One fine morning my master and I were sitting outside our cave when suddenly he said, “You have to catch a bus. The bus route is seven miles from here, so hurry up.” He often told me to get up and go somewhere on the spur of the moment. Sometimes I wouldn’t know why, but I would find out when I reached there. I rose and picked up the pot of water I always carried. He said, “Take the bus to the Haridwar railroad station. You’ll get a ticket and from there go to Kanpur. Dr. Mitra is bedridden and is constantly remembering me. He is having a brain hemorrhage and is bleeding out of his right nostril, but his wife will not allow him to go to the hospital. His brother-in-law, Dr. Basu, knows that it is a hemorrhage, but there are no facilities there to perform brain surgery.”
I asked, “What shall I do?”
“Just give him a love pat on the cheek. Don’t consider yourself a healer. Think that you are an instrument and go there, for I have promised him and his wife that we will always help them. Go as quickly as you can.”
I said, “I’m surprised to find that you make promises on my behalf without my knowledge.”
I was reluctant to go on such a long journey, but I could not disobey. I went to the bus route, which was seven 115 miles away from the cave, and stood by the side of the road until the bus for Rishikesh/Haridwar picked me up. The drivers would always give a swami a ride when they saw one on the roadside. I got off the bus at the railway station at Haridwar with no money, and I had only half an hour until the train was to leave for Kanpur. I looked at my watch and thought I might be able to sell it to buy a ticket. Approaching a gentleman at the railway station, I asked if I could exchange my watch with him for the money to buy a ticket. Surprisingly he said, “My son could not come with me, so I have an extra ticket. Please take it. I don’t need your watch.”
I got into the train and met a lady who was also going to Kanpur and who was a close relative of Dr. Mitra. She had heard about me and my master from Dr. Mitra and his wife, and she gave me something to eat. We traveled all night and in the morning the train arrived at Kanpur. There was so much rush at the railway station that it took me ten minutes to get through the gate. Outside the station I suddenly met a man who knew me well. He had his car parked nearby and had been waiting for someone, but that person never turned up—he had missed his train at Delhi. This man wanted to drive me to his house, but I insisted that we go to Dr. Mitra’s instead.
When we reached there I knocked on the door and entered to find three doctors examining Dr. Mitra. Mrs. Mitra was delighted to see me and said, “Now that you have come, I hand over my husband to you.” This is called Indian blind faith in sadhus.
I said, “I am not a healer. I have just come to see him.” I went over to Dr. Mitra’s bed, but he was not allowed to sit up because of the bleeding from his nostril.
When he saw me he asked, “How is my master?” I gave him the gentle pat on his right cheek. After a few minutes there was no more bleeding. One of the doctors explained that the slap which I had given him on the cheek closed the opening in the blood vessel and that it was now sealed.
I did not know what I had done, but I followed my master’s instructions. Dr. Mitra’s sudden recovery quickly became the talk of the town, and hundreds of patients started searching for me, so I left the city later that day and reached Hardwar the next morning. From there I went to the place where my master was staying. I told my master teasingly, “I know the secret and can stop a hemorrhage in anyone.”
He laughed at me and said, “The doctor who gave you that explanation is quite ignorant. There are various modes and levels of suffering, but ignorance is the mother of all.”
On several occasions I had to leave suddenly according to my master’s instructions without having any knowledge of my purpose and destination. I had many experiences like this. I came to the conclusion that the ways of the sages are mysterious and beyond the ability of ordinary minds to understand. I would just do and then experience. Experience would give me knowledge. One who is free from the conditionings of the mind knows past, present, and future alike. These conditionings are called time, space, and causation. The ordinary mind cannot fathom these conditionings, but the great men do. It becomes difficult for ordinary men to understand this science, but it does not take extraordinary ability for those who are on the path.
I once asked my master, “Is it possible for a man in the world to get freedom from all conditionings of the mind, or does he have to live in the Himalayas his whole life to develop powers such as yours?” He said, “If a human being remains constantly aware of the purpose of his life and directs all his actions toward the fulfillment of that purpose, there remains nothing impossible for him. Those who are not aware of the purpose of life are easily caught by the whirlpool of miseries.”
It is a law that one cannot live without doing his duties, but it is also true that duties make the doer a slave. If the duties are performed skillfully and selflessly, then the duties do not bind the doer. All actions and duties performed with love become means in the path of liberation. Performing one’s duty is very important, but more important is love, without which duty creates bondage. Fortunate is he who serves others selflessly and learns to cross this mire of delusion.
A human being is fully equipped with all necessary healing powers, but does not know their usage. The moment he comes in touch with the healing potentials within, he can heal himself. All the powers belong to only one God. A human being is only an instrument.
-This is an excerpt from the book "Living with the Himalayan Masters" By Swami Rama.
