This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and
did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard
work of this author.
Table of Contents
ForewordChapter 1 – It was a long flightChapter 2 – A long wait ... Chapter 3 – The Next MorningChapter 4 – It rained... Chapter 5 - Seek me in your heart... Chapter 6 - Pillar darshan, back darshanChapter 7 - The Convention opens…Chapter 8 – During BhajansChapter 9 – Not all Cheese and BikkiesChapter 10 - The Convention ClosesChapter 11 – The Day of Guru PournimaChapter 12 – The Festival is overChapter 13 – Snapshots of the Divine ValleyAbout the Author
Foreword
At some time during a visit to Sathya Sai Baba, the notion came to me to record the Divine darshans as I experienced them. Initially, I found I was commenting on and interpreting the darshans I experienced, and made a decision to simply witness and record afterwards. This is a very challenging way to participate in darshan, for the mind just takes off in its ever-outward going nature and soars. Well, sometimes. This small book is a record of my experience of Divine darshan during the Guru Pournima Festival of 2001 and was originally shared on the now-defunct Sai-Disc forum on the internet during that time.
I realise that these notes reveal my joys, my journey and at times, my failings. Perhaps that is the journey; that we are human, ever-seeking to return home, to the very home of our Loving Lord of all the worlds.
Enjoy!
Chapter 1 – It was a long flightJune 26, 2001I have arrived at Brindavan, staying near the ashram. Road works have commenced to build the bridge over the railway gates at Whitefield. The taxi driver took the wrong turn and took me to the new hospital instead; he did not listen properly to me. I said “Take me to Whitefield”, all the taxi drivers were yelling at me “Baba is in Puttaparthi!” “Baba is in Puttaparthi!” “Baba - Puttaparthi!” They want to take my trolley and push, they want to take over my life and tell me where to go, etc, etc.
We passed the new Super Specialty Hospital ... it is BIG, I cannot emphasise just how large it is. Photographs just cannot capture a place this size. I checked the government card for the taxi and paid the taxi driver the set price in rupees. He saw my Australian money and was suggesting that I pay him in Australian notes.
There is a neat, clean, dual road nearly all the way to Brindavan. The darshan hall has had a nice fitting out with a new roof; there is a footpath now, alongside the wall outside. The same watchmen are there. Last night there was a maroon and orange clad Tibetan monk at the ashram gate (it was closed) making head movements, hand movements and singing. I was on the other side of the road and I asked a seva dal whom I knew from way back what he was on about... I was told he is singing bhajans, and chanting mantras to Swami and making Tibetan prayer movements and he did it every night. They said he was OK. He was loud; I could hear him from the other side of the road.
Remember that interesting cretin, the street dog? I was pondering over them while I was waiting for my dinner. They all seem to have changed a bit and the Heinz 57 type of breed seems to be less bony and piteous and mutated somewhat to a leaner, cleaner looking dog.
This is Brindavan, I think to myself as I sit in the little ‘restaurant’ on the side of the road. There is red dust everywhere, blaring truck horns, double overtaking, bus, bus, bus, auto rickshaws everywhere and little boys cleaning tables with big black soulful eyes and shy smiles.
I walked over to the Ganesha idol in the Sai Ramesh Hall yesterday and felt the shakti (energy) rising in my hands as I approached the shrine. Right close up to the front there is an interesting picture of Swami waving, it catches your eye as you get closer.
I took a long walk from Kadugodi - Laxmi colony down the road to get the electrical shop to change my power supply plug. There are Internet Cafes everywhere in Brindavan/Kadugodi; the rate is Rs25 per hour. Brigade Road cafes charge Rs30 (approx $1) per hour, so that is OK. The weather is bearable; I accidentally ate some brinjal at lunch which had me consuming water at a great rate shortly thereafter. Bothered by two mosquitoes last night.
I will complete some chores for a couple of days in Bangalore, and then travel to Prashanthi.
Chapter 2 – A long wait ...
June 28, 2001I travelled from Whitefield to Puttaparthi in a new Ambassador taxi (I was totally surprised, wondering to myself, ‘They still make these cars?’) on a smooth road. Well, it was smooth except for parts of the back road to Hoskote, very lumpy, holes, axle-grinding kinda road... Shortly after motoring along National Highway 7 we passed the turn-off to Nandi Hills. Out of the blue, a six lane highway appeared. My jaw fell off in shock; I nearly missed my favourite Shirdi Sai Baba Mandir (something I always look for on a journey). Glancing over, I noted that a new (mandir) (covered area?) is being constructed at the rear. I am sitting in the front seat of this new Ambassador car, still in shock over this surprise, a six lane highway divided with a meridian strip. ‘My, my, how India progresses’, I thought to myself. All too soon, it disappears and the highway reverts to the typical two lane carriageway. I think maybe some Shirdi Sai devotees have urged construction of a highway. Six lanes, I have never seen this in India...
Approaching Puttaparthi, I see the dome of the hospital; on passing by I see a fresh coat of paint, deep pink/mauve has been applied to the hospital; the grounds look spic-n-span, a marvellous temple of healing amid a well cared oasis of green. I glimpse the statue of Dhanvantari as I pass. Quite a number of buildings have sprouted over the road from the hospital, restaurants, garages, hotels. I see a small, new gram (village) has arisen just past the hospital, Easwaramma Nagar, and I am reminded of the Lord's mother and the morning Suprabhatam, which hails Swami as Son of Easwaramma.
Passing through Gokulam, the New Academy of Music with its mandolin or guitar out the front is attractive; the Hostel, High School, College, all have a new, fresh coat of paint, no peeling, faded paint anywhere. Lawns trim, idols resplendent of the front of many buildings. Even the children's slides in the primary school have fresh paint. A white crocodile of students crosses the road in front of the taxi, moving from the hostel to classrooms. I turn and look for Sai Gita, the trees have grown so tall that I just catch a glimpse of the very tip of the elephant’s form as we motor on. The New Andhra Pradesh RTC Bus depot is in attractive ashram colours of pink and blue. Finally I pass the arch into the gram of Parthi to encounter rickshaws, buses, police, people walking everywhere down main street, and a bright, large road sign catches my eye ‘Chitravathi Rd’. Oh, this looks like many amenities around Parthi have been improved, I think to myself.
I arrive in Parthi at 12.30 and check out darshan time. People are saying “Swami comes out at 3, ten past 3, you go at 2 o'clock to get a good line!” At 1.50 I go to enter the ashram and pass a friend, who tells me Swami has already come out. I walk inside the ashram, do pranaams to Ganesha in his Temple; the pujari is offering prasad (blessed food). I glance over the temple comparing it to my morning meditations; yes, I had the colours right. I walk around the temple once and join the only, moving line. It is a long way down to the gate. Line moves slowly, the police huddle, talking, observing. Get inside and walk thru the security box, the sensor goes PING and I get frisked.
Walk up the side and take any seat. Mandir has doors and windows closed; Swami is inside giving a discourse to a large English group. I sit and meditate, read. Laughter, applause,
everyone's neck cranes around looking toward the mandir. No Swami. About an hour later, Swami (obviously) came out, called a (family) and went into the interview room. Most of the people begin to stand, talk, stretch, move around, and most leave the darshan hall. The seva dal roll the carpet up. People are saying, “He is not coming out”. The inner voice says “You stay right where you are”. I stay; I spy a friend from New Zealand, and chat. About an hour later, students have arrived. Soon, some go forward and kneel. I see Swami, head full of thick hair and bright robe move toward three students kneeling. Several trays and prasadam are offered to Swami, he is holding letters in one hand, and takes something from a man nearby and sprinkles it over the student’s trays. Swami speaks very briefly and disappears.
Ten past four, over the speakers in the mandir ... 3 Oms. Bhajans begin. I am surprised, I look at my watch, and then I realise that the English group never came out of the Mandir. They are leading the bhajans. I thought that was nice of Swami to give a discourse to the English group, and then receive their bhajans. A medley of incredibly fast bhajans come over the loudspeakers which brings people running to the mandir in surprise and anticipation of seeing Swami. The mandir begins to fill. Loud fast bhajans with no discernible break between bhajans, I find it hard to ascertain where one bhajan stops and another begins. I hear Ana hi parega, and Durge, Durge, and Saieshwaraya Namah Om. I am taken back in time to my first visit to Prashanthi Nilayam, there was no hall, no roof, no floor, only sand, trees surrounding the walls of the darshan ground and a small blue and pink canopy around the mandir compound. I recall hearing Saieshwaraya Namah Om way back then and I have this sense of timelessness. Suddenly, I smell incense.
Arathi begins, and everyone in front of me is up on their knees to see Swami walk out. I look down the hall and see it has nearly filled out to half full. Swami walks through the women. Asato ma shatters through the silence. Darshan is over.
Walk outside the darshan hall. I see students around the Murugan (Subramanian) temple; Murugan has a beautiful red dhoti and the pujari is garlanding the idol. I go up and stand behind the students and offer pranaams to Murugan, and I look for the Vel (spear) I saw Swami place with the idol, two years ago, I can just see the tip of it through the garlands. The pujari is placing flowers all over the idol. I walk toward the ashram gate and hear the policeman's non-stop pheet-pheet-pheet whistle clearing a way for cars leaving the ashram amid the crowds. Darshan is over.
Chapter 3 - Next Morning:
June 29, 2001I leave to go to the ashram. I meet Anil Kumar as he emerges from Samadhi Road; he catches my eye and crosses over to exchange greetings. He asks after Howard Murphet, and I recommend mutual friends Arie and Pam to him, and he recalls them with mirth. Entering the ashram, the cinematographer of the well-known video Pure Love thumps me and invites me to lunch. I walk through the security contraption and take a seat. I am afar (from the front), but not minding. It is only the mind, I tell myself. Shortly the music starts. Swami emerges slowly, hand grasping his robe in his characteristic fashion, and stops just inside the hall to speak with some women. He moves on a step, his head turns twice as he speaks again with the women just inside the hall entrance from his home, Poornachandra. As Swami is speaking, an image flashes into my mind of a young Sathya Sai Baba on the Chitravathi sands, and I think, ‘this is the same Raju of my youth’. Taking small steps, he slowly moves
on. He stops and speaks with some other women, takes letters. Some women get up and move toward the verandah. Swami disappears behind a pillar.
The man in front of me begins behaving like a pendulum, wildly swaying from one side to the other, attempting to see around the pillar. I observe him for a moment and realise my mind has taken over. I look at the pillar and wait for Swami to emerge. The man in front of me continues to lean to and fro, stretch his neck; he cricked his neck, he craned right over. Alas! The poor fellow, he cannot see past this pillar in front of him!
After some long moments and a lot more pendulum activity from the man in front, Swami emerges from behind the pillar. The music is playing in the background. He takes more letters from women, and stops to speak to some women in the front row. He is far away, yet his hair is distinct, his robe is bright, the letters in his hand clear as he nods and speaks to women.
As Swami crosses over to the men's side, the light cascaded upon him from the Perspex canopy above. He appears brilliant, his hair almost light brown; so much light is about him.
As Swami reaches the men’s side, the Police bodyguards emerge from somewhere (three of them) and move slowly like a white phalanx of protection behind Swami. The Police Inspector stands and moves forward. Swami begins taking letters from men, he turns, and makes vibuthi for one and one of the bodyguards is instantly beside Swami with a hand kerchief at the ready. Swami turns and crosses to the other side. Many, many hands are raised in pranaams to Swami; he smiles slowly and broadly towards the men. As he moves out of the chandelier light, his face becomes quite brown, his crown of hair darkens.
Swami has one hand full of letters; with the other he makes the familiar circling gesture with his index finger. He slowly moves on. Walking the red carpet, he reaches the top of the walk toward the garage, and stops to take more letters. A crowd of men come from four, maybe five rows back and struggle to lean over and reach Swami. They are too far back, perhaps too slow; Swami has moved on around the corner. The bodyguards leave off as Swami approaches the Institute staff and speaks with two lecturers. Moving onto the verandah, Swami takes a letter from the staff member at the very front of the porch and moves into the interview room. The small (Indian) group sent for interview move up to the verandah.
Swami is out of view. A young boy gets up to leave. Another and another get up, the music is still playing. Soon a trickle of older men get up to leave, and the trickle of men leaving becomes a river of bodies moving. Finally, the music stops and a torrent of white clad men get up and talk, and move away. There are people dotted here and there on the shining darshan hall floor; sitting around meditating, eyes closed, savouring the moments of darshan and inner view, again and again. Soon, the mandir is quiet again, a landscape of empty cushions, handkerchiefs spread out in the front row, and seva dal sitting quietly among the remnant devotees awaiting Swami's emergence again.
Darshan is over.
Chapter 4 - It rained...
30 June, 2001
Morning came and afternoon came. I joined the lines which stretched up the hill beside the old B block, half way up to the meditation tree, or so it seemed. This morning the lines moved quickly. Proceeding down the side of the darshan hall, I observe the famous obstructing pillar of yesterday has been gaily decorated with a silver and red dressing with a gold lotus motif repeating. It seems the ashram is slowly gearing up for a festival. Later in the morning I saw white-clad students upstairs at the back of Poornachandra polishing the brass railings on the two circular platforms there. The man in front of me points to the policeman observing our progress down the side of the darshan hall. He shrugs. He asks why they are here. I told, security is a ‘must’ around Swami now, devotees expect it. (I surprised myself saying that.) Then he mumbled about government and I said, “Yes, Union Ministers had come from Delhi and insisted upon this for Bhagavan.” I observe a Police Inspector with three stars on his shoulder take his shoes and socks off and enter the hall. I told the man in front as we ascended the steps, ‘Many police are devotees’. A seva dal tells me, “Hey you, keep quiet!” OK, it is Swami's darshan hall, I will keep quiet. Perhaps I have overstated the obvious.
