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MY INDIA
Is it a coincidence? Boarding the Satabdi train in Dhanbad I tell the conductor the wrong coach name but I am guided to the right seat by two dadas in orange. Of course I am glad to be near them but how could it have possibly happened? We booked the train at two different times and we were going in two different directions. They decided to change their travel route for some reason. Still puzzled I look at the person who brought me to my seat. He is now serving tea and biscuits to all the passengers - a very heartfelt form of hospitality in the Indian express trains. I tell him that I don't want any refreshment and he looks at me as if he was really displeased I was not accepting a token of his personal welcome.

This is my India, the India I could not forget and was longing to see again after a long time. What matters the sweltering heat or the long and tiring journey when you find yourself at home? As I walk the streets, I am dressed in white, not a common dress for travelling as it gets dirty quickly. Sometimes I play the flute and each time I feel a special pleasure in doing it. It’s an Indian bamboo flute I got from a dear friend in USA. I don't speak the local language. Most of my talk is done through looks and close observation. I take pictures with my digital camera, mostly the common life and the common people. Some of them shy away; they never pose. Few ask me for some money.

I have a few cookies in my pocket, and when a beggar comes I give away two of them. They don't look very happy with it. For transportation I get a bit overcharged, not too much, just to make the distinction. Everybody is very happy and full of praise for my nationality. Sonia Gandhi is from Italy, and she just won the elections with her party. I see her pictures in the newspaper, together with her son Raul and daughter Priyanka. Yes, they have an Italian flavor and I feel happy too.

In the market I look for more Indian flutes. Somehow I end up in the Tibetan corner and I come back with a singing bowl. I console myself thinking that although it is not the same as a flute, it is still a musical instrument. I appreciate that the food is not too spicy. I can handle it and it is prepared with care. I don't need to buy special food from outside, just one fresh orange juice, with black salt. Finally I am back at the Ananda Marga center in New Delhi. I want to take a picture of all the orange cloth hanging outside. As I change my dress to full orange I become more normal, less a tourist, almost local.

ANANDA NAGAR
Arriving in Ananda Nagar in West Bengal amidst a caravan of jeeps I cannot recognize this place after so many years. There are cell phone towers and asphalt roads here and there. The landscape is majestic with the hills in the background and sparse trees all over.

The first stop is at Baba's quarters, the residence where Shrii Shrii Anandamurti, founder of Ananda Marga, stayed during his time in Ananda Nagar. It is still kept in mint condition. Central Ananda Nagar is more or less as I remember it. The roads with the names in Bengali and the indications in English. The main buildings. The fantastic smell of flowers and the rocky soil of Rahr, where human civilization is supposed to have started on this earth.

The next day I venture to the outer part of Ananda Nagar trailing along the path of memories. I was here in 1989. For 20 days I took training as a Local Full Timer, a type of volunteer of Ananda Marga. The training was held somewhere across the railway tracks far from Central Ananda Nagar. It is a long walk under the rain that mysteriously appears before the start of the Dharma Maha Sammelan, the large gathering of Ananda Margis coming together for three days every year in the full moon of May, the birthday anniversary of Shrii Shrii Anandamurti.

The air is refreshing and the plants are nourished after months of dry and hot weather. I see beautiful buildings as well as the remnants of dilapidated ones. Some are just closed like the Naturopathic Clinic. The project is vast and ambitious on land spanning for 300 square kilometers. I ask directions to a man and he sends me ahead. I reach the village across the railway tracks, where the children are happily playing Kabaddi Kabaddi, a traditional tag game. The ladies walk in line with their colorful dresses. An air of happiness is all around. What does it matter if I was sent in the wrong direction? I ask directions again to one old lady and she sends me back the proper way. Taking rest on a boulder I meditate. In the rainy wind the mind flies. A sense of boundless freedom cannot be checked.

I return to the Central Offices where they have kept my food warm. The boys speak in Bengali and smile showing their teeth like pearls. It was a long walk, and a world of thoughts was washed away. Ananda Nagar means the City of Bliss. It was, it is and it will remain a blessed land of humanity, a treasure of the Ananda Margis and a place for endless struggle. I hang my clothes for drying and I hear the four strokes of a bell. It is 4 pm. The wheel of time never stops.

EVENING SADHANA ON A TANTRA PIITHA.
It is well-known that Ananda Nagar is special above all for meditation. Wherever you sit, whatever boulder you choose among the thousands available, you are almost certain to enjoy deep concentration and spiritual elevation. From the Headquarters of Ananda Nagar it is a direct way to the path along the river that brings you almost immediately to a mystical scenario of sand, rocks and sparse trees characteristic of the area. I walked a while on the path looking for a proper spot for meditation. Down at the river a few people were bathing at dusk. I chose an isolated rock, sure to enjoy a sweet deep meditation.

After closing my eyes I felt little ant-like animals crawling all over me. I checked and a few ants were there indeed, but not that many. I almost gave up but then I thought, they didn't bite me, it was just a bit uncomfortable.
I sat again and closed my eyes. This time I was covered by all those little creatures moving on my head, and creating a feeling of massage. No harm for them and no harm for me, I thought. I went deep in meditation thinking of the sage Valmiki on whose body the termites built a mound.

