My Personal Fasting Experience

My Personal Fasting Experience

My mother observed a one-day fast about ten times a year. Later my sisters did the same. I noticed that women in most of our related families fasted similarly. Very few men ever fasted. To me the idea sounded good, so following my mother’s example I fasted occasionally. I was not conscious of its health benefits.

However, I heard that cows and buffalos stopped eating when they were ill and they started eating as soon as they got well with or without home treatment. Nine times out of ten they recovered. Only old animals with severe illness died. Later in America, where many people keep dogs, I heard that dogs also fast when they are sick. There was an obvious connection between health and fasting. But I must admit I didn’t see it at that time, nor did I suspect that this might be true for all living animals and plants.

After college I worked for about a year at Wardha and 4 years at Rasulia. At both these places I got a chance to know and work with many outstanding men and women. One thing out of many that I learned from them was to avoid taking medicines. To stay healthy I must regularly use and exercise all parts of my body, eat right food in moderate quantity, and make my immune system strong. Most of my life I have followed this advice and have not eaten pills except when it was absolutely essential.

About 20 years ago, in 1990, I visited Ateeta Ashram. My stomach was upset and it had been sick for a whole month. I consulted Swami Sahajananda. He asked me to fast for three days. I agreed. On the third day he brought some cooked ridge gourd for me to eat. But after hearing what was going on inside me he said I should not eat and stretch my fast for 2 more days. Again on the 5^th day he advised continuing fasting for 3 more days. So I broke the fast after full 8 days. Silently, he made me a friend and a convert to the idea of fasting for healing. He shared his knowledge with me and gave me a good book to read.

Two days later I noticed I was passing two kinds of excreta with a 15 minute gap: first the regular stool and then old, hard, reddish, and sticky stuff. I showed them to Sahajananda. After looking closely he stood up, smiled and shook my hand. “You are lucky,” he said. “Your stomach was healed in the first two days of fasting. But you were still fasting and available for more toning work. Your body took up the work of cleaning the intestines. It is a major cleansing job that doctors rarely undertake in hospitals on very serious patients. They often remove up to 2 kilograms of muck.”

The work in my stomach continued for one full month. I could feel it and actually locate where it had reached. After cleansing was done I felt lighter, cleaner, and better able to digest and absorb food. I noticed that I needed to eat smaller quantity than earlier. I was much healthier and felt ten years younger. Twenty years later till today the effect still continues.

As you would imagine, this was a major enlightening experience. All my life’s observations and experiences jelled to give me a clear and powerful view of the marvelous immune system that nature has built into each one of us in this community of life. I also learned that our immune system works at its peak when we fast.

All animals know it and particularly in the wild they maintain optimal health with minimum of outside assistance. When they are hurt or fall sick they fast and take complete rest in some comfortable place. In this way they send a signal to their own immune system to use its full wisdom and energy to heal and tone up the body. I have seen dogs badly hit by cars heal deep wounds and broken bones in this way all by themselves. They eat nothing for days on end and come out fully healed and only slightly limping from their hiding places.

Only city dwelling human beings have deviated from nature’s simple and effective rules. They overeat and do no physical work. When they fall ill they run to the doctors who normally prescribe antibiotics and other factory made medicines. In the process our own wondrous immune system becomes weak for it feels spurned and unwanted.

In the last twenty years I have cured myself by fasting and have not eaten any pills. Only on four occasions when I had minor operations (hernia, prostate, and cataract) when the doctors made me swallow pills mainly to adhere to required procedures.

I believe we can all benefit by learning more about our immune system and the techniques of fasting and resting. It is very simple and everyone can learn it.

Partap Aggarwal

June 7, 2010

Reconnecting with Rati Ram

Rati Ram is my street dog friend. We met last year and for many months saw each other every morning. I wrote about him and our meetings for many weeks. Then, suddenly, I lost contact with Rati and wondered if he was dead or still alive.

Many months passed. To my joy, the other day, I noticed him, went close, and said hello. Rati is not exuberant like my earlier dog friend Kalu. He wagged his tail indicating that he was glad to see me again. But he did not jump at me and ask where I had disappeared. Knowing him, I too did not ask where he had been. We were together and that was good. We accepted the break in our meetings as a thing that happens in life. We traverse different routes and our paths sometimes do not cross. Now we are together and feel good about it.

