Pointers from Nisargadatta Maharaj

Preface

I had no intention of writing a book on the teaching of Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj. The material that appears in this volume emerged spontaneously, dictated, in a fine frenzy that surcharged my being, by a compulsive power that could not be denied. There was no alternative but to write, to reduce to a verbal level the abstract comprehension of the Master's words. Actually it was more like listening than writing though my pen apparently formed words and sentences on the paper before me.

When the first piece, now a chapter in this book, was written, I found that my thoughts were running way ahead of the writing. And what I wrote was put away in a folder without even being read over again. I did not then expect that there would be more of such writing let alone as many as fifty-odd pieces. Each time there would be this feeling of compulsion to put in writing a particular topic which Maharaj might have dealt with; and each time the article was put away in the folder without being revised or even read over.

When about fifteen articles had been so collected, a friend of mine, Keki Bunshah of Hong Kong, an ardent fellow devotee, happened to call at my residence. While we were discussing a particular point, I happened to mention that some writing had come about on that very subject only the previous day. Of course Keki, keen as ever, would not let me slip out of what had already been said and was insistent that he be allowed to read the article. Then, of course, he had to read the others too. He then arranged to have them typed, with one copy for himself, of course!

At this time I found myself in a real predicament because I had not mentioned to Maharaj anything about these intuitive writings. In fact I had not said anything about this to anyone, not even to my particular friend and colleague, Saumitra Mullarpattan, who had been doing the translating of Maharaj's talks long before I also was asked by Maharaj to do so. By the time I told Mullarpattan about the intuitive writing and my predicament, the number had increased to about twenty-five. Inspiration for writing seemed to come at irregular intervals of time; I would compulsively dash off five or six pieces at a time and then nothing for a few days.

One morning, after the usual session, Mullarpattan and I were taking Maharaj out for a drive in the car when suddenly Mullarpattan brought up the matter of these articles. He was, like me, aware of the fact that Maharaj generally discouraged his devotees from writing or lecturing on his teaching, presumably for two reasons:

a) the writer concerned might have understood the subject not deeply enough, or he might have understood it only superficially, or might not have really understood it at all, and

b) it might tempt him to establish himself as a pseudo-Guru and do considerable damage all round.

So, Mullarpattan went about it tactfully, bringing out very clearly that the entire writing was essentially spontaneous and it was not as if I had deliberately sat at a desk with pen and paper to write on specific subjects, and that the very speed with which the words had came pouring out on paper showed that the writing was not contrived. I was sitting in the front seat of the car and Maharaj and Mullarpattan were in the rear. While Mullarpattan was saying all this, there was no vocal reaction of any sort from Maharaj, not a sound! So, with considerable trepidation, I turned round to have a look and found Maharaj completely relaxed, leaning back in the seat, his eyes closed and the most beatific smile on his lips. The message was clear; he already knew about the articles; he had to know. What is more, he was pleased.

When Mullarpattan finished, Maharaj sat up and said,

Let the articles continue, as many of them as would emerge by themselves. The essential point is spontaneity. Don't persist, don't resist. At this point Mullarpattan suggested that the articles be published, and I put in that they could go under a pseudonym because I was very much aware that I was only an instrument for this writing.

Maharaj at once agreed that they should be published but insisted that the author's name must be clearly mentioned, although he added, I know that you both are aware that all writing originates in consciousness, that there is writing but no authors.

It was a tremendous relief for me that Maharaj now not only knew all about the writing but was greatly pleased about it and had blessed it.

Contents of the book

1. The renderings of Maharaj's teaching in this book are not reproductions from recorded proceedings of the dialogue sessions.

2. They are essentially subjects discussed at the sessions either when Mullarpattan had done the translating and I was present, or when I had done the translating myself.

3. The subject in each chapter has been dealt with in greater depth than would be the case if merely literal English translation of Maharaj's Marathi words at any one session were given. Whilst a substantial portion of a chapter would be what was discussed at a particular session, further material, to make the points clearer and more complete, had to be drawn from other sessions when the same subject had been dealt with. Without this liberty the subject would have lacked the depth which it is hoped it now contains.

4. No translation into another language can possibly convey either the exact meaning or the impact which the actual words of Maharaj in Marathi had at the time. The translation of Maharaj's words in this book is not purely literal, but necessarily contains an interpretation of what seemed clearly implied in the imaginative, forceful, sometimes terse but virile use of the Marathi words by Maharaj.

5. The reader may feel that I could have avoided the repetitions of many of Maharaj's words, which occur again and again in the various chapters. But such repetitions could not be avoided because

a) repetitions are what Maharaj calls hammer-blows at the tremendous conditioning that has taken place and which makes individuals identify themselves as separate entities and which prevents the seeing of the Truth; and

b) Maharaj wants us to remember always that we should not allow ourselves to be entangled in the branches and forget the root; that it is for this reason that he brings us back to the root and the source again and again, repeatedly: What were you before you were 'born'? and, also because,

c) these pieces are not expected to be read continuously at a stretch like a work of fiction, and each piece is intended to be complete in itself.

