Glorious Days with Bhagavan

In professor Kasturi’s autobiography, “Loving God,” which Bhagavan released on Christmas day, 1982, he provides intimate glimpses of early days with the Avatar. A very close devotee of Baba, Kasturi relates in his own inimitable style how Bhagavan directed him to go on a pilgrimage with his mother from Puttaparthi. The article gives us a peek into precious times when early devotees had close access to Baba.  

Prof. Kasturi had not received his pension for a whole year after his retirement from a government college in April 1954. When he did receive the amount in a lump sum, his first act was to inform Baba. “When I went to Puttaparthi to tell Him that I had received a full year’s pension (approximately $48.) He suggested (that is to say commanded) that we go on a pilgrimage to the sacred sites in the Gangetic region, to Haridwar, Kasi, Prayag, Gaya, Dakshineswar [all pilgrimage places].

When I delayed a few seconds to respond, Baba put His hand on my shoulder, saying, ‘Go! Take your mother to Kasi, Triveni, and Gaya. She has prayed for years for the chance. She believes that your father’s soul can get peace only if obsequies offerings are made at Holy Gaya. Why do you hesitate? Purchase three railway tickets (for Kasturi, his mother, and his wife) for the journey. We four can travel on those.’ That remark clinched the program,” he wrote. After describing the pilgrimage in graphic detail, Prof. Kasturi describes their return to Bangalore and the life at the ashram as follows:

Divine will and spiritual discipline

On reaching Bangalore after a day’s layover in Madras [in South India], I wrote to Bhagavan who was in Kodaikanal, a hill resort near Madurai [in South India]. I described our thrilling experience at Haridwar and Benaras, and offered my gratitude to Him for safely guiding us through the land sanctified by saint Ramakrishna.

In response, I received a reply from Baba, in Kannada [language spoken in Bangalore] written in Roman script. He wrote, “I am happy that you returned, full of joy after visiting the holy places with your matru devi [venerable mother] and graha-lakshmi [wife—goddess of the household].

“How can delay, disappointment, or danger cross your plans when Swami is ever with you? My name is not distinct from my form. The name brings the form before the mind’s eye as soon as it is pronounced, remembered, or heard. When the form is before the eye, the name comes into the consciousness that very moment. Since the name is dancing ever on your tongue, the form has to be ever before you, and beside you. There was no need to specially mention it as a gift from Me. I have to manifest the form, whenever and wherever My name is remembered with faith, or is sung in devotion.

“You might say that those ‘visions were boons of grace from Swami.’ No, I always say, sadhana (yearning) first, sankalpa (will) later. My sankalpa confers bliss only after assessing the depth of the sadhana. Sadhana is the essential pre-requisite. You were a professor for long. So you can easily under-stand this. You must have evaluated the answer scripts of many students. You assign grades only after careful scrutiny to discover how diligent they [students] have been in their studies. I also measure and weigh the steadiness of the sadhana you have imposed on your thoughts, words, and deeds, and I frame my sankalpa in accordance with your progress. Many are not aware that the misery in which they find themselves can be negated by sadhana and the sankalpa that can be won through it.”

This letter, I must add, does not reveal the amazing spontaneity of Baba’s compassion. Sankaracharya [a well-known saint] describes the Divine taskmaster as “the embodiment of inexhaustible compassion which does not examine credentials”. Measuring and weighing sadhana in order to measure out sankalpa is operative only after His grace has led the straying steps into the fold. Barely entering His teens, Baba had announced to the world, through a letter to His elder brother, that He had decided to ‘hold by the hand,’ and save the unfortunates who miss the road to ‘freedom from fear’, abhaya, identified in the Upanishads with moksha [liberation] itself.

Hold by the hand

I asked Him once why He had to hold them [the wayward] by the hand. “‘Lead, kindly light’ is all they pray for,” I said. Baba said, “Light can help only those who have insight. The blind, purblind, and those whose imagination has raised fumes of fanaticism or clouds of fog have to be led by the hand. There’s many a slip between one step and the next. Moreover, I have to inoculate them against cowardice with the vaccine of courage. I have to administer injections in order to reinforce faith and fortitude. How can the doctor use the needle if he does not hold the patient firm by the hand?”

He has announced often while addressing thousands in many places, “If you need me, you deserve me.” And, He is the judge of the urgency and intensity of the need. One may not even be aware that one is mortally ill or that the nectar that can confer immortality is available in the palm of His hand. Trust the physician and undergo the regimen, the sadhana. All will be well.

