2007/02
There is a very interesting phenomenon related to the notion of left-sidedness, right-sidedness and being in the centre. In many ways progress – natural growth – develops from left to right, and from right to centre. A new-born baby is a left-sided creature in that he or she is dependent for survival on others. Later, the young child is concerned entirely with himself or herself. There is no other viewpoint; everything is seen, needed, felt, explored, as an individual. Nothing else matters. Later again, the child starts to become conscious of other people’s needs, begins to see alternative points of view, starts making plans, starts moving into the right. Some adolescents don’t fully make this transition. They stay withdrawn, secretive, uncommunicative.
The same progress is typical of the seekers of truth. We tend to begin in the left, withdrawing from the rat-race to feel things through, longing for patterns, answers. Exploration, study and experiment will take us into the right. And, if we are lucky and make the right discoveries – such as, in our day and age, the grace of Shri Mataji Nirmala Devi – we arrive in the centre with the possibility of attaining Divine knowledge, perception and joy.
The painter, Picasso, is an interesting example. After his apprentice years spent copying great artists, he became famous for sad, left-sided, blue and rose paintings. Then he moved into the right, exploring cubism and collage and painting harshly-coloured abstracts, before settling, through an interest in neoclassicism, into a balance where he gained his self-realisation.
Brian Bell
I happened to see a documentary on Martin Luther King. It showed the last speech he gave before he was assassinated. That speech was said to be the most powerful speech he ever gave. The last paragraph interested me the most. During the last paragraph, as he was giving his speech, Martin Luther’s voice was very strong and shaky. And at the end of the speech he lost his balance and had to be held by his supporters. Martin Luther knew that he was going to be killed the next day. It seems the Divine had revealed the plans to him. But he was also shown the Kingdom of God. This is the last paragraph of his speech:
Well, I don’t know what will happen now. We’ve got some difficult days ahead. But it doesn’t matter with me now. Because I’ve been to the mountain top. And I don’t mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I’m not concerned about that now. I just want to do God’s will. And He’s allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I’ve looked over. And I’ve seen the promised land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land. And I’m happy, tonight. I’m not worried about anything. I’m not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.
Meghraj, Canada
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
A Bollywood movie will aim to recreate the magic of a 1980s blockbuster Indian television serial based on an ancient epic Hindu text that portrays a clash of dynasties and the victory of good over evil.
Ravi Chopra, the director of the legendary series, Mahabharat, which ran for 94 episodes between 1988 and 1990, is getting behind the camera again to make two, three-hour films with special effects he says will rival those produced in the West.
“This is something which I always wanted to do because it’s a great epic and was made into a hit serial which international audiences should get to see on the silver screen,” Chopra said. “The film will be made with great special effects like people saw in the film, The Lord of the Rings.”
The Mahabharat television series was inspired by the epic, Mahabharat, one of two Sanskrit epics of ancient India, and was one the biggest television hits in Indian broadcasting history. The most sacred Hindu text – the Bhagavad Gita – forms a part of the Mahabharat, a tale of how two branches of a royal family fight over their kingdom.
In India, people were glued to their television sets and streets emptied of people as its one-hour-long episodes were aired. Trains were delayed at stations as passengers refused to board during broadcasts, while television sets were installed at weddings to ensure guests turned up.
The tale, one of the world’s longest written epics, has been translated into different Indian languages. Its commentary on goodness, charity and prudence is read out to many Indian children by their parents.
“The people loved the television serial and now they should also taste the same at the cinema. I will make it a world-class movie but will not digress from the Indian spirit which the Mahabharat has,” Chopra, son of the legendary Bollywood filmmaker BR Chopra, said. “I will start shooting the film in 2008. I am still finalising the script and then I’ll select the cast.”
Prithwish Ganguly, Reuters