One night in the early eighties on the outskirts of the English city of Bedford, a young motorcyclist had a very nasty accident. The St John’s ambulance men arrived and took him to the hospital where the doctor who examined him was surprised to find that very little was wrong with him. While being examined the young man told the doctor that after the accident, while he was lying on the side of the road, a car pulled up and a lady with long black hair, wearing a long white gown, got out, walked to him and passed her hand along him, a few inches above his body. Then she smiled, returned to the car, and left.

The doctor said it was an interesting story and the young man should tell it to the journalist whom he’d noticed in the hospital foyer. Well, the young man did, but while he was telling the journalist about his experience he saw a poster on the hospital noticeboard. It was for a Sahaja Yoga Public Program, and on that poster was a picture of Shri Mataji Nirmala Devi, the founder of Sahaja Yoga. Astonished, the young man identified this lady, Shri Mataji, as the person who had come to him after his accident. The journalist realised he had a good piece of news for his paper, especially as Shri Mataji, at the time of the accident, was, in fact, at the Bedford Town Hall talking to seekers. I know. I was there.  Sitting in the gallery.  Listening to Shri Mataji outlining the nature of the spirit and offering self-realisation.

Well, the story was published on the front page, with pictures. Letters to the editor followed, and a long article by a Sahaja Yogi attempted to explain how Shri Mataji could be addressing a crowded hall and attending to a young accident victim some miles away, at the same time.

A couple of months later Shri Mataji was in America. A Los Angeles radio interview had been arranged, and while She waited Shri Mataji talked to Tracey, an American Sahaja Yogi, and me about the Bedford Boy and his accident. At one point Tracey, with rather more nerve than I had, asked Shri Mataji if She was conscious of being in two places at once – at the program and with the young man.

Shri Mataji didn’t answer immediately, but when She did She said that Divinity was like radio, always transmitting, but whether the transmitted message was picked up or not, depended on the quality of the radio receiver. 

“The Bedford Boy,” She said, “must be a good receiver.”

Brian Bell