Among the Not So Great

Yogananda

[A tribute on the occasion of the birth-centenary of the one who chased dreams and fulfilled destiny, lived in the Mother’s Light and Love, did what She willed him to do. ]

(Chasing a Dream — Fulfilling a Destiny)

Hearts that are delicate and kind, and tongues that are neither — these make the finest company in the World.

Smith Logan Pearsall

I speak of another Ananda right after the last one, i.e., Poornananda. One may begin to have some qualms about this surfeit of ‘Ananda’ — but again what’s in a name?

I speak of Yogananda as a close friend, colleague, boss and assistant all bundled into one. He was a close friend and boss of Poornananda too. They had much in common — both were sadhus, short-tempered, hard workers and umbrella wielders (a third Ananda, Dhirananda, as short-tempered, was their friend, a sadhu like them. We will make acquaintance with him later). As with Poornananda the

‘Ananda’ was not so evident. It was deeply hidden. Perhaps if one lived long and close enough, with sympathy, to feel and go through the heat barriers he wore, one may feel the joy he felt.

Yogananda (né Jotindra) was born in Kargaon village near Kishoreganj of Mymensingh District, Bengal. He was born on the 17th of August 1898. A sister preceded and four brothers followed him. They lost their mother early. Their father and his mother brought them up. Around 1918 Jotindra came under the influence of one Bharat Brahmachari of Bairati (not to be confused with Birati, another village near Calcutta). The Brahmachari had founded an ashram — the Gauri Ashram. The Brahmachari was an unconventional and not a traditionadhering sort of guru. He did not mind Jotindra joining his ashram and yet continuing to study in the high school. Jotindra was initiated and he received the name Jogdananda. At about this time news came from home that his grandmother was seriously ill. Jogdananda rushed home, his grandmother saw him and soon after passed away. Within 19 days tragedy struck again. Jogdananda’s father also passed away. Jogdananda was not very willing to take up the family burden. While all this turmoil was going on, one night the police arrested Jogdananda, accusing him of being the leader of a secret society. The police commissioner, a Dick Sahib, asserted that Jogdananda and many of Bharat Brahmachari’s disciples were anarchists. No proof was found nor was it necessary in those days. Jogdananda was put in jail for one and a half months in Mymensingh and then shifted to another jail somewhere in West Bengal. A year passed and he was released in January of 1920. He returned to the ashram. In jail he had ample time to think and ruminate over the same thoughts. There was nothing else to do. He confronted his guru with questions and doubts. He asked: “Baba, you often talk to the Mother. You know everything. Please tell me if all this, our struggle for freedom, is for nothing. All our prominent leaders are arrested. With none to lead, the movement has lost its impetus. What has the Mother said about India’s freedom? You told us that there would be a great upheaval in the world (First World War) after which India will gain her freedom. The upheaval is over but India’s freedom seems to have receded!”

The Brahmachari replied: “Aré béta; (O my son), the Mother has with all Her ‘Devashakti’ manifested Herself to bring peace on earth. You ask about India’s freedom. That is assured. All this revolutionary activity is Her will and Her work. Her Shakti is working in you. Yes, this upheaval is over, as you say — but there will be another in 20 years’ time, a greater one. India will attain freedom after that. You ask what my adesh is. My wish is that you should know the Mother, know Her will and work for Her.”

All this was a revelation to the young Jogdananda. He decided at that moment he would take sannyas, go and find the Mother and do Her will. (Sri Aurobindo later said that it was a change of consciousness.) He told this to his guru and the guru silently accepted and blessed him — just with a smile.