Rati Ram began to appear regularly to walk a small distance alongside my friend K.T. and I. But he would stop at an invisible line. On our return from the newspaper stall he would often be gone, but occasionally still waiting. K.T. has been keeping dogs for years and is more familiar with dog behavior than I. He told me Rati Ram seems now to move within a narrower territorial boundary. This perhaps relates to his getting older and weaker. He is wisely avoiding conflict with younger, stronger, and more assertive dogs.

K.T. felt that perhaps Rati Ram would like me to give him some food. So I began every morning to buy a bun from a bakery and feed it to him slowly by hand. He liked the gesture and began accepting the offering with grace and love. I noticed that he receiving the food from my hand with perfect dignity and great care.

Now he takes each morsel from my hand taking care that his teeth would not touch my finger and accidentally hurt me. He is also careful not to wet my hand with his lips or tongue. I also notice that he relishes homemade bread or Roti more than buns.

For some time out meetings were irregular because Rati was not in his usual place. Now I find him in one specific spot outside a little meditation center waiting for my arrival with healthy whole wheat bread.

I am often amazed to notice how intelligent Rati Ram is. He makes it clear that he likes and appreciates my gift of food every morning. But he does not think of it as something extraordinary. He seems to take the whole thing naturally. We are friends and visiting each other. He is hungry and has to wait till someone comes along to feed him. I have access to food and I give him some. This is the law. Food is for the hungry and the two aught to meet when they are near. And that is what is happening.

Rati Ram knows we are friends. He wags his tail to show happiness when he sees me. He accepts food from my hand. He walks short distance with me often. But he never indicates a desire for to be taken to my home and adopted.

Partap Aggarwal
May 8, 2010

Part of the whole

Here is a beautiful spiritual message from Einstein. Many people do not know him other than only a scientist.

He talks of humans living in a prison of personal desires and attachment to a narrow circle of relatives and friends.

Indeed our task must be to free ourselves from the prison. But it is difficult when we live in a man made environment.

It would be mush easier in a forest, ocean or some other natural place.

I give you Albert Eienstein.

A human being is part of the whole.
called by us as ‘universe.’
a part limited in time and space.

He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings
as something separated from the rest
-a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness.

This delusion is a kind of prison for us,
restricting us to our personal desires and
to affection for a few persons nearest to us.

Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison
By widening our circle of compassion
To embrace all living creatures
and the whole of nature in its beauty.

- Albert Einstein, 1950 -

Enjoy.

Partap Aggarwal
May 1, 2010

Part of the whole

Here is a beautiful spiritual message from Einstein. Many people do not know him other than only a scientist.

He talks of humans living in a prison of personal desires and attachment to a narrow circle of relatives and friends.

Indeed our task must be to free ourselves from the prison. But it is difficult when we live in a man made environment.

It would be mush easier in a forest, ocean or some other natural place.

I give you Albert Eienstein.

A human being is part of the whole.
called by us as ‘universe.’
a part limited in time and space.

He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings
as something separated from the rest
-a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness.

This delusion is a kind of prison for us,
restricting us to our personal desires and
to affection for a few persons nearest to us.

Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison
By widening our circle of compassion
To embrace all living creatures
and the whole of nature in its beauty.

- Albert Einstein, 1950 -

Enjoy.

Partap Aggarwal
May 1, 2010

God as Silversmith

"He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver." Malachi 3:3

This verse puzzled some women in a Bible study and they wondered what this statement meant about the character and nature of God.

One of the women offered to find out the process of refining silver and get back to the group at their next Bible Study.

That week, the woman called a silversmith and made an appointment to watch him at work. She didn't mention anything about the reason for her interest beyond her curiosity about the process of refining silver.

As she watched the silversmith, he held a piece of silver over the fire and let it heat up. He explained that in refining silver, one needed to hold the silver in the middle of the fire where the flames were hottest as to burn away all the impurities.

The woman thought about God holding us in such a hot spot; then she thought again about the verse that says: "He sits as a refiner and purifier of silver." She asked the silversmith if it was true that he had to sit there in front of the fire the whole time the silver was being refined.

