then I went up to Kathmandu in Nepal, which was magical. I couldn’t believe it. It was a fabulous place.

After that I drifted down through India to Goa, where I lived a beautiful life with the hippies. We were always naked. We had a wonderful time for years, and sometimes during the monsoon I would go up to North India. In Rishikesh I started becoming interested in meditation, yoga and other aspects of Hinduism and Indian life. I lived with the local people.

It felt so good to be in India. I didn’t particularly look for anything, but slowly I was becoming curious about the Indian way of life, the purpose of life: why all this? Why does all this exist? Why do I exist? I wasn’t looking for a particular guru; I was just curious. I went on pilgrimages, walking from Rishikesh up to Badhrinath with the sadhus (ascetics). That was incredible because they refused to talk about anything but God. Nothing else existed for them.

After a few years of living like that, I met a lady from Australia and I fell in love. Our guru, Swami Premananda from Rishikesh, told us it was time to go back to the West and do something. He said, ‘You go and live the Western life for a while.’ We thought, ‘That fits. We’ll do some work and later come back to India.’ It was difficult to leave India, my beloved India, and I regretted for a long time that I was in the West.

But once back in the West, in Australia, I got a taste of Western life. I was introduced to the world of art, and let myself be taken for a grand ride through the art world. I ended up as an art dealer. I was successful very quickly, almost immediately. I was surprised at how easy it all was. I never thought I really did anything at all. People would write articles in magazines and newspapers about me, and I’d think, ‘Why would they do this (laughs)?’

Did you have your own gallery?

My wife and I owned a gallery in Adelaide for about eight years. We specialised in a particular field: work on paper, and limited edition prints and drawings, and later on, multicoloured batiks and paintings. We were actually talked into showing paintings by important artists who just came to us. I never did anything (laughs). I really enjoyed the art world, but after a while I felt it wasn’t so good. It wasn’t me. Something was severely lacking. Again, more and more, I had the feeling that I should be back in India, back to the spiritual life. There was very little of that going on in Australia. My life was all about art. It got to me. I started becoming bothered by the artificiality of dealing with art. It all seemed quite fake at times. It wasn’t totally honest.

Selling paintings is a kind of game because the gallery itself creates the name of the artist. Of course, there must be something in the paintings, but nevertheless, the show around the paintings creates the value. Is that how it is?

It is mostly social. You have very little time for yourself, and you talk all the time about things that actually are not real: about tonality and colour and why a painting is good. You talk in abstracts. That’s interesting to a certain point, but I wanted more. It wasn’t enough. I was getting fed up with it. I was getting fed up with success too, and with dealing with people who I thought didn’t live a true life. Success started becoming sweet; people recognising me, wanting to make a little caption for TV, or writing me up in a book. But after a while I thought, ‘I don’t want this.’ I got out.

I travelled around Australia for two years. More and more, a feeling grew: I wanted to be with myself. I wanted to find out about myself, who I was and why. My wife and I dissolved our marriage. She went off to become a sailor, and I went back to India.

I remember landing in Delhi and smelling India. The smell of humanity. It was the nicest thing. It brought tears to my eyes. I felt like kissing the tarmac it was so beautiful. Again, there came the feeling of a huge warmth, an amazing, overwhelming warmth. Arriving back in India was so very beautiful.

I went back to Rishikesh, hurting a bit from the break-up with my wife. You become used to somebody you’ve lived with for fifteen years. I felt like a part of me was missing, gone. So, consciously, I went up to Rishikesh to find myself.

One day I went to Haridwar and bumped into Ramda, a friend of mine from Brazil, just the day before he was due to go to Delhi and fly back to his home country. He said, ‘Oh! Peter, how nice to meet you here. I’m just on my way to see my Guruji, would you like to come?’

I said, ‘Yes, yes! I have some time and would like to come.’ So we went through some back alleys of Haridwar to the house where the guru stayed.

Up to that point had you been with other gurus?

