Reference: posted by: vejeestu on 7/17/00 to Kirpal Singh Satsang Club; Messages number 538 -531
The following short account by Sant Darshan Singh gives us glimpses of his life as the son of Sant Kirpal Singh. I have always felt that Darshan Singh was caught, as it were, in the cross-fire between Sawan and Kirpal. Sant Darshan Singh was imbued with a deep emotional/spiritual devotion to his father and to Hazur Baba Sawan Singh Ji, from his earliest years, and his entire life was spent consumed in this passion. These comments are taken from Ruhani Newsletter (published from 1975 through1976).
When I was about nine or ten years old my Beloved Father wished to send me to stay for about five months with an uncle, Dr Hera Singh, in Rawalpindi. I said that I would only take leave of my Father if He promised to come to see me once every day. So during that period He continuously appeared to me either in dreams or visions.
It was during this stay in Rawalpindi that one day my teacher asked me to purchase some exercise books; I had no money with me so I ran straight to my uncle's home only to find that he was not there. I was forced to wait outside the house, hanging about in the garden and feeling very bad in my heart of hearts because I was unable to obey my teacher. Then Hazur suddenly appeared to me and gave me a four anna bit. I was so excited that instead of falling at Hazur's Feet and thanking Him, I ran all the way to the shop to buy the exercise books!
On another occasion though, Hazur came on an official visit to our village, Sayyad Kasran. The Great Master was approaching with His party around the foot of some very steep rocks. I was on the top of these rocks and became so excited when I saw Hazur, that I impulsively ran down to meet Him. Being such a small child, everyone expected to see me fall with disasterous results. But by the Master's Grace, I was able to keep running until I landed at Hazur's Feet. He immediately took me up in His arms, showered His affection on me, and told everyone that here was His purana yar - His old friend. The Great Master would often address me thus, or as His kaka - His little kid, or by other endearing words.
From my very childhood I am used to keeping awake till late at night. As a student my Beloved Father would lay the greatest emphasis on studies. My Beloved Father was very liberal so far as my going to see Hazur at Beas was concerned; but He was a very strict disciplinarian so far as my studies were concerned. To start with I made a chart giving an indication of the number of hours that I would devote to each subject. One day it so happened that I had put in the required number of hours; but while telling Him the position of the courses covered in each of the subjects, He found that I was lagging behind the schedule by which I was to complete these courses and have at least two revisions before the final examination. He told me, "Your way of working is very defective." I explained, "Sir, generally it is the number of hours that I devote to each subject; that is the general pattern." He said, "The number of hours is all right, bit it is not an indicator of how much you have covered; this is a very deceptive system." He then told me an incident from His own life when He had to take the accountancy examination - it was an all-India examination during His early career. He explained that as there was some illness in the family and He had some other affairs to attend to, very little time was left for the examination. He counted the total number of pages which He had to read and by reading which He could go through the courses and revise them once before the actual examination. He found that unless He went through three hundred pages per day He would not be able to complete the courses before the scheduled date for the examination. So He acted on that schedule, and in the process He told me that on certain nights He had to go without any sleep because otherwise He would not have been able to complete the courses. So since then I have also adopted the system of fixing a quota of work each night and it is only after I have finished my quota that I go to sleep. And this system is all His Grace which I am still doing under His guidance.
Master's ways are wondrous; He teaches you at every step, and I have found that at each step of my life He has been guiding me and teaching me by His example. I have been imperfect and my ways have not been complete on many occasions, but He has been gracious enough to put me on the right path and give me the right guidance. If we only watch and work in the manner He lays down for us and follow His example we would be able to achieve all that is desired.
I remember that one summer during college vacation He permitted me to go to Beas and spend only ten days there; He wished me to come back to Lahore and spend the rest of the vacation preparing for my final examination. Those few days with the Great Hazur passed very quickly, and on the last day I went with a very heavy heart to take His leave. Hazur was not at His residence; I had to search all over the Dera, and ultimately I found Him late at night. I bowed at His Feet and asked His permission to leave; but he got up and said, "No, no, it is very late." I said, "But my Beloved Father has asked me to return to Lahore today." Hazur reached to give me some parshad, and replied, "All right then, you'd better go. But it is so dark, how will you see the way?" I said, "Sir, I have my Father's orders, and now You have also ordered me to go back." When I was leaving the veranda Hazur gave me such an intoxicating glance that for the entire distance that I walked from the Dera to the Beas Railway Station - a distance of about three miles - I had His Form in front of me all the way. I boarded the train, I reached Lahore, and for about three weeks Hazur's Gracious Form remained before me wherever I was; When I was traveling, whether I was in the house, whatever I was doing I enjoyed the bliss of inner Vision and inner Sound. This was yet another incident which gave me so much intoxication.
When I joined Government Service and received my first month's salary I immediately sent it by money order to my Beloved Father. I wrote, "Whatever I am getting is all due to You." During those early years of service I was in Delhi and my Father was still in Lahore. Every Sunday, according to His program whether He was in Lahore or Beas, I would travel by train just to be with Him. I would spend the whole of the Saturday night traveling, and as it was very difficult to get reservations, I had to stand most of the time. I would reach Lahore or Beas in the morning, spend the day at the Lotus Feet of the Great Master and my respected Father, and then return the same night by train reaching Delhi on Monday morning. It was a difficult journey both ways but I never felt any fatigue because as soon as I got a life-inspiring glance from the Master I became completely refreshed and returned to my job with renewed vigor.
You know, my Beloved Father had been scrupulously honest - honest to such an extent the example of which, if not impossible, was most difficult to find. Although He was a gazetted officer during the British Regime - and during the British Regime very few Indians occupied such a high position - He never used His office ink or paper for His private letters. When I joined Government Service I was trying to follow in His footsteps. One day I had to write to Him in haste; something was very important, and I had to go to some meeting, so I took a sheet of office note paper, scribbled a few lines and posted it to Him. I forgot all about it. As I have explained, I used to travel to Lahore every Sunday to see Him. That Sunday when I went to Lahore, after talking about other things, He then asked me, "Darshi, the paper on which you wrote me that letter, I think that it was the office paper?" I immediately expressed my profound regrets and promised Him that I would be more cautious in the future. Such were the lessons that He would teach me at every step.
It was during the early days of my service in Delhi that I came across a new variety of mangoes which were not to be found in Lahore. They were called Dusehri mangoes and they were extremely sweet. I went to the market one day, chose the best available, and dispatched them to my Respected Father in Lahore. He wrote back saying, "The mangoes you have sent are very sweet - as sweet as you are. "
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