The man answered ‘yes,’ he not only had to sit there holding the silver, but he had to keep his eyes on the silver the entire time it was in the fire. If the silver was left a moment too long in the flames, it would be destroyed.

The woman was silent for a moment. Then she asked the silversmith, "How do you know when the silver is fully refined?"

He smiled at her and answered, "Oh, that's easy -- when I see my image in it."

If today you are feeling the heat of the fire, remember that God has his eye on you and will keep watching you until He sees His image in you.

This very moment, someone needs to know that God is watching over her.
And, whatever she’s going through, she'll be a better person in the end.

Partap Aggarwal
March 27, 2010

Shake It Off and Take a Step Up

One day a farmer's donkey fell into an abandoned dry well. The animal cried piteously for hours as the farmer tried to figure out what to do. He finally decided the animal was old and the well too, needed to be
filled up. So it just wasn't worth it to try to retrieve the donkey.

He invited all his neighbors to come over and help him. They each brought a spade and began to pour dirt into the well. At first the donkey wailed horribly. Then, he quieted down.

The farmer peered down into the well and was astounded by what he saw. With every load of dirt that hit his back, the donkey was doing something amazing. He would shake it off and take a step up.
Pretty soon the donkey stepped up over the edge of the well and walked off. All the men were astonished.


The moral of the story is obvious. Life is going to rain all kinds of dirt on you. The trick is not to let it bury you. Shake it off and take a step up. Treat each of your troubles as a stepping-stone.

We can get out of the deepest wells just by shaking off the dirt and taking a step up! The trick is just never to give up.

Partap Aggarwal
March 20, 2010

Healing a Chronic Boil By Fasting

Mukand Lal (name fictitious), a man about 50, came to Atheeth Ashram one afternoon in 1991. He lived in Delhi and ran a training institute for young men where he taught them stenography, typing, and accounting.

Mukandlal had a boil on the right side of his chest for more than two decades. He had tried many different treatments but none had worked. The boil was dormant most of the year but it tended to flare up every summer. Then it pained terribly and oozed pus and blood. At times it burst and made real mess.

Noticing that the head of the Ashram, Swami Sahajanand, offered treatment for various ailments by right food and fasting, Mukand told Swamji about his boil.
Since he spoke English with heavy Punjabi accent I was asked to interpret.

We learned that Mukand was a heavy eater from childhood partly because of his love for food and also because he was taught that it was desirable to eat a full stomach. The food he ate was cooked in ghee. Milk, buttermilk, and butter were part of his daily diet. In the mid-60’s he learned to eat meat. It soon became regular habit. Once, or sometimes twice a week, he ate mutton, chicken or fish with friends. Although he liked meat, his body was not easily digesting it and converting part of it into toxins. The boil in his chest was to expel the poisons. None of his physicians had seen the connection between the food he ate and the boil but to Swami Sahajanand it was obvious. He was asked if he would fast for three days. He agreed. The effect was immediate. His boil loosened up and drained in the evening of the second day. Third day his pain almost disappeared. He stayed in the Ashram for a week and ate very light South Indian style food.

Mukand agreed with Swamiji’s diagnosis and promised faithfully to observed his instructions; i.e. eat only light vegetarian food and fast when the boil reappeared. A year later he wrote to inform Swamiji that the boil did not come.

Partap Aggarwal
March 13, 2010

John Gwaltney

My friend Wendell Mott sent me the following account of an unusual man both of us had met at different times. He writes:

The rule is: "three strikes and you're out," but not for John Gwaltney. He had three strikes against him and he was still swinging. One strike was his poverty. Another was his blindness. A third, he was black and bore scars of discrimination from childhood.

I don't know how he afforded classes at Columbia University. Perhaps he had a scholarship. If so, it didn't help with his transportation problem.

The rest of us lived on campus, a few steps from class. Not John. He lived in New Jersey. His itinerary every day included a bus ride from his home to the terminal on the Jersey side of the Hudson. Transfer to the train under the Hudson River to the Port Authority Terminal on the Manhattan side. Find his way through the labyrinth of this massive terminal to the subway station. Take the express train on the IRT line to 96th Street. Cross the platform to the local train to 116th Street. This put him just outside the gate to the Columbia campus. Cross the campus and up the steps near Low Library, across another plaza to Schermerhorn Hall. Then down several floors to our classroom in the basement.

