Our `Mother’ at Kodaikanal
I asked Swami at darshan, “May I travel south with You?” The answer rang in my ears for days. “Yes, sir!” So, on the morning of May 29, we boarded an Indian Airlines 737 with our Lord from Bangalore to Madurai. We followed Swami in a taxi from the airport to Kodaikanal.
Swami put five of us in the taxi—a Catholic from Central America, a Protestant from England, a Muslim from North Yemen, and two Malaysian Buddhists from London. Swami graciously delayed the taxi with an accident of another vehicle. We helped the injured, who were taken to the hospital, and we had to proceed to a police station, too. Meanwhile, at Kodaikanal, hotel after hotel was being filled with tourists and others. When we reached the place, we drove round and round looking for rooms without success. A `mother’ was standing at the front gate of a spacious building, with a boy beside her; evidently hoping to catch a glimpse of Swami when His car would pass by. We asked her, “Has Swami passed by?” She looked at us and offered to take us in! Baba’s grace! She insisted and we agreed to enter the Hindu home. Baba presented a mother, a matru devi, to us.
We were all moved by this good fortune. We celebrated it with bhajans in which our host, the mother, and her son joined. We sang with tear‑filled devotion.
The next morning we walked to where Swami was staying for the morning darshan. The mountain resort was vibrant with His presence. His love filled us all. Mother asked Swami if He would come to her home again this year. She heard no answer, but the son was sure Swami had said, “Yes, I will come this evening.”
We ran home and started cleaning the house and the garden. After evening darshan, we returned home quickly and started singing bhajans. It felt just like the bhajans back home: Swami is there, only we can’t see Him.
Next day, mother decided to cook something for Swami, and we, too, participated. While we sliced beans, tomatoes, potatoes, etc. and stirred the broth, she would recite a line from the Gita in Telugu and explain it in English. Every dish was thus spiced and seasoned with the Bhagavad Gita, and the mother poured her love generously on the five of us. We took our offering to the Lord. Would He accept? As His aura filled the garden, He went straight to our hostess. A tiffin [box] carrier was blessed and given to us for our own lunch. The Lord’s grace was overwhelming. That midday meal was a meal to remember.
That afternoon, mother asked if Swami was coming to visit her home and Swami said, “maybe.” We ran home to sing bhajans. The next day we all pitched in to weed the garden and sweep the paths. We sang bhajans waiting for His arrival, but “maybe” was not to be that day.
Next morning mother was up early cooking for Swami. This time she spiced and seasoned the offering with Ramayana. She led us through the forest paths with Rama, Sita and Lakshmana, giving us such insight as only a Hindu filled with love could give. The food was taken quickly up the hill to Swami’s residence, but alas, darshan was over and Swami was going out in the car.
That afternoon at darshan, Swami called mother and her son in for an interview. Swami also told one of us to hurry home. We ran home, cut more flowers from the garden, which now looked rather barren, and started singing bhajans, certain that this time the Lord was coming in His physical form. After bhajans ended we read the following paragraph from Swami’s teachings, in order to stabilize our shaken egos!
“You must have freedom not only from fear, but freedom from hope and expectation. Trust in my wisdom. I do not make mistakes. Love my uncertainty, for it is not a mistake. It is my intent and will. Remember nothing happens without my will. Be still. Do not want to understand. Do not ask to understand. Relinquish the imperative that demands understanding.”
Mother and son returned after the interview. Swami did promise that He would visit her home the next morning after darshan.
That was the last day, before leaving Kodaikanal, and our preparation for Swami’s visit was feverish. We cleaned even the street outside and I cut open two coconuts. The first was a perfect cut and we put the water in a glass beside Swami’s chair, the same chair He had used the year before. The other slipped as I was opening it and some water spilled. The rest we put in a glass on the table next to some fruits that Swami was to bless.
Finally, the moment arrived. We had not overcome expectation, nor had we relinquished trying to understand, but even so the Lord opened the gates of His abundant grace. Gliding over the silk spread path, He sat in His chair and drank a few sips of coconut water. We gathered round His feet and He started to tell our mother that she would always be happy. For the son, Swami materialized a beautiful silver bracelet with the Om on it.
Swami filled each of us with love, and while leaving He blessed the fruits on the table, and knocked over the second glass of coconut water, but quickly righted the glass in what appeared to the casual observer to have been an accident. But I took it to mean: “Be more careful with your offerings to the Lord.” Before we knew it, Swami was in the car, and mother came out running with a basket of pears, an offering of love for the Lord. Swami accepted it and off He drove. We returned to the house for farewell bhajans and a tearful goodbye. It must be people like mother and her son that bring Swami to Kodaikanal.
~John Behner, San Salvador
Source: Sanathana Sarathi, August 1984
