— Radhanath Swami's Journey

Tat Walla Baba

One morning, while walking along a forest trail, a sadhu with a curious smile plastered across his face stepped right in front of Radhanath Swami, refusing to let him pass. His almond shaped eyes squinted into Radhanath Swami’s eye. He had a tiny nose, flat face, cropped hair, and copper complexion. Who was this man? What did he want from him? “I have been sent for you,” sadhu Baba said, “but you do not recognize me.” Surprised but silent, Radhanath Swami wondered what was about to transpire. He gripped Radhanath Swami’s hand. “The greatest of saints lives in a cave nearby. My mission is to bring you to him.” “How do you know me?” Radhanath Swami asked. “That you do not need to know. Follow me.”

Intrigued, Radhanath Swami followed this sadhu, who told him he hailed from Nepal, into the depths of the forest where they walked along a stream on an overgrown path. As they passed, they crunched the twigs and trampled the foliage beneath their feet while rustling through the bushes. To their left, wild boar scuttled into the brush. They approached a clearing where Radhanath Swami’s guide pointed up to a mountaintop. There he could see the smoke-blackened entrances to three caves. The sadhu led Radhanath Swami up a set of narrow stone steps that were more like a thirty-foot ladder carved into the steep rock. After climbing to the top, they entered one of the caves where a fog of smoke burned their eyes.

There, in the lotus posture with back erect, sat an amazing being. His thickly matted hair extended beyond his back and several feet onto the ground behind him. About six feet tall, his physique was powerful. He wore only a rope around his waist and a loincloth covering his groin. His eyes were closed in meditation. Radhanath Swami seemed to have entered into another world, a world far beyond time or space. An aura of indescribable tranquility emanated from his motionless form. This was Mahavirdas Tat Walla Baba. They sat beside him, waiting patiently. The scent of smoldering wood from his sacred fire blended with the earthiness of the ancient cave. Holy Sanskrit scriptures lay on a stone shelf. His wardrobe, a wrapper of old burlap, was folded beside him. The Nepalese sadhu told Radhanath Swami that he often meditated all night long. “Let us wait patiently,” sadhu said, “until he comes out of his spiritual trance.” Finally, the yogi opened his dark shining eyes and stared into Radhanath Swami’s with the intensity of laser beams. Radhanath Swami’s guide served as a translator. In a deep, compelling voice, the Baba spoke.

“God is one, and everything originates only from Him.” Lifting his palm, he touched his index finger to his thumb. “The cause of all suffering is when we forget our identity with God. That is called Maya, or illusion. God is everywhere. You need not search to find Him. If you call Him with sincerity, He will reveal Himself to you. God sees within the heart not the externals. There must be no duplicity. You may wander through the jungles your whole life, but God is within your heart. When you meet Him there, you will see that He is everywhere.”
Radhanath Swami was struck that he seemed to address his deepest concerns. Radhanath Swami was a wanderer, looking for God in his heart. The Baba’s hands then rested on his knees. His dark eyes emitted power and vibrancy and seemed to read Radhanath Swami’s mind. “People are chasing the temporary. Do you not see that they are on the road to death?” His every word seemed like a sword cutting Radhanath Swami’s own selfish conditionings. “You have renounced worldly life. This is good. Do not go back. Meditation will bring you supreme peace.”

They spent the hour listening to Baba. Radhanath Swami left with the promise that they would return the next day. After climbing back down the ladder of stone, the sadhu and Radhanath Swami were greeted by an ascetic woman in a simple white sari with a long, black braid down her back. Mirabhai and her husband lived in the forest and they cooked meals for all of Tat Walla Baba’s followers. She promptly invited them to her home. “Would you like to hear about Baba?” she asked, as they followed behind her. “Yes,” Radhanath Swami replied. The Nepalese sadhu nodded. “Well,” she began, “Baba was from the state of Punjab. From early childhood, questions burned in his mind. When he saw the suppression of the Indians under British rule, he wondered why a country with so many saints and scriptures did not have a solution for this suffering condition. Burning with the thirst for enlightenment, as a child Baba abandoned his home to search for a guru. First he went to Ayodhya, which is Lord Rama’s birthplace, and then entered into the forests of the Himalayas, where he met with his Guru. At the feet of his Master, he learned the path of enlightenment.” The three of them approached a hut made of clay and straw. Mirabhai graciously opened the wooden door and invited them in. Offering them a mat to sit on and a clay cup of water, she asked, “Shall I tell you more?” “Please,” Radhanath Swami urged, savoring the cool water she’d collected from the stream.

