年輕的 Yogi Bhajan （ Young Yogi Bhajan ）

 

Yogi Bhajan三十多快四十歲時期

這篇年輕時代的 Yogi Bhajan 文章摘自1979年出版的《 被喚作 Siri Singh Sahib 的人 》第44-46頁。 這本書的這一部分由華盛頓特區世界銀行商品和出口預測司司長Shamsher Singh 撰寫。 1979年5月23日，年輕的瑜伽士 Bhajan 的故事。

印度在 1947 年脫離了英國的統治，贏得了自由；但與此同時，它也被肢解了。 瓜分國家的決定是在 1947 年初做出的。 這情況的發生，是英國政府默許了具有組織的、能夠發聲的多數穆斯林要求建立獨立的伊斯蘭國之後。

 

直到 1947 年 8 月權力移交之日，邊界才確定。 這迫使對手透過將多數人趕出去，儘可能積極地擴大他們的主張。 內亂造成了搶劫、焚燒、強姦和種族滅絕。 暴徒裁定的世界，政府已經崩潰。 分治的傷亡人數接近 100 萬人。 大約 1400 萬人以篷車在巴基斯坦西部和印度之間移動。 人口轉移的規模在歷史上是前所未知的。 來自印度河地區的 1400 萬失了心的、無家可歸的、最最身無分文、無任何土地的、失業的和無尊嚴的難民。

年輕的 Yogi Bhajan 作為難民時期

Yogi Bhajan 和我當時都是青年的大學生。 我們倆都來自古賈蘭瓦拉鎮的周邊地區，儘管我們從未見過面。 但我們當時都成了那些無數的難民中的其中兩個。

 

像其他百萬人一樣，我們兩個家庭都流浪在德里的安全、保全和茅棚中，我們對這個地方的環境和文化方面完全陌生。 旁遮普（現在已經是巴基斯坦了），我們祖先的土地、我們童年的搖籃和我們青春的棲息地，全部被拋在遙遠之後了。 

1948 年，旁遮普大學在新德里開設了一所夜間營地學院，以滿足旁遮普地區來的學生需求。 旁遮普學生也不希望加入新德里大學，也許德里大學也不願意接受。 這所難民學院缺乏教室，所以就在一棟大型高中大樓裡開辦，迎合了中上階層的學者。 營地學院除了由學生、教師和教室組成軀幹（或更恰當地說，只是幾個區塊組合），一無所有。

學校幾乎沒有多餘的辦公室。 沒有圖書館、沒有會議廳、沒有食堂、沒有宿舍，學生也沒有學費。 Yogi Bhajan 和我是兩千多名學生之二。 流動飲食設施迅速展開；學校周圍的許多陰涼樹木下就是見面和吃飯的地方。 Yogi Bhajan 和我也就是在其中一棵樹下相遇。 

痛苦瀰漫在空氣中

1947 年的事件使年輕人變得激進。 反抗已經成為他們對幾乎所有事情的態度主要來源。 我們實在感覺情況太惡劣了，無法在教室裡安頓下來。 每個人和一切事務都受到了挑戰。 校長是一個傲慢的高階公務員，他的窗玻璃，也總都是學生不滿的發洩目標。

赫然間，我們向印度政府提出了兩個簡單的要求：提供住的帳篷和大學學費的貸款。 我們覺得，既然我們失去了一切，我們就對必需品能要求人道提供。 政府，或者至少是善後救濟部，似乎對我們懷有敵意，原來既定的社群也一樣。 氣氛變得緊張和高度政治化。 

每天晚上在前院鬱鬱蔥蔥的綠樹下、在臨時的舞臺周圍聚會。 揚聲器中響亮著歌曲和演講。 即使是那些去教室的人，也幾乎無法學習。 我們被分類成自我風格的部族，並行使非正式的團體主管權。 這些團體最終獲取了學生的要求，要求政府建立一個難民營。 一所學校美麗的足球場於事變成了一個帳篷宿舍 — 一排排的小軍帳篷，每個帳篷都有一個嬰兒床和一些基本必需品。

年輕的 Yogi Bhajan 準備好了提供幫助

這場戰鬥贏了，注意力繼續轉向人們情感的恢復。 我們的注意力完全轉移到了文化的活動上。 我們創立了旁遮普薩巴社群，並定期在校園的廣闊帳篷下安排研討會。 最受歡迎的歌曲之一是「噢，分裂的旁遮普，噢，一半的旁遮普，我日夜夢見你，我的愛。」 分裂的傷口仍然新鮮，每個人的心仍然留在他們被遺棄的家中。 當唱這些歌曲時，人們當場哭泣，好像是為了洗去他們心中的悲傷。 Yogi Bhajan 則和我一起安排承擔了這些協助進行的環節。