I had attended Satsang (meeting in Truth), and Darshan (being in the presence of a saint) with saints in Rishikesh, but nothing caught me. I never felt, ‘This is my guru.’ I wasn’t looking for a guru. I did believe that it would happen sooner or later, if it was meant to happen. People were talking about freedom, enlightenment and self-realisation, but I didn’t fully understand what they were saying. I definitely wanted something, but I didn’t know exactly what. I saw so many saints and teachers in Rishikesh. Nothing really worked.

I did meet a wonderful Sufi lady. Actually, I ended up looking after her in hospital. She had to have an operation after being injured by a bull in the market in Rishikesh. She taught me how to open my heart, to throw away the key and never be closed again. It did happen.

I wrote some small poems about it. I started seeing God. I started understanding. Things started happening quickly. My spiritual homecoming was at a fast pace. I had no control. I didn’t really know what was supposed to happen. It would just happen and I would feel an incredible elation. I remember walking over Ram Jhoola Bridge in Rishikesh one day, and I suddenly realised that God is within me. It happened in a flash, but wasn’t a permanent thing. I was going away from it again after a while. The experience was not permanent. But on and on, things like that would occur.

Tell me about your first meetig with Papaji.

So as I said, I met Ramda and he took me to the man in Haridwar. We came to the room, and a beautiful man was sitting on a bed, half naked. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. He had all these tattoos on his arms and was amazingly strong. I almost felt some fear; his presence was so powerful, incredibly powerful. He invited me in. He said, ‘Come in and sit.’

I was invited to sit in front of him, and he asked me where I was from. I said, ‘I’m from Australia.’ Immediately he gave me a smile and said, ‘Do you know the kangaroos, have you touched a kangaroo?’ And he started talking about nature and animals. At one point I told him that I had been a diver. He was so interested in this that he lit up. He was very happy to talk about nature. We talked for a long time, and I became completely lost. I felt beautiful with this man. Everything that I would have thought of before went away. I was just being with this beautiful man and feeling so good. I didn’t know what was happening. He gave me chai (tea) and lots of prasad (offering from the guru).

After some time he said, ‘Okay Peter, now you go back to Rishikesh, and I am going to walk with my disciples by the Ganga.’ I thought, ‘I would really like to go walking with this beautiful man, along with his disciples by the Ganga.’ But I knew I was not to ask, as he had given me a clear order to go back to Rishikesh. I said to myself, ‘Okay, I will go,’ but I felt really sorry that I had to go.

I went back to Rishikesh, and this man never left my mind. After a few days I thought, ‘I want to go back to this man; maybe he would let me in again.’ I went to Haridwar but couldn’t find him. I couldn’t find the side streets where he was because I hadn’t paid attention while going there, and certainly not while leaving. I had been in an altered state. I had even failed to ask his name. I didn’t know who he was. I started asking people if they knew this beautiful man. I described him, but nobody seemed to know.

Did you find him before you left India?

No I didn’t. I went back overseas and travelled around the world to South America and to the United States. I went to live in San Francisco for some time. I often thought about this man. I wanted to go and serve him, completely surrender to him. I just wanted to be with him, he was so beautiful. But I couldn’t find him. Nothing brought me back to him. Two or three times I went back to Rishikesh, still asking for him. People said, ‘Come and see our guru.’ I said, ‘No, no, this is my man. I think I have found my guru.’ I searched. I saw all kinds of gurujis, in South India also, and people were talking about a man in Lucknow. I said, ‘No, no, I want to find this beautiful man.’

One day in January 1994, I went to visit a girlfriend in West Bengal. I was in love with this girl whom I’d met in Rishikesh. She had left, as she had a prior arrangement to work in West Bengal. She sent me a letter to come and join her, which I thought would be a good thing to do. When I arrived she had decided that it was off. I was distraught and very unhappy. So after twenty-four hours I left. I just wanted to go back to Rishikesh. I couldn’t really think, I was so hurt and disappointed. I went to the train station on the main line from Howrah to Delhi.

I went to the station master who asked, ‘Where would you like to be going, sir?’

I said, ‘I just want the next train going west.’

‘Surely you must know where you want to be going.’

‘No, no, just put me on the next train. I want to go. I just want to get out of here.’

‘Shortly there will be a train. I can’t give you a reservation.’