I reflected as I waited for Swami to come out, that single-pointedness is needed, tuning into Radio Station G-O-D as Swami once put it in a discourse. I have been silently doing Hamsa Gayathri, So-Hum, as I wait. I am supposed to visualise the light within as I do this. It is a self-revelation to become aware of just how many things the mind will go out toward and attach itself to. Seva dal are standing, waving, gesturing to devotees to move, boys standing up, coughing, pigeons fluttering about, devotees looking up at the gold flaked roof, so many distractions available. I pulled the mind back many, many times as I keep the internal So-Hum going. If I relaxed and concentrated on the idea of the light within me (instead of one or another image of light), a warm vibration would start up.
Music starts, Swami has emerged from Poornachandra. The Police and bodyguards take up their places behind Swami. Men bunch up and move forward. Some manage to move themselves several paces forward. Swami, small in the distance, pauses as he enters the darshan hall and seems to speak for quite some time with the ladies just inside the entrance. Swami begins to move slowly, crossing many times to speak with women and take letters. He had a handful which he gave to a bodyguard when he finally arrived on the men's side. Sometime during this darshan I have become internally self aware and I notice that the bodyguards have left my attention, and that I have become focussed on Swami. Still, I am distracted, men getting up, thronging forward, they disturb my attention, distract. I dislike that. I want to focus on Swami. If I am not managing the mind it draws attention away from Swami, yes, even during darshan...
Here, something happened in this darshan; Swami was way up top in front of the mandir, talking to men. All were seated, attending Swami. Suddenly he gestured quickly to a man 5 or 6 rows back; he came forward with his letter; Swami took and moved on. No one else got up. Perhaps that was a sign, Swami knows exactly where everyone is, and knows exactly their needs and responds just so.
Once again he moves slowly, stopping and talking. It is an overcast day; it is not bright where Swami is walking, his robe has turned a dull red almost and his face is again quite brown. He stops and faces toward us and touches his third eye, and holds his palm up toward us. I recall ‘Everything I see becomes transformed’. Swami moves along and comes close by. He looks over, turns the corner and approaches some men. Many get up and reach out with letters. A tall, bald man with a green scarf comes from nearly the back row right up toward Swami, who took his two or three letters, the last of that swarm of men who got up. Swami looked at the green-scarf man and said “Thank you!”
Darshan is completed; the madding crowd arise and mull about. Slowly, silence returns to the darshan hall. I move to the front. So-hum. Mind wanders frequently. Decide on the need for single-pointedness. I reflect that love actually ‘pulls’ Swami toward devotees in darshan (I have seen this many times. I did this once; I wrote a letter asking him to lead me down the path of divine love. The next morning in darshan he was attending men opposite me, and he turned and steadily looked at my letter. He made a line for my letter and took it, firmly touching the tip of my finger with the tip of his finger. I have often though back to that, thinking of Michelangelo’s famous painting in the Sistine Chapel with the spark of life passing from the finger of God to Adam's outstretched finger).
After a while, Swami comes out and moves up and down the verandah, speaking with officials and international co-ordinators sitting there. Entranced, I watch Swami as he communicates. This is unusual; Swami's face, head, hands, inflection, gestures are a total act of communication and divine self-giving. His hand gestures with his speech and head movements give a visual communication of the movement from heart to heart. Entranced, I am pondering that Swami is the perfect communicator.
Shortly thereafter, it rains. A short sharp shower that leaves a fresh tangy scent of water in the air. Seva dal move about mopping up water where it has leaked through the gaps in the roof. At about 4pm, students arrive. Dry floor for students. Swami's chair is brought out. Fan,
table, tumbler, handkerchiefs, all these are put out. Soon, Swami is seated in his chair on the front of the verandah. Students approach and kneel with trays of prasad and cards on the tray. I suspect a class project of love toward Bhagavan. Swami takes the cards off the trays and reads. He puts them with the letters and touches each student on the head, 1,2,3,4 four taps on four heads. Quite distinct and definite. I recall the day he touched me on the head, a nothingness opened up – as vibrations reached down into me and worlds collapsed for a timeless moment. Somewhere (I cannot recall the exact reference) I have read Swami tell boys “You are very lucky to have me touch you on the head” ... something to the effect that it is a gift that can only be attained by many lifetimes of spiritual effort ... the boys continue kneeling, one shrugs his shoulders and they slowly get up and return to their classmates.
More and more devotees arrive. From Hyderabad, Chennai, Bangalore. I am walking the ashram and I observe new arrivals. They enter and immediately proceed to Ganesha in his temple. Then with children and small suitcases they move down the side of the darshan hall and I observe small smiles become wide grins as the bliss emerges from within them. They have come HOME!!! They smile at me as I walk past them sitting on the benches in Canteen Avenue and softly say 'Sai Ram'. Bliss, bliss, bliss.
Popcorn is Rs2/- at the shopping mall. The popcorn machine is at the foot of the stairs with a crowd surrounding it. The strong sweet smell of popcorn and butter pervades the front of the shopping mall. I climb the concrete steps and follow a very small child on his father's shoulder, he would have been 1-year-old if that; he was singing sai rama-rama-ram; and I marvelled, reflecting that his father must have sung it to him all the way to Puttaparthi on the bus.
Evening came and morning came. All the pillars are now decorated with the red and gold motif with lotus. Garlands on the fences around the mandir. Chinese lanterns - some rose shaped, some lotus shaped, hang from the ceiling between chandeliers. Marvellous, soft, gentle and STRONG colours on the lanterns. Soft greens, aquamarine, hues of blue and red, soft butter yellow. An elegant decoration. Festival time is approaching. There is an All-India Bal Vikas Guru's Conference about to commence.
I have slept in (6AM is sleeping in, over here!). Arriving at the darshan hall, the place is full. I get in past the gate, go through the security screen. I am seated way back, nearly as far back as old back wall. Seva dal are hopelessly trying to get the men to bunch up a bit. I am prodded, I move, another prod, I turn, and the seva dal points to the man in front of me, so I tap him and give him the classic Indian gesture. He ignores me and stays put. Interesting, I observe, that was exactly how my ego behaved yesterday ... Oh! I am seeing myself in action. Hmm. Next lesson.
Darshan begins. Swami is silhouetted against the bright green grass around the Stupa as He stands at the very gate and speaks with the very first devotee he meets entering the hall. (I suspect this is Kamalamma, one of his “foster mothers”.) He is so distant, dark against the bright green, his robe wrapping his body, head of hair sharply outlined with a faint light; He turns and faces the ocean of devotees after making vibuthi for the lady by the gate, his visage shrouded against the silhouette of the garden of the divine. He pauses and lifts his hand to all.
Very slow through the women this morning, stopping to talk, take letters, turning his head, speaking, taking more letters, pausing. Quite a long time passing through the ladies. Sends a large group for interview.
Finally, Swami crosses over the middle and arrives on the men’s side. The bodyguards take up their position. I am seated far back; Swami is obliterated from view by all the men raising hands in koti koti pranaams. They are peaceful, and remain seated, taking darshan of the avatar. Swami moves slowly, only half his body is visible, he is small and distant. Many men get up this morning to hand letters over. Some are taken, some are bypassed. As he turns and walks up toward the garage, I recalled a time in Brindavan when I took darshan once, and Swami passed me by. I vividly brought to memory how I was looking at his form with utter peace and no thoughts. Swami was walking down the aisle and stopped, turned and gave me this amazing smile, piercing me with his eyes; I felt energy entering my heart. On that day, three years ago, I asked myself, ‘What did he do that for’? Today, the penny dropped. Thought has to stop.
It is Year 2001, I am seated halfway down the darshan hall amid thousands of men. Seated far, far away from Swami’s form. Looking across rows and rows of black haired men, I observe Swami move past the men nearest the garage. My mind stopped; I let go, and I saw Swami's aura, and warmth began to enter my heart. Momentarily, the aura moved with Swami as he moved his head.
Later in the morning I walked down to the village. The Venugopalswamy temple is there (it was flooded the last time I saw it), the old temple compound has an attractive coat of paint and surrounded by children and pilgrims. Partha Mandir (the old mandir) has a cream coat of paint and idol of Pedda Venkappa Raju, Swami's father, atop the front entrance. It is now a marriage pandal. I proceed toward the Shiva Temple constructed over Swami's birthplace, past Janakiram's home (Swami's brother), past Subamma's house. Entering the Shiva temple, I take off my sandals and hear devotees ring the bell. Nandi, the divine bull, sits in pose in front of the pillar, gazing toward Lord Shiva. I make pradakshina (walking around the temple) and feel waves of bliss come over me as I walk around the birthplace of Almighty God, this time born as Sathyanarayana Raju, now Sathya Sai Baba. Sketches of the birth come to mind, images of Easwaramma and her mother in law come.
I enter within and the Ashram pujari is there, he is sitting and offering prasad to devotees present. He is speaking Telugu and often touches his heart, saying ‘Swami’. As I listen, again and again his entire countenance breaks into joy and bliss as he shares his mandir stories of Swami, and Swami's teachings. He is at once humble, blissful and inspiring. He keeps touching his heart and speaks in soft cadences, which give hint of his benign nature. He catches my eye and breaks into English, “Swami says, Be happy!” (He is the priest who offers Arathi to Swami in the mandir.)
I leave the temple proper and examine the adjoining wall; it is the back of Subamma's house. I see the rusty windows through which Subamma used to feed the little boy Sathyanarayana Raju. She stood on a stool to do that.
Walking back to Puttaparthi, I pass the Sathyabhamma Temple, constructed by Swami's grandfather, Kondamma Raju. This temple building was perhaps the beginning of the divine self-giving, through this beautiful grandfather of Swami's.
News: William Jefferson Clinton has sent a letter to Padmanaban, indicating that he has read Love is My Form, the pictorial biography of the first twenty-five years of Swami's life, and he
enjoyed it immensely. He sent a note via a devotee friend and underlined ‘thanks for sending this’ several times.
Chapter 5 - Seek me in your heart...
July 1, 2001The inner voice told, "Come at 2PM, you will get a surprise"...
All morning, I had been observing the familiar red and cream Andhra Pradesh buses arriving; Canteen Avenue was solid packed with people as I moved toward the mandir. I encountered a surprise all right, there were no lines and the hall was half empty; “Where are they all?” I asked myself. I took my place. I read a bit and reflected on this morning's darshan. I was determined to empty my mind of thought; drat, the mind wandered everywhere. “Perfect” said The Great White Lion (Arthur Hillcoat) when he came and spoke with me last night. Everything is perfect. He leaned over to hear me. He told, “I spent three thousand dollars on a hearing-aid and I lost it. I have another one here, it is not working”... “Everything is perfect, you know!” He smiled, and walked down Chitravathi Road.
I ceased reading at a quarter to three. Wait for Swami to come out. So-hum, no luck at stillness. Music starts, the man beside me gets up on his haunches and leans on me to see Swami. I don't mind little boys all over me to see Swami. But not this bloke, I turned and said, “Get down, there are men behind you!” and oh, I had taken my attention and my vision from Swami. Oh, how could I do that? I thought. At that point I put the man out of my mind and let him lean. I was here to take the darshan of Swami, no matter what others did.
Swami moves slowly through the women’s lines, taking many, many letters. Stops frequently to talk with women. I lose sight of Swami as I am sitting in a bit of a well and wait for Swami to come into view. Hands go up in pranaams as Swami crosses over to the mens’ side. I am much closer to the front now, I observe Swami closely as he speaks with some men. His head moves in that little nod, his whole expression rises as the dialogue continues, his visage takes on a most open and inviting aspect. It is difficult to communicate this, it is almost as if his eyes sparkle, he opens up who he is somehow as he asks different men questions. His eyes, eyebrows, face, lips, and expression seem to transform to a really close friend who is really, really interested in what you have to say, and replies to you with frankness and ingenuity. It is like an intimacy or a love in action - if we paint a picture with words - what it’s like to experience Swami communicating like this.
He moves along a little and turns to face the sea of men down the hall. A half smile comes to his lips as he raises his hand palm upwards, and raises it little by little, as if he is lifting us all up by his love and grace.
Swami turns and moves on. The music breaks into to a repetitive raga that seems most appropriate as Swami stops to take letters. Moving up toward the garage, I again begin to feel a vibration and see first, a golden colour around Him, then a light blue colour around Him. It is brief, flashing, gone. Swami reaches the top of the path and turns the corner. He pauses and takes many, many letters.
When the madding crowd leave, I get up and move toward the front. Interviews proceed. I focus silently on the form and abandon Hamsa Gayathri and begin to repeat his name. I was surprised this morning; I silently observed that my mind automatically started up the Hamsa
Gayathri as I walked into the darshan hall. I sit and observe distractedly. Mind wanders slightly; I take his name and form silently for some time. Some distractions again. Not peaceful. “How do I do this?” I thought. "Seek Me in your heart" came the answer.
