THE GREAT SEARCH Had Jaimal's interest in Spirituality been only a seed cast on rock or
sand or a sapling yet tender in its fiber, had it been no more than the mere
curiosity or the spontaneous piety of a simple village lad, the passing away of his
father would have rung the death-knell of his quest. As the eldest male member
of the family, the burden of domestic responsibilities fell on his shoulders;
and perhaps more souls are lost to heaven by the sense of duty to earth than by
downright sin and evil. But Jaimal's urge was a plant of tougher roots and
stronger fiber. Undaunted and unmoved, he divided the outdoor duties among his
brothers, kept up his old exacting routine, and in six months' time mastered
the Yoga Vashishta and Vichar Sangreh (two standard works of Hinda theology). There
arrived in the village about this time a sadhu of the Udasi sect. As was his
wont, Jaimal went to see him and inquired of him the meaning of the passages he
had noted down from the Granth Sahib. The sadhu explained that he could
initiate him into at least the mystery of the Ghor Anhad or deep reverberating
sound referred to in the Sikh scriptures, if not into that of the Panch Shabd. Jaimal,
keen to learn whatever he could, offered himself as a disciple. But the Diwali
festival was at hand and his new teacher wanted to celebrate it at Amritsar. Reluctant
to miss this opportunity, Jaimal went to his mother and begged her to allow him
to join the sadhu and go forth on his quest for truth. But Bibi Daya had to see
to the welfare of the family and would not hear of her eldest son going away. She
reminded him of his duties. "Your father is no more," she said,
"and you must carry on in his place. If you are gone, what will become of
us?" "I am not insensitive to what you say, my dear mother,"
replied her son, "but the Lord is above us, and he who sustains his
creatures even on the rocks and in the sea will not forsake us in our need. Man's
primary duty is to seek his Creator and all other duties are secondary. Be not
afraid but be of good cheer; and let me proceed with your blessings." Deeply religious herself, Bibi Daya was touched by what Jaimal said with
such conviction. Seeing his determination and being too fond of him to break
his heart, she at last relented. "I know I cannot stop you. Nor do I wish
to do so. But if you must go, promise to return home when your quest is
over." Giving his word of honor, Jaimal departed and his mother and
brothers bade him a tearful farewell. He had hardly entered his fifteenth year
and he was already embarked on a quest that was to carry him through many
cities and was to involve him in great toil and travail. It was a time when the
railroad was still unkown in India, let alone modern motorways and airways. The
rich could, of course, ride on horses, but the humbler folk had to depend on
the sturdiness of their own feet. Travel was difficult and arduous. The British
had only recently conquered the Punjab and stability was still to be
established. The Great Mutiny was only half a decade away, but the people were
growing restive and the country was beginning to seethe with discontent. It was in such conditions that Jaimal set forth for Amritsar. Three days
after reaching there he was initiated by the Udasi sadhu in a local garden into
the science of the Ghor Anhad. Like his contemporary Sri Ramakrishna
(1836-1886), Jaimal Singh was destined to sit at the feet of many intermediary
masters before meeting his True One. Like him he was destined to learn many a
sadhna and make rapid headway in each. And like him he was destined not to be
bound, like other yogis, to any of them, but to press ever forward toward a
higher and still higher goal. His early mastery of the Granth Sahib stood him
in good stead. It worked as an infallible touchstone with which to test every
new attainment and to know that his real goal lay still further ahead. Having practiced japa and pranayama, and having delved into the ecstacy
of the Ghor Anhad, the quest for the secret of the five-worded Word became
Jaimal's over- mastering passion. While at Amritsar, he did not fail to contact
other yogis and sadhus, questioning them for the clues of that which he sought.
