Founding a Yoga School in Ranchi — Autobiography of a Yogi — SRF Teachings Portal
27.Founding a Yoga School in Ranchi
Paramahansa Yogananda·~14 min
pprayed, "may Thy love shine forever on the sanctuary of my devotion, and may I be able to awaken Thy love in all hearts."
On a previous occasion, before I had joined the monastic order, Sri Yukteswar had made a most unexpected remark.
"How you will miss the companionship of a wife in your old age!" he had said. "Do you not agree that the family man, engaged in useful work to maintain his wife and children, thus plays a rewarding role in God's eyes?"
"Sir," I had protested in alarm, "you know that my desire in this life is only for the Cosmic Beloved."
Master had laughed so merrily that I understood his words had been uttered merely to test me.
"Remember," he had said slowly, "that he who rejects the usual worldly duties can justify himself only by assuming some kind of responsibility for a much larger family."
The ideal of right education for youth had always been very close to my heart. I saw clearly the arid results of ordinary instruction, aimed at the development of body and intellect only. Moral and spiritual values, without whose appreciation no man can approach happiness, were yet lacking in the formal curriculum. I determined to found a school where young boys could develop to the full stature of manhood. My first step in that direction was made with seven children at Dihika, a small country site in Bengal.
A year later, in 1918, through the generosity of Sir Manindra Chandra Nundy, the Maharaja of Kasimbazar, I was able to transfer my fast-growing group to Ranchi. This town in Bihar, about two hundred miles from Calcutta, is blessed with one of the most healthful climates in India. The Kasimbazar Palace in Ranchi became the main building of the new school, which I called "Yogoda Satsanga Brahmacharya Vidyalaya."¹
I organized a program for both grammar- and high-school grades. It includes agricultural, industrial, commercial, and academic subjects. Following the educational ideals of the rishis (whose forest ashrams had been the ancient seats of learning, both secular and divine, for the youth of India), I arranged that most class instruction be given outdoors.
The Ranchi students are taught yoga meditation, and a unique system of health and physical development, Yogoda, whose principles I discovered in 1916.
Realizing that man's body is like an electric battery, I reasoned that it could be recharged with energy through the direct agency of the human will. As no action of any kind is possible without willing, man may avail himself of the prime mover, will, to renew his strength without burdensome apparatus or mechanical exercises. By the simple Yogoda techniques, one may consciously and instantly recharge his life force (centered in the medulla oblongata) from the unlimited supply of cosmic energy.
The boys at Ranchi responded well to Yogoda training, developing extraordinary ability to shift the life force from one part of the body to another part and to sit in perfect poise in difficult asanas (postures).² They performed feats of strength and endurance that many powerful adults could not equal.
My youngest brother, Bishnu Charan Ghosh, joined the Ranchi school; later he became a noted physical culturist. He and one of his students traveled in 1938-9 to the West, giving exhibitions of strength and muscular control. Professors at Columbia University in New York and at many other universities in America and Europe were amazed by demonstrations of the power of the mind over the body.³
At the end of the first year in Ranchi, applications for admission had reached two thousand. But the school, which at that time was solely residential, could accommodate only a hundred. Instruction for day students was soon added.
In the Vidyalaya I had to play father-mother to the little children and to cope with many organizational difficulties. I often remembered Christ's words: "There is no man that hath left house, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or lands, for my sake, and the gospel's, but he shall receive an hundredfold now in this time, houses, and brethren, and sisters, and mothers, and children, and lands, with persecutions; and in the world to come eternal life."⁴
Sri Yukteswar had interpreted these words as follows: "The devotee who forgoes the usual life experiences of marriage and family-rearing in order to assume greater responsibilities — those for society in general ("an hundredfold now in this time, houses, and brethren") — performs a work that is often accompanied by persecution from a misunderstanding world. But such larger identifications help the devotee to overcome selfishness and bring him a divine reward."
One day my father arrived in Ranchi to bestow a paternal blessing, long withheld because I had hurt him by refusing his offer of a position with the Bengal-Nagpur Railway.