‘Give me a ticket please.’

‘Don’t you want to know where the train is going?’

‘Okay, you tell me.’

‘It’s going to Lucknow.’

‘Okay, I will go to Lucknow.’

I thought, ‘Lucknow sounds right. I will go and see this man who people are talking about, who is now so popular.’

I arrived in Lucknow. Long before, somebody had given me an address. I went to Indira Nagar and to Satsang House, which I found without any difficulty. I arrived and went inside. Some people were playing Japanese flute and a Japanese string instrument. Everything was peaceful. I immediately liked it very much. I sat and didn’t expect anything. I was just happy to be there. I felt relieved to be with these beautiful people. Suddenly everybody got up. The music stopped and everyone turned around and started bringing their hands together in namaste (traditional palms-together greeting).

I looked, and I couldn’t believe it. In came the man I was missing so much. It was the man who’d sat on the bed in Haridwar. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t think. Everything changed. Suddenly there was an incredible sensation within my body. Every cell, every atom in my body, went out to him. It’s very hard to describe that feeling, and it was so powerful.

This man walked towards me, and I was quite beside myself. I looked at him. I looked in his eyes, and he looked at some people, then he brought his eyes to me and looked deeply in my eyes. I was completely gone. It was complete surrender without me doing a thing. There was no thought, no decision to surrender. It was completely automatic.

People asked him questions, and when he answered them it was as if he was talking directly to me. Everything was for me. I couldn’t think of asking him a question. I didn’t even think of doing anything. Things just happened. Like that, I stayed. There were only a few Satsangs because of some holidays.

So what happened next?

Then I went back to Rishikesh to receive some visitors. There was a ten day delay, as the visitors had changed their plans. For me everything had changed. The things that Papaji had said kept going through my mind. Somebody gave me a book about Who am I? I found myself asking myself, ‘Who am I? Who am I? Where are these thoughts coming from? What is it that is present between two thoughts? What is it that is still present when I am asleep?’ In a way I started to understand.

I spent a quiet ten days, and on one of those days I walked to Phoolchati. I had been to Phoolchati many times, but this time I went because I wanted to be somewhere Papaji frequented. He spent some time in the caves there. Little did I know that he had lived for some years in the cottage right next to mine, Athikashram, where I used to live in Rishikesh.

Things were coming together in a fast and inexplicable way. Walking to Phoolchati I was doing Self-enquiry without any effort, as he had said. I started getting somewhere. I was feeling something and understanding. I went down to where the two rivers meet, where the China River meets the Ganga at Phoolchati. It’s a beautiful place. It was peaceful, and I was now calm, a little bit weary from my walk. I sat down and placed myself so that I could hear the Ganga, my beloved Ganga, in one ear, and in the other ear the China River. I was listening to the sounds of the rivers, resting.

Suddenly Papaji was there, right in front of me. You could call it a vision full of light, very strong light, appearing within an aura. He was beaming and laughing. He looked at me, and I looked at him. He looked deeply into my eyes, and I looked deeply into his eyes. There was a delicious emptiness in his eyes, and suddenly I understood every teaching I had ever heard, had ever read, everything he had said. Everything that I intellectually understood, now I became, just like that, in a split second.

I said to Papaji, ‘Master, you and I, we are the same. Oh my goodness! We are the same. There is no difference. There is no difference between you and me, there is no difference between you and Ganga, between me and Ganga. These mountains, these rocks, these rivers, I am all this. This is all me. There is no difference.’ Papaji beamed and laughed with great joy. There was a feeling of enormous bliss, joy and love. Incredible love. Everything changed. In a way everything changed, but in another way nothing changed. The rocks were still rocks, and the sun was still shining.

I was looking from a different perspective. I was perceiving things differently. I was walking within everything, and everything was me. That perspective has never left me. I understood what the Grace of the Guru is. That was Grace. Papaji removed the last obstacles. Papaji removed the feeling of being separate from him, or from anything else. In one glance into my eyes, he let me so generously look into his eyes and see the vast delicious emptiness, and allowed me to become it. That to me is Guru’s Grace. I don’t know how to thank Papaji. I wouldn’t know how to start, how to show gratitude to such an extent.