Someone suggested that he might discover the object of his search at the feet
of Baba Gulab Das, then residing at the village of Chatyala. The boy needed no
further prompting and not long after was seeking permission of Gulab Das's
disciples to see their master. The request was granted and he appeared before
the revered sadhu. A lively discussion ensued which, because of the newcomer's
tender age, irritated some of the older disciples standing around. But Gulab
Das assured them that Jaimal, if young in years, was mature in mind and was a
true seeker of God. He tried to satisfy the boy as best as he could, explaining
that Naam was no more than the sound vibrating in the pranas, initiating him
still further into the secrets of the pranva or the pranic yoga. Jaimal, though ready to learn whatever he could, was not convinced by
the sadhu's interpretation which, as he pointed out to him, failed to explain
(a) the number "five" used time and again in the Granth Sahib in
connection with the inner Shabd; and (b) the fact that the Sikh Gurus
repeatedly asserted that the path of Naam was distinct from other yogic forms
which could not give the highes liberation. From Chatyala, Jaimal's quest led
him to Lahore. There were Hindu sadhus and Muslim fakirs of all descriptions
there. The young Sikh lad sought their
company at all hours and incessantly mingled with them. But try as he might, he
could discover no clue. Finding himself in a great city, having trudged many a
mile, with no money in his pocket, hardly ever certain of his next meal, he was
not a little discomfited with his predicament. He lived in the hope of solving the secret which none could unravel for
him. Weary of foot and heavy of heart, he set out for Nankana Sahib, the
birthplace of Guru Nanak and a place of holy pilgrimage for the Sikhs. But at
Nankana Sahib, Jaimal failed once again to find what he wanted. The ways of
Providence are mysterious. A seeker's way may be cluttered with countless
obstacles which may almost seem to break his heart, yet at the very moment when
the spirit is on the brink of collapse, it whispers a word of encouragement and
flashes a ray of hope, saving him from the giant despair and putting him on the
road to New Jerusalem. And so the boy, now fifteen, met at Nankana Sahib, Bhai
Jodha Singh of the Namdhari sect who directed him to Baba Balak Singh of Hazro,
a village beyond Attock in what later came to be known as the Northwestern
Frontier Province. With undeterred resolution, Jaimal set out on the long
journey. He first halted at Aminabad whence he proceeded to Shah Daulah. From
Shah Daulah his journey took him across the Jhelum river to Tila Balnath, and
thence to Rawalpindi. He spent a few days in each of these towns and never
failed to get in touch with the fakirs and sadhus to be found there. Being not
very far from Panja Sahib, the famous shrine marking one of Guru Nanak's most
memorable miracles, (*1) he proceeded there even if it lay somewhat off his
route. There he sojourned for a while, enjoying the natural scenery and the
clear water gushing from the sacred fount. He journeyed from there toward
Attock and at last arrived at Hazro, his destination. (*1 It is related in Guru Nanak's life that the
great sage was touring the region with his devoted disciples, Bala and Mardana.
The party was feeling exceedingly thirsty and there seemed to be no trace of
water around. The sage directed his followers to Wali Kandhari, a Muslim hermit
who lived on the hillside by the side of a spring. The Wali, lost in his own
pride, sent away the strangers empty-handed. When they returned again at their
Master's bidding, he scoffed: "If your Guru is as great a man as you
affirm, can't he even quench your thirst?" When these words were related
to Nanak, who stood at the foot of the hill below, he smiled and struck the
rock with his open hand. Straightway a crystal jet burst forth and everyone
drank his fill. The Wali was full of remorse, but it was too late now; and to
his consternation he discovered that the spring that ran by his hut had
suddenly dried up. The rock where the Saint struck his hand still bears the
imprint of his palm and fingers and a clear stream of water sprouts from
beneath. It is a great center for Sikh pilgrimage.) He was very happy to meet the venerable Baba Balak Singh who was
impressed by the young visitor's keenness of mind and intensity of spiritual
yearning. They passed some delightful days together reading, reciting and
discussing the Granth Sahib. Balak Singh was a man of great wisdom and piety,
but as far as Spirituality was concerned he, like Gulab Das, was only
conversant with japa through prana, and knew little of the Panch Shabdi Naam
spoken of by Kabir and the great Sikh Gurus. However he gave his young friend
hope and directed him to Chikker to a householder Sikh of great spiritual
eminence. Jaimal arrived from Hazro in the village of Chikker and began inquiring
for the man he sought. He seemed to find no clue till he met an old retired
Sikh who asked the young stranger if he could assist him in any way. Jaimal
related from where he had come and the object of his quest, and asked to be
guided to the local saint. The old gentleman, who was himself the man he
sought, kindly replied that no such saint lived in that village as far as he
knew, but offered to do for him whatever little lay in his power. Jaimal's long and exacting search now at last began to yield some
fruit. The householder mahatma at whose
home he now found himself gave him the first definite clues of what he sought
and put him on the first rung of the spiritual ladder. Shortly after his
arrival the God- intoxicated boy received initiation. His earlier assumptions
were confirmed and he now knew it for certain that the path of Naam had little
