Virji had a dream. A sadhu informed him that a book was on its way. ‘Don’t forget to look at page 63,’ the sadhu reminded him before fading away.
Virji is a great believer in the mystic, spiritual and supernatural. For him a dream has a meaning, a purpose, a message. He was intrigued by the penetrating gaze of the sadhu and his huge white turban that almost swallowed his forehead. He could not place him with anyone living or dead. Nor did he remember ordering any book or wanting to buy one. Why the dream?
The following evening, his friend, Ravi, turned up after a long absence.
‘What a pleasant surprise, Ravi. Where have you been all these days?’
‘I was in Delhi for a week to attend a wedding; I returned this morning.’
‘What did you get for me?’ Virji asked abruptly.
Ravi was surprised at this unusual query.
‘If I knew you wanted anything in particular, I would have gladly got it.’
‘It just occurred to me that you might have visited Connaught Circus and stumbled on an interesting title in the pavement shops.’
‘Are you looking for any special title?’ Ravi asked, not convinced with his reply. To his knowledge Virji had hardly ever shown any special interest in books.
‘Not really; I asked just out of curiosity.’ Virji didn’t mention his dream.
Ravi chuckled. ‘I don’t know if it is just a coincidence; the fact is I did carry a book with me from Delhi. Not a book in the strict sense, but a biennial journal, Shudh Vidya, published by Bhagwan Gopi Nath Ashram at Delhi. They gifted it to me when I went visiting there. Would you like to read it?’
Virji’s eyes opened wide, his jaw dropped, and he could not conceal his excitement.
‘Can I have a look?’
‘I will bring it here one of these days.’
Virji’s curiosity got the better of him. Could it be the book mentioned in the dream? He couldn’t sleep well that night nor wait for his friend to visit him with the book. Early next morning, he went to meet Ravi, returned home with the copy of Shudh Vidya, and went straight to his study. He flipped through the pages and got to number 63. There was a personal anecdote by a devotee of Bhagwan Gopi Nath captioned ‘A Mystifying Experience’ that ran as follows:
The year was 1963. Bhagwan Gopi Nath was alive then. At his Kharyar Ashram in Srinagar, a portion of the plumbing had rotted and was leaking. A water pipe needed replacement. Most hardware stores were located in the Amira Kadal area of the city. Since it was on the way to my office, I was chosen to fetch one pipe length for the Ashram. After my office hours, I sauntered inside a store and purchased a pipe length. While I was still there, wondering how to carry it to the Ashram, a tanga came along. I motioned it to stop.
‘Can I hire your tanga to carry this pipe to Kharyar,’ I asked the tangawalla.
‘It will cost you Re 1,’ he replied.
‘That is about twice I had bargained for,’ I remonstrated.
‘It is a long pipe and I will have to drive carefully to steer clear of the pedestrians. Re 1 is not a big sum for this service.’
He was right; not only would he have to go slowly; it would not be possible to take other passengers on the tanga.
‘All right, turn your tanga around and bring it near the curb.’
Just when he parked by the side of the store, a voice thundered in my ears, ‘Are your arms so weak that they can’t carry a pipe length? Does it mean nothing to you to waste Re 1 of the Ashram?’
I was astonished and looked around for the rude interloper. There was nobody except the storeowner.
‘Come on sir, let me help you with the pipe and lug it on to the tanga,’ the tangawalla offered.
No sooner than I said ‘thank you,’ the mysterious voice rang in my ears again, ‘Send him away and carry the pipe yourself.’
I was stunned.
The tangawalla came inside the shop and picked the pipe from one end, waiting for me to lift the other end.
‘I am sorry, I have changed my mind. I will carry it by myself,’ I said.
‘If you feel Re 1 is too much, I will give you a concession. I will charge only 12 annas.’
‘Thank you, but on second thought, I think I don’t need the tanga.’
He looked at me more in puzzlement than annoyance.
I apologised profusely, carried the pipe on my shoulder, and walked all the way to the Ashram to the amazement of the passers-by, some of whom recognised me.
