Heard OF Frank Kutsienyo?

Heard of Frank Kutsienyo?

22 December, 2003

Dear friends,

We get to know people, love them and are loved. When we are with them never ever do we give a thought of parting from them; worse, parting forever. But then reality strikes hard when it does.

This brings to you the news of sad demise of our dear friend Frank Kutsienyo. On the 21st of Dec, the Sunday morning, he passed away peacefully in Brindavan. Though he was suffering from respiratory ailment for long, we do not know for sure if that was the reason.

A very good person, fun loving, very devoted to Bhagwan and his duty, Frank will be remembered by all of us. He has been here in India from 1983 and in Brindavan from 1985. He led the life of a medieval monk distributing his time for prayer, work and rest. A very strong adherent to discipline and Bhagwan's teachings. People always remembered him first when in need of any help of any sort.

In losing him, we console ourselves that Bhagwan has taken him to Himself. We pray his soul rest in peace.

Venkat.

Venkatesh.G,

ABB - Bangalore.


That ominous morning I already had the lurking fear in my heart as I started out to my office. I had been woken off my sleep in the wee hours of the morning by a resentful dream. Even as I rubbed the sleep off my eyes, I felt my heart skip the beats in anxiety. It was Monday, the 22nd of December 2003.

There was none familiar to me in the dream though the scene made me feel it was a Tamil wedding. Possibly yes a Tamil wedding because just ten days earlier to this I had had been to one. The marriage hall that was abuzz with activity till then had been brought to a still by the news that the grooms, three in number, had died. The band and all the musicals stopped abruptly. All this happened without utterance of a word. (This I know because I usually dream in English and to this day I am unable to frame the proper sentence any one would have used to convey the matter in any language).

In the office, it was peculiar on that morning. Only I had reported and my colleagues in our group, 3 of them hadn’t turned up. My boss of course, just as the proverbial boss had been early to check out if the employees had come in time. Around half past 9 I got a call and a friend said that he had sad news for me. At that point of time I never thought that there could be any news that can make life sadder for it was already sad enough.

Frank was a support I had leaned on and drew my strength from. Three months before this fateful day I had moved away from Kadugodi nearer to my office in the city. Otherwise, he was my next-door neighbor. We lived in an old and dilapidated shoebox like rooms just behind Trayee Brindavan and only a compound wall separated us from His residence. Frank had lived in a single room since he arrived in Kadugodi in 1985 and in 1992 got an annex built to his existing one-room residence so that he had a private bathroom. He paid a monthly rent of Rs.300/- per month for this luxurious apartment while I shelled out Rs.400/- per month for a single room and a common bathroom.

I had friends coming to stay over night and at times that single room had hosted as many as five people when Bhagawan was in Brindavan. Frank invited everyone who visited me into his own apartment for tea for which he was popular with my tea connoisseur friends. I used to get calls from my family and friends at Frank’s telephone. Looking back, I have no doubt that that was the best part of my post hostel life.

Every morning I would leave by the Marikuppam train around 8:30. I never missed to bid him good bye and he would respond with the same words day after day “O.K. come early this evening” and I too would without hesitation say “Yes Frank I’ll try”. But consistently I would be back only after Frank had been to his bed. He had a strict routine. He would wake up by 6 in the morning and when Bhagwan was in Brindavan, he would be up by 3:30 and would be off to his line duty in the ashram by 5:00 after getting ready and having completed his morning worship. And at night, the lights will go off by 9:30 and he would say “I am better than boys in the hostel. I put off my lights promptly.” He was already in his early 50’s then.

There would be days when I would by some good fortune be back before Frank lay down.

We had spacious quadrangle before our dwellings. Immediately in front of the doors we had little gardens when our seventy-year old Russian neighbor worked on her darling plants diligently and tirelessly. On other occasions it was a tiny jungle. She used to be here only when Bhagwan was in Brindavan. A tree grew right in from my room and tied to one of its branches was a tube light that was the only illumination at night for us outside. Below the tree was a lowly laid platform of granite on which I did my weekly washing of the clothes on Sundays. On other days that stone was my seat. In front of his room, Frank had installed a bamboo basket chair on which he used to relax (and later rested forever). On such occasions when I would be able to catch him before he slept, having taken our positions thus we would talk and talk about every possible thing in the world and such nights would invariably be long. When it got very cold we would have a cup of tea and reluctantly retire for the day.