"Son," he said, "I am now reconciled to your choice in life. It gives me joy to see you amidst these happy, eager youngsters; you belong here rather than with the lifeless figures of railway timetables." He waved toward a group of a dozen little ones who were tagging at my heels. "I had only eight children," he observed with twinkling eyes, "but I can feel for you!"
With twenty-five fertile acres at our disposal, the students, teachers, and I enjoyed daily periods of gardening and other outdoor work. We had many pets, including a young deer that was fairly idolized by the children. I, too, loved the fawn so much that I allowed it to sleep in my room. At the light of dawn the little creature would toddle over to my bed for a morning caress.
One day, because some business would require my attention in the town of Ranchi, I fed the pet earlier than usual. I told the boys not to feed the fawn until my return. One lad was disobedient and gave it a large quantity of milk. When I came back in the evening, sad news greeted me: "The fawn is nearly dead, through overfeeding."
In tears, I placed the apparently lifeless pet on my lap. I prayed piteously to God to spare its life. Hours later, the small creature opened its eyes, stood up, and walked feebly. The whole school shouted for joy.
But a deep lesson came to me that night, one I can never forget. I stayed up with the fawn until two o'clock, when I fell asleep. The deer appeared in a dream, and spoke to me:
"You are holding me back. Please let me go; let me go!"
"All right," I answered in the dream.
I awoke immediately, and cried out, "Boys, the deer is dying!" The children rushed to my side.
I ran to the corner of the room where I had placed the pet. It made a last effort to rise, stumbled toward me, then dropped at my feet, dead.
According to the mass karma that guides and regulates the destinies of animals, the deer's life was over, and it was ready to progress to a higher form. But by my deep attachment, which I later realized was selfish, and by my fervent prayers, I had been able to hold it in the limitations of the animal form from which the soul was struggling for release. The soul of the deer made its plea in a dream because, without my loving permission, it either would not or could not go. As soon as I agreed, it departed.
All sorrow left me; I realized anew that God wants His children to love everything as a part of Him, and not to feel delusively that death ends all. The ignorant man sees only the unsurmountable wall of death, hiding, seemingly forever, his cherished friends. But the man of unattachment, he who loves others as expressions of the Lord, understands that at death the dear ones have only returned for a breathing space of joy in Him.
The Ranchi school grew from small and simple beginnings to an institution now well known in Bihar and Bengal. Many departments of the school are supported by voluntary contributions from those who rejoice in perpetuating the educational ideals of the rishis. Flourishing branch schools have been established in Midnapore and Lakhanpur.
The Ranchi headquarters maintains a Medical Department where medicines and the services of doctors are supplied without charge to the poor of the locality. The number treated has averaged more than 18,000 persons a year. The vidyalaya has made its mark, too, in competitive sports; and in the scholastic field, where many Ranchi graduates have distinguished themselves in later university life.
In the past three decades the Ranchi school has been honored by visits from many eminent men and women of East and West. Swami Pranabananda, the Banaras "saint with two bodies," came to Ranchi for a few days in 1918. As the great master viewed the picturesque classes under the trees, and saw in the evening that young boys were sitting motionless for hours in yoga meditation, he was profoundly moved. "Joy comes to my heart," he said, "to see that Lahiri Mahasaya's ideals for the proper training of youth are being carried on in this institution. My guru's blessings be on it."
A young lad sitting by my side ventured to ask the great yogi a question.
"Sir," he said, "shall I be a monk? Is my life only for God?"
Though Swami Pranabananda smiled gently, his eyes were piercing the future.
"Child," he replied, "when you grow up, there is a beautiful bride waiting for you." (The boy did eventually marry, after having planned for years to enter the Swami Order.)
Some time after Swami Pranabananda had visited Ranchi, I accompanied my father to the house in Calcutta in which the yogi was temporarily staying. Pranabananda's prediction, made to me so many years before, came rushing to my mind: "I shall see you, with your father, later on."
As Father entered the swami's room, the great yogi rose from his seat and embraced my parent with loving respect.