OK, I decided to ponder what form that might take. I will explore this. I am more contented.
Walking the ashram at night. Devotees slip off their chappals, and say silent prayers on the path beside the garden backing onto Poornachandra. Crowds around the water fountains. Lines in front of the Himachal Pradesh Apple Juice stall. Shaminas erected between West 4 and West 5. They look like temporary bookstalls. Ashram dogs prance playfully while devotees sit around the lawn in front of the roundhouses, savouring the evening sweetness. Dark has descended, buses move slowly through the crowd with twin headlights piercing like huge torch beams through the throng in Canteen Avenue. Sweet smell of bread coming from the bakery. The Indian canteen is dark.
More buses arrive; boys get on the roof and lower bags. A bus reverses slowly past the closed bookshop. I sneak across the front of the bus and encounter the Sita-Ram shrine which is built into the rear wall of the darshan hall, below the floor level. An adorable little Hanuman kneels with hands joined in prayer as searchlights softly illuminate Lakshmana, Rama, and Sita. A veritable scene of soft light and beauty. An Indian woman moves forward to toss a garland over the fence expertly. Looking up, I see the top of the shrine has an Idol of Hanuman carrying the Sanjivini Hill. Moving along the side of the darshan hall, I look inside and see many people inside at work on scaffolds and ladders adding decoration upon decoration. More and more bunting has been added; Huge orange Chinese lanterns are being lifted up the scaffold and attached to the roof. I spy a spread of children seated in the middle practising some songs, surrounded by adults. Aha! I am going to come early, tomorrow, I think to myself (these could be famous last words...) as I leave.
ALMOST famous last words. The skies move from early morning grey to faint blue. I arrive as the women commence Nagarsankirtan, trekking around the ashram beginning from the Ganesha Temple. We cannot move; then men arrive and queue before the Temple. With a loud vibrant chant they commence ‘Jai Jai Jai Jai Ganapathi deva’ and commence their walking and singing; this purifies the vibrations and the atmosphere. I go up the hill once again and join lines. I am only there one minute, and we start moving. I speculate on the huge Australian gum trees beside me. Are these really gum trees? I take a good look at the leaves; yep, Aussie brand.
Going down the side of the darshan hall, palm leaves have been tied to the gates; I see a large expanse of empty spaces at the front on the mens' side and oh, about half of the space is reserved (I recall students from Whitefield arriving last night ... the spaces will be for them ... ditto on the women's side as Anantapur College students will be here also). In the centre of the darshan hall, there are some ‘clouds’ suspended from the ceiling that have “Be good, see good, do good” and similar aphorisms scribed on them. Bunting, flowers and palm leaves decorate the front of the mandir. Pennant flags hang from pillar to pillar and diamond shaped boards with rangoli and other spiritual motifs hang on all the fences. It is a gaily decorated mandir today. In the very centre of the mandir is a simple painting (what I later learn) of Kabir, on a plain yellow background. I soon learned that today is Ashadi Ekadashi, a celebration of Sant Kabir. The reincarnations rendered by some authorities are like so:
Sathya SaiShirdi SaiSant Kabir
It is known that Shirdi Sai told his devotees occasionally that in his previous life he was Kabir. Today, the devotees of Maharashtra are celebrating this festival and honouring Swami in one of his previous bodies.
As I continue walking the path to the mandir entrance, I begin to ponder exactly where I will end up sitting. Anywhere I suppose. Aha, once inside I have to traverse the BACK WALL to get across the hall and find a spot to perch. ‘Seek me in your heart’ comes to mind, and I think, Oh, what a darshan I am going to have. I sit, on the far inside left corner. I surmise I will only see Swami when he walks the men's side. I am partly correct. So-hum, I begin to focus. Oh, what is the difference? What is between me and You, now, I think, as I watch the students enter and take their seats. Staff and officials move onto the verandah. I ponder these words and observe people are talking, buzzing, and chatting, fidgeting, stand up, sit down, people who only attend and become silent when Swami emerges. What is a wall or two between Swami and myself? I cannot see him with my eyes, yet I am in His presence here. Everywhere. Slightly focussed, I return to So-hum.
6.45, Swami comes out. Takes no letters. Walks very slowly, oh so slowly, step by step. Occasional hand movements. I see Swami very briefly through the cracks in the fence on the women’s side. Crosses to the mens side. Moves slowly. I see that East Prashanti building has many women upstairs on the balconies. (Older devotees from the 1960 - 70's era live in this building). Swami moves slowly. All the darshan hall lights are on, every chandelier illuminated and dropping light onto Swami as he moves. On the mens side now, walking up that path to the garage, Swami pauses. He turns towards East Prashanthi and walks toward the gate slowly. Gate is opened. Swami walks right out into the East Prashanthi walkway (adjacent the darshan hall) and gives darshan to all the devotees trapped outside the hall.
He remains out there for several minutes, and returns to the hall. He takes his seat. Devotees from Maharashtra wearing their distinctive Nehru Caps enter with music and song. Children assemble and floats come into the hall. A presentation of human values consisting of song,
dance, discourse and acting commences. It goes for nearly an hour. It is a mastery of co-ordination, rehearsal and choreography. It is a peerless presentation; many students get up to go to the side of the mandir for a better view and take photographs. Swami sits in his chair head resting on his hand, and watches. Occasionally pats his lips with a kerchief. Tilts his head, finger on cheek, watching. I recall the lead actor speaking on what our lives need: Duty, Devotion, Discipline, Discrimination, and Determination. Crowd applauds. Presentation ends with three times Sai Gayathri. Children’s voices sound so sweet singing the mantra. Swami gives double handed abhayahasta blessing to children at the end of their singing. Swami hands out prasadam to all children participating, and grants padnamaskar.
Students run out and come back in with prasad (blessed food). Distribute to all devotees. Bhajans commence.
Afterwards, I obtain a leaflet, which explains the morning's events and the story of Kabir.
On the reverse is:
Born in the end of the thirteenth century, Sant Kabir was an ardent advocate of Hindu-Muslim Unity. There are different stories about this birth. One of them is that he was found to a couple called Niru and Nima, inside a shell floating on the river Bhagirathi. Brought up in the weaver Muslim family he used to go to Mosque and sit for Namaz and even went to Kaaba on Haj. He equally respected Hinduism. He passed most of his lifetime in Kashi where he meditated and worshipped God and interacted with Sadhus and Sanyasins. He worshipped Rama and always chanted his name. However, he was against blind faith and hypocrisy. He used to criticise Hindus and Muslims equally for their adapting wrongful practises in the name of religion and not realising that God is all pervading and that God resides in the heart of man. Sant Kabir will always be remembered for creation of short poems called DOHA through which he endeavoured to educate the people against all social evils and yearning for God within.
On the surface of things, it seems Kabir’s relentless efforts failed to evoke any response from the Hindus and Muslims who continued to fight against each other, even after his death. Hindus wanted his body to be cremated whereas Muslims wanted his body to be buried. It is said that when the veil was lifted, the body was found changed into flowers, which were shared equally, between Hindus and Muslims who then probably realised Kabir’s message of UNITY, PURITY AND DIVINITY.
Chapter 6 - Pillar darshan, back darshan
July 2, 2001Last night, after dinner, some people from Canada struck up conversation with me. During our converse, their son told me that when Swami came out, he would see Swami tower high over the darshan hall and cover everyone within, with his robe.
I told the boy that he was receiving bhava darshan, and that it was a gift. I then told him to go and look in some books and make enquiry into the meaning of this word and this type of darshan. I spelled the word for him. I also told him that he should obtain a little notebook and write down his bhava darshan stories so he could read them when he was at home.
I also suggested that he could also use his stories for a spiritual practice. I explained that Swami told, ‘When you think of New York, your mind and heart go to New York.’ So he could do the same, he could sit down and think of Puttaparthi and he would return here and he could take his darshan again with Swami. I also explained that Swami tells us to take padnamaskar on the inner level. He seemed to like that idea.
This morning I was up the back of the men’s side against the western fence; that meant I would only see Swami for the time he walked through the men’s side of the darshan hall. This was the case. When Swami sat in his chair, there was a big, squat pillar between Swami and myself. If I emulated the pendulum man of yesterday, I would just see 1/3rd of Swami sitting in his chair. So I decided to sit, listen and take ‘Seek me in your heart’ darshan. It stayed that way for some 45 minutes. I remained where I was and listened to the music. Men got up and left, I moved forward. Still one big fat pillar. No vision of Sai. I had only moved closer to the pillar. There was a young Indian lad in front of me, he seemed to be in absolute contrast to the men who were monkeying about, up on their haunches, standing, kneeling, pushing forward, and running to the fence to see. He seemed to be setting an example as he simply sat still and listened. I recall thinking, here; this boy is showing you that you have a choice how you may deal with not being able to see anything.
I sat and closed my eyes and focussed on Swami. Instantly, He appeared on my inner screen, with the yellow icon of Sant Kabir behind him. Right there on my inner screen, I could see him sitting, with his head resting on his hand. I saw him pat his lips with the kerchief, as he watched the children. I closed my eyes and enjoyed this for some moments. I was delighted.
More men got up and left. Suddenly, I spied an opportunity. Some men had vacated the space on my left. I moved over, goodbye pillar, I was able to watch the cultural program and observe Swami. So I took outer darshan again, delighting in the display of the children of Maharashtra.
After darshan I went for a walk down Samadhi Road and visited the Samadhi of Swami's parents. It is a sandy enclosure with little children playing in the sand. A one year old boy was pulling a trolley with his father's help. He was squealing with delight. There is a most charming little Ganesh Shrine in the Samadhi enclosure. Off to the left is a small lean-to with a fence where two cows were contentedly munching hay. The Samadhi surrounds are a lovely oasis of timelessness, with a wonderful, green garden and many different trees. It seemed to suggest the silence and the bliss Swami's parents enjoy.
The Samadhi itself is two adjacent tombs covered by granite slabs, with attractively garlanded pictures of Swami's father, Pedda Venkamma Raju and his mother, Easwaramma, hanging on the struts above each slab. When Swami's father died, he spoke of the unique fortune and privilege to be father of an avatar; it happens only once in any Yuga. There were oil lamps burning on each tomb and garlands were draped over the slab ends. An ochre clad pujari played with a little boy, and then opened the gate to check the oil lamps.
The Samadhi has an otherworldly peace surrounding it - it is such a simple place.
Further down Samadhi Road, I exclaimed, “Oh, Holy!” The road has been concreted (I still have the trousers I ruined walking through the sludge down there when it rained). I see two lime juice vendors, teachers moving in and out of their accommodation, and dhobis plying their trade and ironing in the street. I pass the Orphanage, where some happy children run in and out. Once upon a time an old friend warned me Puttaparthi was full of high-rise. If you proceed down Samadhi Road, Cross 1 or Cross 2, there are more high rise down those streets than, perhaps, New York might have, I thought to myself. I did not recognise it. My memories were of living in these streets for two years – memories of walking in mud and little rivers when it rained returned as I gazed down the concreted walkway.
In the afternoon, I went to the ashram early. I walked around the Navagrahas (shrine to the nine planets) just inside the front gate to reach the men's lines and saw a crowd of Indians looking at something on the ground. As I walked past, I saw a tiny, baby snake and glanced at the transfixed devotees. I smiled, and I acknowledged to myself that snakes are a serious business in India. A couple of paces on, I heard ooh, ahh, and I saw people jump.
Still only one line to go in. I walked up to the top of the hill and the line began to move into the hall almost immediately. I am early; I take a seat on the side with my back to East Prashanthi. The man in front of me is sitting in one of these canvas seats with a back and he is making heavy weather of it. He keeps shifting and moving, and his back is not straight. I feel some compassion for him, he has two cushions in that canvas seat and he is still finding it hard going. I cricked my back slightly this morning, so I also have a nagging pinch in the back. It is hard to keep a focus when your feet pinch or fall asleep, or your back is throbbing or aching.
‘Show me how to do this ... seek me in your heart thingy, I asked on the inner level. ‘Don’t do anything, just watch’, came the answer. So I looked inside and I saw a step by step creation of Swami's image take place. First, the hair, just a sense of ears, his forehead, eyebrows, all appeared one after the other. Then his eyes, his cheeks, nose, lips, jaw, and neck all appeared. I breathed slowly, refreshing the image from time to time. When I opened my eyes again, it was bright, Swami' chair had been brought out and placed in the front of the porch. Students from Brindavan came, and shortly after, the primary school children filed in to sit in front of the Anantapur ladies.
Puttaparthi students arrive; space is crammed as students mill around finding somewhere to sit at front and beside the Brindavan students. Up by the water fountain beside the mandir, many students are taking a drink. It has grown appreciably hotter in the last three days. Right now, a hot gusty wind whips through the darshan hall making all the lanterns and decorations sway. More students take a drink. A continual stream of devotees go the other way, toward THEIR water fountain at the back of the darshan hall. Hot, hot hot, I watch the ladies in the distance fan themselves. Pink fans, white fans, blue and red fans, plenty of fans moving in the
shade of the darshan hall. It does actually warm up even more when all those bodies are breathing and slowly being compressed by super-efficient-seva-dal.
False start. Seva dals line up, Police Inspector puts his cap on and stands to attention. Obviously the door at the back of Poornachandra has opened and Swami has appeared briefly, as the lady seva dal scattered away. Swami goes back into Poornachandra and emerges again at 3pm.