Jogdananda went on a pilgrimage with his guru’s consent. He travelled through Kashi, Haridwar, Hrishikesh, etc. Throughout he was dogged by an oft-recurring dream in which he was holding an infant in his arms. Long ago his guru had told him to get married, but he did not. Was this an indication that he should have? Now his mind was troubled. He wrote to the guru. Bharat Brahmachari asked him to come back. From Hrishikesh he returned to Bairati and went straight to his guru, who assured him that his dream had nothing to do with his refusal to get married. He explained that the infant represents Wisdom and Jogdananda should be like the infant in the Mother’s lap, demanding Her love. Maybe, the Mother is pleased with you but wants to hear you call her again, and so keeps silent. You should not then fret, fall off Her lap, and feel sorrow and pain. Rather surrender and call Her patiently, lovingly. Understand you are Her child, in Her lap. Your sorrows will disappear. Jogdananda stayed for some time in Bairati and worked, for now the ashram was developing a few working departments, teaching some young students trades like weaving, stitching, etc. These changes irked Jogdananda and some others. They ran counter to their traditional ways. The last straw was that Bharat Brahmachari had admitted women, to live and work there. Three of the inmates — Mukhananda, Dhirananda and Jogdananda — revolted. They questioned the Baba. He replied: “They (the women) are also the children of the Mother, just like you — so why not?” The three were not satisfied. They left the ashram. But Jogdananda, hardly having gone a small distance, realised his folly. He ran back and apologised to Bharat Brahmachari. He wished to stay back. But it was too late. The guru said: “No. You have given me up; so be it.” Jogdananda left with a heavy heart. When Jogdananda left, Bharat Brahmachari remarked: “Koli amar shorbonash korlo.” (Koli = Kaliyug personified, has dealt me a good blow.) Jogdananda learnt of it much later and, after coming here to Pondicherry, learnt that this ‘Koli’ was termed “hostile Forces”. He roamed aimlessly, remorse gnawing into him. He went to Punjab, Kashmir, Haridwar, Hrishikesh — but carried the regret with him. His cup of misery overflowed, as news reached him that Bharat Brahmachari had expired. His guilt, blaming himself as one cause of the guru’s departure, increased doublefold. He rushed back, only to see an empty ashram where he was not welcome. Benumbed, he went to his family. There he stayed quite a few months. His brothers even arranged for his wedding. But that was not to be — a death in the bride-to-be’s house put off the event. He continued to stay, helping out the family by doing some clerical job. All was running somewhat smoothly. Then, one of his brothers, sharing the family trait of bad temper, reproached him for misplacing a key. This spark was enough to rouse the latent fire in Jogdananda. Then and there he dropped everything, picked up his “jhola and gerua” (bag and ochre robes) and left, determined not to return and to go to the South. He set out in 1928 — but went to the east — Rangoon and Chittagong. Back to Bengal, anger subsided, he visited home, and then moved to Calcutta, in June 1932.

In Calcutta he met a young sadhu. They talked and in their conversation the Sri Aurobindo Ashram in Pondicherry was mentioned. They hoped, both of them, to visit the place one day. That young sadhu was none other than Poornananda. Jogdananda knew of one old freedom fighter, Anilbaran Roy, now settled in the Ashram at Pondicherry. He wrote to him about his intention to visit the place and sought permission to stay there for the forthcoming 15th August Darshan. He stayed a few days in Calcutta and then, with two rupees a kind-hearted gentleman had given him, pushed on to Puri. He boarded a train, was detrained by the T.C. (Ticket Checker); but with the help of another more sympathetic T.C. he boarded another train and reached Puri of Lord Jagannatha. There he stayed 10-12 days and moved southward again. T.C.s were a regular nuisance; they detrained him 3-4 times. But Jogdananda’s pilgrimage urge was stronger. His inner compass was set South — so South he had to go. There were no strict time-bound schedules to stick to. The journey continued with stops, starts and false starts. Delays and T.C.s were of no great consequence. He crossed the holy rivers Godavari and Krishna spending a day or two at each place, and made it to Madras. He put up at the Ramakrishna Mutt in Mylapore. As there was time, he bypassed Pondicherry and went to Madurai and Rameshwaram with the intention of reaching Kanyakumari to see the beautiful form of the Mother. He could not make it to Kanyakumari. By then 15th August was near and he thought it wise to reach Pondicherry a few days before that date. He turned north and on 11.8.1932 arrived at Pondicherry. But, unfortunately his letter to Anilbaran Roy had not arrived. He could not enter the Ashram as per the rules of those days. He waited on the footpath during the day and took shelter in Hotel Amnivasam during the night. He sent word through Anilbaran Roy to Sri Aurobindo seeking permission for the Darshan. He was allowed.