"Bhagabati," he said, "what are you doing about yourself? Don't you see your son racing to the Infinite?" I blushed to hear his praise before my father. The swami went on, "You recall how often our blessed guru used to say: 'Banat, banat, ban jai.² So keep up Kriya Yoga ceaselessly, and reach the divine portals quickly."
The body of Pranabananda, which had appeared so well and strong during my amazing first visit to him in Banaras, now showed definite aging, though his posture was still admirably erect.
"Swamiji," I inquired, looking straight into his eyes, "please tell me: Aren't you feeling the advance of age? As the body is weakening, are your perceptions of God suffering any diminution?"
He smiled angelically. "The Beloved is more than ever with me now." His complete conviction overwhelmed my mind and soul. He went on, "I am still enjoying the two pensions — one from Bhagabati here, and one from above." Pointing his finger heavenward, for a short time the saint was transfixed in ecstasy, his face lit with a divine glow. An ample answer to my question!
Noticing that Pranabananda's room contained many plants and packages of seed, I asked their purpose.
"I have left Banaras permanently," he said, "and am now on my way to the Himalayas. There I shall open an ashram for my disciples. These seeds will produce spinach and a few other vegetables. My dear ones will live simply, spending their time in blissful God-union. Nothing else is necessary."
Father asked his brother disciple when he would return to Calcutta.
"Never again," the saint replied. "This year is the one in which Lahiri Mahasaya told me I would leave my beloved Banaras forever and go to the Himalayas, there to throw off my mortal frame."
My eyes filled with tears at his words, but the swami smiled tranquilly. He reminded me of a little heavenly child, sitting securely on the lap of the Divine Mother. The burden of the years has no ill effect on a great yogi's full possession of supreme spiritual powers. He is able to renew his body at will; yet sometimes he does not care to retard the aging process; but allows his karma to expend itself on the physical plane, using his present body as a time-saving device to preclude the necessity of working out remaining fragments of karma in a new incarnation.
Months later I met an old friend, Sanandan, who was one of Pranabananda's close disciples.
"My adorable guru is gone," he told me, amidst sobs. "He established a hermitage near Rishikesh, and gave us loving training. When we were pretty well settled, and making rapid spiritual progress in his company, he proposed one day to feed a huge crowd from Rishikesh. I inquired why he wanted such a large number.
"This is my last festival ceremony," he said. I did not understand the full implications of his words.
"Pranabanandaji helped with the cooking of great amounts of food. We fed about 2000 guests. After the feast, he sat on a high platform and gave an inspired sermon on the Infinite. At the end, before the gaze of thousands, he turned to me, as I sat beside him on the dais, and spoke with unusual force.
"Sanandan, be prepared; I am going to kick the frame."⁶
"After a stunned silence, I cried loudly, 'Master, don't do it! Please, please don't do it!' The crowd remained silent, wondering at my words. Pranabanandaji smiled at me, but his eyes were already beholding Eternity.
"Be not selfish,' he said, 'nor grieve for me. I have been long cheerfully serving you all; now rejoice and wish me Godspeed. I go to meet my Cosmic Beloved.' In a whisper Pranabanandaji added, 'I shall be reborn shortly. After enjoying a brief period of the Infinite Bliss, I shall return to earth and join Babaji.² You shall soon know when and where my soul has been encased in a new body.'
"He cried again, 'Sanandan, here I kick the frame by the second Kriya Yoga.'⁸
"He looked at the sea of faces before us, and gave a blessing. Directing his gaze inward to the spiritual eye, he became immobile. While the bewildered crowd thought he was meditating in an ecstatic state, he had already left the tabernacle of flesh and had plunged his soul into the cosmic vastness. The disciples touched his body, seated in the lotus posture, but it was no longer warm flesh. Only a stiffened frame remained; the tenant had fled to the immortal shore."
As Sanandan finished his recountal, I thought: "The blessed 'saint with two bodies' was dramatic in his death as in his life!"
I inquired where Pranabananda was to be reborn.