to do with other yogic practices. But after initiation he pointed out that the
scriptures spoke of the "five-worded Word" and he had been imparted
only two. On hearing this, his host and preceptor related to him the story of
his own initiation: "It was many years ago that I went to Peshawar. There I met a great
mahatma and wished to be initiated by him. He accepted me as a disciple and
unlocked to me the mystery of the first two Shabdas, bidding me to come back
again as early as possible. I proceeded to my village and intended to return
soon. But such are the traps of Maya that I was unable, due to some unexpected
piece of business, to fulfill my wish. Two months went by in this way, and when
I did at last reach Peshawar, my Master had passed away, taking with him the
key to the remaining phases of the Divine Naam." (*2) (*2 In the past it was a common practice with
mystics to initiate their disciples by degrees into the inner science. After the sadhak had mastered one stage, he was acquainted with the
mysteries of the next and so on to the end. The method was not in itself
objectionable, but it often led to results of the kind we have just noted. Jaimal
was to meet another case like that of the Chikker mahatma a few years later at
Delhi after being initiated by Swami Ji at Agra, when he met a Muslim fakir who
too had suffered by the early death of his pir. To avoid such mishaps, Masters
of the Surat Shabd Yoga nowadays initiate their disciples directly into the
mysteries of all the five inner planes that the soul has to traverse before it
can merge with the Absolute.) Jaimal had no choice. He had to be content with
what he got. He stayed on with the Sikh mahatma for some time, enjoying his
hospitality and inspiring company, and sedulously cultivating the gift he had
received. Then a day arrived when he bade his latest teacher a touching
farewell and set forth for Peshawar to pursue his unfulfilled quest. He had the
satisfaction of being put on the right road, but he was not the man to rest
till he had attained his goal. At this ancient frontier city he once again,
like a keen huntsman, began seeking the trail of some man of full God-
realization. But Peshawar was not the place where his quest was to be crowned
with success and his thirst satiated. While wandering among Pathans through its many streets, a mastana Sikh,
lost to the everyday world of rational behavior by divine intoxication, stopped
him and accosted him with the words: "Why do you expend your labors in the
North when your day is to dawn from the East?" Though he could extract
nothing more from the strange counsellor, his advice drove home and soon after
Jaimal began retracing his steps to the Punjab. On reaching Rawalpindi he
decided to visit the famous Kashmir Valley and the popular hill resort of
Murree. A lover of Nature's beauties, he greatly enjoyed his hilly tour and in
Kashmir met many a sadhu. His sightseeing over, he finally turned homeward. With
tatters on his back and barely any shoes on his feet or money in his pocket, he
at last reached Ghuman to the great joy of his fond mother and his affectionate
brothers. The family celebrated the homecoming in traditional style, offering
thanksgiving to the Almighty, arranging scriptural recitations and the singing
of hymns, distributing sweets among the neighbors and offering food to the
poor. Jaimal Singh, now sixteen, took up the family duties once more and gave
himself up to the consolidation of what he had learned in his recent itinerary. Soon after his return, the Sathyala yogi who had initiated him into
Pranayam three years earlier arrived, true to his parting promise, at Ghuman to
see his young disciple. Jaimal Singh received him with reverence and humility
and his former teacher offered to instruct him in the other practices of
traditional yoga. But the youth was no longer a child. His wide travels and the
varied accompanying experience had given him a new maturity. What had seemed
desirable once no longer seemed of much value, for his contact with many a yogi
had convinced him of one thing at least: the kriyas of Hatha Yoga might give
strange physical and occult powers, but they could not bestow full inner peace
and freedom. Every fresh day only
strengthened his old conviction that the path of complete mukti or emancipation
lay some other way, and all that he now sought was initiation into the mystique
of the Panch Shabd. Time rolled on its mercury wheels, but Jaimal Singh was not
the man to sit idle or be content with only the second best. "Awake, arise
and stop not until the goal is reached," enjoined an ancient Vedic text,
and his life was a living embodiment of this precept. Barely eight months had
elapsed since his return when the urge to resume his quest for the holy Naam
became too powerful to be resisted, and he began pressing his mother for
permission to set out once more. "How can you expect me to let you go again? You were a child then,
but now you are a grown up man and understand your responsibilities." "Ah, mother, at my birth you prayed for a saintly son. Then why
stop me now?" "How can you talk this way? Have I ever checked you in your
religious inclinations? Surely you can pursue your devotional practices and
spiritual disciplines while living at home?" "How can godliness and worldliness go together?" "But you yourself have seen how others have encroached upon our
lands after your father's death. We barely get enough to eat; and when you are
gone, your brothers being so young, what will prevent them from forcibly
occupying the rest?" "Let them take whatever they will. This world is not ours, and even
if these lands are not taken away from us we will have to leave them some day
