Our beloved Guruji passed from his earthly domain on June 13, 1996. We were so extremely fortunate that he had graced our Dream House with what turned out to be his last public performances on May 12th and 17th. For many reasons, mostly financial, we hadn't been able to spend as much time with him in the last few years as we would have wanted, and these were the first concerts MELA had been able to present here since he inaugurated the Church Street Dream House space with a three-concert Raga Cycle in Fall '93.
His health was very poor when he was here in May; he needed help to stand up, sit down, walk, and almost everything. But his singing was transcendentally vigorous and utterly remarkable. Sometimes it seemed he was just willing the notes into existence, his body too worn and weak to really propel them into sound. Hayder (Heiner Friedrich) said later he had felt even during the last concert that Guruji was truly already in transition to the next world, and no doubt he was right, but he had been at death's door for so long it seemed he would go on longer.
But when he got back to Berkeley he was quite weak and unsteady, falling or losing his balance. His heart rate was only 34, so the doctors determined to try installing a pacemaker to give him a better rate of oxygen and blood circulation. (He had had a defibrillator-type pacemaker installed in August '95 which literally gave him a new lease on life.) But this time there were other complications as well. They found he had a case of tuberculosis as well as a collapsed lung, probably from the bronchitis (or possibly pneumonia) he had contracted in Paris last winter on his way back from India. In February '96 he had led a group class for two weeks in Delhi, Jaipur and Ajmer, then travelled to Paris for a week of classes and a house concert. So, the systems were certainly falling apart.
They installed the pacemaker on June 5th, but there was little if any improvement. Still we were hopeful because it had taken him about five or six weeks to improve after the defibrillator was put in. By this time he needed someone with him 24 hours around the clock; many of the students were rotating shifts. One Tuesday, June 11th, he collapsed at his home in cardiac arrest, but, amazingly, a visiting nurse was there and helped the students (Daniel McGinty and Sargam Sha) resuscitate him. Then he was hospitalized in intensive care. On Wednesday he seemed somewhat better and was eating. We spoke to him on the phone in the evening. He was weak but still able to say a few words. The hospital let the students stay in his room around the clock; he really didn't want to go to the hospital (he said he would die). We were trying to decide if we should try to fly out immediately or wait and pray he would gradually do better as he had in the past.
But on Thursday afternoon he collapsed again and was unconscious; the doctors' consensus was to let nature take its course and attempt to resuscitate him. Lee Torchia, on of his disciples, had called the hospital and then left us a message that something had happened. We called and Sargam, who answered, explained the situation to us. Then she offered to put the phone near his ear; we could hear him breathing and were able to express what would be our last words to him. We started to pack and get flight reservations, but at 6:26 PM California time he passed. When we called back they told us that while unconscious he had been in great diificulty. His breathing was heavy and labored; he was sweating and his body was full of tension. The doctor came in and passed a magnet over the pacemaker, deactivating it. Then his breathing became very calm; his whole body relaxed, and after a short while, he opened his eyes. Miraculously and quite unexpectedly, he regained consciousness. There were fourteen people at his bedside; his gaze went all around the room, looking directly into the eyes of each person there. And then he passed.
Though we packed and prepared to leave through the night, we couldn't make the early flight. We left New York about noon on Friday and flew to Oakland via a stop and plane change in Dallas-Fort Worth, so we thought he would have been cremated by the time we arrived later in the day on the 14th. But his youngest daughter Gogi was still in India and had received an emergency visa to travel to the U.S. for her father's funeral. So they decided to wait until the last possible moment in hopes she would arrive in time to pay her last respects before the cremation. Thus it was our great good fortune that Guruji waited for us also.
The students were amazing and managed to find a mortuary that a had a license to allow Guruji's body to be brought to his home, as is the Indian custom. They had brought him home, bathed him, dressed him in clean kurta pajama, and laid his body on his futon mattress in the center of his living room, where he had always taught. When we arrived early Friday evening we came upon the most incredibly high spiritual event we had ever experienced, and it deepened and became more and more enlightening as the moments unfolded.