The hot, gusty wind wraps Swami's robe around him as he enters the darshan hall. He is dark, again silhouetted against the trees, the light green hedge surrounds the Stupa; the flagpoles and lamp posts at the rear of Poornachandra have all been decorated with bright colours, gold, silver, red, green, and the white uniform of the seva dal; all these provide a brilliant background to Swami as he walks into the shadows of the darshan hall. The hot gusty wind continues to play with his robe as he walks on slowly. Entering the ladies side, here and there, he stops, further on he touches a tray, takes a letter. Moves slowly on, still dark, still silhouetted against the green surrounds of the stupa.
I begin to become amused. Still hanging from the ceiling are the ‘clouds’ from this morning's cultural program. A blue cloud dangling from the ceiling near the gate leading down to the Gopuram reads ‘Bend the body, mend the senses, end the mind’. Oh, so salutary, I mused. As Swami walks toward me, the pink ‘cloud’ is partly obscured by another cloud, so Swami is walking toward me under a cloud that reads ‘I am not different from God’. I take quite some mirth and amusement observing Swami walk under my ‘obscured’ clouds.
Finally, Swami crosses under the translucent canopy and light descends on his form. The carpet separates the throng of students. Students rise to their knees, maybe five or six in a bunch with earnest faces, you can see they have asked him something; Swami moves slowly as the students expectantly watch his back. Swami moves ever-so-slowly through the white expanse of students, leaving those on their knees to sit down as Swami approaches the expectant male devotees. Stops and speaks with men. Light streams in from East Prashanti onto his form. He moves slowly with measured steps, taking many more letters. Stops, lifts his hand, palm up, his thumb touches each finger tip; then He turns his hand over and makes that familiar circling motion with his finger. Is he giving our energy a bit of a wind up? Grace, by any other word.
I concentrate on his appearance, contrasting it with my earlier meditation. His hair is thinner at the edge; his eyebrows are more sharply arched. His robe drapes around his body just so, and he grasps the folds on one side of the robe and walks slowly. Moves along the red carpet toward the garage. Swami crosses several times to take letters. A man rises and moves quickly with a child in his arms; a seva dal moves to restrain him, but Swami leans over and taps the child on the head. The man smiles, bows in pranaams to Swami and returns to his seat, utterly grateful.
As Swami passes me his back becomes conspicuous. Back darshan, I have heard women complain about it: “All we see of Swami is his back, weeks and weeks of back darshan!” Well, I wouldn't complain. As I watch Swami walk, I think about back darshan, I think about the seeds of grace and transformation Swami is sending to people in darshan. I wonder why Swami's back and shoulders seem to stand out; this is the second or third day this has come to my attention. Perhaps it is a sense of vulnerability.
When Swami was little, and known as Raju, Kamalamma and Subamma used to put a dhoti on him (he only had a pant and shirt) and pick him up and stand him on a table for seekers to come in and take his darshan. Otherwise he would have been dwarfed and not seen by the sadhaks, devotees and the curious. This would also happen in Bangalore, circa 1943.
Kamalamma, who has known Swami ever since he was 5 years old, told one day, ‘After the bath, He stands as a very young boy, with a towel around His waist. He keeps a Shirdi Baba photo and breaks open the coconuts we carried there for the worship offering. Then He says, “I am not a ghost. I am Shirdi Baba. I want to join this boy (enter the body of Sathyanarayana). I trouble this body in numerous ways, to settle down.”
Kamalamma has revealed a secret; Swami's body had to change and transform as the Supreme Absolute ‘emerged’ or ‘manifested’ within him. This was quite a painful process, and an extremely bewildering and distressing process for those fortunate to be around him in those days; to observe and aid Swami as these periods ‘descended’ upon him. Perhaps observing Swami's back as he walks up the red carpet recalls that human/divine vulnerability,
and reveals a glimpse beyond the mayashakti (the energy driving that illusion of maya which surrounds Swami), making myself and everyone else see the crown of hair, the ochre robe, and the slow measured steps. Perhaps that divine union of Shiva-Shakti and human form become apparent. It is difficult to express what emerges as this sense of vulnerability. He also suffers.
All alone now, Swami moves onto the front of the porch. Holds his robe and walks slowly. Stops and faces the primary school students, and lifts his hand, palm upwards, uplifting them with his love. Walks further on toward the women, and he repeats this palm upwards action. Swami's chair is out on the front of the porch. White handkerchiefs at the ready, table and tumbler beside. Will he come, will he give discourse?
No, into the interview room alone to read all the letters.
Chapter 7 - The Convention opens…
July 3, 2001I rose early and joined the small lines of men I observed beside the mandir. Shortly thereafter, the ladies doing Nagarsankirtan depart, the lines move forward. Around the corner, a man checks my shirt and asks me for a badge. He pulls me out and points to the end of the mandir. I am in the wrong line. This is the delegates’ line. Perhaps I should have said “Forgot, forgot!” I would have got a seat in front of the students, right in front of Swami. Opportunity knocked, and I was not quick enough. Oh well, I thought to myself, ‘Would I tell a lie or engage in nefarious machinations, to sit right in front of Swami?” No, came the answer ...
I wander down toward the end of the mandir with my heart sinking toward my boots. It is dark; all I can observe is a sea of black heads. I felt, ‘Oh well, here we go, here comes the back wall!’
Not quite the back wall, however I was slightly pillar leery, and picked my seat. We were pushed forward twice by the seva dal, then men got up and ran forward. A huge expanse opened up. We moved forward slowly. I see three tall red backed chairs each side of Swami's brown (leather) chair. The table is out. Two lecterns with microphones. No microphones on Swami's table. ‘Do we have a discourse?’ I wondered.
Sit and wait. All the mandir lights are turned on, this really enhances the mandir, the sky blue colour brightens up and reflects with sheen. All the flowers and bunting from yesterday have been replaced with attractive garlands, silver and gold, red, yellow, these hang all round the front of the mandir. All the Chinese lanterns remain, a riot of colours competing with the chandeliers. An arch has been assembled. Violet wrapped, big gold letters announce the Bal Vikas Guru's Convention theme: Educare. Education with human values. The diamonds and clouds of yesterday are gone. A Simple arch. Last time I saw the arch it said ‘Generator, Organiser, Destructor’.
7AM. Swami comes. Moves very quickly through the women, and quick through the men. Takes one or two letters only. Again he approaches the side gate and disappears out into the East Prashanti walkway. Returns to the darshan hall, takes his seat behind the table. Indulal Shah gets up and motions speakers to take their chairs beside Swami.
Tiny primary school boys dressed as Brahmins in red dhoti and red shawl approach. Lectern removed, the boys commence chanting sacred slokas. They take padnamaskar and leave. Lectern is returned. Speakers each take padnamaskar and give talks on the theme of the conference. Goldstein sits beside Swami, his attention completely on Swami. Hiro from Japan gives meaning of E,D,U,C,A,T,I,O,N, I is for integrity. I see delegates making notes. Goldstein speaks, he says Guru's must inspire, but they cannot inspire what they have not experienced. Top comment, I thought.
No microphone brought out to Swami's table. After the last speaker talks, a co-ordinator approaches Swami. He goes to the microphone and reads out the convention program. Arathi is taken. All sing Om Jai Jagadisha Hare (the Lord of the Universe is here). Swami retires to the interview room. Morning darshan is over at 8.15 am. Prasad is given to delegates.
All this time, men get up and leave during talks. I try several times to kick-start So-hum and keep focus on Swami alone. It is difficult. I think I am tapping into the distracted, bored energy around me. I have experienced this before. You can sit in the darshan hall for ages while Swami is present, he is listening to talks given prior to his divine discourse, and absolute boredom and distraction can set in. It takes significant effort to remain focussed on Swami if you are far away from him, yet sitting in his presence for quite a time. I am seated deep down the hall near the back; Swami, far away, looks small, seated behind a table, occasionally lifting a white kerchief to his mouth. He applauds an Indian lady speaker enthusiastically. She spoke softly, quietly, and sometimes took pauses in her talk.
All the while, men get up and leave. It is like this, they go to a temple and ‘take’ the darshan of the Lord or God in the temple - the idol. Having done their sacred business and said their prayers, they leave. Tirupathi, Tiruvannamali, Dakshineshwar, Benares, Kedri, Badrinath, all these places they do this. Here, they have ‘taken’ the darshan of the Lord Sai whom they utterly venerate as God. You should see them if they get anywhere near Swami, an incredible effort takes place to touch his feet, have a letter taken, offer pranaams, or get some of the vibuthi he has materialised. They want this, they are devoted to this, they ‘take’ this as their devotion, their prasad. It is important after ‘taking’ darshan to also take prasad, (blessed food). All of this can be extremely alienating, off putting and even frightening at times. There can be pushing and clamour, and struggle to reach, to move. Talk about when push comes to shove, when it comes to being near a Divine Incarnation, this really happens.
Yet in here, also they are restrained, try hard not to intrude upon you, try not to tread upon any part of you, and they are being devoted, engaged in what is for them, a holy sadhana, a holy spiritual duty. So they get up and leave because they have ‘taken’ the darshan of the avatar Bhagavan Sri Sathya Sai Baba, and now they move on to idli, vada, tiffin or the conference sessions. Many villagers are here, they are Bal-Vikas-Guru in small villages teaching children. All this continual getting up can be off-putting, yet, after a while I ignore it. It is not disrespect and I cannot compare what is good for them with what is good for me, nor say there is any right or wrong about my staying and continuing with Sai darshan, and their getting up and leaving. It just is.
Afternoon darshan; I take lines at 1 PM. Before going leaving my accommodation for darshan, my eyes glance on the letters. I ask, ‘Are you taking letters this afternoon?’ Answer comes, ‘Yes’. I pause, becoming still: ‘Are you taking these letters’? “No”, is the answer. I leave them behind. Sit outside in the sun, in the lines. Oh, I remember sitting in the sand, with the little man walking up and down the lines talking Hindi, Telugu, Tamil, do not touch
Swami, do not hold Swami's feet, only get up if Swami talks to you. Up and down out lines he used to go. One of the Institute teachers was really good. He used to come around the men’s side and say ‘Om Sri Sai Ram to you all’ and make pranaams to us. He would then tell us a little story, "Yesterday Swami told students ... and we would all be sitting in rapt attention. Very effectively, he would highlight reasons why we should behave in a restrained manner in darshan. It was a very motivating way to communicate to waiting devotees. Alack, the crowds are larger today; the darshan assembly area is so big now. All this comes back to my mind as I FRY ever so slightly in the sun. Beads of sweat form and drip off my eyebrows. So much for the big drink of water before I came.
The numbers have been given out; here we go, I watch the lines go in. One, Two, oh, watch this man he gets up and crosses three lines to join line One on the way in. He smiles and determinedly pushes his way past the seva dals. It takes two of them to get him back in his seat. Up he goes again, now he is going to join line Two. Now, people from his line begin to remonstrate with him, and woops, my line is up and moving. I am in line Three. Men run past me in the mandir, oh they run and run and run, and I just walk up. “Anywhere”, the inner voice says. So I go and sit near the corner, I can see the red carpet, I am perhaps three lines back from front row. I write. Time moves on slowly. Hot, hot, hotter. Continual stream of men getting up for water. Students arrive. Little boy in front of me colouring in mandalas in a book. Fascinating, slow work, he concentrates. I return to writing.
The question comes to my mind, ‘What is satisfactory darshan’? (Satisfactory not referring to how I might feel or not feel implying anything about darshan being good or bad. That is a subjective ‘satisfactory’.) An interesting answer comes.
PREPARATION, as it is appropriate to you - whatever works for you - name, rosary bead, likitha japa (writing the divine name), meditation on his form, (or any form), divine reading, anything that focuses and excludes distraction.
PRESENCE - single pointed attention to the divine form as He gives darshan. This is a challenge, as movement of others, men getting up with letters, fighting pigeons, men talking, pushing, elbowing, music, bodyguards moving, all are opportunities to ‘take the focus’. Devotees having hysteria is also a great attention grabber, I saw a man have hysterical fits as Swami passed by, once. Swami just looked at him and kept walking. Others carried him out. So presence is a challenge.
RETINUE
This one stumped me. Retinue? Royal court? Followers? Train, carriage, persons accompanying, officials who compose a train; all these ideas come to mind, and did not make sense. Retinue? I write notes, perhaps continuing single pointedness, continuing presence, recall, replay, savour the divine darshan? I wait. I know He will reveal.
Retinue, Noun, ‘succession or series of people, things, events (train of thought); a body of followers. Idiomatic use = in train, properly arranged or directed.’
Going back to the Latin, RETINUE (I always like going back to the Latin) or before, but the middle-French root is “to retain” which puts a neat twist on this -- we are meant as a group to retain what we've gotten post-darshan.
The over-plus of meaning that emerges here is ‘self management’ after darshan. Probably also, keeping that focus and image of darshan until one commences the next necessary activity.
It is a bit like so: Swami tells, ‘When you attend weekly bhajans, your bhajans start when you leave home, travel, arrive, all the while you think of the Lord, remain focussed on the Lord, think of his glories and the songs you will sing. Thus one makes a good bhajan.’
So one may also conclude a good darshan by taking the same measures. That, I suspect, is the over-plus of meaning associated with this surprising word ‘retinue’. One other thought; it may also mean ‘stay there for a while’. That is certainly part of the meaning of retinue.
