[ Madame Hardevi (Taiji) sings with much poignancy a poem written by Master Kirpal Singh Ji to his Master Sawan Singh Ji. The poem tells of the anguish he feels in his heart on being separated from him.]

The hymn just now read out is a prayer from the disciple to his Master. He says: "It is you who have lacerated my mind, my heart. There is no remedy other than your own self. The remedy for the wound in this heart lies only in your hands. No other doctor can heal it. You are going away, but don't forget us."

That is a prayer. Well, Master does not forget—that's right. But still, out of the anguished heart comes the words of the disciple: "For God's sake, don't forget us! We cannot forget you; but you also must not forget us. We are, after all, your own. If you forget us, who will heal the pain in our hearts? What will be our own remedy?"

What remedy can there be for the heart which is aching to have a glimpse of the Master? Nothing else—no words, no consolation, will help. In the time of Lord Krishna, there were many gopis who were very much in love with him. Once, it happened that he remained away from them for some time—say, about six or eight months— and they could not reach him. They were crying disconsolately. (Separation is a very bad thing. Two times are very difficult for a man who has developed love in his heart for someone. One, the time which has just passed in awaiting him; and the other, when he leaves him. Both are hard times.) So Lord Krishna sent Uddho as a messenger to go and console them: "Console them, 'Look here, God is everywhere; Master is everywhere; He is in your heart of hearts; He is the very controlling power of your own self in the body. Why are you worrying? He is the soul of your soul' . . ." Uddho went to them and spoke to them the best he could. With all that, they listened to it very calmly and finally told him, "O Uddho, what you say is all right. But tell us, what remedy do you have with you for the eyes that are yearning to see the form of the Master?"

This is a prayer from the disciple to the Master: "Don't forget us!" And usually you'll find, as a matter of fact, that the Master himself never forgets. But the disciple cries, "I have only one heart and that you have now taken possession of; what am I to do? I can think of no one other than you yourself."

There cannot be ten or twenty hearts. You cannot devote one heart here, another there, and then another there. It is only one heart. Well, it is the throne of God; don't let anybody sit on it except God. What do we do? We let every wordly thing sit there, and we dethronc God.

Guru Arjan said, "The Master loves and remembers his disciples with every breath." Can a mother forget her small children? She might be working here, there, or anywhere; she might be in the kitchen, and the child might be lying in his room, but there's a connection. If the child moves, then her milk begins to come from her breast. If the little child cries, she at once runs to him and leaves everything behind, even the most valuable thing.

Similarly, we are all children of God —of the God-in-man. He does not forget us. But because of the yearning of the heart, his disciple does pray like that: "Don't forget us. Even if you go away, we are still yours, after all."

But I tell you, it is the mother who first loves us—the child. The child's love is only reciprocal. The love that a Master has, for his children — for his disciples — comes from the level of the God in him.. He loves his disciples as hundreds of mothers won't love their children. But he loves the soul, the development of the soul, with no consideration, no recompense; nothing of the sort. A mother may love her children with the hope that when they grow up they will help her and care for her in her old days. But the Master does not do that. He simply sees that they are all souls. The God in him thinks, He is my child.

The more we have yearning like that, the more our mind is cleansed of all the dross of the world; it is washed away with the tears that roll down from the eyes—that's the water. With that water alone can the dross of the filth of many past births be washed away.

There are two ways to go to Mecca from India: one is on the sea, the other over land. But the way on the land is very sandy; there is a dearth of water; there are no communications through the deserts of Arabia. so it is very hard to reach the place of pilgrimage if you go on foot—or even on horses; and no car can cross the sands. But there is a way, across the sea, that takes you there in three days. So, somewhere Maulana Rumi said, "If you want to make a pilgrimage to God, go through the waters of tears. You'll go quicker than you can on the land or through the sands."

What is meant by that? Any prayers that are said, any rites or rituals that are performed or any scriptures that are read mechanically, with dry hearts, like a gymnastic, won't help you to reach God. Your heart should be full, and that heart should overflow through the eyes.