His body, under clean clothes, was covered with flowers. Students, family, music lovers, and devotees cam and went, bringing more flowers, crying, singing, chanting, sitting, communing. All of us allowed these precious final moments with our beloved Guruji's physical form. He was there for us, radiant, peaceful, almost as though he were sleeping and would wake at any moment, as though breath would again lift his chest in that so familiar rhythm. We could touch his feet, touch his hands, his forehead, we could even kiss him. I [Marian] even took photographs. It was a way to bear the unbearable, unfathomable loss of our dearest friend, our teacher, our guide.
Over the nearly 36 hours that he remained there with us, his body seemed to become even more radiant; his lips seemed to open into the faintest smile, his eyes opened slightly. It was unusually cool for Berkeley that time of year, people said. Though a window was open in the room, nothing had been done by the morticians to preserve his body. It seemed that his spirit was so strong it was preserving him in an ever more exalted state.
That night we slept downstairs in the front room of the aprtment of his student Ardvisura and her husband Steve. We couldn't bear to tear ourselves away from the house, and they most generously opened their home to us. Guruji's little house somehow absorbed all of his family and many students: Bhuwan, his wife Minu and their son Sahil had brought Mataji back home with them; Kiran and her husband Dipak; Shashi, his eldest daughter, had been living with him the last two years. She was among those at his bedside when he died. Karunamayi had arrived at the hospital from India two hours before he passed; she was also staying downstairs. Some students stayed out in the shed; one put up a ten in the back yard; others who had come from far away were sheltered at nearby students' houses.
The next morning we prepared for the cremation service. We sat by his side and sang and intoned first in Raga Bhairava and then Raga Gunkali the special version of the Maha-Mrityunjaya mantra he had so patiently taught us years ago: "the highest mantra" -- the mantra of Lord Shiva that liberates one from death and bestows moksha, immortality. La Monte sang prayers of gratitude to Guruji in Ragas Asavari and Bhairavi, exchanging phrases with Karunaji. You have to imagine how extraordinarily blessed we felt to have the privilege of this extended time with Guruji's earthly form. It was an experience beyond anything any of us had ever conceived of.
At about 11:00 AM, the menarrived from the mortuary to take Guruji's body to be prepared for the cremation. The gurney wouldn't fit through the doors, so they wrapped him in the sheet with all of the flowers and all of the family members and students carried Guruji's body out of the house, down the stairs, to the front yard. La Monte was carrying his head, looking into his eyes.
Only Bhuwan, Dipak, and one student, George Brooks, were permitted to accompany Guruji's body to the mortuary; the rest of us waited at the house until it was time to go to the crematorium. During this time, Jon Pareles of The New York Times happened to call and we were able to give him information for the obituary.
We gathered again at the crematorium at about 1:00 PM, and everyone helped carry Guruji's body in, now in a coffin. The coffin was opened; every flower and petal that had been offered so lovingly had been saved and covered Guruji now. We sang while we awaited Gogi's imminent arrival from India. We had been singing Raga Tiland, and as she entered the sanctuary she began to wail -- in the same pitches as the raga. It was uncanny, yet just as in order as all of the other extraordinary events surrounding Guruji's death.
A Brahmin priest arrived and the traditional Havan was held for the family. Then all of us were permitted to put sandalwood paste on his forehead and drops of holy Ganges water on his lips. Finally the time had come. The coffin was closed and wheeled through the double doors behind it. No one was supposed to follow it through the doors, but we all pressed forward, chanting, and stood at the opening of the cremation chamber when they wheeled the coffin into the huge furnace. A man threw a lever, and suddenly a terrible sound erupted -- the final, inexorable roar of the fire.