Having deposited the pipe in the yard, I entered the Bhagwan’s room to pay my obeisance. He was closeted with the devotees, speaking in riddles. I quietly took my seat in a corner.
I am not sure if he noticed me as he continued with his discourse: ‘Remember, every time a person donates Re 1 to this Ashram it is his hard-earned money that could buy a meal for his family.’
I was astonished at hearing these words. Only a stupid and faithless person would have missed the relevance of that remark just as I entered the Bhagwan’s room. It left me in no doubt that it was the Bhagwan himself who had voiced the message into my ear at the hardware store and exhorted me not to waste a rupee on the tanga. He was no doubt all-seeing and omnipresent.
After reading page 63 story of Shudh Vidya, Virji was left wondering. Why was he chosen to read the devotee’s story? What was the connection between his dream and the write-up? Could there be so many chance coincidences? There had to be a meaning in all this.
‘I have been thinking about it but I am perplexed. Yet I feel there is a message in it somewhere. I can’t think of anyone better than you to, perhaps, interpret it,’ said Virji after relating his experience to me.
Virji is a mid-level functionary in the Accountant General’s office, a social activist who has been a long-time associate and an active member, nay, the pivot of our team that runs the charitable Shriya Bhatt Mission Hospital. His belief in spirituality and mysticism was greatly reinforced by a personal saga. Nearly a decade back, he came to see me for headache. It seemed the common stress-related headache, but I do not know what prompted me to examine, among other systems, his abdomen. To my utter surprise, I discovered a massive spleen. I ordered a blood count and my worst fears about chronic myeloid leukaemia, a type of blood cancer, were confirmed. From there on, it was a rollercoaster journey for him—from Jammu to the cancer hospitals in Delhi and Mumbai, to the trial of a new drug that had just arrived in the market and cost a whopping ₹1,000 a tablet, which he could hardly afford. How the path to recovery opened for him at each stage a roadblock threatened to close it, is in itself an amazing story of survival. Suffice it to say, the gruelling experience reinforced his belief in some unknown and unseen force that takes control of our lives and guides us in many miraculous ways.
‘Of course, it is all speculation, but I can have a go at it. Interpretation of dreams is still a grey area in neuropsychological pursuits, but I will attempt an explanation,’ I said. ‘You might have heard of thought transference or telepathy. It is well known that some people endowed with an extrasensory ability beyond the five senses we know of, are, knowingly or unknowingly, able to receive and/or transfer thoughts and feelings across distance and time to other individuals. The extra senses are like the infrared and the ultraviolet of the light spectrum which we can’t see. It is possible that when your friend received the book at Bhagwan Gopinath Ashram he unconsciously thought of you for he may be aware of your faith in the Bhagwan. His thought was transferred to you and you dreamt about it. You dreamt that a book was on its way. It was a sadhu whom you saw in your dream because your friend thought of Bhagwan Gopinath when he received the gift copy since he was in the Bhagwan’s Ashram. You saw the Bhagwan as a sadhu in the dream. The large turban is the clinching evidence, for that is what the Bhagwan would wear in real life.’
‘Now that you tell me this, I also recall the sadhu’s eyes in the dream. They were sharp and penetrating like the Bhagwan’s. But there has to be more to it than meets the eye, sir.’ He bore a self-satisfied mien, a gentle smile playing on his chubby face.
‘If you go back to your friend, he may recall his thought process when he received the book and confirm what I said. However, he may not recall it at all because it was a subconscious process. For example, while we two are talking just now even as we are on an interesting topic, there are many other thoughts that flash through our minds at the same time but do not get registered.’
‘I am still amazed at the prediction in my dream about the exact page number of the write-up in the journal?’ Virji had come to seek a definite explanation.
‘It is also likely that your friend leafed through the journal casually as we do when a new book comes into our hands, and found this interesting title on the Bhagwan, a personal experience which he thought you would like to read. His mind must have registered page 63 and the thought got transmitted to you since he thought of you in the first instance when he received the book. That is possibly how you dreamed about it.’