當我回顧 Yogi Bhajan 參與這些活動和冒著險，他高大、年輕的身材，臉上幾乎沒有什麼鬍渣，出現在我眼前。 每個人都稱他為「Bhaji Lamma」（高個子老大哥）。 他英俊、健談，在學生團體中永遠存在，從不孤獨。 我到現在仍然可以想像他在大學門前、在茶攤旁，沿著寬闊的林蔭大道（閱讀路），站在他的腳踏車旁，穿著卡其色，匕首掛在腰帶上，一個曲棍球棒在貨架上，有時在他手裡總拿著東西，並順手把幾本書塞在貨架上。 他似乎處於一種隨時準備好的狀態，可以去做任何差事、承擔任何任務，或幫助任何需要幫助的人。 窮人可能是一個弱者，一個被欺負的人，或者一個其實有理由可以解釋的人，但卻沒有足夠的力量去達成。

禁止吸菸 

我們經常去旁遮普邦，參加全印度錫克學生聯合會的會議和選舉。 我們搭乘火車旅行，但總涉及兩個主要問題。 首先車子非常擁擠。 通常人們常需要單腳站立，並岌岌可危地掛在外面的扶手上。 但一旦進入車內，就會有其它麻煩，要麼是因為空間，要麼是因為有人在吸菸。 我們總是要求自己旅行的室內空間裡禁止吸菸。 在這種情況下，Yogi Bhajan 高大強壯的體格就會派上用場。 他會一個接一個地撐抱起他的同伴，把他們從車窗推進去，成功地把他們放在某人身上或某些行李上面。 他還總是能夠在不引發爭吵的情況下阻止吸菸者吸菸。 因此，即使在那時，他的個性也相當強大。

婦女的保護者 

目睹了一些可怕的分治事件，我們承擔了維護女同胞的榮譽。 女學生把我們看成兄弟，是要準備來保護她們的。 我們很自豪能成為被選中的人，父母也會放心讓她們的女兒去參與募捐活動。 一個沸騰炎熱的夏日下午，我們倆都站在學院前，一位學生朋友來告訴我們，一個「壞人」和一個女孩坐在附近一家餐廳的有窗簾隔間裡。 他要求我們救那個女孩，所以我們騎上了腳踏車。 我們把自己擺在餐廳前面。 雖然事後看來，我們的線人可能也有自己的私怨，他進去兩次，還回來報告這一對還在喝著茶。

在炎熱的夏日下午，我們像僱傭兵一樣在那裡站了兩個小時，卻發現我們的獵物已經從廚房逃走了。 因此，我們的社會角色有時會發生一些滑稽的轉折，但這一事件也表明，我們過去被旁遮普邦的強姦事件印象搞得多麼傷痕累累，以及我們對女同胞的榮譽維護，是如何從內心情感深處，想發出強烈呼籲，而我們隨時隨地在為此準備戰鬥。

在印度 Yogi Bhajan於1969年在紐約Sat Nam Brage

                                               

相隔多年

我在 1953 年離開印度出國留學，帶著我們一起度過的那些紛擾多事的歲月的回憶。 在那些日子裡，我們倆都在尋找我們的停泊處。 我選擇了在國外接受教育，但 Yogi Bhajan 留下來尋找自己。 我們註定要分離多年，但記憶仍然新鮮；溫暖的回憶讓我們在情感上彼此接近。 

然後，有一天，我得知 Bhajan 在西海岸。 此後不久，在 1969 年春天，他來到華盛頓特區，和我們待在一起，距離我們見面已經 14 年了，但似乎沒有差距。 我們談論了我們年輕的日子，但從來沒有談論過分離的歲月，以免這些不相見的日子所發生的事，掩蓋了我們一起度過的歲月。 他提到，他正在美國發起一場運動，引導年輕人走上真實的生命之路，他在這個領域有幾個追隨者，他想見見他們。 我說我們會邀請他們來我們家喝下午茶，並以典型的東方方式。 我妻子為大約十五個人準備了茶水，因為這是我們最期待的。

帶著玫瑰花的孩子

隨著時間的到來，一個最美麗的事件就此展開了。 我們的客人，孩子們，十幾歲的男孩和女孩，就像之前我們在一起的日子一樣，赤腳踏進我們家，每個人都帶著一朵玫瑰花。

 

當他們進入時，他們雙手合十鞠躬，露出最溫暖的微笑，進去之時把玫瑰放在 Yogi Bhajan 面前，然後坐在地板上。 他們人太多了。 我們很快就用完了所有可食用的東西——儘管理論上每個人的茶是永遠不會喝不夠的。 

我將永遠珍惜 Yogi Bhajan 和他的追隨者在華盛頓的第一次邂逅、第一次見面。 他協調、舒緩的聲音、他彬彬有禮的方式，以及他與來到他面前的人來往的能力，是我在任何男人身上見過最好的。