Swami does not come until 4.30. He has been generally coming out at 2.45, maybe 3pm. The Convention has begun, the roller doors at the side of Poornachandra have been raised, I hear applause. Seva dals get up and talk. Men stretch, talk, some get up and leave. Lady seva dals return to sweeping the path at the rear of Poornachandra. Time moves on slowly. Legs ache and cramp. Foot goes numb. Little boy beside me gets cranky. Sporadic So-hum. More men get up and leave. Some men exchange places. Then, the penny drops, Swami is in there listening to talks. Aha! “4:30”, the inner voice tells me.
4:15, false start. Seva dals, Police come to attention at the back of Poornachandra. Soon a buzzing and loud conversation resumes in the mandir. Distracted So-hum. I send a message, ‘Come on, devotees drying out here!’ ... inner voice replies, 4.30 ...
Storm clouds gather. Lights are turned on above the red carpet. More chandeliers erupt with light. Blue and gold flags flap from the flagpoles lining the roadway at the rear of Poornachandra. Seva Dals, Police, all at attention. Verandah lights come on. Buzz turns to dull roar again. Men talking. Suddenly, the music starts, all heads turn to Poornachandra. I cannot see Swami. So quickly, he crosses over and a sudden squall of wind whips his hair and robe savagely, rain breaks loose and pelts down as he enters the darshan hall. Oh, the rain pelts down. He seemed to be nearly blown off course as he stepped over to the red carpet.
The video fellow is in the way. Cannot see Swami. Wind howls through the ashram, rain drums a loud roar on the roof. Quickly past the waiting women, past the students up on their knees. Swami attends the men. Bodyguards emerge. He takes a letter, looks at some other men. His hand moves, he is looking at men further into the crowd. Suddenly he whips his hand up and looks at the very men in front of him and starts giving vibuthi. Turns, moves further on, takes letters. Comes closer. I see a man get up - he has padukas (sandals – of wood, or precious metal) on a tray. Oooh, I ask, ‘Are you going to bless them’? “No” comes the answer, “Just watch”.
I watch. A man reaches out so far he is flat on the ground and touches Swami's foot as he is walking. Swami stops, turns, piercing him with a look. Moves on. He is much closer now, liquid eyes; the wind has swept his hair awry. I see lines on his neck. He looks hot, yet I sense an august presence, splendid, majestic; at this close range, I not only see, but feel. Here is something commanding, strong, powerful, benign, with these surprising liquid eyes of love. I am stunned. He turns and walks toward the garage. The wind sweeps his robe; I see the Lotus Feet, charana kamala, for the first time, this visit. My heart leaps up. Rain pelts down.
Men get up and fall about trying to hand him letters. He leans over and accepts. Hands letters to his bodyguard, without looking. Takes more letters, hands more letters to his bodyguard. Men are nearly four feet away from Swami, perhaps farther. Bodyguards restrain hands reaching out, men almost leaping out to his feet. Swami rounds the corner and begins walking toward the mandir. Facing the institute staff, he lifts his hand, lifting again and again. Walks past slowly. When he reaches the porch, 7 or 8 students get up and go forward with their trays of prasadam. They crowd around Swami in a semicircle. Swami blesses, students take padnamaskar. They leave the porch. Swami moves on toward the mandir, lightning flashes and I hear a thunderclap. Damp, humid air. Another lightning flash. After a time, the music stops.
Chapter 8 - During Bhajans
July 5, 2001Tonight, I went for a walk during bhajans. People were praying at the Ganesha Temple; some were breaking coconuts. Take chappals off and walk around the temple. A little further on, women are pressed up against the grill outside the mandir, looking through the grill at Swami sitting in his chair, his foot moving in time with the music; looking further afar (at this time and place, men cannot walk this path; I am on the path immediately above, skirting the front of South Prashanthi) droves of women sit on the footpath in front of the old shopping centre waiting for a glimpse of Swami as he walks out after darshan. Walking further on, I spy more women sit in the stairwells waiting to see Swami. Lush green grass around the Stupa; I saunter toward the Supermarket.
I pass the small works garage with the gold-coloured bus and the SSS truck, outside the tool room and the maintenance stores. There is a loudspeaker here; I hear the Devi bhajan clearly. A lot of older men work in here and do service, taking care of management of the different maintenance needs of the ashram. I have been in there in earlier days. Past the buildings, I pass the South Garden where a man is hosing dust off the Golden Ganesha. A woman has lit a lamp and placed it on the lotus in front of Lord Buddha. A white clad young man is sitting beside the little bridge below and writing in a book. I reach the Supermarket. There is a queue in front of the tea stall. Here, another loudspeaker delivers Lela karo, kripa karo, raksha
karo, and I walk around the supermarket. Queue at the bakery. Ten rupees for Pizza. Queue at the ice cream store. Mountains of popcorn. People waiting on the seats in front of the ashram branch of the State Bank of India. Queue of men waiting to go upstairs. I hear the tabbla and another bhajan. Queues in front of the popcorn machine. I look inside the vibuthi shop. Go over to another vibhuti shop and buy several gift packs (vibuthi, sweets, picture of Swami). I had inadvertently walked to the women’s side first, and quickly realised my blunder. I crossed over to the men’s side.
I cross the road. The old EHV building is now the SSS Audio Visual Store. I climb the steps to look inside the building where I had sat for many a lecture and see it full of audio visual material. An elderly seva dal offers me a brochure to examine and I flip through it. I ask how much. ‘600’ comes the reply (it is a 3 CD set with a full catalogue). ‘Oh! So much!’ I look on. Then she says ‘US Dollars’. I looked up and said, “Amma, you are a dacoit’ (robber) and everyone laughed.
It’s nice to have a laugh and a smile with the seva dal. The other day I was going inside the mandir and pulled up in line beside a seva dal. I looked at his ID card, and asked, ‘Where are you from?’ Oh, Kerala, I read. ‘Kerala, very nice place’. The seva dal looked at me. He thought for a moment. Suddenly he laughed and said, ‘Yes, but not as good as here!’ We both laughed and I moved on into the mandir.
Moving west, I move on past the shopping centre to investigate the back of the ashram. There used to be some nice places up here. I look down the row of sheds, now there is only shed 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31. Memories of sheets hanging up in the sheds and sleeping on bedrolls. I remember coming and looking through the hole they put in the front wall of Shed 25 to wheel in the Golden Chariot and finish assembling it. It was a fantastic sight, ethereal in my memory; I remember thinking this was almost out of another realm (loka).
Moving up and west, I see the new sanitation facility, with blue tents over all the cesspools. ‘24 hour service’ says the signs. ‘Entry Prohibited’ announces another sign. I turn left and espy a tall, commanding new building, the new shopping centre. A huge block three storeys high, with multiple stairways, it has a largesse the other supermarket definitely lacked. I walk further on. I see a green shamina with a canteen. Within one section undercover, men are sitting on the grass whilst one man gives a talk. Further on, temporary sheds with canvas and corrugated iron roofs. To my left is a towering, new, conference hall and the new Books and Publications Trust Building which just goes up and up and up the hill, it has these great big long stairways all along each side. Pictures will not do these places justice, I think to myself. These buildings literally tower out of the rocky hillside.
I move back down the path between South 8 and South 6. I am back at the Supermarket. Bhajans are still coming over the loudspeakers. Turning left, I trek the path toward the North Indian Canteen. The queue to go upstairs in the Supermarket is so long, it reaches down to Roundhouse 1 and then around the corner. Just opposite this queue is the Thought for the Day notice board. I read about children learning for life. I ask a seva dal for the time. I am heading toward the North Indian Canteen for dinner. 5.46, I am told. Move further down the path, a sign tells me Overseas Devotees may register at North 8, Room A-01 ... The Lecture hall is closed until further notice. Another sign proclaims the reading room and library in North 8 closed.
I see a small bookstall selling books, collected discourses of Easwaramma Day, Talks given at 75th birthday, Human Values and Parenting. I discuss printing and covers with the bookseller. I move on and join the very small queue at the North Indian canteen. Later on, at 6.15, the canteen opens and I enjoy a hot meal at the best prices in all Puttaparthi. So many men with their scoops and food, at the ready, ‘Sai Ram’, with a smile, and happy to serve you. Tasty food, not so spicy. As I eat, I look over the shrine set up for Swami (rather nice swivel chair for Swami here).
My friend and I leave the North Indian canteen. There is a queue outside the Western Canteen; it goes right across the sand, the pathway, almost down into Canteen Avenue. We are surprised. Here we are, just finished eating and there is this large queue waiting to go into another canteen. We approach the lines and chat with a few waiting men.
Afterwards, we walk through the surging throng in Canteen Avenue. Remember the trees between West 2, West 3, West 4, West 5? Remember the birds? Do you recall the concrete paths white from the droppings? Well, there are more birds, the racket is louder and not much concrete is visible. Golly, they can drown out conversation, those birds. Where do they all come from, I wonder. In the next avenue, I see shaminas (tents) and various bookshops. Some selling Mrs Indulal Shah's magazine, Saradevi (EHV or SSE, I am not sure which). I purchase some Guides to Puttaparthi to post home to friends. Then I think of some more people, so I go back and buy two more. Seva dal says ‘Thank you’. I count out four books in my bag before walking away. Later, back in my room I find I have five books. Flabbergasted, I wonder how that 5th one got there. ‘Who is this one for’? I wondered.
One of the temporary shaminas is selling foreign books only. (How did I get in here, I wondered.) I listen to a student explain the contents of a CD. The hostel boys have made a compilation of photographs taken by students over the years and the proceeds will go to help blind people. He explains there are 2400 student photos of Swami on the CD. He shared with me that Swami lets them get up real close and take photos. I ask some technical questions and buy what undoubtedly is the best bargain of the day in Puttaparthi. In fact, it is an excellent production.
I walk further down Canteen Ave. That unique sweet smell of chapatti emerges from the Indian Canteen. I detect the odours of brinjal and chutney. My, my, I like that stuff. I enter the old bookshop; the first thing I notice is a new entrance and supermarket style self-selection shelves. I spy shelves of Spanish books and Italian books; then Latvian, Croatian, French books. Around the corner, Hindi, Tamil. ‘Where are the English books’, I wonder. I find them, a long shelf of what must be the largest collection of books on Sathya Sai Baba that I have ever seen. Slowly strolling, looking over heads and shoulders, I spied about 40 new books I have never clapped my eyes on before. I STOUTLY RESIST TEMPTATION and for the first time in my life, walk out of the bookshop without buying.
Leaving the bookshop, I walk toward the mandir and observe the underground offices. I point out the absolutely cute little Hanuman in the Sita-Ram shrine and my friend smiles. Taking the East Prashanthi walkway, I glance inside the darshan hall. Seva dals are busy with scaffolds, changing decorations. The darshan hall and mandir are dark; wheeled scaffolding is being pushed around. I arrive at the Ganesha Gate and see the old blue and white Telugu arch just behind the ashram wall: Welcome to Prashanthi Nilayam of Bhagavan Sri Sathya Sai Baba, a boy translates for me. The diesel generators emit hot air and a repetitive diesel engine humming. I turn back and approach the Ganesha Temple. Standing amid the crowds in the
darkness, under the trees, between family groups, cases, bags, crowd walking in and out, I slip of my chappals and chant a Ganesh stotram:
WE bow down to Lord Ganesh,Son of Lord Shiva,Master of All Knowledge,Master of All Energy,Supporter of the Universe,Remover of Fear,Remover of Obstacles,And Bestower of Salvation.We bow down to the Supreme, Sanctifying, Lord Ganesh, The elephant headed-one.Om Maha Ganpathaye Namaha.
I leave the ashram, satisfied.
Chapter 9 - Not All Cheese and Bikkies
Well, it has not been without its lessons. I was clipped by a motorcycle on my first night in Puttaparthi. Nothing serious, I hit the ground and got some gravel rash on the heel of my palm and lost some elbow skin. Lucky. First night. As I was going down (somewhere within my consciousness I realised I had been hit) I was watching the motor bike go down and I was more concerned for the young man on the bike. It seemed to go sideways and slide down the road. Many hands reached out and picked us up. A familiar voice said, “Are you all right?” I answered, “I think so”, and internally scanned my body. It all seemed to be there. A look at my stinging elbow. Bleeding. OK. I look at the young man, he apologises. I tell him he should toot.
Looking back on this, I see this was the device to deal with some negativity within me. For, shortly after, I got very angry and escalated to wrath. I was demanding this man go to the chemist with me and get something to fix my elbow. Of course no one spoke English on the street at that time of night and the policeman thought I wanted to lay a complaint. He insisted I come. I reluctantly went with him, and tried to find a friend who could translate. When they passed the chemist, I didn't want to go on, up the road past the Bus Station to the Police Station... I went back, I found someone who could translate. He told me the score very quickly and I knew what to do.
I realised that my mind had reacted and escalated (how hopeless!) and as I walked up to the Police Station, I understood that I created this reality, and I could fix it. It was of some concern, this young man could easily get locked up, and I could come under scrutiny and notice that I didn’t relish. The young man came up and apologised again and held my hand as we walked into the Police Inspector's Office.
I was fast, and dealt with it quickly. Smile, outside.