John did this in utter darkness, without the benefit of eyesight. Going home, he reversed the sequence.

We sat next to each other in Professor Bowles class on the anthropology of India. Occasionally, John would be late.

"I fell off the subway platform at 96th Street," he explained one morning.

Once he had scratch marks on his arms and face. He laughed. "You know how the campus is almost completely paved over. Well, I found one of the few places where it wasn't, a bed of roses!" In climbing the stairs near Low he went too far and fell six feet over the side of the stairs into a flowerbed.

Once, we were talking about Franklin Roosevelt and the New Deal.

"You know, Wendell, I've got to tell you a story about his wife, Eleanor. I was a small kid. It was the 1930s and the middle of the Depression. My mom wanted something or other from Social Services and she got the run-around."

"You know what my mom did? She whipped off a letter to Eleanor Roosevelt. And do you know what happened? She got a letter back! And what's more, Social Services called up and said to come in and pick up the thing my mom wanted!"

Maybe that's where John got his moxie. Not once did he ever imply that he was a victim. Not even with three strikes against him. He was a doer and a mover.

Our paths went separate directions after Columbia. However, I heard that Margaret Mead, the famous anthropologist at Columbia, took him under her wing. She may have given him a boost. But he did the rest.

Like his mother, whatever John did, he did under his own power.

The last I heard, John was a full professor at an Ivy League school, Cornell.
--------------------

I did not meet him during my six years (1960-66) at Cornell. He would have come there after my time. But what a coincidence, we had met in 1961 in New York City. Both of us were attending the American Anthropological Association annual meetings held at a city hotel.

I vividly remember our meeting. With a couple of friends I entered a big hall where the inaugural lecture of the conference was to be delivered by the president of the Association. We found a good area and sat down. A friend came over and said, “Come I will introduce you to a remarkable man you will remember for the rest of your life.” It was John Gwaltney. We chatted for half a minute. The meeting was to begin. John invited us to a get-together at his apartment soon after the meeting. Both my friend and I accepted the invitation.

It was a tiny dwelling on the fifth floor of an old brick building. John had bought some food. He served it most gracefully with help from one of his guests. Everything was done elegant and snacks were simple yet delicious. We talked trivia as in most such parties.

I remember two things to this day. One person asked John if he remembered where each person sat in the room. He said, “Yes, of course. If you call a name I can put my hand on the person’s head straight out without fumbling. Every single one of you in the room I can shoot if I had a gun and wanted to kill.”

Another person asked, “This is an old building prone to fire. Do you know what to do if it happens?”

“Yes,” said John “There is a fire escape at one end. It is a bit rickety, but still usable if everyone didn’t get on it at the same time. I have checked it out by going down on it once. This is more than what most residents have done. I know my way very well and would be the first to use it in an emergency. This is a poor area don’t forget. Here only a few buildings have fire escapes. We have it, but I must admit, repair and maintenance is not as it should be.”

Fifty years have passed but I still remember John Gwaltney and our little party. ‘What a man!’ I said then and I say the same now.

Partap Aggarwal
March 6, 2010


















Thanks Wendell for the wonderful rich reply. I vividly remember visiting with John Gwaltney. We were both at an Anthropological meeting in NYC. He said many memorable things. One of them was: you know I can place you so well that if I had a gun and wanted to shoot, I could get every one of you. This was when someone asked if he could find his way down the fire escape from fifth floor. I am glad Cornell hired him. For it I give my alma mater a high grade.

Dattatreya and the Ocean

In the past different sages took different spiritual paths to find the Truth. Of course, even though they followed different paths outwardly, the same human values, the same inner wisdom, dawned in all of them. Take the example sage Dattatreya. He was unique in that he did not have a human being as a spiritual master or guide. For him the whole universe was his master: the five elements and all the forces in nature. They guided him and taught him the crucial lessons of life. Here is one of these lessons.

One evening, deep in meditation, Dattatreya was walking along the sands near the ocean. His mind was so calm and quiet; he could perceive everything around him with clarity and insight. He watched the waves and saw how they reached the shore and spread out on the sand before silently going back into the ocean. He also noticed that the waves brought some small pieces of wood to the shore and left them back on the sand.