Frank was very knowledgeable about the political developments local, national and international. He was an East African black from Ghana and had had basic formal education and was trained as a crewman in ocean-going vessels. For major part of his work life he had been in Hamburg, Germany when he was not sailing around the world. It was one of his many favorite statements “I have been to all parts of the world except Australia and New Zealand.” He came to India on 20th November, 1983 for the first time and had stayed back here itself though he had only planned a two-month trip. On the following 23rd was Bhagwan’s birthday and on the 26th He granted him an interview and that was enough for this spiritual apirant.

On many occasions I had tried to learn more about his life before he came to Bhagwan. There was a girl whom we knew and he would say that I should marry her and I would say, “Ha! Frank, what about your wife? Where is she?” At that he would always brush aside my question and make a detour in the conversational topic. This always made me feel that there has to be a past that he tried to hide and possibly forget about. I still tried to rake into that hidden Frank and quench my curiosity. Once I argued with him on the issue that it is usual for people to come near Him when they have problems in their lives. “So Frank what had you in your life that brought you here?” I asked him. To this he countered vehemently and said that it was nonsense to have such a notion.

“We were good Christians. Our family. Attending the Church. Loving the lord. I got back to Ghana for vacation and happened to visit the Sai Center. I loved the Bhajans. Became regular in I my visits. And then ….one of my cousins offered me an opportunity to visit Prasanthinilayam. I had two month’s time to get back to Germany. I accepted. And then I came here. That is it.” Frank always spoke in short and crisp English. And what was most interesting was that he had had a vision of Bhagwan at his place in his country.

During the day, Frank was a busy man. With his usual gears he would be off to his field for a hard day’s work by 9:30 in the morning. He would dig, plant, water and tend to the flowers and grass in front of the co-operative stores and bookstall in the ashram. None ever rewarded him for all this that he had undertaken on his own in 1985. He had a tough time maneuvering the ashram authorities in Prasanthinilayam and he was praying for His guidance. He had a dream in which he saw Bhagwan looking at the dried up plants in Brindavan and say there is none to take care of them. That was His guidance.

By noon, he would promptly cycle his way to the south Indian canteen for lunch. After an hour’s nap in the afternoon, he was back on his field for the rest of the day’s work. By 6:00 after a cup of tea, he would have his shower and be ready for dinner by 10 minutes to 7. When I was preparing for my CA Intermediate exams, we regularly took a walk to the south Indian canteen for dinner. He would without breaking the regimen have only two chapathis for the dinner. After the walk back to home he tuned on the BBC for 8 o’clock news and thereafter some soft bhajans or some devotional music. It was time for some reading and contemplation. Thereafter, time to bed.

Without fail, at midnight Frank always woke up, opened his door and brought out burning incense. He always lit diya and incense before the shrine in his living room and also loved to have them stuck in one of the Tulsi pots that he had in his front yard. Then there would be a midnight meditation session for about an hour. I was a regular witness to this because I burnt midnight’s oil for my exams. Even otherwise, I always enjoyed reading books late into night. This act of Frank always brought back picture of the Tibetan Lamas who wake up at midnight for their prayer service. I had only read of it in two books on Tibetan monks. I would pause my reading and ponder for a fleeting moment or so, what kind of devotion and dedication this man had . Coming to think of the mundane world, what a ‘drive’ he had!

Far away, in a land alien to him, Frank had come to live his life. I would be moved to tears on the occasions when he would say looking at Bhagwan’s pictures in His shrine, “I don’t need anything in this world except His love.”

Frank was a friend I had of the kind I’ll never again have. This thought comes to me every time I think of him. There was a yawning gap in our ages, a gap of a generation at that. Nevertheless, we were the best friends ever. My friends always would say he is my ‘guardian angel’. He would always be protective of me. If I were going out with my friends on a Sunday evening, he would say, “Hey, come back you guys early. He has office tomorrow.”

What endeared him to us all was the fun-loving nature of Frank. He had a reasonably good sense of humor and was good conversationist. He would find a common topic with anyone since he always was well informed on all popular topics. He was very helpful to any one who approached him for help. Before I got to know him, the frequent people at his door steps would be the foreign devotees searching for an accommodation or for the plumber or carpenter or electrician (even at midnight). After became his neighbor, the biggest group of help-seekers used to be my friends being fresh from college who were on the lookout for a job. He would take it on himself to find a job through the big network of friends he had in the city. He seemed to know everyone in the village of Kadugodi. He took delight in gloating over the fact that he knew all the people in Kadugodi from the time they were in their half pants and skirts. He would once in a while quip “If only I had known the local language, I would have been the mayor of Kadugodi.”