"I consider that information a sacred trust," Sanandan replied. "I should not tell it to anyone. Perhaps you may find out some other way."
Years later I discovered from Swami Keshabananda⁶ that Pranabananda, a few years after his birth in a new body, had gone to Badrinarayan in the Himalayas, and there joined the group of saints around the great Babaji.
YOGODA SATSANGA BRANCH MATH
YOGODA SATSANGA BRANCH MATH
The Yogoda Satsanga Society of India Branch Math and Ashram, Ranchi, was founded by Paramahansa Yogananda when he moved his boys' school to this site in 1918. Today the Branch Math serves YSS members and distributes Paramahansaji's Kriya Yoga teachings throughout India. In addition to its spiritual activities, this center maintains several educational institutions and a charitable dispensary.
Further information about the Yogoda Satsanga school in Ranchi is given in chapter 40.
2 Reflecting a growing interest in the West in asanas (yoga postures), a number of illustrated books on the subject have appeared.
3 Bishnu Charan Ghosh passed away on July 9, 1970, in Calcutta. (Publisher's Note)
4 Mark 10:29-30.
5 One of Lahiri Mahasaya's favorite remarks, with which he would encourage his students to persevere in meditation. It is literally: "Making, making, some day made." One may freely translate the thought as: "Striving, striving, one day behold! the Divine Goal."
6 That is, give up the body.
7 Lahiri Mahasaya's guru, who is still living. (See chapter 33.)
8 The actual technique used by Pranabananda is known to higher Kriya Yoga initiates of the Self-Realization path as the Third Kriya Yoga Initiation. When given to Pranabananda by Lahiri Mahasaya, it was the "second" Kriya he received from the Yogavatar. This Kriya enables the devotee who has mastered it to leave and return to the body consciously at any time. Advanced yogis use this Kriya technique during the last exit of death — a moment they invariably know beforehand.
Great yogis go "in and out" of the spiritual eye, the pranic star "door" of salvation. Christ said: "I am the door: by me if any man enter in, he shall be saved, and shall go in and out, and find pasture. The thief [maya or delusion] cometh not but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy: I [the Christ Consciousness] am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly" (John 10:9-10).
Kashi, Reborn and Discovered
"Please do not go into the water. Let us bathe by dipping our buckets."
I was addressing the young Ranchi students who were accompanying me on an eight-mile hike to a neighboring hill. The pond before us seemed inviting, but a distaste for it had arisen in my mind. Most of the boys began to dip their buckets, but a few lads yielded to the temptation of the cool waters. No sooner had they dived than large water snakes wiggled around them. What shrieks and splashes! What comical alacrity in leaving the pond!
We enjoyed a picnic lunch after we had reached our destination. I sat under a tree, surrounded by the boys. Finding me in an inspirational mood, they plied me with questions.
"Please tell me, sir," one youth inquired, "if I shall always stay with you in the path of renunciation."
"Ah, no," I replied, "you will be forcibly taken away to your home, and later you will marry."
Incredulous, he made a vehement protest. "Only if I am dead could I be carried home." (But in a few months his parents arrived to take him away, in spite of his tearful resistance. Some years later, he did marry.)
After answering many questions, I was addressed by a lad named Kashi. He was about twelve years old, a brilliant student, and beloved by all.
"Sir," he said, "what will be my fate?"
"You shall soon be dead." An irresistible power, it seemed, forced the words from my lips.
The disclosure shocked and grieved me as well as everyone else. Silently rebuking myself as an enfant terrible, I refused to answer further questions.
On our return to the school, Kashi came to my room.
"If I die, will you find me when I am reborn, and bring me again to the spiritual path?" he asked amid sobs.
I felt constrained to refuse this difficult occult responsibility. But for weeks afterward, Kashi pressed me doggedly. Seeing him unnerved to the breaking point, I finally consoled him.
"Yes," I promised. "If the Heavenly Father lends His aid, I will try to find you."
During the summer vacation, I started on a short trip. Regretting that I could not take Kashi with me, before leaving I called him to my room and carefully instructed him to