‘You seem to make it all deceptively simple. In fact, he did utter the exact same words, that though he was not a great reader, he browsed through the journal, and found some interesting captions.’
‘That might answer your riddle.’
‘Not fully, sir. There still has to be a reason why the dream occurred to me. Does the page 63 narrative relate to me in some way?’
‘It does; it fits exactly with your personality and temperament. It could be a reiteration of your resolve to spend judiciously every penny of the donations you receive for our mission hospital which you hold sacred. And Ravi, your friend, might be aware of it. Most likely, he knows you would have done exactly likewise under the circumstances—carried the pipe and saved a rupee. That is how a fleeting thought must have flashed in his mind that you would relish the devotee’s experience. In a way, you are no less a devotee. You devote your precious time in the service of patients by managing our charitable hospital.’
‘You are right, sir. Ravi is one of my closest friends; my life is an open book for him.’
‘So there you are.’
‘What is your explanation of the narrative on page 63? How did the author of the story hear the mysterious voice admonishing him to hire a tanga to carry the pipe?’
‘I think it was the voice of conscience. Like you, he must have been a conscientious person keen to save every penny of the ashram.’
‘Thank you, sir; I am overwhelmed and mystified. It is rather difficult to take it all in. I will have to learn more about human psychology.’
‘And parapsychology,’ I added.
‘Is it a branch of science or mysticism?’ Virji finally confronted me directly.
‘Yes and no. In psychology, it is not easy to set up experiments as we do in other sciences, or postulate theories and confirm or deny them in the laboratory. Here the laboratory is the human mind, as vast as the cosmos.’
‘In short, you agree that, as of now, there are certain things beyond ordinary reasoning and understanding, and not within the grasp of science. We have to accept that miracles happen and a spiritual person can work them for us. We call them Bhagwans.’
‘Call them miracles or paranormal phenomena if you so like. As I said, there are people specially endowed, just like a student being more gifted than others in a class, one having special mathematical prowess, another adept with the brush, and yet another a sports wizard.’
‘Don’t you then believe in the existence of a superior force that guides our life?’
‘I didn’t say anything to the contrary. And yet I believe that the force resides within us.’
Befuddled, he thanked me and left.
Reaching home, Virji went into his puja room for his customary meditation. He came out animated, phoned the chartered accountant (CA) that he would like to meet him as early as possible.
‘What is so urgent?’ the CA asked him.
‘I would like to spare you the job of filing the income tax returns for Shriya Bhatt Mission Hospital. I want to come over to collect the files from you.’
‘Is there any particular reason?’
‘I will have to come over to explain.’
‘Come straightaway.’
Virji drove to the CA’s office and came to the point directly. ‘I have decided to maintain the accounts and also file the returns by myself and save the fees I pay you. Since it is a charitable institution, we would like to exercise thrift in spending the hard-earned money of the donors.’
‘But I have been doing it for all these years; is there any special reason to change your mind?’
Virji recounted his dream.
The CA heard him in rapt attention and became thoughtful for a while. Then, as if galvanised, he took Virji’s hand in his and shaking it heartily said, ‘Thank you for coming here and relating this amazing story. Can I make a humble suggestion?’
‘Certainly, yes,’ Virji replied.
‘Why don’t you let me continue with this job? Henceforth, I will do it gratis. That will be my small contribution to your mission.’
Virji thanked him profusely and took his leave. He was amazed the way his dream was unfolding in real life. Unable to contain his excitement, he phoned to apprise me of the CA’s commitment.
‘I am glad. It seems your dream has a dream ending,’ I said.
‘You were right about the superior force within us. I am convinced of the close link between science and spirituality, between faith and cold logic, between you and me...’
‘The unifying theory of cosmos,’ I exclaimed.
‘Exactly.’
I could visualise his boyish grin as he said those words.
NOTES
tanga – carriage drawn by a horse
tangawalla – tanga driver