We [our family] resolved to spend the rest of our lives in the hallowed sanctuary, Prasanthi Nilayam. The atmosphere was inviting, vibrant with fraternity, felicity, charity, and love-unfolding and enfolding. We were glad we had sailed into the calmness and coolness, and we decided to drop anchor there.

We were only about 50 residents and at the bhajan [devotional singing] sessions in the mornings and the evenings, about 20 visitors joined us. On some days, the headmen of the nearby villages along with a few farmers sought Baba’s advice to resolve local conflicts. They also came seeking His blessings for their crops. They led newly-bought bullocks to His presence so that His blessings could endow them long life and sound health.

One of the few

I remember an old man whose animal was greeted by Baba with a welcoming exclamation. He [the old man] had seen Baba grow up at Puttaparthi. However, since his sons had secured jobs in the government offices at Penukonda [a neighboring town], he had to exile himself away from Baba. His admiration and adoration for Baba were so deep that he trekked to the presence at least once a fortnight. Baba conversed endearingly with him for hours on end on sadhana, epic heroes, saints, and sacred places. Baba evinced concern for his health and the happiness of his sons and grandsons. Whenever he was sighted during the bhajan session, Baba used to leave the silver chair on which He sat; He moved out into the lawn and squatted beside him under the tree before the mandir [temple], and exchanged intimacies.

One day, Baba said to me: “This Thirumalappa [the old man’s name] is one of the few people in the village who believed in my uniqueness. He pleaded with the parents to recognize and respect my reality as the embodiment of God. I was then just a little boy.”

During those years, Baba came down from His residence on the first floor usually about four in the evening. It had become the routine. There were eight tenements on the right of Baba’s residence, five on the left, and a row of six single rooms at the back. The latter were so close to the mandir that the smell of cooking from the kitchen wafted into the bhajan hall at times.

The Divine visitor

Baba would stand still for a while on coming down, keeping us wondering whither His steps would turn. But, He made up His mind quickly about whom to bless first. O! How happy He made us! He would enter every home, and spend a few enlivening minutes with the occupants.

Every noon, we prepared the house anew to receive Him. We swept and scrubbed, washed and dusted. Designs were drawn on the floor; greens were hung across the door. In every house, there was a chair and a foot-stool for Him, artistic and comfortable, placed on a carpet. The brass lamp in the tiny altar in a niche on the wall or a corner of the only room was lit and kept burning. Each family had a pretty little box with beetle leaves for Baba’s use while He sat and chatted. Light green leaves, softly scented beetle nut, and rose-flavored lime were procured by us as offerings to Him.

Every one watched anxiously for the first sign of the orange robe and the crown of hair, though He seldom missed a house while on His march of mercy. My house was on the right side of the mandir. Baba had facetiously named that row of tenements “Brindavan” with an emphasis on syllable three, which means ‘jungle’ underscoring the presence of a line of thick, thorny bushes. Swami named the houses on the left of the mandir ‘Gokulam,’ [cluster of cattle] indicating the shed that housed a few cows.

Divine pranks

Oftentimes, He played pranks with us, pretending to enter our room, but actually moving on, with a puckish curl of lip, to the neighbor’s house and plunging us in laughter and tears. We turned green with envy when we were by-passed and the person next door preferred. Often, He exasperated us, flavoring His grace with songs and jokes. We heard the bursts of laughter that His impish puns provoked. We condemned our-selves for the misfortune of missing them.

All of a sudden, there would descend a thick fog of silence lasting for a few excruciating seconds—five or even ten! Has He risen from the chair? Is He moving out? Will He come to us? Is He chewing the beetle leaf? Is He sipping orange juice? Is He walking along the sides of that room looking at the pictures on the walls? But, no! He usually hums a tune when He does that. Yes. He must have strayed into their kitchen. Ah! That is the sound made by the door that opens to the backyard! Is He looking at the cozy little grass-thatch hut where ‘father’ Venkaparaju resided? Is He about to descend the three stone steps and walk across the dusty road?

Do not doubt

We did not dare to peep through the slit of our kitchen door. It would be sacrilege. How can our gossamer guesses fathom His infinite potentiality? Ah! That is a knock at our own kitchen. It is He! He enters our home through that door, with a song designed to sweep our gloom away—a song composed five centuries ago by Saint Purandaradasa in the Kannada language, so dear to our ears. It begins, “Do not doubt the Lord”—the assurance was an admonition.

Source: Sanathana Sarathi, Aug. 1993