Ok, I walked back home, and I twigged that Swami set this up, ever so mildly, so I would become aware of a deleterious habit, and I could do something about it. Later on that night, of all people, a doctor I knew well walked in and took a look at me and dragged me off to his
clinic to clean my elbow up with a bit of anaesthetic. Infection prevented. Walking back home, I realised the bike could have hit me a lot harder. I silently thanked Swami.
I shoulda done something the next morning, and I didn't and more reactions within my mind began to emerge. Later that night, I was beginning to understand more, and I had a choice – to keep this and allow the mind to direct my behaviour – or to drop it and change. This young man on the motorbike had simply been a can-opener to let me see what was within me and how it controlled me. I developed bowel rumblings and pains. I began to understand. From my reading about healing, I knew that loss of control over bowels reflects loss of personal power. If I did not deal with the issue here and now, it would continue to erupt at inconvenient times in my life. Hence, I materialised the beginnings of Deli Belly as my body was warning me that I was about to surrender power to one of my tendencies or samskaras.
The next morning, when I tried to kick-start So-hum, in my minds' eye, Swami kept coming out and falling over in the darshan hall. This happened about 5 times, before the penny dropped. Swami was telling me he caught most of the impact for me and took it on himself; I was due an accident and by his grace it happened here—and he took on all of it—right on my first night. A friend leaned over and said, ‘You told me your stars were going to take a bad turn, and here you are, he has ameliorated it for you!’ External confirmation of internal message. How powerful!
I chose change.
The morning after, I sat with my back to East Prashanthi, and began to process with a kinesiology meridian point where psychological reversals can be effected. I did this for about 30 minutes until Swami came out. I did not take a good darshan (I felt), and I was not attending very well or anything like that. Immediately after darshan, people began to bump me and stand on my feet, and I began to get cranky, and I realised immediately, that I was being challenged. ‘Have you let this go?’ Each time I became irritated, I stopped, and said NO! (to the mind) I HAVE LET IT GO! very firmly. No point in being a victim to your own mind.
That afternoon, I repeated my affirmations, and selected a slightly different release technique (one I use to manage the mind) and I started coughing in darshan. I had to put my hand up over my mouth. Swami was giving darshan, (Whatever will they think of me?), I thought. While Swami was giving darshan, I continued my release. Swami is an avatar, and he says, USE ME! For many years I have coughed to release, (I still do) and continued to cough. I began to feel better, and after taking what seemed to be a good darshan, I did an internal self examination on this wrathful tendency and found it GONE! All I needed to do was to consciously reaffirm this to drop the deli belly. It took about a day to pass over into the body's knowing.
Swami has told, ‘Leave all your filth and garbage here with me in Prashanthi Nilayam. Don't take it back home with you’. It takes a little courage and self possession; self reliance to get started on this and be responsible for your own healing. So little by little, we can use him to heal and take appropriate action and get out of learned helplessness and whatever, and then he can use us.
Not all cheese and bikkies, but worth every effort.
Chapter 10 - The Convention Closes
After a restless night, (gratis deli belly) I arrive in the ashram at 6.30am. There is a line, and glancing down East Prashanthi walkway, I see the darshan hall is a sardine-tin job today, and I can observe men walking the back wall. I kick off my chappals and join the back of the line. A seva dal comes along and drags me down to the front. I stand. He tells me to join other the line when the back of it comes. Line moves. Other men join. Seva dal argue. I forget the seva dal and pull my line onto the end of the fast moving line (I had a lot of people behind me); lo and behold, I go thru the students gate and into the very top of the darshan hall just in front of the garage. I am about 10 feet from the verandah, seated one row from the front. Right in front of the red carpet and the gateway to East Prashanthi. Students to my left, staff on the verandah, students in front of me, students on my right. I begin to notice some subtle distinctions. Instead of an amorphous mass of white clad boys, I see distinctions, MBA students, ex-students, staff, junior college boys, and I see the Brindavan College sits quite distinctly apart from the Prashanthi College. Not all higgledy-piggledy as I surmised the other day. I see staff and monitors directing students where to sit.
I see a microphone on the porch. The decorations on my favourite pillars have been changed again. Now they have a red or pink lace surround with little Ganesha in a temple, alternate with Om and Sarva Dharma symbols. Pigeons above me squawk and fight over perches. The darshan hall is full, an ocean of black hair and brown faces, right down to the back wall, each side. I focus, none too successfully. Takes about three kick-starts. I have this ‘odd’ line of boys beside me; they are all Indian looking in white Punjabi suits, and wear the orange-coloured Sai Ram, Japan scarf. Talking Hindi and English.
At approximately 7.10 the music starts. Red carpet is rolled out in a hurry, and I watch the top of heads and people doing pranaams. Obviously Swami is in the hall, yet I cannot see. Three video men this morning. I hear applause. (This means Swami has done a materialisation ‘outside’ in the Darshan Hall. Applause is a polite way of saying, ‘Ooohhh! Look what Swami's done’... Most people get up and crane their necks around). After what seems to be a long time (I am reflectively enjoying the music) Swami comes into view on the men’s side. He stops in the middle to talk to some students who are up on their knees (there is a narrow 2 foot wide path through students sitting under the Perspex canopy. No prizes for guessing where certain students sprint to when they get inside) ... after Swami passes the students the path widens about 10 feet with the red carpet in the middle. Some men DO manage to lunge out to touch Swami's feet.
Swami begins to walk the men’s side. I see the top of his head, his arm is moving, and everyone is applauding again. Up they all get on their knees. I remain seated; I am far, far, away. Swami takes letters. His bodyguard has a plastic bag, half full of letters. Swami comes along the red carpet, his face a broad smile. Swami stops and makes the winding motion with his fingers, turns his hand up and lifts. Wipes his eye with a crooked finger. Turns, takes more letters. Looks across, smiling. Arriving at the top of the path, he hands letters to bodyguard. Swami turns left and walks out of the darshan hall into East Prashanti walkway; there are people sitting all over the avenue. Oh Lordy, he is taking letters out there! A loud voice roars a Jaikar as he comes out. ‘Bolo Bhagavan Sri Sathya Sai Baba Jiki! JAI! The entire hall responds. Swami smiles and lifts his hand, Another Jaikar, Jai!! Even louder; Swami takes letters and a third Jaikar comes; JAI !!! is the resounding reply. A fourth jaikar
starts and Swami puts his hand up, indicating ‘Enough’ and it peters out as the darshan music takes over.
He turns and walks toward where I sit, smiling. Lifts his hand toward us, and takes letters; comes closer, still smiling, takes more letters, and lifts his hand again. He looks over and for a split second, our eyes meet. A smile. He moves toward the students. Several students are right there, next to a corner Swami has to walk around. Five students have trays with prasad. Swami stops and I see him place his hand on all the trays. He taps the boys on the head. One student rises; he has a picture and marker pen. He earnestly pleads with Swami to sign the picture. Swami moves on. Swami turns to face the Institute staff and raises his hand in blessing. Turns and gestures for his bodyguard. Hands letters over. Moves around in front of the porch. Applause again. I cannot see Swami. I see the top of his hair as he climbs the porch; thereafter, I lose sight of Swami for the rest of darshan and the divine discourse.
Boys come, in white shawls. Intone slokas. I look across at students, I see some of them know these slokas and softly chant; I see little heads bob (taking padnamaskar) and come back up, and then take a seat. Indulal Shah takes the podium and addresses the gathering. When he leaves, I see a microphone come out to Swami's desk. Anil Kumar rises and takes the lectern.
Silence.
Have you ever experienced soul hunger? Have you ever heard Swami sing, and your soul thrills to the sound, irrespective of your understanding? I heard Swami's soft voice come over the speakers, and from somewhere deep within myself, I wanted, and wanted and wanted to hear this again. I listened, recalling the first time I ever heard Swami say anything; he sang a poem before a discourse in Poornachandra, and it reached through me to eternity.
I listened, and waited for more. Swami singing in Telugu will probably never make the top ten in the pop charts, but when your atma (soul) hears the paramatma (the great oversoul) sing, it never forgets that sensation of recognition.
Anil Kumar translates song. Swami commences, ‘Premaswarupa’, Embodiments of Divine Love. The discourse is about education, Truth, humanity. I cannot see Swami, only Anil
Kumar. Staff move, and I begin to see the top of Swami's head. His hand moves forward emphatically as he speaks. I see students nodding before Anil Kumar translates. Applause, before translations. Anil Kumar translates: “Whatever feeling you send out to another person, that feeling comes back to you.” Most of the local crowd understand Telugu, so sometimes there is laughter before Anil Kumar translates. More applause. Swami breaks into English. ‘Truth is God.’ A little further on, I begin to understand patches. ‘He who protects truth with his action is God. He has nothing to fear’. Several times, Swami breaks into English, ‘Conscious, Conscience, Consciousness’; I hear him name the 5 Human values in both English and Sanskrit. It is nice to recognise what Swami says.
For a time, I close my eyes, and just listen to the soft, melodious tones of Swami's voice. I just rest, drifting inward to space, space, space, riding the crest to the very sound of his voice. It is a sweetness, a restful experience, bliss, simply drifting along, alert, listening to that voice. I come out, to see students laughing at something Swami has told.
I can hardly tell when the discourse has ended, everyone begins clapping and I can just faintly hear a song. I listen and pick it up, ‘suka shanti nahi’ and the hall responds, Hari Bhajana bina sukha shanti nahi. I cannot hear Swami over the clapping ... yet we all seem to get it right and respond and sing just so. Then it gets faster and faster, and faster until Swami sings the last line again and again, Hari bhajana bina, Hari bhajana bina, bhajana bina, sukha shanti nahi...
Arathi is taken. The bell rings; Students stand and wave camphor flames. Bell stops, Narayana, Narayana Om Sathya takes over the hall completely. Students clap in unison and drive the chanting faster and faster. Asato Ma thunders through the hall. Silence.
Now students break everywhere fetch bowls of prasad. Most senior students get up and take boxes and excitedly depart to the waiting ocean of devotees in the hall and hand out the Lord's Prasad, blessed food, a small sweet. An announcement: The final meeting of delegates for convention at is at 2.30 pm.
Morning darshan is over. Somehow in the medley of students passing by I was handed two serves of prasad. I smile to myself and depart to hunt in the madding crowd for my chappals.
Chapter 11 - The Day of Guru Pournima
Since the commencement of the convention, each evening there have been cultural programs and presentations in the Poornachandra Hall. The side doors have been rolled up and crowds mill about the various entrances. Tonight, I pass that by and aim for my favourite eatery, the North Indian Canteen. As there is no convention on and the final declarations deliberations have been taken, I encounter large crowds of delegates making purchases in the shaminas between the West Blocks, and in orderly queues for the various canteens. I had earlier decided to make an effort to manage impatience. I was most certainly presented with opportunities in the canteen. I was surprised, once I put the brakes on my mind (Who is being impatient?, I ask myself), I was then able to internally process the frequent invasions of Indians in to the queue right in front of my nose ...
It has been raining, the sand is wet, my feet are dirty and my trouser cuffs are getting wet as I search in the dark for my chappals. The sweet smell of rain and sticky humidity pervades the atmosphere. It is dark now as I glance down toward Canteen Avenue. It is a solid wall of
bodies full across that wide avenue, silhouetted by the occasional car motoring slowly through the throng. I catch the eye of a lady who is in the same group as myself. She has been working as a seva dal in Poornachandra Hall assisting the delegates; she told how lovely it was to have Swami in his chair to listen to the speakers for two hours each afternoon. I replied, “Oh, that’s nice, we had a lovely two hour wait for Swami in the darshan hall each day!” She tells me of another group member who was repeatedly encouraged to come and stoutly resisted; only to come at the last moment, and he ended up being a speaker in a session with Swami present in his chair! Right there in front of Swami! I laughed with joy!
We part ways and I go home to an irritating internet connection that is not quite working properly. Drat. Have to wait until tomorrow. I ask the inner voice. ‘Tomorrow’, comes the commanding reply. Have to practise detachment, I guess. I pass men hanging palm leaves and bunting across Main Road, Puttaparthi, in the dark.
The next morning it is all go, go, go, as I head toward the ashram. People have been in lines since 2.30 am, I am told. I walk under an arch in the main street, wait for it, a little sign on the arch tells it has been ‘Erected by the Sathya Sai Baba Samithi of PUTTAPARTHY’. I was gobsmacked. I thought, ‘Oh my goodness, there is a Sai Seva Samithi (a devotional group with devotees and chairperson) here?’ My, my, I read that sign with surprise. Later on I find out that the Samithi was formed several months ago, and they go on service projects in the village. They have bhajans in the Pedda Venkamma Kalanya Mantap (marriage hall – actually, this is attached the building that was Swami’s first mandir here – what we call Partha Mandir) every night, and they go on Nagarsankirtan in the village. Bhat, the temple and Prashanthi Mandir pujari, lives in Partha Mandir. Everyone likes him and smiles when they mention his name. He IS a sweet man. The other day I saw a photo of Swami's brother and the local Inspector of Police, they were waving the Arathi lamp at a service project that was beginning, somewhere in the village. So, they have put a lovely arch over the main road, right next to the Ganesha gate, gaily coloured and decorated with three large pictures of Swami, ‘Welcome Sai Devotees - Gurupurnimam Mahotsavam’. This felt so right. Another arch has been erected near the Gopuram gate. Banners and colourful pennants hang across Main Road. I walk into the ashram.
