(excerpt from Ocean in a teacup – R. A Houserman)
The author was with Shri Shri Thakur 1945-1969
Publisher –Satsang, 2223 Bayberry St, Virginia Beach, VA 23451,U.S.A.
The book is priced in India Rs 150/
Contact – Shri Apurba Das Ph- 09874676225 email – apurbadas57@gmail.com
Twenty years after Satsang came into being, it had a permanent population of 8,000 residents. Five-hundred Ritwiks were daily preaching Thakurs message of Being and Becoming throughout Bengal. The records in Philanthrophy office listed more than a quarter million names those who had taken initiation,
Satsang maintained its own post office, for the incoming mail from Thakur’s vast following averaged several hundred pieces a day. A staff of five secretaries was kept busy reading these letters, checking the answers with Thakur, and sending his replies.
Devotees sought advice concerning the proper education of their children, a change of job, business investments, illnesses both chronic and acte, and a host of other personal problems and needs. All queries received careful attention and were promptly answered.
Nine pharmacists worked ceaselessly in the large, whitewashed dispensary, compounding the medicines that Thakur ordered sent to his ailing disciples.
One Afternoon in April, 1940, Thakur was absent-mindedly following the talk around him which concerned the war in Europe. Suddenly he called Prafulla, head of the secretarial staff, and instructed him to send a message to all initiates in Burma (now Myanmar) that they come to India as soon as possible.
Prafulla wrote the brief notes and then waited, pencil poised, for some time until he noticed that Thakur had apparently forgotten the subjecdt.
“Was there something else to tell the Burmese devotees?” he inquired politely.
“No. No. That’s all. Only waste no time. Send it at once.”
The puzzled Prafulla began the work of addressing hundreds of postcards inscribed with Thakur’s strange and unexplained message.
The postcards caused consternation among the Burmese intiates. Meetings were called hastily and night-long conferences were held in every family. The vast majority had implicit faith in Thakur, they accepted the warning and obeyed without question. Within two months, the devotees in Burma had dwindled to a few hundred.
They sent long and detailed letters to Satsang of the hardship involved and requested further information.
The explanation, when it arrived, was cryptic as the original message had been. “Thakur said what he understands. Now, he says, ‘You do what you think is the best’.”
P. R. Banerjee was one of the men who received the second message. He was a prominent lawyer in the High Court and had over many years, built up a lucrative legal practice. He lived comfortably with his wife and four children, in a 12-room home in Pegu. He had carefully avoided political controversy and had many Burmese friends of all persuasions. Thakurs’s warning, he reasoned, must surely be proper for initiates whose lives were quite different from his won, but certainly he, Banerjee, had nothing to fear from the Burmese.
He was devoted to Thakur, since eight years earlier the Saint’s medicine had cured his daughter of nephritis, after the foremost physicians of Rangoon had given up hope. A man who could perform miracles of this nature was not likely to make mistakes. Yet second message had said, “You do what you think is best.”
As a precautionary measure, Banerjee sold some property and placed the ready cash in the bank where it would be available…. Just in case.
On January 6, 1942, P. R. Banerjee slept restlessly. Japan had rapidly overrun Saigon and Singapore. There were rumors, stoutly denied by the uneasy authorities but pervasive nonetheless, that Burma was in danger.
“Get out! Get out, Banerjee!” a voice shouted in his ear.
He sat up in bed, wide awake, and turned on the linght. His wife was sleeping soundly beside him. The house was quiet. He crossed to the open window and peered into the courtyard. All was calm. Only the soft night rustlings… he had been dreaming! He returned to bed and was about to pull the sheet over him when the cry came again. “Get out of here! Get out immediately!”
Banerjee began to tremble. He had never met Thakur, but at this moment he knew, beyond any shadow of doubt, that the voice in his ear was that of his spiritual Guru.
Roughly, he shook his wife awake. “Get up! Quickly! Call the servants, and run to the orchard!”
“What is it?” his wife cried distractedly. “Are we on fire?”
“Do what I say!” he ordered sharply. “And hurry!” He rushed from the room to the children’s quarters, tumbling the older ones to their feet and bidding them to run to the orchard. He picked the sleeping four-year-old Kamala up in his arms and, with the excited children at his heels, ran from the house.
“Follow me!” he cried to his wife and the servants who were huddled anxiously on the veranda.
Hurry! Hurry! There is no time!” The grou stumbled in haste through the considerable area of the orchard, the children crying out from time to time as their tender bare feet met with sticks and stones. At the far side of the orchard, he brought the bewildered company to a halt. “This will do.” He decided, sinking down on the ground and soothing the whimpering Kamala.
“What is it?” His wife panted. “What is happening?”
