The Master’s Promise
The Great Master had initiated a large number of Nepalese and other people from the surrounding hilly tracts, who throughout their lives had been killing goats and other animals for sacrifices and also for eating. Before this also, after initiating, the Great Master would always be slightly ill. But this time it was much worse than usual, and it made us all very nervous and apprehensive. On the tenth day his condition grew very serious. The doctors lost all hope. This state lasted for three days, and even after that we spent many sleepless nights and days. But during all this time the Great Master’s joviality and good humour remained the same. One morning, the professor inquired about his health and asked how he felt.
“I am quite tayaar bar tayaar (ready to depart),” replied the Great Master.
This came like a bombshell and we were all overcome with grief and consternation. The professor could not restrain his tears. In a voice choked with emotion he asked, “In whose charge are you leaving us, Great Lord?”
“Why? Where am I going?” he asked.
“You said, Sir, you were ‘tayaar bar tayaar’,” replied the professor.
“Yes. I am tayaar bar tayaar,” said the Great Master.
It was then that we realized that he was indulging in a little play upon the words ‘tayaar bar tayaar’, which in Nihang Khalsa terminology meant that he was quite fit and healthy. Soon after this, he recovered very speedily. On the fourth day, he came out and sat for some time in the sun on the lawn in front of his house.
Some days after this he was sitting on the lawn in an easy chair when we, both the professor and I, being alone with him, thought it was an opportune time to make a request we had in mind. The professor started the conversation as follows:
“Maharaj Ji, you are the Lord of earth and heaven – would you grant us a boon?”
The Great Master appeared to be saying, “Yes, ask,” when he suddenly restrained himself and inquired, “But what boon do you want to have?”
We kept silent for some time.
“Well, come on, speak out,” said the Great Master, smiling.
We were sitting at his feet on a mat, and like a child I said earnestly, “Whatever it is, our Lord, promise that you will grant it.”
At this the Master laughed and said, “I am not a prophet. How can I grant a request unless I know what it is?”
“Our Lord! You are not a prophet, but prophets come from you,” said I.
The professor then blurted out, “Sir, we wish that we may leave here before you go.”
It is perhaps needless to say that in the presence of the Great Master we were always so awe stricken or reverence stricken that we sometimes forgot what we had proposed to say.
“Yes,” the Great Master replied, “you can gladly leave whenever you like. I intend to stay here till the end of September.”
An involuntary laugh escaped our lips. Our Lord also laughed innocently, thus conveying to us that he had understood our real meaning. “Not from Dalhousie, Sir, but from this earth. Please ordain that we may leave it before you go,” said I.
“No. You should neither desire to live nor wish to die. Leave everything in the hands of him who is the Lord of life and death,” he said.
“We do not want to live here a single moment without you,” we implored him. “Life without you would be worse than death, our beloved Lord.”
“I shall always be with you. That I promise,” said our Lord.
Call of the Great Master