Jogdananda had the Darshan of the Mother and Sri Aurobindo. He was overwhelmed, filled with joy and a sense of fulfilment. He felt that he had at last arrived at the end of his seeking. His guru Bharat Brahmachari’s words came flooding back. All indications given to him seemed to fit in. There in front of him sat the universal Mother of Bharat Brahmachari’s vision — a vision given to him in Brindavan, in 1926, of a ‘white’ form of the Mother!

Jogdananda wanted at once to stay as a permanent member, to live with the Mother and Sri Aurobindo as his Gurus, to start a new life here, taking up the path of this Yoga. Sri Aurobindo told Anilbaran to meet Jogdananda and tell him: “...this is not an Asram like others — the members are not Sannyasis; nor is the object the same; it is not ‘moksha’ that is the aim of Yoga here. What is being done here is a preparation for a work — a work which will be founded on yogic consciousness.... Meanwhile every member here is therefore expected to do some work as preparation, work often of the most ordinary and uninteresting kind and they do not spend their time in meditation and speaking about religion or spiritual things....” Jogdananda was told all this. (The above is quoted from Sri Aurobindo’s letter to Anilbaran Roy.) Jogdananda accepted and said: “ I throw myself at their feet.” Sri Aurobindo then wrote to Anilbaran: “You will tell Jogdananda that he can remain and we will try whether he can settle down into the atmosphere and life of the Ashram and way of this Yoga.” (Letter dated 16.8.1932.) Sri Aurobindo changed Jogdananda into Yogananda. So entered Yogananda into a new Life and Light — a day before his birthday.

Yogananda was given work on the second day of his becoming an ‘Ashramite’. Here “Yoga in action is indispensable.” He was given work in B.S. (Building Service), under Khirod-da, supervising workers and, later, in purchasing and keeping stores.

Yogananda was given a room in Budhi House on the sea front (near our Printing Press).

The lunch-break was from 12 noon to 1 p.m. Lunch itself was served in the Ashram main building. His house was too far for Yogananda to rest and return in time. He just stood under the Old Balcony (behind the Ashram). This was tiring and affected his work. What to do? Whom to tell? Haradhan-da (a veteran) lived on the groundfloor of Budhi House. Yogananda told him and he advised Yogananda to write to the Mother. Yogananda, emboldened, did so. The relief came, simple and fast. The Mother told K.D. Sethna (Amal Kiran) who was in charge of the Furniture Service to send an easy chair to B.S. Khirod-da was told to permit Yogananda to rest there.

A friendship developed between Haradhan-da and Yogananda. Yogananda helped him in his garden to grow flowers and vegetables for the Mother. Haradhan-da hailed from Chandannagar — a French colony. He knew French well enough to think of translating the Mother’s Prières et Méditations into Bengali. He wanted help and chose Yogananda for it. The Mother agreed on condition that the translation was shown to Her before printing.

Golconde work had started. Yogananda was kept busy. It was at this time that Poornananda appeared on the scene and joined Yogananda in the stores (B.S.). Yogananda had at times to go to some outlying distant places to purchase lime, bricks, etc. He often went to Markanam, some 30 kms north of Pondicherry on the Old Madras Road. He was given 2 annas (1 anna = 6 paise) by Amrita-da — Ashram Manager — of course after obtaining the Mother’s sanction. This was towards his day’s expenses. Prices were going up even in those days. Yogananda requested Amrita-da for 4 annas. Amrita-da was shocked by such extravagance and chided Yogananda for it. The matter was taken to the Mother. She knew and understood, smiled and said: “It is all right. He can be given 4 annas.”

Yogananda worked for a short while in the Reception Service. It was a far cry from what it is today — replete with showcases, full of books and photos for sale, fax machines and phones, etc. It was then quite a simple, unobtrusive affair. A chair for the man at the Main Gate or someone who would receive visitors or new sadhaks from the railway station; he would bring them in and maybe show them their place of stay and brief them where to go for meals and what to do. It may be recalled that all had to write in advance and get permission to come here on a visit for Darshan or to stay permanently. It was known who was coming. The Mother told Yogananda once that this sort of work had many pitfalls. One had to be careful and vigilant not to meet one.