展開他的命運 

Yogi Bhajan 從他在印度紛忙的青少年中歷經了漫長的路，在美國的青少年面前展開了自己，尋找自己、和平和幸福。 在我們分開的這些年裡，Yogi Bhajan 找到了他的繫泊處。 他發現了自己。 當我回顧大學時代時，我認為他是一個狂熱的童子軍。 我記得他是一個哨兵，他從內心感到被迫維持自己周圍的秩序。 在我的記憶中，他是一個改革者，他承擔了定義和捍衛社會價值觀的任務。 在我看來，他是一名運動員，熱愛並喜歡團隊合作。 我也認為他是一個從未迷失的戰士，以及一個試圖理解未知的哲學家。 對於 Yogi Bhajan 來說，尋找自己的工作已經開始了。 幾年後，在世界的遠端，傳播有關他的訊息時間已然到來。

This Young Yogi Bhajan article was created from excerpts from page 44-46 of The Man Called the Siri Singh Sahib, published in 1979. This section of the book was written by Shamsher Singh, M.A., PhD; Division Chief, Commodities and Export Projection Division, World Bank, Washington, D.C. May 23, 1979

Stories of Young Yogi Bhajan

India won its freedom from British rule in 1947; the same time it was dismembered.  The decision to partition the country had been made early in 1947. This happened after the British Government acquiesced to the demands of the organized, vocal majority of the Muslims for a separate Islamic State. 

The boundaries were not decided until the day of the transfer of power in August 1947. This forced the adversaries to militantly extend their claims as far as possible by pushing out the majority.  Civil disorders turned into looting, burning, rape and genocide. 

Mobs ruled:  the administration had collapsed.  The casualties of the partition approached a million. About fourteen million people moved in caravans between Western Pakistan and India.  The scale of transfer of a population was unknown in history. Fourteen million heartless, homeless, most penniless, landless, jobless, and honorless refugees from the Indus region. 

Young Yogi Bhajan as a Refugee

Yogi Bhajan and myself, were teenage undergraduates at that time.  We both came from the surroundings of the town of Gujaranwala, though we had never met.  We became two of those numberless refugees. 

Like a million others, both of our families wandered to safety, security and hovels in Delhi, a place completely alien to us in terms of environment and culture.  Punjab (now in Pakistan), the land of our forefathers, the cradle of our childhood and the habitat of our youth, had been left behind.   

In 1948, the University of Punjab opened an evening Camp College in New Delhi, to cater to the Punjabi Students.  Neither did the Punjabi students wish to join New Delhi University, nor would they, perhaps, have been accepted.  This college for refugees, lacking premises, opened in a large high school building, which catered to upper middle class day scholars.  Camp College possessed nothing except a body (or more appropriately, bodies) of students, teachers, and classrooms. 

There were hardly any offices the school could spare. There was no library, no meeting hall, no canteen, no hostel, and students had no tuition money.  Yogi Bhajan and myself were two of thousand-odd students.  Makeshift eating facilities opened quickly; the many shade trees, surrounding the school, were the place to meet and eat.  Yogi Bhajan and myself met under one of those trees. 

Distress was in the Air

The events of 1947 had radicalized the youth.  Defiance had become the mainspring of their attitudes towards almost everything.  We were too ill at ease to settle in classrooms.  Everything and everyone was challenged.  Window panes of the Principal, a haughty senior civil servant, were both the targets of student’s discontent. 

Suddenly, we took on the Government of India, making two simple demands; tents to live in and loans to pay for college fees. We felt that since we had lost everything, we had a moral claim for necessities.  The Government, or at least the Ministry of Rehabilitation, seemed hostile to us, as did the established community.  The atmosphere became charged and highly politicized.   

Every evening there would be gatherings around a makeshift stage under lush green trees in the front courtyard.  Loudspeakers blared with songs and speeches.  Even those who went to the classrooms, could hardly study.  We were divided into self-styled clans and exercised informal group leadership.  These groups ultimately won the student demands that the Government establish a refugee camp.  The beautiful football grounds of the school became a hostel of tents – rows of small army tents each containing a cot and a few bare necessities.   

Young Yogi Bhajan Ready to Help

This battle won, the attention turned towards emotional rejuvenation.  Our attention was completely diverted towards cultural activities.  We founded the Punjabi Sabha and periodically arranged symposiums under vast tents on the campus grounds.  One of the most popular songs sung was “Oh divided Punjab, Oh halved Punjab, I dream of thee, day and night, my love.”  The wounds of partition were still fresh and the hearts of everyone were still in their abandoned homes.  People wept openly as these songs were sung, as if to wash the grief out of their hearts.  Together Yogi Bhajan and I shared the jobs and ordeals of arranging these functions. 