When it got dark I decided to go back. Without a torchlight I followed the distant light and the clearer path. I sang loudly to keep away the snakes. Reaching the light I ventured again onto the roads of Ananda Nagar, enjoying the sweet atmosphere. With nobody around I circled the central part until I reached the central jagrti where Prabhat Samgiit could be heard. I joined the spiritual party and bathed once again in the vibration of a memorable evening.

I arrived finally back at the Headquarters, but nobody questioned where I had been. The people there served me dinner, always smiling. It was delicious, just cauliflower and chapatis. I cleared my glasses of three small insects - mayflies. The mosquitoes seemed not to take hold on this holy land. No other thought was in my mind. I played the flute and waited for sleep.

BABA STORIES
The stories of Dada Svarupananda date back to 1961 when Ananda Marga was very small and Baba was very close to margiis like a family member. There was a very hard field where the posted acarya was not able to get any initiation. Baba decided to send a newly created acarya there temporarily to show how to create a flow. So he decided to give acarya instructions to Dada Svarupananda and invited him to accompany him on the walk to the Tiger's grave in Jamalpur. It was a forty-minute walk.

Baba explained the acarya lessons. Dada thought that Baba was reviewing his lessons. After that Baba declared that he had completed the acarya training. Now he needed to pass the examination. Baba asked Dada to recite a sanskrit sloka. Dada recited the Samgacchdvam mantra. Baba asked for one more. Dada gave the Pitr Purushe Bhiyo Namah mantra. Baba asked for one more and Dada repeated the marriage sloka. Finally Baba was satisfied, gave him 20 rupees and sent him to the train station with the target to initiate 500 people. It was a big target, particularly for such a place. Anyway Dada got a lecture arranged in one school. Then another lecture in another college. The principal decided to be the first to be initiated. He was a very influential person. Shortly after, a long queue of students was waiting for initiation. After three days Dada had completed 300 initiations. Then Baba called him back and went to receive him at the train station. Dada was a bit uneasy not to have completed the target. Baba gave assurance that he had completed the work.

At that time the whole office of Ananda Marga consisted of one small bag with three folders in it. Sometimes jokingly Baba asked for his office and Dada was carrying the bag. One of these times there were two letters in the bag so Baba asked Dada to read them. The first was regarding a daughter who was sick. There was no mention about the age, the type of sickness, only a request for a cure. Baba complained to Dada regarding the difficulty of the situation. How is it possible to answer with such limited information? Then he asked Dada to hold Baba’s big toe. And he started to say that the daughter was 15 years old, was suffering from a cough and he finally prescribed a few remedies. Dada wrote a short letter of reply and then he started reading the second letter. This time it was a request for the name of a newborn baby. There was no mention about the sex, the date or the name of the parents. Again Dada held Baba’s big toe and Baba gave all the details and the good name for the baby boy.

The office work over, Dada then was requested spend some more time in the room and Baba asked him to read a Bengali newspaper. Dada was not that proficient in Bengali reading and he was not able to read with speed. Then Baba touched behind his head and Dada’s reading increased. After a short interruption Dada started to read the newspaper but he was again back to his normal slow speed. Baba touched the same point again in order to increase his speed. Then finally Dada was free to go and the office work was over.

It is very pleasurable to hear Baba's stories from Dada Svarupananda.

One morning Dada Svarupananda noticed that I was dozing during morning meditation. He casually told me the following story. There was one margi who was ducking forward while meditating. Baba asked him what he was doing. The margi replied that he was doing Guru Dhyana. Baba didn't want to argue about it, only mentioned that he fell on his head several times and requested him next time to be a bit more careful.

There is something mysterious about Baba's glasses. Baba always made some fun out of it. One time Baba fell asleep and Dada decided to remove his glasses. When Baba woke up he asked for his glasses. Dada gave them to him but Baba rebuked him telling that he had done a big mistake to remove his glasses while he was sleeping. Dada asked the reason and Baba said that he was having a beautiful dream but without his glasses he couldn’t see in it.

Another morning I was walking with Dada outside in the garden and I mentioned that the evening before some workers noticed that I was keeping my hands in Guru Puja in a wrong position. It was a spark for a nice Baba's story. Baba told Dada that he was going to do meditation in his room. Dada calculated that he himself now had one or one and half hours of free time to do meditation in his room. He closed the door and sat for Dhyana lesson.

After some time he heard somebody knocking at the door. He answered that he was busy doing meditation. Then he felt that somebody was walking up and down the corridor. Curious to see who it was he stepped out and found Baba there. Baba asked him if he could sit inside while Dada was finalizing his meditation. So Baba sat on a chair reading a magazine while Dada was sitting in meditation in front of the Pratik. Dada thought: if I am doing Dhyana I should sit in front of Baba. So he turned facing Baba who was still reading the magazine. Then another thought came: Guru is here, why should I not do Guru Puja so he did so in front of Baba. Dada was keeping his hands folded so Baba corrected his hand position and told Dada to put in the hands enough flowers and then to give them with the corresponding gesture, not to keep them for himself. Then Baba was satisfied and since then Dada has acquired the habit of looking in the garden for some beautiful flower to offer to Baba in Guru Puja.

One time Baba asked Dada where he found such a beautiful flower he had offered in Guru Puja. Dada said that it was from one specific garden so Baba asked him to bring it physically. Dada managed to get the full plant from the gardener and brought it in a pot to Baba. Since I heard this story I put much more attention to the way I do Guru Puja and also Dhyana lesson.