“I don’t know.” Banerjee mopped his sweating face on his daughter’s nightshirt. “Thakur spoke to me.”
“In a dream? You had a dream?”
“It wasn’t dream!” Banerjee cried impatiently. “I tell you I was wide awake! He told me to get out… get out immediately.”
The frightened children complained of cold and their mother soothed and reassured them.
“He meant get out of Burma,” she reasoned in a matter-of-fact voice, “and he meant tomorrow, or soon, perhaps. He didn’t mean for you to jump up that very minute and get the whole house out of bed..”
“I’ll go for some blankets,” 12-year-old Soilen offered, getting to his feet.
Banerjee grabbed his son’s arm roughly. “You’ll stat right where you are!” he commanded.
A few moments later, the still night was shaken with the thunderous roar of airplanes and shortly afterward the ground beneath them shuddered, over and over again, as bombs exploded around them.
They watched with fascinated horror the weird designs streaking across the sky as the anti-aircraft guns answered the attack. And suddenly – an incendiary bomb scored a direct hit on their house and the flames shot into the sky.
The attack was brief and bitter. Before morning only the sirens of fire engines and ambulances were to be heard, along with the rumblings of tanks and trucks as Burma prepared to defend herself.
Nothing was to be salvaged from the house. The servants were sent off in search of clothing and returned shortly with ill-fitting but clean garments and a blanket for Kamala. Banerjee led his family through the chaotic streets of Kamayut until they reached the docks, where the lines of weeping and cursing refugees already stretched for blocks. Instructing his wife and Soilen to keep the family together and hold their place in line, he proceeded to the bank to withdraw all that was left of their family fortune.
When he returned his face was bleak, his manner agitated. The banks were not open. There was little hope that they would ever open. The money was most probably being shipped away fro safe-keeping.
Fortunately, Banerjee’s wife wore the traditional ornaments… bangles, gold coins, and gems, the family safeguard against such crises. The precious bracelets were now to serve a vital purpose. Yet, neither the bracelets nor Banerjee’s eloquence was able to het them passage. Every boat in the harbor was loaded to capacity and, under the circumstances, not one could predict when or if another ship would arrive.
“We should gave gone when the Ghose family did,” Soilen complained sullenly. “They took everything, even the children’s bicycles!”
“Hush!” Banerjee’s face was stern. “Thakur saved us last night and he will see us safely out of Burma. Be grateful! It’s good to be alive.”
The family managed to crown onto a train for Merktila. When they arrived, they encountered several dozen Satsangees who, in one for or another, asleep or awake, had received telepathic messages. The entire company proceeded to Mandalay where their numbers increased by many more in the same plight.
Pooling their money, they purchased oxen and carts, as much food as they could carry, and joined the thousands of other refugees on the long route to the Chinduin River.
Daily, the weary columns were strafed and the casualties were many. Yet, the Satsangees seemed truly to lead a charmed life, for not one was killed as stories of providential coincidence accumulated.
The refugees had stopped to rest, and Soilen, with a group of boys, had been sent to wait beneath a bridge which seemed to be a safe shelter. As he was dropping to sleep, he saw a grove fo mango trees about fifty yards away and the fruit, although it was not the season, was rosy and ripe. He pointed this miracle out to the other boys and together they rushed toward the trees. The fruit was hard and green, the color a trick of reflected sunlight, but before they could return, a plane passed over and a bomb reduced their recent shelter to rubble.
The refugees suffered constantly from dysentery and beribery, and almost daily, a grieving family would drop out of line in order to bury their dead beside the road. Yet, although Thakur’s followers fell ill in large numbers, no grave of theirs marked that long, arduous, hearbreaking train.
In May, 1942, they crossed the Chindwin River and arrived safely in Imphal. Three weeks later a bedraggled, emaciated, joyous P. R. Banerjee led 141 families into Pabna.
other important links
Thakur Anukulchandra -- an Overview
http://www.box.net/shared/6u5hic1omv
Istovrity – a strong support of life
http://thakuranukulchandra.blogspot.com/2009/11/istovrity-strong-support-for-existence.html
Ocean in a Teacup – Ray A. Houserman (pdf download of the first edition published by Herper Brothers, U.S.A 1962)
http://www.box.net/shared/t0mo7s8gei
song links of Shri Shri Thakur
http://thakuranukulchandra.blogspot.com/2009/11/song-links-of-thakur-anukulchandra.html
Video links of Shri Shri Thakur Anukulchandra
http://thakuranukulchandra.blogspot.com/2010/12/video-uploads-on-shri-shri-thakur.html
Holy name Radhasoami
http://mrinalkantipal.blogspot.com/2011/06/holy-name-radhasoami.html
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