“How selfish is this ocean”, Dattatreya thought to himself. “It won’t keep even a few pieces of wood in its fold. Out they go onto the shore”

Just then, Dattatreya heard a voice! It was the ocean, speaking to him!

“Why do you think I am selfish, Dattatreya?” asked the ocean. “Just because I am not letting even a few pieces of wood to defile me? O wise man, can’t you see that if I let even the smallest speck of dirt to stay in me I will no longer be pure and clean? If I allow even the smallest pieces of dirt to stay in me more will surely follow them. It will soon become impossible for me to get rid of them. So I am always vigilant, and I make sure that in every moment of my life, I don’t keep anything impure inside me.”

In a flash Dattatreya realized his wrong thinking and understood the importance of ocean’s action.

“But of course!” he thought. “If I let even a single negative thought stay in my mind, I have lost my purity/. I will become weak, and then more and more negative thoughts will come and stay in my mind. So I must follow the example of the ocean. Always be vigilant and never let negative thoughts stay in me. Only then can I be pure. When my thoughts are pure my words and actions too will be pure. And only when all three are pure, will I always be content, happy, stable and unchanging like the ocean.”

Dattatreya was so thankful for this lesson that he fell on his knees and bowed down before the ocean, in gratitude for such a valuable lesson.

Babak
Date

Mullah in Search of a Wife

(My friend Babak Kardan sent this story to me. He is an excellent teacher. Probably he wrote it for a class. I am sure you will like it.)
You may think this is just an amusing story, but there is more to it… think about it!
Mullah was a man who lived a long time ago in Arabia. He had many experiences in his life, which we can learn from, even today! Listen to this one…

One evening, when the Mullah was old, he was sitting around with his friends, talking. All of a sudden, one of his friends asked,

“Dear Mullah, you have been so kind to all of us for so many years. We have often wondered why you never got married and had a family. Please tell us the reason why.”

“Well,” said the Mullah, “it’s a long story, but I will tell you.”

“When I was young, of course, I wanted to get married. Once I had finished my studies, I started to think about marriage. What type of person would I like? What should she be like? Where should she be from? You know….. All sorts of ideas.

“So I thought about this. Hmmm, well, she should definitely be slim, and tall too. And with dark, beautiful eyes that shine like stars. She must be very fair-skinned, of course, with long black hair. And educated too, and be able to play musical instruments, so that she can play music for me in the evenings. She should also be a good cook, of a noble family background, not too serious, and have excellent behaviour in front of elders. But her nose shouldn’t be very big, and she should have a mind of her own too, not be so docile after all….

“So I set off on my horse to travel to different cities across the country and find my true love, my perfect wife. After all, she must be out there somewhere, waiting for me too.”

“The first city I stopped at, I met this wonderful lady, with dark, shining eyes, tall and fair too. Ah, she was very attractive, and from a noble family background.”

“Well?” asked the Mullah’s friends, “so, what did you do?”

“Oh, that,” replied the Mullah, “Oh no! She was not for me….. she didn’t know how to play any musical instruments, and actually, her nose was a little big……”

“So then I traveled to another city, where my friends introduced me to a very good family with a lovely daughter. She was so proper, so decent and well-behaved, she was a gifted musician, and above all, she was an excellent cook, her parents assured me!”

“That’s wonderful!” Exclaimed the Mullah’s friends. “So what happened?”

“Well, actually, she was a little plump” said the Mullah, “and kind of short.”

“Oh my!” said the Mullah’s friends. “Then what?”

“Ah then!” said the Mullah, “I went to my native town, and there, my relatives introduced me to a most precious young lady. I cannot even describe her personality, so bright, just the right balance of mind, tall and fair, a keen music layer, educated and everything I had wanted in a wife. Finally, I had met the perfect wife!”

The Mullah then fell silent. Everyone looked at him, but he didn’t say anything.

Finally his friends asked him, “please tell us, what happened then?”

“Oh that,” said the Mullah, in a quiet tone, “you see, she, too, was looking for the perfect man…”

Babak
Feb 13, 2010