“Since the age of about sixteen, Baba has remained in these caves. He subsists on only wild herbs and fruits, and wraps a worthless burlap cloth, which we call tat, around himself for clothes. That is why he was given the name Tat Walla Baba, meaning a Baba, or holy man, who is clothed with burlap cloth.” She went on to say that for fifteen years he lived in seclusion perfecting the practice of asthanga yoga. Gradually people recognized his enlightened state and started coming to him. He never allowed anyone to touch his body or cook for him. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes wide in awe. “With my own eyes, I have witnessed his power to read people’s minds, see into the future, and heal the sick. In fact, when a yogi had unbearable migraine headaches, Baba came to him in a dream, removed a white fluid from his head by mantra, and cured him forever.”

Radhanath Swami felt so privileged to be there. She directed their gaze to a photo she kept of the Baba on her small altar and with folded palms she asked, “Would you like to hear more?” They nodded eagerly. “Baba meditates for long hours and sometimes for days. He keeps the sacred fire always burning and daily ponders upon the scriptures.” Then she turned to Radhanath Swami. “You have come all the way from America to become a sadhu. I honor your bravery. I will pray that you achieve your goal.” Before saying goodbye, she placed in Radhanath Swami’s palm an unusual sweet made of translucent green pumpkin cooked with crystallized sugar. It immediately melted in his mouth, bursting with flavor. Radhanath Swami had never tasted anything like it. Seeing Radhanath Swami’s reaction, she said softly, “This sweet is called peda. Do you like it?” “This is my very first sweet in India,” Radhanath Swami replied, “It’s amazing. But do ascetic yogis eat these?” She smiled like a mother toward her curious child. “You will be surprised to see what yogis may eat.”

The next day Radhanath Swami returned to the Baba’s cave. After some time, his Nepalese friend left Radhanath Swami alone with Tat Walla Baba, who sat immersed in his meditation. The whole night passed, yet he did not move. Absorbing his peace, Radhanath Swami meditated close by. The sun rose, gently illuminating the green Himalayan jungles with a veil of gold, exposing the higher mountains in the distance, considered by many to be the abode of God. Far off, Radhanath Swami could see Mother Ganges winding her way down from the heights to the plains, through forests and valleys spotted with sages performing their worship on her banks. From his place on a straw mat, Radhanath Swami gazed below into the lush foliage and as time passed, Radhanath Swami began to notice large, colorful snakes coiling through the jungle looking for prey. He saw wild elephants grazing on the trees and even the occasional spotted leopard moving through the green.
A picture flashed through Radhanath Swami’s mind of his neighborhood in the Chicago suburb of Highland Park, with its flat manicured terrain, children boarding the bus to school, and parents driving off to work. Radhanath Swami couldn’t believe where he was. Nearby to the Baba’s cave were other caves where several of his ascetic disciples resided and where he lived for some days.

Inside Baba’s cave, inhaling the astringent smoke from the sacred fire that burned through day and night, Radhanath Swami felt purified. As Radhanath Swami sat with his back erect, Baba would read from scripture for about three to five hours. The rest of his time, he was immersed in meditation. If he rested at night, he woke several hours before sunrise to meditate, study, and perform yogic asanas. In mid morning, he wrapped his matted hair into a huge coil on the top of his head and took Radhanath Swami to bathe in a stream and collect a pot of water. On the way back he collected herbs and fruits for subsistence and wood for the fire. Once Radhanath Swami saw him effortlessly lift a huge log and carry it back to the cave.

On one early evening, as the trilling of birds filled the forest, Baba, through their Nepalese translator, gave him a good jolt. “I welcome you to spend the rest of your life in our caves. This is my invitation to you.” He then closed his eyes, entering into a trance. His words reverberated in Radhanath Swami’s mind while he pondered the seriousness of the decision he had to make. One morning, Radhanath Swami came out of his meditation and thought: It would be a blessing to live under the guidance of such a holy man in this sanctified forest. Still, if I dedicate myself to following a guru, I should never disgrace him by changing my mind later in life. I wish to find a master and a path that I can dedicate my life to.

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