Yogananda was a sincere and hard worker (like Poornananda) but, as it was for Poornananda, he too had to contend with a towering temper. Worse, others had to contend with it too and, to further complicate the situation, often an outburst of anger was followed with appropriate action. For that he often earned the Mother’s displeasure and maybe it cost him his job. He changed departments often enough.

When I first saw him (1945), I think he had no regular job. That first time was at the Ashram Gate. The image of him that remained stuck is of a middle-aged man, well-built, knee-length khaki shorts (Bermudas of yesteryears) held up by a leather belt. The belt was necessary, for the middle-age paunch was beginning to assert itself. He was of medium height, deep-chested, and stood on two solid legs. The face was remarkable — small eyes, high cheek bones and a slightly Roman nose. He sported long curly hair and a little better than a goatee beard. He held under his arm a pith helmet of British origin. The helmet was atop him whenever in action outdoors or riding his bicycle. He stood there alert, seemed ready for something to happen. Impressed me as a retired soldier good for one more skirmish. I learnt later that he was about to go on an expedition to gather lotus flowers for the Mother. Near him stood an old, much-used bicycle — his transportation for the outing. It served him for decades after that till he could not ride any more, i.e., when he was well past 80.

Flower-collecting was one of his passions. He took it very seriously (as do many sadhaks even now). The Mother, for reasons unknown to me, laid importance on the number of flowers offered to Her. On our birthdays we had to count the flowers gathered and arrange them in dishes (Service, Friendship, Aspiration, Patience, etc. — names of the flowers as given by the Mother), write the number on a chit and place it in the dish. During the War the Mother wanted one lakh Transformation flowers! Yogananda managed to gather the number and give them to Her! There were not many of those trees either. He must have searched far and wide to get the needed number. The passion was with him till the end — till he was bed-ridden.

In the very early days the sea was out of bounds for us Ashramites. We could not even wet our feet. Later (I think Birenda was the cause) the Mother permitted sea swimming. Large numbers used to go for a swim. There had to be some supervision. Yogananda volunteered. He stood on the beach, a motor-car inner tube tied to a long rope at the ready, a whistle in hand and a sash across his chest with a large ‘LIFEGUARD’ printed on it. How effective he would be in an emergency was never proved. But the sincerity, regularity, punctuality and enthusiasm were never in question. Later candidates did not impress as much.

The Swimming Pool was ready at last in 1957. The Mother inaugurated it on Her birthday, 21 February. Gerard (of Auro-orchard) and I were inducted into service, to take care of the Pool. Complete ignorance was our plus point. Gerard left after a few years. Yogananda, who may have volunteered or been recruited — whatever the means — came to replace Gerard. So started an interesting, long and fruitful partnership between us. He was nearly 65 years of age, experienced, having seen and suffered much and I was half his age, green, having seen very little and suffered nothing — though seemingly so disparate, we got along well till he retired and much later till his last days.

He was older, so he took charge. But, he knew I had a better knowhow about the Pool than he — so there was more symbiosis than the nuisance of a hierarchy. His kind did not talk of ‘give and take’. Their concern rather was ‘give and give’ (offer). He often tried to rub into me the inherent values and virtues of work. He would say “Kajo ekta force. Kaj korlei, tar shathe shoktio ashe.” (Work itself is a force. If you work, you get the strength also with it.) If I hesitated to start a big job he would push me — “Shuru kore dao, bhebona. Shokti peye jabe, babostha hoye jabe.” (Start off, don’t think so much — you will get the strength and all arrangements will be made.) Work seemed to inspire him. Though now past 70 years, he would be ready for action — back into his old battle dress, khaki shorts, white shirt, pith helmet or umbrella. Sun or rain, if work was on, he would be there supervising and lending a hand where he could. When we were building the eastern compound wall in the Sports Ground (just a fence existed before 1968) we mixed the mortar inside the ground a hundred metres away from where it was required. He would watch over every mix (correct amounts of sand, lime, cement, water and the mixing), load it into a wheelbarrow and accompany it those hundred metres. All he needed in return was a punctual time out for lunch and even more correct time out for tea (4 pm). These were inviolable.