As I look back, Yogi Bhajan’s involvement in these activities and escapades, his tall, youthful figure, with barely sprouting beard, comes before my eyes.  Everyone called him “Bhaji Lamma” (Bhaji the tall”).  He was handsome, talkative and ever-present among the student groups, never a loner. 

I can still visualize him in front of the college, by a tea stall, along the wide boulevard (Reading Road), standing by his bicycle, khaki clad, dagger dangling by his belt, a hockey stick on the carrier and sometimes in his hand, when he had a few books stuck on the carrier.  He seemed in a state of ever-preparedness to go on any errand, undertake any task, or assist anyone in need of help.  The needy one could be an underdog, someone who was being bullied, or someone who had a cause to expound, but not enough strength to do it. 

No Smoking

We often traveled to the Punjab to participate in the meetings and elections of the All India Sikh Student Federation.  The journey by train involved two main problems.  Carriages were highly crowded.  Often one traveled standing on the footsteps, precariously hanging onto the outside handrails. Once in the compartment, there was a hassle, either for space or because someone was smoking.  We always demanded that there be no smoking in the compartment in which we travelled.  In these situations, Yogi Bhajan’s tall and strong physique came in handy.  He would pick up his companions one-by-one, and push them in through the compartment windows, successfully landing them on somebody or something.  He was also invariably able to stop the smokers from smoking without precipitating a fight.  So even then, he had quite an overpowering personality. 

Protector of Women

Having witnessed some gruesome events of partition, we had taken it upon ourselves to uphold the honor of the womenfolk.   The girl students saw in us brothers, ready to protect them.  We took pride in being the chosen ones with whom parents would let their daughters go on fund collection drives. 

One boiling hot summer afternoon, both of us were standing in front of the College when a student friend came and informed us that a “bad character” was sitting with a girl in a curtained room of a nearby restaurant. He asked us to save the girl and so off we went on our bicycles.  We positioned ourselves in front of the restaurant.  Our informant, who in hindsight probably had his own personal grudge, went inside twice and came back to report that the couple was still having tea. 

For two hours we stood there like mercenaries in the hot summer afternoon, only to discover that our prey had escaped through the kitchen.  So it was that our social roles sometimes took some comical turns, but this event also signified how bruised we had been by the rape of Punjab, and how ready we were to fight anytime, anywhere, if an appeal was made by our innermost feelings about the honor of our womenfolk. 

Years Apart

I left India for studies abroad in 1953, carrying the memories of those few eventful years we had spent together.  In those days, we were both in search of our moorings.  I opted for education abroad, but Yogi Bhajan stayed behind to pursue his own search.  We were destined to separation for years to come, but the memories stayed fresh; warm remembrances kept us emotionally near to each other. 

Then, one day, I learned that Bhajan was on the West Coast.  Soon thereafter, in the spring of 1969, he came to Washington D.C. and stayed with us   Fourteen years had passed since we met, but there seemed to be no gap.  We talked about our youthful days, but never about the years of separation, lest those events overshadow the years we had spent together. 

He mentioned that he was starting a movement in the United States, to lead the youth onto the path of true living, and that he had a few followers in this area that he wanted to see.  In typical oriental fashion, I said that we’d invite them all over to an afternoon tea at our house.  My wife prepared tea for about fifteen persons, because this was the most we expected. 

Flower Children Carrying Roses

But as the time arrived, a most beautiful event unfolded.  Our guests, flower children, boys and girls in their teens, like we were in our days together, marched barefoot toward our house, each carrying a rose. 

As they entered, they bowed with folded hands, gave the warmest smile and went in to deposit the rose in front of Yogi Bhajan and sat down on the floor.  There were so many of them.  We soon ran out of all the eatables- although theoretically one never runs out of tea. 

I will always treasure this first encounter, this first rendezvous between Yogi Bhajan and his followers in Washington.  His modulated, soothing voice, his regally mannered ways, and his ability to relate to those before him were of the best I have seen in any man. 

Unfolding His Destiny

Yogi Bhajan had come a long way from his event-laden teens in India, to unfold himself before the teenagers of America in search of themselves, peace and happiness.  In the years that we had been apart, Yogi Bhajan had found his moorings. He had discovered himself. 

 As I look back to the college days, I think of him as a zealous boy scout.  I remember him as a sentinel who felt compelled from within to maintain order around himself.  In my memory he is a reformer who took upon himself the task of defining and defending social values. In my mind he is a sportsman, who loved and enjoyed teamwork.  I also think of him as a soldier, who never lost, and as a philosopher trying to fathom the unknown. For Yogi Bhajan, the search of himself had begun.  The time to spread his message was yet to come years later, on the far side of the world. 

本文選自 StudentsofYogiBhajan

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