Here I may also refer to Maharaj's oft-made assertion, that the clear understanding in depth of even a single statement of his would lead to an apperception of the whole Truth. Along with this must also be remembered his oft-repeated warning that any apperception of the Truth is valid only when the apperception itself disappears, that is to say, only when the seeker himself disappears as an entity. Any knowledge can be acquired, he says, only in consciousness, and consciousness itself must be realized as being only a concept. In other words, the basis of all 'knowledge' is a concept!

It seemed necessary to include in this volume a short biographical note about Maharaj but, on second thoughts, 1 dropped the idea. This was not only because the known events of Maharaj's simple and straightforward life are too meager to write about, but essentially because Maharaj himself had been averse to it, This is dead matter — as dead as the ashes of a burnt-out fire. I am not interested in it. Why should you be? This is how he rejected any enquiry about his past. Is there any past at all? he would ask. Instead of wasting your time in such useless pursuits, why don't you go to the root of the matter and enquire into the nature of Time itself? If you do so, you will find that Time has no substance as such; it is only a concept.

Before concluding this prefatory note I would express my gratitude to my friend Keki Bunshah who, after reading the first few pieces, almost pursued me with his affectionate demand for copies of further writing, and to another fellow-devotee P. D. Kasbekar, I.A.S. former Chief Secretary to the Government of Maharashtra, for making certain helpful suggestions. I am particularly grateful to my dear friend Saumitra Mullarpattan, who not only broached the subject to Maharaj and secured for me his gracious blessings for the book, but also encouraged me constantly with his constructive comments as the manuscript progressed.

My special thanks are due to Sudhakar S. Dikshit, whose critical reading of the manuscript in its final stage led to quite a few improvements. Dikshit, an ardent admirer of Maharaj's teaching, heads the publishing house of Chetana, publishers of I Am That. When he came to know that I had written something about Maharaj, he approached me and, after a mere glance at the manuscript, offered to publish it. I am happy that my MS is in most competent hands, for Dikshit's editorial experience and expertise as a publisher, specially in the particular field of philosophy, is indeed vast and is internationally known and accepted.

Ramesh S. Balsekar

Bombay

February 1982

Editor's Note

Discovering a new author of genuine merit is like discovering a new planet or star in the limitless expanse of the heaven. As I write these lines I can imagine what William Herschel may have felt like when he discovered Uranus.

Ramesh S. Balsekar, the author of this work, is a new luminary of scintillating splendour that has blazoned forth on the mysterious firmament of esoteric writing of great significance, though himself quite indifferent to his own resplendence. When, after a cursory glance at a few chapters of his MS, which a mutual friend brought to me, I met him and told him how greatly impressed I was, he stared blankly at me. I am no author, he said, and what I wrote is not for publication, but for a clear comprehension of my Master's teaching for myself, for my better guidance and my own pleasure. It was difficult to convince him that what he wrote for his pleasure could profit thousands of others, if it were published as a book. He listened to me without answering— an enigmatic smile on his lips, his attitude affable, but totally non-committal.

Apparently in his sixties and very well-maintained for his years, Balsekar is fair complexioned, quite handsome and amiable, but rather taciturn by nature. When he chooses to talk, he speaks with a circumspection and remoteness befitting a bank president conversing with a borrower. Later, I was quite intrigued to learn that he actually had been a banker and had retired as the highest executive of one of the premier banks in India.

Evidently, as a borrower I proved quite a tenacious person, for I succeeded in borrowing from Balsekar his MS for a few days for my personal enlightenment as an admirer of Maharaj's teaching. And as I read through I found it beyond my best expectations. I lost no time in calling on him and offered to publish the work. After a brief silence and rather unconcernedly, he nodded his acquiescence.

I read through the MS again, very carefully, as a deeply interested reader, keeping my editorial proclivities in the background. And while reading it I experienced in a flash, momentarily, my true identity, as different from what I think I am, or what I appear to be. I had never had such an experience before. A few years ago, when I had the good fortune of editing and publishing Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj's conversations, entitled I Am That, I did feel the impact of his creative originality and Socratic reasoning, but did not have even a fleeting glimpse of Truth or Reality or of my true entity, as now. And this, because Balsekar in his writing does not merely repeat the words spoken by Maharaj, but he interprets them with deep insight and lucidity and a profound understanding. He writes with a power and an intrinsic authority derived from Maharaj himself, as it were. He does not argue; he announces. His assertions are of the nature of pronouncements on behalf of the Master.