We often emptied the Pool in those early days. We sometimes worked through the night. He would enjoy being there, on deck, helping, and brewing that ambrosial drink — tea — for all the workers.

Work inspired him, but behind the inspiration there lurked his old enemy — his temper. The eruptions were often justifiable. The cause could be small or big, but the effect was usually big and immediate. The Sports Ground was big — as big as it is now — but too small to contain two departments with two managements. Yogananda and I ruled the Pool. Vasudev and Bikhabhai ruled over the Ground and Track. Shoulder rubbing was inevitable. For the usual reasons, known and unknown, Yogananda and Vasudev often went opposite ways and rubbed each other the wrong way. Friction, spark and fuel — resulted in a small ‘Boom’. The Mother caught some of the echoes. She questioned me. I had to explain. She asked: “How was it before, when Gerard was there?” I said, “Gerard and I steered clear, kept an insulating distance by drawing an imaginary line and a no-man’s-land between the two units.” She said, “Draw it again and explain it to them.” I tried. Later Vasudev and Bikhabhai left the Sports Ground for safer if not greener pastures. Barun Tagore replaced them. The two units became one — yet Barun mainly looking after the Ground and Yogananda looking after the Pool. I was assistant to both.

Then did Barun blunder. The Annexe Ground was to be planned. It was to be done carefully after planning and preparations. Barun got impatient and suddenly decided to do it. He called for a tractor and got the ground ploughed! Neither Yogananda nor I knew about it. Yogananda came early morning to collect flowers, saw the messed up ground — his blood boiled over. Barun was in the lavatory. I was near the volley-ball courts. Yogananda saw me, jumped off his bicycle in front of me, face dark, eyes mere slits and lips trembling with rage. He fired volley after volley at point blank range. Not directly at me, but shots ricocheted off me at Barun. I wisely held my tongue during the quarter hour blitz. He finally said, “Tomake bole ki labh” (useless telling you), got up on his bicycle and pedalled off. Barun wisely emerged only after Yogananda left. The outcome was strange and fateful for me. Both Yogananda and Barun went to Pranab-da and tendered their resignations as ‘In-charge’, to step down and push me up as the in-charge. Pranab-da called me and gave me the information. I agreed to give it a try — there was nothing to try. The work was the same, only a change in the suffixes — meaningless in our situation.

On another occasion we the Sports Ground people had a problem with the Coco-Garden people. To settle the matter Pranab-da was called and all concerned met, sat around a table. As it happened the order in which we sat was Khirod-da, Chamanlal-ji (who was new, a visitor then, giving service in the Coco-Garden during his stay), Pranab-da, Yogananda, I and then Barun. This order was fortuitous. Each one was saying what he thought was right. Yogananda too was doing so, but with a little more heat and conviction. Chamanlal-ji happened to remark: “If he [Yogananda] keeps losing his temper, the Mother’s work will be disturbed.” Yogananda would not take that sitting down. He jumped up, raised his umbrella to strike, found it awkward, — with Pranab-da in between pulling him down and trying to pacify him. But he shot back, “Dui din age eshe amake Mayer kaj bujhachche?” (He has come two days back and he is trying to teach me what the Mother’s work is!) Pranab-da saved the day. The meeting was over. Each one knew the other a little better.

Pranab-da himself was at the receiving end once. I cannot recall the reason why I was not present on the occasion. Yogananda told me of it, that he had met Pranab-da and told him: “I don’t care for anyone, not you nor any other. This is the Mother’s kingdom. None can hold me down. My ‘gerua’ (ochre robe) is ready. I can put it on and go away.” 2-3 days later I met Yogananda in the Sports Ground. He held out two Ganpatram toffees, saying: “ Ei nao, Pranab diyechhe.” (Take these. Pranab has given.) He was in a good mood. I took them and asked what had happened. He said he and Pranab had made up, shaken hands — so the toffees.

