Pramukh Swami Maharaj

In Honour and Insult

It was 6.50 pm on 20 July 1985, London. The day every devotee had been eagerly awaiting for months. Final preparations for the Suvarna Tula festival at Queens Park Rangers stadium were over. The festival atmosphere was charged with excitement, and when Swamishri arrived, the congregation of 17,000 devotees chorused, “Pramukh Swami Maharaj ni Jai.” The thunderous ‘jais’ echoed the magnitude and feelings for the divine occasion. The festival climaxed when Pramukh Swami Maharaj took Harikrishna Maharaj and sat on a giant scale for the Suvarna Tula. Then, one by one, the devotees placed packets of sugar on the empty scale, which in turn were later weighed against gold. The ambience of devotion was elevating as the mellifluous Vedic mantras chanted by the sadhus filled the air. The reverence offered to Swamishri was a celebration of honour and pride to not only the devotees of the Swaminarayan Sampradaya alone, but to all Hindus and well-wishers of Indian culture. And amidst this outpouring of faith, Pramukh Swami Maharaj remained equipoised and absorbed in the murti of Bhagwan Swaminarayan. After this grand, divine celebration, Swamishri became immersed in reading letters from devotees while his car left the stadium. Within seconds, Swamishri had forgotten the honour bestowed upon him. The grand Suvarna Tula festival, the impressive Queens Park Rangers stadium and the thunderous applause of devotees had not overwhelmed him one bit. The very next day, there occurred a contrasting incident. A person came to see Pramukh Swami Maharaj at the Akshar Purushottam Mandir in London. Rage and anger were writ large on his face. Some misunderstanding had distorted his attitude and inflamed his countenance. He started uttering foul language before Swamishri. His uncouth words and insults incensed the sadhus and youths sitting in the room. But Swamishri was unruffled. There was not a trace of anger on his face and no bitter feeling in his heart. Like an idol of compassion and forgiveness, he merely listened and suppressed any counter reactions from those sitting in the room. After exhausting his rage, the person became silent. Swamishri instructed the attendants, “See that he is served lunch before he leaves.” Swamishri can forget the grand honour accorded to him in moments, and also forgive and forget the insult rained on him in seconds! He accepts honour and insult with equanimity.

A Young Boy's Request

“Swami! Please come to my village.” Fifteen-year-old Ganesh, who lived in a small village of Kankrawadi near Viramgam, was holding Swamishri’s feet and repeatedly requesting him to sanctify his home in 1977. Though there were no other satsangis in his village, and Swamishri’s programme had already been arranged elsewhere, Ganesh’s faith and love compelled Swamishri to promise him that he would come. The subsequent rescheduling and the physical hardship he would have to bear were of no concern to Swamishri. Finally, the day arrived. At dusk, cutting through the dust-filled air and the bumpy village road, Swamishri’s car entered the village of Kankrawadi. Ganesh’s happiness knew no bounds. The village was very small and all the houses, except one, were built of mud and straw. Swamishri finally came to Ganesh’s mud-house. There was no electricity, no toilet and no bathroom in his house. Later in the night, Swamishri held a satsang assembly outside his house in the light of paraffin lamps. The summer heat was stifling. Swamishri’s sleeping arrangements for the night were made on the terrace of a neighbouring house. He and all the sadhus slept on a mattress laid on the terrace floor. Next morning, after his daily routine, Swamishri sanctified a few houses in the village and then held an assembly. After lunch, Swamishri retired for a nap in Ganesh’s mud-house. Despite the prickly afternoon heat and absence of ventilation, Swamishri slept soundly. Ganesh’s young mind made a note of one point, that in spite of all the discomfort, Swamishri’s face was beaming with joy. Even today, Ganesh vividly remembers the pure, divine joy on Swamishri’s face.