The atmosphere has an incredible quality, I experience it the moment I enter; heat, shakti, it presses into me as my external vision is assailed by masses of humanity. Ganesha. Flames on the temple fence. Coconuts breaking (today is also known as Vyasa Purnima, the day Sage Vyasa finished dictating the Bhagavad Gita to Lord Ganesha, who broke off one of his tusks to continue writing when his pen ran dry. He is since known as Ekadanta, the single tusked.). So devotees also remember Ganesha on this most auspicious occasion. Crowds moving around the Ganesha Temple. Men asleep next to their suitcases on the grass; people have arrived by bus during the night; chappals are discarded everywhere. Next to the Mandir, a multicoloured dot matrix board flashes out an illuminated orange and green ‘Manasa bhajare guru charanam, dustara bhava sagara tharanam’. This is the bhajan Swami taught on his declaration day. An approximate translation of this is, ‘O Mind, hold onto the Lotus Feet of the guru, and cross the ocean of life’. Lines of men next to the mandir. I might join. I hear ‘crack, crack, crack’ as many coconuts are being broken. A camphor flame flares up on the gate to the Temple.
Pray before Ganesha. Walk around the temple, this is called pradakshina. Colourful garlands and bunting hang all over the temple, with pennant flags strung around the perimeter. Walk around several times, surrounded by women. Go to Murugan temple; Murugan has also been
decorated, with garlands gaily hanging from the sides. Crowds here also, Murugan is patron God of all spiritual seekers and aspirants. My eye catches the peacock, ever facing Murugan, his vehicle, the perpetual devotee focussed on his guru. Something has caught my eye, the garland on the peacock, the oil lamp, the lotus flowers; something taps at my intuition as I glance at the peacock: ‘the Lord and his perennial devotee’, I thought. I turn the corner of the temple and the sun breaks through the clouds above the Puttaparthi Hills. The high-rise in Chitravathi Rd cannot obscure this grand sight. How often have I seen the Puttaparthi hills in the dark, walking to darshan, and now, the Sun’s rays crack through the clouds, over the top of the hills surrounding this divine valley! I feel joy, I feel at home. I continue to gaze at the hills as I walk around Murugan.
Walk toward East Prashanthi. Looking over the heads of men I see the darshan hall is full. The far gate is closed. What to do? I wonder, as I glance down the walkway. It is a mass of people sitting down, people pushing to get through, I look at the lines beside the mandir, they are not moving, and how will the staff and students get in and pass all of this? I look at policemen’s arms waving in the air over bodies, moving people away from a gate I cannot even see. The inner voice comes loud and clear: ‘Take my darshan at the back of Poornachandra, and go, sit and listen to my discourse’.
I start to move toward the South Prashanthi footpath. There are so many people coming the other way toward the mandir. Cannot go anywhere, the primary school children are streaming down the hill, a long cord of small white clad boys all holding hands and smiling as they move quickly; Seva dal join hands to block the path. Sri Rangan, Convenor of the Books and Publications Trust, lends a hand. Next come Anantapur College girls, all in eye-catching Rose and Gold saris. They looked smart and elegant as they process down the hill from the primary school. More children come gaily cascading down the hill, I recognise a teacher here and there. Sunday Morning at this footpath is an event. Parents come and wait here after darshan, they catch their children on the way out after morning darshan, and so they spend a few precious Sunday hours with their children before taking them to lunch at the Primary School hostel. Finally the children have gone, the wall of seva dal with hands joined parts to let people cross.
I move up the path at South Prashanthi. Cannot move, there is a solid wall of women crowded around the stairwell. I say ‘Sai Ram, Excuse’ and try to (politely) push through. I look at spots along the wall which forms the back and roof of the old shopping centre. Women standing along the wall. I move on past another jam-packed stairwell. No spaces, the wall is too high, I move even further on; Aha! A place, just wide enough for me. I plop my cushion on the wall in front of me and prop my elbows on it. I glance at the watch the man beside me is wearing. 6.25 am. I close my eyes and begin to focus. I think, ‘This is my guru’s day; I will honour the guru on this festival of the guru’.
Soon, I return to the world and gaze over the decorations at the back of Poornachandra. There is a canopy of garlands with bunting and festival decorations right from the large inner Orange door right to the side of the darshan hall. I notice South African youth behind me. Look back toward Poornachandra, seva dal are scattering quickly. I focus on the door. In silence, sans music, I observe Swami come out, so fast. I join my hands, pranaams, and elbow the men talking beside me to direct their attention. Just the top of Swami is visible; he has caught everyone on the hop: the Police, bodyguards and dignitaries all move quickly to catch up with Swami. He moves forward, alone, I see his head and shoulders only. I turn and pull several (shorter) South African youth behind me to the front and point. Too late, Swami
has turned and gone down the side of the darshan hall. I tell the South African youth, pointing, “Look here, keep your eyes right there and wait; Swami has gone down the side path between Poornachandra and the darshan hall to give darshan to all the women who cannot get into the hall. They are sitting out the back - Swami will go and bless them, for they will not have any other darshan.” I give up my place and push forward some more youth from South Africa. After some moments, Swami emerges and I point through the youths, saying, “Look, here he comes!” Such a brief glimpse and Swami has entered the darshan hall. I leave and walk west to Building A.
(I later found out that these lads had arrived that very morning from Pretoria.)
Here at Building A, I put my cushion down and sit on the steps. I am alone. After a time, the loudspeaker at the front of this building bursts into darshan music. Swami is still walking around giving darshan. When he (obviously) reaches his seat, the music stops. I hear microphones bump, and young voices begin to intone Ganapathi Prarthana, (Invocation to Lord Ganesha) then a lengthy guru sloka (chant). I hear guru and Guru Purnima several times during this sloka. A male speaker introduces the morning program, two speakers and divine discourse.
Professor Gopinath, Head of the Anantapur Ladies College of the Sathya Sai Institute of Higher Learning speaks.
She is colloquially known as Jai Maa. I must to convey to you just how clear this loudspeaker is. No echo, no boom, no squelch, it is crystal clear sitting here. The sound is ever so much clearer and with less sharp treble than the speakers in the darshan hall. That is probably on account there are so many speakers placed so high up. Whatever. I enjoy magnificent speech, I feel like I am sitting just in front of the actual speakers.
I listen to Professor Gopinath extol the glories of Sai. Then, she breaks into story and regales us with recollections of her visits to Swami whilst she was in the company of her mother. She describes several incidents with Swami. One in 1948, he was only twenty-two years old. She spoke of bhajan singers who sang on and on, and Swami telling them not to think they are the best, he does not like this. She tells of women coming dressed in their best saris. Swami told, “This is not my idea, do not do like this”. Professor Gopinath spoke about her role as Principal of the Anantapur Ladies College. Patience and listening to all these children with their fears. Professor Gopinath speaks impressively, highlighting from several different angles the saying ‘Fulfil the role you have come here to play’. She warms to her theme, saying that we should play our roles to the best of our ability; it is alright to wear jewellery and best saris, so long as the role is played with humility. We should aim to please the director of the play, so that we might play better and bigger roles. A captivating speaker with a wealth of devotion and wisdom. I was very taken with her talk.
Another speaker recaps the points Swami has made to the Convention delegates.
I hear microphones bump and then Swami's warm, how to describe, warm, no, that is no good, can a singing voice suggest rich vibrant colour? All the harmonies of the Universe? All the tones and semi-tones? With tremolo and quaver, Swami's 75 year old voice traverses up and down the harmonic scales. I hear Muslim, Sikh, Hindu, Christian, or like that; Swami bursts out with more harmony captivating the ears, yet in the heart it is like the flute of Krishna again, your ears and your heart cannot leave off this singing.
Anil Kumar translates the song. Swami begins, I hear him mention panchabhuthas, panchapranas. I recognise the Sanskrit and anticipate Anil Kumar's translation. The five elements are the source of the five vital life forces around the body. Swami tells something that catches my attention completely. Lakhs and lakhs (thousands and thousands) of light rays emerge from us as we look around. We waste lakhs of light rays as we waste our vision on bad sights, or look with bad sight at another person. I begin to visualise the light coming out of the eyes as people look, and I begin to explore this image, it means we are all light and all God; this is a most interesting way to look at sight, vision, and a most compelling metaphor illustrating how we can waste energy with our very sight.
Swami breaks into English, ‘See what is good’. We waste our energy, the bad karma will come to us, and we will have to suffer. Manage the senses, he pounds it in, manage the senses, and the sweet smell of food cooking comes down from the canteen, and oh, I get hungry, Oh, Swami! Do you have to do like this? I reflected. Oh, my tummy rumbled, Swami was talking about taste and the tongue, and down wafted the smell of chapattis and curry, Ohhhh, what a place to listen to Swami talk about all this! I closed my eyes and concentrated. Maybe I should be in the darshan hall...
The South African youth I met before come and sit on the steps. An ashram dog rolls on its back, wriggling. Storm clouds scud across the sky, providing a cool blanket of air- conditioning. The loudspeaker reproduces Swami and Anil Kumar faithfully. Families walk past. Young girls in dresses run. A father and his two sons sit in the sand. Another South African youth comes up; he makes circling motions with his hands and produces a laddu for us. Everyone laughs, and he shares the prasad. A coolie sweeps the path and grounds in front of Roundhouse One. Drivers wash their cars. Seva dals walk past. I see three boys pass pushing the most unique tricycle in the world, the bakery-three-wheeler. Up the hill they push, as two policemen pass by walking other way. People come and sit on the grass. More clouds drift across the grey ashram skies.
Swami goes on, continually repeating his points, master the senses, master the sight, master the tongue, breaks in to English again and again, ‘See no evil, see only good, Speak no evil, Speak only good’, he roundly reinforces his theme of true vision of humanity. Japanese and Indian men come and sit. Swami keeps coming back to that theme. Iti dristhi iti, ‘what is seen reflects the seer’. The grass strip in front of Building A is soon obscured with devotees sitting and listening, facing the speaker. A newspaper delivery boy comes on a pushbike and takes the papers inside the building. Swami speaks in English, ‘Purnima means full moon’.
Then Swami says, ‘From this day forth, Swami will grant no namaskars (blessing obtained by touching Swami’s feet). See what is good, see internally, take namaskars on the inner level. If you keep your vision pure, you will see this. Do not take bad sight and take namaskars internally, this is not good’. I leaned over toward the Brahmin sitting beside me, and said, “Swami has dropped a big one here, no more padnamaskar”, and the Brahmin looked at me and we laughed together. Oh, Anil Kumar obligingly translated more and more, Golly, Swami is pushing us all inward, to purity, to the Inner Sai.
All too soon, Swami breaks into Prema mudita manase kaho, ‘Chant the name of the Lord with love’ and the discourse is over. Clap, clap, clap, I try to hear Swami sing those soft words and give up, too much clapping. A friend comes up and we walk back down to the Mandir. Om Jai Jagadisha Hare comes over the speakers. We arrive near East Prashanti; the
air is warm and sweet. Men are crowding around to get prasad to take home. People sit on the grass with their travel bags, having just arrived on the bus. Announcement, a cultural program in the mandir tonight at 6PM. After searching the shoe racks endlessly, I find my chappals and leave the ashram.
As I emerge for afternoon darshan, I see storm clouds above and smell the freshness and rain in the air. I suspect a quick monsoon burst, and sure enough, just as I get inside the ashram gates, rain begins to sheet down. The wind whips up a gust, and there are crowds under the trees, all surrounding the Navagrahas (a small open shrine-temple dedicated to the nine planets). We are all under the influence of the planets, in the Vedic schema of life). I look up at the leaves. There is going to be some big raindrops shortly, I think. Quickly, I run through the rain, throw my chappals down near the generator, and take the shortcut behind East Prashanthi, to arrive in a stairwell under cover with a lot of others sheltering from the rain. It sheets down and I can see the wind gusts driving the rain everywhere. We look across, Swami is on the verandah, and here I stand trapped in the stairwell. I move to the front and take a good look after some minutes. I am not staying here, I think, and I move on. I run down East Prashanthi walkway, and observe the water pouring out the down pipes, warm frothy water running over my feet, and I recall running through inches of warm water beside this hall many a time. As I wipe feet on the soggy coir mats at the gate, a seva dal says ‘Sai Ram!’ as I enter the darshan hall. A quick frisk later, I can go, sit and take darshan.
Chapter 12 - The Festival Is Over
It is dark as I go to morning darshan, People are waking up in the street, and I hear dogs fighting. I take coffee, watching street sweepers. Enter the ashram. Women are queuing up for morning Nagarsankirtan. As I turn toward East Prashanthi, I see 5 rows of men sitting, waiting to take their turn for Nagarsankirtan. Enter darshan hall. A bright light is on in the interview room, someone is inside giving a sweep and clean. Golly, the light shines out of that room, beams come out the doorway, so brightly, into the darkness of the porch. Soon, men emerge from the mandir temple, they have been for meditation. Seva Dals enter and sweep. The mandir is dark; only one or two lights are on. Sitting, I begin to focus. Thought has to stop. I drop down, creating Swami's face. So-hum. Kick-start again. When I come out, I am surprised, time has flown. I see the verandah people surge to take their places on the verandah; no, they are held. Swami's guests must go first and get front row on the verandah; thereafter, the institute staff and co-ordinators are allowed onto the verandah. Soon, the music starts, oh, it is only 6.40 am, men bunch up, they need no seva dal now, watch them go forward as they get up and struggle to see Swami around the corner.