There was another interlude with Yogananda, Pranab-da and Dhirananda. Dhirananda came to live here, through Yogananda, in 1947. He was very teasable, so we boys had a lot of fun. He and Yogananda had an argument. Yogananda said: “Sri Aurobindo is an Avatar.” Dhirananda said: “Mahapurush, Yogi, Rishi... Yes; but Avatar — No!” The inevitable took place. Yogananda was the stronger by his stronger convictions. Both lost their temper. Yogananda went into action. Dhirananda received a few blows (with a khadam “wooden sandal”, I believe). Yogananda finished with “Eikhane theke, kheye, Sri Aurobindo Avatar noy bolchhish. Chole ja.” (Living and eating here you dare say Sri Aurobindo is not an Avatar! Get away.) Dhirananda went back to Mymensingh (Pakistan). Then in one of the exoduses from there to India, he too turned up as a refugee. He wrote to Yogananda if he could come here. Yogananda asked Pranab-da if his old friend (friendship not dented by a mere khadam) could come and work in the Sports Ground. Pranab-da said, “Yes”; then, more in jest, asked Yogananda: “Was it not you who hit him and sent him away?” Yogananda without hesitation or regret replied: “Jodi dorkar hoy, abar mere tadiye debo!” (If need be, I will thrash him and send him away again.) Dhirananda came, worked in the Sports Ground under me (probably did not recognise me as one of his tormentors of 1947). He was older than Yogananda. Soon after his coming here his eyes failed and he passed away shortly after that.

Whatever one may think or say about Yogananda’s temper, he was usually very just. The servants were often singed by him. They bore him no grudge. He worked with them — that they admired.

Years passed swiftly by. Yogananda was getting old. We were no longer tenderfoots. He decided it was the right time to retire. He announced this, adding “Ami achhi, kono bodo kaj hole, dakbe amake.” (I am yet ready — if any big job is in the offing — call me.) He asked Nolini-da for a milder job. Nolini-da with all his goodwill suggested duty at the Filters (drinking-water tanks at the back of Children’s Dispensary). The duty was to open and close the water taps, so that all didn’t handle the taps. He declined, saying: “Am I an invalid?” He took up work in the newly founded “Sri Aurobindo’s Action” under A.B. Patel — delivering a magazine to subscribers living within range of his cycling. He decried the prevailing, prestigious but wasteful habit of posting the magazines even to the next-door man.

Yogananda next took upon himself the job of getting the “Jules House” (at present his sister-in-law and family live there) built. It was a demanding job. He did it; it was his last job. His health was failing; he was 80. Some years passed; he fell ill often, was taken to our Nursing Home. He was brought back to his Room in Arogya House where he had lived nearly six decades. His family members looked after him. He slowly sank — until 14th March 1991 when his soul departed to seek and sit on his Mother’s lap — at last — to realise his dogged dream of long ago!

Strangely enough that question of “marriage” — that unfulfilled advice of Bharat Brahmachari — resurfaced at the end of Yogananda’s life. He was a bit incoherent in thought and speech during his last days. He would then say that his bride was waiting for him and he had to go to meet her. Then again those words of the Brahmachari, “...the Mother is pleased with you but ... so keep silent. You should not fret, fall off her lap, and feel sorrow and pain...” seem to echo and re-echo in him during his life here trying to quell the impatience and fretting that dogged him. He often told me: “Sri Aurobindo amaye boklé amar shojjo hoto. Ma boklé amar ektu birokto lagto.” (If Sri Aurobindo scolded me I felt alright, but if the Mother did so, I felt an irritation, and could not take it in the right way). Maybe the “chasing a dream” continues or would the Mother have turned round and gathered him up in Her arms!

Yogananda was a man of steel in body and mind. Therefore he was hard and could hurt, but also he could give support and strength — if close enough. Moreover, I believe, a vein of gold ran at the core. Again, if close enough in friendship, one could glimpse that gold through some chinks, for chinks he had, some borne unwittingly and some seen with a blind eye. All that we need to know is — steel rusts and perishes and gold endures.