Once there was a pandit who was relating the story of Rama, reading it out of the scriptures in Sanskrit. An illiterate man was sitting, listening to him and shedding tears like anything. The pandit thought, perhaps he has followed me very well. When the talk was over, the pandit called him and said, "You understood my sermon very well."

The man said, "I did not follow a word of what you were saying."

"Then why were you crying and weeping?"

"I had the scene of Lord Rama before me; my heart was full and I was shedding tears, all the time watching that scene. I never heard a word of what you said."

So this sort of love is the foreshadow of coming things. When rain is coming, there are first clouds. When there are blossoms in the fruit-growing trees, there is hope for fruit. Similarly, the heart which is full of anguish, which is yearning, which is overflowing with tears from the eyes, can reach God the quickest. And sometimes we never remember God. Days and days pass by, and we never think of Him.

Perhaps we have not seen all the aspects of keeping the spiritual diary. There is one very important thing about it; that during the day you are remembering the God-in-man; otherwise you won't remember him. At least at night you will think back, what have I been doing? I have to send in the diary. Is it not a great blessing? We never realize the truth of the things that are given us. All the time you say to yourself, O my Lord, I have not to do this, not to do that. So you are always thinking of the Master or the God in him. Such a heart becomes the fittest to receive Him a quicker way.

So that was a prayer, so very full of pathos, of yearning: 'O Master, you are going away, but don't forget us; we cannot remember you unless you remember us." Our love is reciprocal, as I told you.

So when two men—two disciples of the Master—sit together, naturally the remembrance of the Master comes, is it not so? This is the first reason why you are asked not to miss attending the group meeting. When you sit together, you think of the Master. And someone might say, of his own accord, "This is like this; the other is like that"; and that way, the remembrance is revived. Another thing is what Christ said: "When more than one man sits in my name, I am there." And moreover, you will develop receptivity.

When Master initiates anybody, he resides with him from that very time. And he never leaves him, unless he takes him to the lap of the Father. That is what is called God Power or Guru Power or Christ Power. So, such an attitude, such time spent, makes us fit; and when it comes, just sit in sweet remembrance. You will have response when you are there.

This is one of the poems I wrote when I was away from my Master. This state of mind cannot be expressed in words. It has not been given to words to express the feelings of the heart, the yearning of the heart. So, such an attitude radiates in the atmosphere. It goes to cleanse away all foreign, external thoughts for the time 1976 being. Just as when an eagle comes, all the sparrows fly away, so when the eagle of love comes anywhere, no thoughts arise there. So all Masters say, "The heart has been given to you as a sacred trust. Don't misappropriate it. It is meant for God; let only God, and no other thing, sit on that throne."

Suchlike prayers help you. These things gush out afresh from the heart; only suchlike prayers help. Sometimes we have models, specimens of prayers given by past Masters. But those are only the words they gave out. The words should come out—should gush out— from our very hearts. Only a mechanical repetition of something cannot have an effect.

If you love Him, you abide in His heart: "Let my words abide in you, and you abide in me." How can you abide in Him? When you remember Him. The more you remember Him the more He reacts—do you see? And what does it cost? Anything? And time flies away, like anything.

At the time of separation from my Master—one time it was for eight months—these things came out of my heart. The heart is only one, not two or three. How many have you got? One? Well? He wants your heart. When you give your heart, what remains? Where the heart goes, everything goes -- both the body and the soul.

This is what is meant by surrender and devotion. Simply following in an intellectual way or by philosophical ways of thinking won't help you. Hafiz said, "If the learned men come to know just an iota of the madness we have got yearning for the Lord, they will forget everything, and they will dance like anything." Do you see? Such a heart is the abode of the Lord. Even when we say prayers, we are thinking of the worldly children and this and that thing. Tulsidas said, "Just clean your mind, so that God, your Beloved, may manifest Himself there." Then he defines what is the cleansing of the heart. He says, "The heart in which no other thought other than that of God comes up is the pure heart." A heart in which there is love for God, yearning for God, is a fitting thing in which God manifests. That is why it is said: "Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." Purity means that.

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