My First Experience
Amidst the melodious vesper bells in the darkness of an October night, hundreds of earnest throats were sending their appeal of reverence and devotion in the form of hymns of praise to the Almighty. As I entered the grounds of Prasanthi Nilayam, these hymns resonated in the quiet atmosphere of the ashram, the abode of perfect peace of Bhagavan Sri Sathya Sai Baba. After a continuous journey for three days by rail and bus, I was too tired to even think when my feet touched the hallowed grounds of the ashram. Before I could take stock of my surroundings, I was led through labyrinthine paths to the spacious ground in the midst of which stood the prayer hall, like a magic edifice in a dream.
In the semi-darkness, I sat down on the sandy ground with hundreds of other devotees, mostly students from the Vedic school, eager for Bhagavan’s darshan (sight of a holy person).
It was not long before I saw a slender figure wearing a red robe approach us with fast steps. That figure was remarkable for a head full of bushy hair all standing erect like the petals of a kadamba [Anthocephalus cadamba] flower, or the thousand-petalled marigold, drowning the effect of the robe. The total ensemble was somehow beyond description; the hair seemed to have an occult significance far too deep for ordinary mortals. Or did it signify the extraordinary coiffure of a woman? My mind was rife with speculation; the popular suggestion that the hair was nothing but the nimbus or halo of the aura, did not satisfy me as a cogent explanation of that remarkable phenomenon.
To me, that face represented mostly the feminine aspect of Bhagavan. After all, Bhagavan in this incarnation represents both the male and female principles combined as Siva and Parvati. The more I tried to brush aside this possible explanation, the more my fancy would seize upon the feminine aspect of the deity, too unmistakable to be missed or ignored. All of a sudden another picture of Bhagavan from the book, “At the Lotus Feet” assailed me. In it, Bhagavan was standing under a coconut tree and His face appeared almost feminine with a look of compassion, an incomparable charm of its own. The straight bushy hair on His head is perhaps to remind us of the mother principle of His previous incarnation—”the Shirdi body” as Bhagavan is pleased to call it. Many people believe that it is the mother principle of Parvati that descended in the person of Shirdi Sai Baba, and that Bhagavan wears His hair in such a fashion in order to emphasize the universal mother principle.
As I was thus lost in reverie of the mother principle symbolized in Baba, I became suddenly conscious of a peculiar fragrance. It became quite strong and there was something mysterious and haunting about it. Could it be the aroma of a few incense sticks burning in the prayer hall that had intermittently blown toward me? A breeze was blowing, but the distance from the prayer hall to my sitting place ruled out such a possibility. Furthermore, this fragrance did not come and go with the wind; it persisted and the most peculiar thing about it was that when I became conscious of it, it became faint to the point of extinction! When I took my mind away from it though, the fragrance became strong. I thought I would change places and see if it still followed me. I went in another direction further away from the hall, and it followed me. Then I went near the verandah just below the Krishna statue; the fragrance was still there, long after Bhagavan had gone upstairs to make His customary appearance to the devotees from the balcony of the prayer hall. That was my first experience at Prasanthi Nilayam. I call the perfume episode.
The next day, at about 4 a.m. I was awakened by my host and given direction to get ready for the morning prayers in the hall. Bhagavan had already marked me as a delinquent and enquired from my host who I was and why I raised my voice in a high pitch, so I was reminded not to talk in a loud voice. But my delinquency had done more than I could do myself. It had already introduced me; He knew about my presence in the ashram. I was, however, too late to attend the morning prayers. I went to the prayer hall at about 9:30 a.m. and sat on the verandah, as I was directed, because Baba generally comes down at about that time to grant interviews. But Bhagavan did not come that morning and I had to leave the hall rather displeased.
After lunch I was told to go to the hall, sit down, and again wait for an interview. I was told that men and women must sit apart; it was a rigid rule of Bhagavan’s. There were hundreds of people there and to be chosen seemed like being a needle wanting to be picked up in a haystack. The chances of selection seemed remote; I could not help feeling that an interview would be impossible.
I found the verandah was already crowded, but I managed to secure a place. Anxious seconds ran into minutes before Bhagavan made His appearance, making all hearts throb. He first began picking up devotees from among the women. About a dozen lady devotees were picked; then came the turn of men. There were two rows of men on the long verandah, some seated with their backs to the wall, the others on the opposite side but facing the wall. Baba slowly wended His way through them. He picked one or two, and came to the end of the verandah. He then slowly retraced His steps; suddenly, I found His hands touching me. In clear English He commanded, “You better come.” The much-coveted hour had arrived at last; the much sought-after direct contact was about to take place!
There was a curtain in the interview room of the prayer hall, behind which I was asked to stand. Behind me were the steps of a winding staircase leading up to the first floor where Bhagavan lived. Standing there on the second step, I felt I was being lifted up from the environment called samsara [worldly existence], and placed on the staircase of spiritual progress. Whether I climbed up that ladder of spirituality remained to be seen and was entirely my choice.
The guru takes the chela [disciple] by the hand, and puts him on the ladder of progress behind the screen of samsara, away from public gaze. Whatever happens thereafter, progression or regression, is a matter only between them. The guru seems to say, “You are now on the ladder of progress for the first time. You have been groping in the darkness of doubt and despair for so long. Now I have lifted you up with My own hands, selected you for the ascent. Go on up, there is infinity before you; there is no end to your going up. It is up to you. Ascend then—you have My blessings.”
That was my impression of the significance of the interview behind the curtain—the curtain of limitation, of ignorance, sorrow, and uncertainty. Beyond that curtain is light and the stair is the first step toward light. The ascent is verily a quest for greater light; we have to ascend to the abode of God.
The interview lasted 15 minutes and Baba’s parting words were, “When I am telling you that you will be freed from your hurdles, you have nothing to fear. Do not forget that I am here; I shall help you.” He also said He would help me to come back to the ashram again. Then Baba waved His hands twice in the air and lo, there was the incredible vibhuti [sacred ash] appearing from nowhere. With that, I left the interview room. That was only an infinitesimal part of the innumerable miracles that Baba performs to convince us about the divine power, purpose, and presence. They are not make-believe; they all take place in a world of reality.
Prasanthi Nilayam manifests the divine mystery of God and His inexhaustible mercy for human beings by its very existence and through the miracles wrought by the incredible God-man, Bhagavan Sathya Sai Baba. The whole place is redolent with the holy fragrance of His personality, whose magic touch rehabilitates souls, grown sick and sour in the struggle of life. He transforms the outlooks and attitudes of men and women. He converts even wild animals into docile creatures that delight in His very presence.
Every single yard of Prasanthi Nilayam proclaims the miracles brought about by the divine touch of Bhagavan’s hands. Every word Bhagavan utters is a word of cheer, of encouragement. “Worry not. I am here; I will give you relief.” These words are the very breath of life. Encouragement is a divine virtue. It can revive dead souls, souls sick with anguish, sorrow, disappointment, and disease. What greater power can there be on earth to repair souls, and not merely bodies, those are sick? This divine encouragement reconstructs them and sends them back into the world, transformed and strengthened to face the battles of life and the future with greater courage and hope.
~A. K. Das
Source: Sanathana Sarathi, Feb. 1969