Students are coming in; I see them sprint to get to their places. I see devotees run to the top seats near the garage; students pour in and sit near the garage. Too late and caught outside, students begin to form a line outside. Swami is EARLY!
Men bunch up and move forward at least 10 feet, as they push and struggle with all their might to see Swami. One man pushes himself up with his hand on my knee; another one bangs his head on mine as he pushes forward and tries to see Swami. I keep sitting, and appreciate this strong, manly, powerful desire and pull of devotion to see Swami; I understand, this is no mob; these men really, truly, want to see Swami. After what seems ages, with men pushing forward, leaning over trying to see around a squat pillar, finally, over
comes Swami to the men’s side, they are all up on their haunches, up on their knees, I cannot see the top of Swami's head for hands held up in pranaams.
A little order comes as Swami walks quickly. Takes very few letters. Makes vibuthi for one. Quiet clapping. Turns, faces down the hall, makes a patting movement with his hand. As if he acknowledges our presence, our devotion. Turns and walks toward the garage. Moves up the red carpet, no letters taken. Reaching the end of the carpet, he turns left and goes out to East Prashanti. Police Inspector moves quickly to be at the gateway when Swami emerges. Shortly, Swami re-enters the darshan hall. He turns, moves toward the devotees sitting in front of the garage. Stops and speaks for a time. Crosses over, begins to take letters from devotees; many get up and struggle to hand him letters. He passes the students and institute staff, climbing the front steps of the porch. Gives the brass lion a pat. Funny, I have often seen Swami give the lion a pat; I sometimes wonder if there is the spirit of a real lion inside.
I have a clear view of the verandah this morning. Swami moves up and down, sends people to the front. Takes letters. Speaks with staff. Makes vibuthi for one. Sends him to the front. Goes in the interview room alone. Music still on. Some moments later he comes out sans letters and sends people in. Moves back down the verandah, calls another one in. The wife comes over. Points to the room. Wife goes up to Swami and says something. Eh? He leans forward to hear, points into the room. Lady enters. Swami goes in last and closes the door. Music stops. Students begin to come in. Students just pour in and a white haze of moving boys obscures the front of the porch as they take up their places. Devotees begin to get up and stand.
I try to focus, too many men standing, talking. I move closer toward the mandir, still more men come and stand. I don't care for this; I move away and plop down near the Japanese. Retinue. It seems the mind must stop, I try to stop, in the end just let go. Only when I let go, the silence emerges. Ouch, I am far away from true sadhana, I think to myself. I reflect on all the days passed, as the crowd has come, it has been increasingly difficult to focus before and after a darshan. More focus on keeping your seat sometimes. I have been here a while now,
the body no longer protests as I sit still for a long time. It wasn't like that on the first two days. Now, I feel a challenge to seek Swami in silence. After a while I observe the Japanese. There are Japanese, Indians, Italians, and other (apparently) Europeans all wearing ‘Sai-Ram Japan’ scarves. All reading Japanese books about Swami. Seems to solve the oddity I observed several days ago. Their co-ordinator comes and listens to them, reads a paper they hand to him, takes several photo albums of Sai-satsang and Sai Seva in Japan back to the verandah to show Swami when he comes out of interview. After sitting for a long time, I take leave of the Divine and depart.
I cannot see past the bus station in Main Rd, afterwards. Dust, departing Convention delegates, buses, buses, buses. Taxis and cars in every street. Inside, a crowd outside the Bookstall, purchasing the Bal Vikas Guru's discourse. Canteen Avenue is clogged with buses, ready to take pilgrims home. I count 13 buses lined up beside the two Indian Canteens. More buses coming in. Queue at the Indian and Nepal devotees Accommodation Office. Mr Rao waves and smiles as I pass. He has been there for many years. These sweet retired men who give their mornings and afternoons to Swami and seva, they keep the ashram and its many services functioning. Airline schedule on the wall, advises Indian Airlines IC 669 and 670 flights. A faded notice from the Southern Railway advises train times. Near the Secretary’s office a notice board hangs:
5.20 AM Omkar5.35 AM Nagarsankirtan“About” 6.45 am, Darshan9.00 AM Bhajans“About” 3 PM Darshan5.15 PM Bhajans
I see the students in the dormitories attached to the end of East Prashanthi, and that Great Lion of God, Narasimhamurthy, Warden of the Brindavan Hostel, enter a dormitory. There is a man who I have seen tremble with reverential awe before Bhagavan. I was in the Kalanya Mantap at Brindavan when he spoke, with Swami's permission, and told stories of the visit to Kodaikanal. Did you know Swami's room is the smallest room in the house at Kodai? He barely has room to turn around, just a cot and a small room for washing. Narasimhamurthy told, he saw a cut on Swami's finger one morning. He asked, Swami, how did you cut your finger? Oh, he banged it on the wall of his room as he turned, in the morning. What a story ...
I walk with a friend down the main road toward the village, on past the Gopuram Gate. He takes me to Sathya Lane, which runs along the back of the Indian Canteen wall, full of high rise and concrete pathways. I spy impossibly small cul-de-sacs. Eventually we come to Shanti Lane, which backs onto the ashram somewhere near the old sanitation plant. We go to Shanti Library and Gardens. This is a petite oasis of garden, paths and pond. In a further part is a small library. A list on the wall tells me which videos will be on each afternoon of the week. As I enter, I see the Mahabharata is showing with Italian sub-titles. People sit in chairs watching. I am drawn to a picture of Swami with Raye Thomas. I look closer, I see a robe of Swami’s and I am looking into a glass display of all the materialisations Swami gave to Joy Thomas. Rings, Ganesha Statue, japamala, there is a picture of Swami, with Raye and Joy Thomas. It is a touching gift to the library. The library is a quiet, spacious little building with a table and library cards. It is both a book library, and a video library. A young man comes, his name is Sairam, and I met him many years ago. I look at his smile and recognised him. When I leave the library I think to myself that he has flourosis, that dental deterioration of his
teeth. Years ago he had perfect white teeth; now he has brown lines in his teeth. Swami has spoken of this in some discourses and some preventative action is being taken. This is part of the Water project.
Afternoon darshan. Seva Dals behind me have been on Canteen Seva since 3AM. They have finished for the day, taken their scarves off and come to darshan. One keeps falling asleep and bumping me. The inner voice tells me, ‘He has been up all night’. I let the distraction go. Read discourse. No focus, the air is a bit muggy. I look at the seated VVIP (very) Very Important Persons) and notice there are no students. I look around to the dormitories, all empty, no bags, towels or students. I asked myself, ‘Returned to Brindavan?’ Darshan hall is dark. Swami comes at 3.05 ... pauses, slowly, talks to many, many women. Crosses several times to take letters. Walking across the now bare space under the Perspex canopy, his hair takes a light brown hue and his robe becomes soft ochre, soft and bright. As Swami comes nearer, his face is quite brown. Neat, clean, pressed robe, I commented to someone the other day, we always see Swami in a neat and crisply ironed robe, I have only ever seen creases when he has been in the car for a long ride. I think to myself, he must put on a fresh robe for us, every darshan. ALWAYS clean shaven. I think Swami does his best for us devotees. It is up to us to do our best for him.
Abhayahasta, hand held up in blessing as he approaches the men. Stops, talks for a time. Men up on their knees, perhaps it is their last darshan, they go home tonight. Little boys stand up and hold hands high in pranaams. Swami passes us by, his smile widens as men reach out with letters.
Turns and walks up toward the garage, moves over and speaks with members of a Samithi sitting in front of the garage. I recall darshans from days past: Swami would come back and walk up and down the rows of men giving padnamaskar. Students followed Swami with the shopping bag and gave out handfuls of packets of vibuthi and pictures of Swami to all the men receiving padnamaskar.
Hankies would go down for Swami to walk on, four five men at once taking padnamaskar, Swami slaps men on the back. Three rows on, he turns the corner and materialises a ring for a man on the end of the line. Men clap. Moves on walking up and down.
This time, Swami grasps the front of his robe and ascends the steps of the now bare porch and walks past Ganesha in his little shrine, and the waiting lions. Jumsai rises and speaks with Swami. Swami gestures to the room, and Jumsai leaves to collect some devotees. All enter the interview room.
Gurupournima Sandesh (part)
I want to tell you one more point. You may feel pained by what I am going to tell you now, but I am happy about it. From today onwards, I am not going to give padmkanaskar to anybody because I and you are one. God is present in all. Easwara sarva bhuthanam ... God is the indweller of all beings. Understand this truth. From today onwards, I have resolved not to give namaskars to anybody. You may do Namaskar to your parents as they and you are not aware of the truth that God is present in all. Since I know the truth I shall follow it. The same Atma is present in you, Me and everybody else. So, no one needs to do namaskara to anybody for that matter. If you still want to do Namaskar, do it mentally. Bring your palms together and say "Swami, I offer my ten senses to you". That is enough;
you don't need to touch my feet to do Namaskar. Understand the truth that God is in you and act accordingly. Then you become God. If somebody is offered Namaskar, others are feeling jealous. I am stopping this practice of giving Namaskars only to see that such feelings of jealousy do not sprout in you. Wherever you are, offer your Namaskar to me mentally. That gives me happiness.
Chapter 13 – Snapshots of the Divine Valley
As I look back on those two weeks in the Divine Valley, some snapshots come to mind.
I wondered why that gust of wind hit Swami so hard on that particular day he came out. Nature is peaceful in its natural state, and we create the weather with our feelings and our thought forms. If we think it hot, the weather obliges and produces hot for us. If we are angry or violent, the weather reflects that for us also. If we are evil, the weather, and the planet, as Swami has so recently revealed, will reflect that also. Think of all the motion pictures where evil, horror, gruesomeness and dread are accompanied by attendant weather, winds, storms, tornadoes, tremor, earthquake, eruptions, and other natural phenomena that reflects the capacity for horror in the human form. Swami is Shiva-Shakti in nature and form. Shiva takes all poison of evil in the world and contains it in his neck. Perhaps, that day, Sai-Shiva was being assailed with the poison of all the ills of this modern day and age. That sudden squall of wind hit him really hard.
Doubtless you all wonder if I got an interview. I joined a group (we formed it before departure, actually) and never had a meeting until the convention was over. However, we roughly knew the numbers and had agreed to wear the scarf. Before, during and after, I have the following intuition: If my mind went to the idea of interview during darshan, I had lost the plot and had allowed my mind, and its attendant desires to dictate my presence and reason for being in darshan. Fairly quickly I began to put the brakes on the mind. Witness. Listen.
After Guru Purnima my mind again wandered to the exotic idea of interview. I was reflecting in my room one afternoon, and the thought came to me, “If Swami gave you an interview, would you hear anything new?” In reply to that thought, I reflected: It would all be the same. Swami disseminating his teaching, and attending to the personal sufferings, issues and wants of other devotees. The next day, the inner voice came after darshan and asked me, “What do you get from following Sathya Sai Baba?” I answered, ‘Peace, meaning and purpose in life, and love, love the world cannot give.’ The inner voice said, “That is your satisfaction, take that, not interview”. Thus, I obtained a completely new focus.
A very peaceful focus and a focus that has a lot of determination and ‘satisfaction’ in it. Swami wrote in his letter to his brother in 1947, that devotees should obtain self-reliance and do good works for society. In a sense, I left with a lot of self reliance and self-satisfaction in a higher sense. It is partly resourced from Sathyam vada, dharmam chara; (Speak truthfully, follow righteousness). The other resource is stillness.
Further reflection afterward revealed another satisfaction: I obtain a way to recollect myself. I know who I am and that is not something the world defines, that is something I have. However, the world and the mind do continually evaluate, measure against, interpret. My measure is Sathyam vada, dharmam chara; (Speak truthfully, follow righteousness).
There are VERY FEW foreigners at Prashanthi Nilayam. I noted closed buildings, second, third, fourth floors all closed up in some of the North buildings. Only 4 sheds were in use; the Seva Dal quarters are now closed, only North 1 - 4 high rise were being used. That time of 5 or 7 persons per room is gone; as Swami told some time ago, the times of ONE person to a room is NOW. Long term foreigners told me of fast darshan, no interviews, and no groups. If you came late for darshan, you would make line 7 or line 8 back from the front.
Yet, a strong sense of HIS presence prevails. A hospital to be built in every state in India. I was in Bombay when Swami arrived there. Over half a million people lined the streets of Bombay and Latur to see Swami. Take Padnamaskar on the inner level. Educare, the process to now move into the Government school systems worldwide to bring about the teaching of the five human values. World Wide transformation is taking place. The mission of the Sai Avatar moves ever onward. Blessed are those who are called, blessed are those who serve, and blessed are those who hear the word of Sai and keep it.
About the Author:
Chris Parnell is a retired public servant, currently studying to become an interfaith minister. He has been involved in religious and spiritual publishing for over three decades and was a member of the editorial team which produced the great work, Love is My Form, a pictorial biography of the first twenty-five years of the life of Sri Sathya Sai Baba.
Chris Parnell continues to serve as an editor.
Over many visits to India, he developed the habit of recording his experiences in the ashrams of Sathya Sai Baba and his own divine experiences.