Right now, by telling this story, you’re thanking him.

Yes. I have lived for a few months now in Lucknow, and I have attended every possible Satsang. They’re like bathing in his presence, in golden light. It is so delicious just to be here. It is so lovely to be with him. There is also gratitude to be here and to enjoy his enormous generosity. I feel very welcome, even though I have not, ever since that first meeting in the winter of 1989/90 in Haridwar, approached Papaji to talk to him again. It never occurred to me. There was no necessity. Everything happens anyway, automatically, and seems to work out beautifully and sweetly. All I can say is, ‘Thank you, thank you Master.’ I feel like I am a most fortunate person, together with many other people who come to Satsang, to have found Papaji. I feel so incredibly fortunate and lucky to have found my master (long charged silence).

When we met today for the first time, you were with Jagrouti, who is an old friend of mine. I understand that you two have fallen in love. Has your love manifested out of all this?

It’s absolutely the Grace of Papaji. There are no two ways about it; there is no doubt. I met her at Satsang in January. Immediately I was attracted to her. Slowly she made her way into my heart, and I made my way into hers. It just happened. Eventually we met. Our love is different from the wonderful love I had with my wife. Jagrouti also loves Papaji, and to be together with a person like that, who is like a sister, but more, my lover, is delicious.

Once you look from awareness, or consciousness, you realise that nothing is to be done but everything happens automatically. When you fully give yourself up to That, then you meet somebody who has also given up, who has fully surrendered to the Self. Then you fall in love with that person. You are falling in love with the Self, and it is delicious and beautiful.

I feel like I am not making any decisions anymore. Decisions are just happening, certainly not made by me. There is nothing to be done. To fall in love and to know that it is alright. I always wondered what would happen if I had an experience like this through the Guru’s Grace. Step into a different point of view and what happens? Will I still be able to love a woman? Will I still enjoy sex? Is there love without attachment? Everything becomes totally and beautifully normal and simple. And yes, it is right and fine.

I am aware that what I thought before was ‘I’ was simply associating with the ego, with the thoughts that arose. I used to think that was me. But when I stepped back by the Grace of Papaji, there was freedom. Everything is beautiful, automatic and so joyful. A problem is not quite a problem anymore. The noise and pollution of Lucknow are not noise or pollution that bother me. They happen. They are registered, but then go again. No attention is paid to them or to somebody who is trying to beg money from me. To be is so beautiful, just to exist. It doesn’t matter what I do. I am always happy with what is arising, accepting without effort. There is no judgment being made about things happening in a particular way. Rather, things are accepted as they are. There is no contribution to be made. Just sit back and enjoy. In a way everything is different now, but in another way it’s the same. The point of observing has shifted, not the actions around me. There is being, and in that being, awareness that I am not the doer, that things are simply unfolding. Life feels very easy. That is the Grace of Papaji. I am enormously grateful.

Your story is so simple, clear and ordinary. Things have come full circle. You are no more the extraordinary person who was mentioned on TV and written about in magazines. You are just one more Westerner in India, and yet you have become extraordinary by being simple and ordinary. It’s another sense of extraordinary.

This is extraordinary. The life I had before with flashing lights in the fast lane was artificial. Once I stopped what happened was quite interesting. Even though I’d made the decision and so much wanted to stop because of dissatisfaction with the artificiality of it all, still I missed it tremendously because so much of my life had been associated with it. That was all the ego’s doing, in full action. The problem was my identification with the ego. I was really sure that I was doing it. Once that stopped, the ego was hanging out in the air, not knowing what’s next. ‘I am no longer sought after. I am now ordinary. How come nobody is paying me particular attention?’ Quite a shock at first.

The ego played tremendous games with me, absolutely. I let it be my master instead of my slave. There is a beautiful Sufi saying: ‘A strong ego is very important until you don’t need it anymore.’ That is true, but there is another way of looking at it; Papaji’s way. ‘The ego is your servant, your maid. You tell the maid what to do. She is in your employment.’ The same goes for your mind. Once it is taken under control, a lot of things that