A beautiful memorial concert was held the next day. Guruji had been scheduled to sing a house concert Sunday the 16th at his student Chester Wood's house in Palo Alto. After he got sick he had told two of his senior disciples, Terry Riley and Shabda Kahn, to "take care of the concert. And I will be there," he had said. So Shabda organized the concert in a Sufi Mosque in Fairfax, The Redwood Mosque. We sang Raga Todi with Terry, Shabda and Da'ud, another disciple. Many musicians came and performed. People spoke and read poems. It went on from morning until late in the afternoon, with a great potluck lunch in typical California style. At the end of the day, all of the students together sang two tarana compositions he had taught us in Raga Bhairavi -- Guruji's tintal vilampit arrangement of "Dha Ni Dihm" and his own composition in 12-note Bhairavi, "Dir Dir Ta Na," passing the microphone from one to another, each in their own way affirming the far-reaching blessing of Guruji's teachings. And he was there, in us and among us, just as he had prophesied.
Following are the three transmissions Marian received from Guruji following the Memorial Concert service.
96 VI 16, The Redwood Mosque, Fairfax, California
During the Memorial Service on Sunday, while Karunamayi was singing, I had a brief vision of Guruji enthroned above the stage, wearing shawls and garments of a pale yellow-gold color. I felt he had been received in the highest circles of the saints and great departed souls.
I felt that his death was so sanctified that the blessings to all of us who were close to him would continue to shower upon us for a very long time to come, that the blessings would unfold and deepen and continue.
96 VI 17, Berkeley, Monday, 9:15 AM
As we had written, we stayed downstairs in Guruji's house where his body had been brought from the hospital after his death, at the home of Guruji's student Ardvisura (a.k.a. Joan or Surilli) and her husband Steve (Elijah) and son Isaiah, who had opened their home to us and let us sleep in their living room to be close to Guruji's body, and then later in Isaiah's room after the Memorial Service.
We went to sleep in Isaiah's room at about 2:45 AM Sunday night. I had left the door ajar for air circulation. I was sleeping on a foam pad right near the door. I was awakened at about 9:15 AM by their little pet quail Jack calling in my ear. Surilli had let the bird out for some exercise and he had come into the room through the open door.
Surilli came after him, took the bird and apologized for waking me up. I said it didn't matter and closed my eyes and covered them with the blanket to try to go back to sleep.
I started thinking about Guruji and then heard him speaking to me in my head.
He said: "Don't be sad. I am always with you. Just like I told you -- you are in me, I am in you. We are always together.
"Body is an encumbrance -- but it was the vehicle for the music. Now you are the vehicle -- [all of you (my interpretation of his use of the word "you" -- MZ].
"I am free. This is really easy. Nothing to worry. Whenever you want me I am here for you. This is very easy to communicate now, whenever you think of me -- when you want, especially this time just before waking."
It was so direct and straightforward that I wondered: Am I talking to myself?
That though seemed to break the spell, and although I tried to regain the state, it didn't return. But I feel convinced it was a true communication.
La Monte was the first person to hear the transmission from Marian immediately after it happened, and his feeling was that it was absolutely unquestionably a direct transmission for many reasons, including:
2. the perfection and completeness of the thought
3. Although we have both tried several times since to achieve the same state of communication based on Guruji's directions, and we have achieved some forms of communication, neither of us has entirely succeeded achieving anything nearly so clear and direct. It is apparent that he made an extraordinary effort to be with us in response to our intense longing for him at that time immediately after his passing.
About six weeks later, on our transatlantic flight to Palermo via Rome for concerts of The Forever Bad Blues Band, during one of my brief, fitful periods of sleep, I had a dream about Guruji.
La Monte and I rushed forward with our palms outstretched and supported his head. And then Guruji said, in his own voice, just as he would have said it when he was alive, softly and sweetly, "Oh! Beautiful."
Then I was awakened, with the clear memory of Guruji's voice sounding in my head, confirming with these words that everything surrounding his death had taken place exactly according to the correct order of things, according to divine plan.