I never was a regular visitor to Maharaj, but I did attend his talks quite often, whenever my preoccupations allowed me spare time. A dedicated devotee of Maharaj, named Saumitra Mullarpattan, who is equally well-versed in Marathi and English, used to act as an interpreter. On a couple of occasions, however, I found a person unknown to me doing the interpreting and I was struck by the authoritative tone in which he conveyed Maharaj's answers to questioners. He sat with his eyes closed and flashed out Maharaj's words of wisdom with a finality characteristic of the Master. It was as if Maharaj himself was speaking in English, for a change.

On enquiring I was told that the interpreter was a new devotee of Maharaj, named Balsekar. At the end of the session, when people were dispersing, I introduced myself to him and praised him for his excellent translation of Maharaj's spoken word. But he was unresponsive, as if he had not heard me at all. Taken aback by his intractable attitude I moved away and never thought of him till I met him recently in connection with this book. And now I realize how deplorably wrong I was in forming my judgment about him. It should have occurred to me that he lived on a different level of existence, which was beyond the reaches of praise and blame. I should have understood that he was at one with the Master and nothing else mattered to him. And that it was so is proved by his present work in which we find Maharaj's presence on every page — his exceptional mental agility, his rigorous logical conclusions, his total thinking, his complete identity with the unicity that appears as diversity.

It is interesting to note that in his Preface to the book Balsekar almost disowns its authorship. He says that the material that appears in this volume emerged spontaneously, dictated in a fine frenzy that surcharged his being, by a compulsive power that could not be denied. I believe his statement. And I am inclined to think that the reader as he reads through, will agree with me. For there is nothing in this work that may be taken as the author's self-projection, no improvisations, no learned quotations from the scriptures; there are no borrowed plumes of any kind. The thoughts propounded by Balsekar bear the silent signatures of the Master. They seem to come forth from a luminous knowledge, a swelling glory of Truth that fills his within.

This work, entitled Pointers from Nisargadatta Maharaj, is Maharaj himself out and out. It is indeed a sort of post-graduation course for the reader who has already imbibed what is offered in I Am That. It comprises the final teaching of the Master at its sublimest and goes far beyond what he taught in earlier years. I venture to say that there really can be no knowledge higher than what this book contains. I also venture to say that none except Balsekar could have expounded this knowledge, for not one of those who have been close to Maharaj has understood his teaching so profoundly as Balsekar.

Some of the devotees of Maharaj known to me have attended his talks for twenty years or more, but their psyche had not altered and they continue to be the same entities they were two decades ago. Balsekar's personal association with Maharaj, on the other hand, extended over a period of barely three years. But such associations are not to be measured in time, if they could be measured at all. What is more important than the length of association is the special type of receptivity that is the forte of Balsekar. I have no doubt that the mantle of Maharaj has fallen on his shoulders. For want of a better expression, I may even say that Balsekar is the living alter ego of Maharaj, though he has no inclination at all to play the role of a teacher. That he is saturated with the Jnana imparted by the Master is more than evident from this book. But, I draw the reader's particular attention to his special article entitled, 'The Core of the Teaching' expounding in all its facets the unique philosophy of Maharaj (Appendix I) as well as his note on the confoundingly difficult subject of Consciousness (Appendix II). No reader should miss reading these.

Before I close, I may as well relate an amusing incident in which the editor in me had a clash with the author in Balsekar. His remoteness and unconcern always irked me. He is a graduate of London University and has a good command over English. I could not easily find fault with his language. Still I tried to improve his diction and expression here and there, as an editor must do! He noticed the uncalled for 'improvements' and kept quiet with his usual indifference. It was clear that he had made a virtue of his taciturnity, just as I had made a virtue of my verbosity. We were at antipodes, I felt. Longing for a rapport with him, I wanted to draw him out of his shell, anyhow. I hit upon a device. I attacked his exposition of one of the aspects of Maharaj's teaching (though I really agreed with it) and he exploded suddenly. His counter-attack was devastating and I was glad that the shell was broken at last. He was, however, quickly pacified when I agreed with him without much ado. And his eyes beamed with friendliness. The habitual circumspection and remoteness disappeared, giving place to a new togetherness between us. After that we worked together on the book; in fact he allowed me all liberties with his MS and never bothered to look at the additions or alterations I chose to make. We developed the much-needed rapport between us, which indeed I prize greatly. He glanced rather casually at the final copy matter before it was sent to the press and seemed to be quite happy with it.

I asked him if he would write for us another book about the Master's teaching. He smiled faintly and perhaps there was an imperceptible nodding of his head.

Sudhakar S. Dikshit

Editor

Bombay

March, 1982

1. Pride of Achievement

"I have worked hard and I now consider myself a very successful man. I would be a hypocrite if I did not admit that I have a considerable amount of satisfaction and, yes, a certain amount of pride too in my achievement. Would that