I heard to a lot of stories from Frank. Whenever I came across allusions to Biblical stories in the books I read, the next time I was talking I would ask him to tell me the story and he would readily oblige. The one story I liked the most was the story of the last days of Christ. He beautifully narrated the sequences that led to the crucifixion. When I passed my CA Intermediate exams, he insisted that I call my friends on the following Sunday evening for tea. He had bought a nice cake, which to my utter embarrassment they all made me cut. The evening was beautiful and the memory of it evokes a mixed feeling of joyous sorrow. Life can be sweet even within your limited means if only you make up your mind.

Later, we went out for dinner to a restaurant nearby. We had to force Frank to join us. The dinner was beautiful because of the company that we kept rather than the delicacies that were served. Towards the end of the dinner, I remembered the Last Supper and insisted that Frank narrate us the story. All my friends loved his telling the story. My favorite was the phrase he always used for Pontius Pilate excuse himself from the proceedings before the Roman Governor – “He summoned a bowl of water and washed his hands” which also symbolized washing his hands off the entire affairs. And sadly in hindsight I also realize it was the Last Supper we had with Frank.

A word of consolation was something that I always looked forward when I spoke out my troubles to him. He said “Don’t worry, Swami is there.” A word of appreciation was also what I looked forward when I shared my success with him. He would say “Hey Venkatesh, you are very clever.” Possibly, this is the reason why I guess he was the best friend a person can have. It was always that he listened to things from me but never bothered me with any of his troubles. He never expected anything from me. Only he was against my moving to the city and which I forcefully did against his wish. Though I was not near him in his last days and moments, still I thank Bhagwan, that it was this which saved me from the troubles that I would have had in coming to terms that Frank is no more with us.

He had enough troubles himself but Bhagwan was whom he confided in. He suffered for long from asthma. He regularly took doses of oral puffs and also injections. He had backache for long and had tried all sorts of medication. Added to this was that there was none to wait on him and take care of him. Never I got an impression that he ever missed them. He had overcome the attachments, loneliness and boredom in his 20-year sadhana. He had not been to his country even when the near and dear ones had died. He had all his relatives there.

Just before Christmas, his cousin had come from his country. That Sunday, 21st December, Frank had escorted her to Prasanthinilayam. He had a beautiful Darshan and returned by evening. The Bangalore weather was still at its coldest at that time. Late at night, he went to a local doctor’s residence and taken a shot of injection. (He always carried the medicines with him and only wanted a person who could inject it) After that, he returned home. The next morning, early in the morning, he came out and happened to relax on the bamboo basket chair. I can only picture it in my mind how those last moments could have been. The pain must have only eased out when he let go off the body. (For he wouldn’t have breathed his last as the cliché goes as he was struggling for that very breath). The landlord later told me that when they found him he had a peaceful face. So too I saw peaceful Frank lie in the freezer in the mortuary.

Many years ago Frank had met an astrologer who made two pertinent predictions about him. One was that he would have another interview with Bhagwan and that he would be in India for 20 years. Whenever he remembered this he would be indignant at the astrologer. He had never had an interview after the initial one in 1983. When the new year dawned, I began saying, “So Frank, it is already 2003, when are you planning to go back to your country?” I only meant it as a fun but that always would possibly give him a dig in his stomach (though he never remanded me for that).

After I heard the sad news, I was benumbed and for a while couldn’t realize what it means. But the reality struck me hard and I felt lost, orphaned and deeply bereaved. I wanted to get to Kadugodi and see what had happened. I rushed to my boss to take off for the day. He told me in a matter of fact way that I was free to go the moment at least one of the colleagues comes in.

I got back to my PC and tried to concentrate and put in written language what had happened. I began to compose the mail:

“Dear friends,
We get to know people, love them and are loved……………………….”

P.S:
Later that afternoon I had the opportunity to be off and had a great struggle to have a look at the corpse in the mortuary. A few weeks later, the body flew to Ghana for cremation over there.