when our life span is over. We have only to sustain ourselves. What matters if
all our property is lost? The Lord has given us sinewy arms, and with his grace
we shall earn a respectable living." He whom nothing could dissuade while yet a child could not be deterred
now, and Bibi Daya had no choice but to let him go. Thus at the age of sixteen
years and nine months Jaimal Singh once again set out on his spiritual
explorations. Having well nigh exhausted the Punjab and the Northwest, with the
words of the Peshawar Sikh still reverberating in his ears, he bent his
footsteps eastward. The times were insecure and the British had not yet fully
entrenched themselves in their new northern conquests. Night travel was
therefore prohibited, and sentries were stationed at night on the chief
highways to prevent any stray travelers. But Jaimal Singh was too eager to be
thus restricted. He would spend the first half of the night resting and
sleeping and in the second, while the sentries were drowsing and dozing,
continue his journey as quickl as possible. At Vairach, a village on the banks of the Beas not far from home, he met
a sadhu named Kahan who was engaged in collecting bricks. "Good day, holy
one," said the youth. "What is it that keeps you so busy?" "Nothing, my son, nothing; I am only collecting material for your
future dwelling," smiled Kahan, and once more got lost in his work. When
others of the village would question him in like manner, he would reply with
characteristic brevity, "A temple will rise here one day," and
relapse into his usual silence. Jaimal Singh, not knowing where to go, directed his steps toward Hardwar
on the banks of the sacred Ganges, a favorite haunt of the holy. Traveling by
night and by day, he footed the distance with commendable speed and in twelve
days reached the Ganges. He explored the ghats of Hardwar, then a small town
almost entirely populated by pandits and sadhus, hearing learned yogis,
questioning them and discussing his problems with them. From the main town he
traveled alongside the river, visiting all the sacred spots in the
neighborhood. At Tappo Ban he heard of a very old sadhu of about a hundred and
fifty years who dwelt not far away in the heart of a thick jungle and possessed
great powers but seldom spoke to those who came to see him. Undaunted by the
yogi's reported silence, Jaimal Singh wended his way into the forest and at
last found the hermit's dwelling. The sadhu was busy with his spiritual
practices and paid no heed to those that came to see him in order to be blessed
by his sight. The evening drew near and the sky and the branches overhead burst
into life with the twitter of homing birds. All the visitors departed; the
forest would soon be dark and who could tell what wild creature might be
prowling in the thick foliage awaiting its chance. Jaimal Singh alone stayed
on. Night fell and yet the yogi took no notice of him. He at last got up,
walked to a swing hung from a nearby branch and took his stand, resting his
arms on its wooden seat. Hour after hour slipped by but the ascetic stood on
motionless, displaying no signs of fatigue. At last darkness began to break and
brought an end to his nightly feat of endurance. He left the swing, disappeared into the jungle and returned after
bathing. Jaimal had been keeping night long vigil and had kept watching the
unusual behavior of the strange man before him. When the sadhu came back after
his bath, he at last showed some signs of being aware of his visitor's
presence. He asked him who he was and what he wanted. The youth told his name,
the place from whence he came and added, "Holy one! For many years I have
been in search of true spiritual enlightenment. I heard of your fame and your great powers
and have come as a supplicant to your door. I have watched with interest your
strange practices and if indeed they grant full liberation from inner
restlessness, then pray instruct me into their secrets." The sadhu made no
reply. He sat silent and closed his eyes. After a while he opened them and
answered: "My son, my discipline is difficult and bestows many powers. But
as for inner spiritual freedom, I am afraid it has not secured me that." Jaimal Singh wished to question the yogi still further, but the latter
became silent and receded from the world of outer consciousness into that of
meditation. The sun ascended the heavens and the day passed by. Some devotees
came to have a glimpse of the famous yogi, bowed reverently at his feet and,
leaving some food for Jaimal Singh and some oflerings for the ascetic, departed
as on the previous day. Once again the night fell and once again the youth from
Ghuman sat on. The yogi at last rose from his seat and spent the second night
in the same manner as the first. When day broke, he went for his bath, and on
returning beckoned Jaimal to his side. "My son, I cannot tell you
much," he said. "But in my meditation I saw that the Guru you seek
dwells with his wife in Agra. He is indeed a great soul and discourses from the
Granth Sahib. He shall unlock to you the treasures of the Panch Shabd. Proceed
there and I myself will follow as soon as I can to partake of his bounty." What a burden fell off Jaimal Singh's back! How many nights had he spent tossing and praying, wondering if
God would ever grant his wishes! The
stranger at Peshawar had given him hope, but his words were vague, and nothing
was certain. Now at last a definite clue had been given to him and success
appeared within sight. The Lord was indeed kind and did not ignore his humble
servant's supplication. Refreshed in spirit and confident in mind, the youth,
with a heart overflowing with inexpressible gratitude, bowed before the yogi
now wrapped in silence and humbly took his leave.
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