When we pursue happiness, it eludes you. However, when you recognise that happiness is the natural state of the soul, all you need is to eliminate all that comes between your happiness and you.
"He appeared and disappeared for years, being known by different
names in various parts of India. His western devotees knew him as Neem
Karoli Baba, but to the Indians he was simply Maharajji,” writes
Baba Ram Dass of his guru in his book Miracles of Love. Ram Dass,
formerly Richard Alpert, professor of psychology and colleague of LSD
guru Timothy Leary, met Neem Karoli Baba in 1967. During
that time, Alpert was quite a firm believer in the mysticism of psychedelic
drugs. However, one meeting with Maharajji changed his whole view
of life. And after Neem Karoli Baba left his body on September 11, 1973,
Ram Dass, along with some other disciples, compiled stories and anecdotes
about the sage. The result was Miracles of Love—an attempt, in
the words of Ram Dass, “to give Maharajji’s darshan to all”.
Neem Karoli Baba never gave any discourses as such.
His mode of teaching was through simple stories and practical examples. Little
is known about the saint’s background. He did not appear to belong to any religion.
His only message was loving and living in spirit. The enigmatic mystic abused,
shouted, lied, even experimented with drugs and had tea with dacoits. But, like
the wind, he belonged to no one. In his own words, he was ‘nobody’. What follows
are excerpts from Miracles of Love:
TOO BIG, TOO LITTLE
When you finally
arrived at the right place at the right time and were told: "Yes, he's here,"
and found yourself seated before him, what was it like? Even the tongues and hands
of the gods and goddesses of speech, music and poetry could not do justice to
those occasions.
When Maharajji came out, you never knew what to expect. He could
do the same thing a week in a row until you'd think: "Well, he'll come
out at 8.00." Then he might not come out at all that day, or he might
just go into another room and close the door and be in there for two days.
You had to learn to expect the unexpected.
One day he came out and all he said all day long was "thul-thul,
nan-nan," repeating these words to himself like a mantra. Days
went by like this and somebody finally said: "Maharajji, what are
you saying?" And it turned out to be an old Bihari dialect and
all it meant was "too big, too big, too little, too little". When he was
finally asked why he was saying this, he finally said: "Oh, all you people,
you live in the world of judgment. It's always too big or too little."
A policeman and a dacoit were both once visiting Maharajji. Each
was massaging a leg. Maharajji said to the dacoit: "There is a
bounty out for you and anyone who brings you in gets a reward. Isn't that
true?"
"I don't know, Maharajji," the dacoit replied.
Then Maharajji turned to the policeman and, indicating the dacoit,
said: "Do you recognize him?"
"No, Maharajji."
Such was his play.
The lessons Maharajji taught about rituals were fraught with paradox
that outdistanced the rational mind. He seemed concerned that the rituals
be done properly, yet he broke all the rules. But as one devotee said:
"When there was work, he would set aside the rituals, and the minute the
work was completed, he sent you to do puja." Perhaps he also broke
the rules, such as upsetting the fire ceremony, to show people that the
thing itself was not the ritual but the spirit. Do the ritual to tune
in, but don't get caught. Once, two old men who had taken sanyas
after raising families and having done their duties, spent many months
at the Kainchi temple (near the hill-station Naini Tal in the northern
Indian state of Uttar Pradesh). Maharajji heard them singing "Sita
Ram" for several hours each morning. When it was time for them to
leave, Maharajji called them in front of him and, in what appeared
to be outrage, yelled at them for beating an iron pan in front of the
idols. In the scriptures, iron is not to be used in the temples. Maharajji
told them that they didn't know how to behave properly and so he threw
them out. As they turned to walk away, Maharajji broke into a grin
and sang in a high falsetto voice, sweetly: "You beat the gong, and I
threw you out."
A young fellow once came and Maharajji asked him how he was, and
he said: "Oh, Maharajji, I've overcome anger." Maharajji
said: "Very good," and kept praising him. At that time, there was another
fellow present who had been asking Maharajji for many years to
come to his house, but Maharajji had never come because the boy's
father did not believe in sadhus (ascetics). But now Maharajji
suddenly agreed. The whole party went to the boy's house and Maharajji
sat on a cot belonging to the boy's father. Then Maharajji leaned
over, looked the father in the eye and said in Hindi: "You're a great
saint." But he used the personal form, which you use only to intimate
friends or to people of lower caste. So it was really an insult. The old
man got upset but held himself together. A little time passed and Maharajji
leaned over once again and said: "You're a great saint." The father's
temper was rising by the minute, but he still kept control. A few minutes
later, Maharajji said the same thing again. This time the father
screamed at Maharajji: "You're no saint. You just eat people's
food, and take their beds. You're a phony." At this point, the young fellow
who had overcome anger leaped to his feet, grabbed the father and started
shaking him, saying: "Shut up, you don't know who you're talking to. He's
a great saint. If you don't shut up now, I'll kill you." Now Maharajji
got up, looked around bewildered and said: "What's the matter? Don't they
want me here? We should gothey don't want me here." So he got up
and started walking out. On his way, he turned to the young fellow and
said: "It's very difficult to overcome anger. Even some of the greatest
saints don't overcome anger." The fellow said: "But Maharajji,
he was abusing you!" "That's right," Maharajji said. "But why were
you angry?"
Once I (Ram Dass) said: "Why do you feed so many people and why
so much? I could eat only four chapattis and still stay alive." Maharajji
answered: "We have an inner thirst for food. We don't know of it. Even
if you don't feel you can eat, your soul has a thirst for food. Take prasad!"
Maharajji
was talking in a room with only a few people, and to one man the talk
appeared meaningless. He said: "Babaji, you should give instructions
and lessons to people." Maharajji didn't answer. "Sometimes," the
man went on, "give us answers and teach us something." Again Maharajji
didn't answer him. The man repeated his statement a third time. Irritated,
Maharajji shouted: "What are instructions? What is this? What are
lessons? This is all foolishness!" Turning to the men standing there,
Maharajji asked each how each one would pass the next day. Each
man gave a similar reply, saying that he would go to work as usual. Maharajji
said: "So many people would pass the day and they'll all do what they
have to do tomorrow and they have all pre-planned it. What is the use
of giving a particular teaching? No matter what I say, you'll still go
on and do what you want. Yet you want me to dictate something. These teachings
have got no meaning. It is the Almighty who teaches everybody-they all
come well-taught."
Reading the Gita in front of Maharajji, a devotee paused and asked
him what was the quickest and shortest method to see God. Maharajji
laughed and asked the man if he knew how to swim. The devotee replied
that he did. Then Maharajji said that, in that case, he should
first bind his arms and legs, tie himself to large boulders and throw
himself into deep water. "Then, you'll see God right away," he concluded.