Sai Krishna

This is a story about Krishna. In a way, the story was not completed until November, 1975.  A number of years ago, I was in Bhagavan’s car. He was in the rear seat with two people, one on each side of Him. I was in the front seat with the driver. We were on our way to Puttaparthi.

Driving in the car with Swami is a fascinating experience. Not only is there the thrill of being close to the Divine Lord Himself, but sometimes He gives you the opportunity to ask questions. Sometimes He engages in animated conversation in Telegu with his companions. Sometimes He indulges in jokes with them. Sometimes He remains silent, making the characteristic gesture with His hand that seems to indicate that He is giving attention to something quite unknown to us.

Very often He sings bhajans [devotional songs]. Everyone in the car joins in the chorus (except me, who has a singing voice akin to a crow). The net result of all this enthralling activity is that my neck is constantly twisting in order to see what is going on in the back seat. Swami understands my plight but He does not advise me to desist. Rather, He allows me the liberty of turning around. I try not to stare. I look only as long as I dare, then resume my posture of facing forward.  I look at Swami intermittently back and forth.

At some point in the journey I speak of, Swami was talking and I turned to look. My breathing stopped and I was transfixed. I could not believe my eyes. Devotees see Swami’s face as very, very beautiful, although the chief impression I have from His appearance is power and majesty.

What transfixed my movement and stopped my breathing was Swami’s face. The Swami I know was not there. Instead, I saw a face of the most extraordinary beauty, quite different in shape and cast from the features of our beloved Sai. The charm was so great, so poignant that my heart seemed to twist, almost as though it were in pain. Never in life—not in photos or in painting by great artists—have I seen a face of such exquisite beauty. It was beyond imagination and concept and totally beyond experience.

His color was blue. Not just the blue with which artists paint Krishna, but a deep blue like the velvet that is sometimes seen in a dark sky, like the blue I have seen from the deck of a ship thousands of miles from shore on the Pacific Ocean. I do not know how else to describe it.

I could not remove my eyes from Swami. At length, I caught myself and turned away. But in a moment I looked again and the same beauty, which is surely not of the world, was still there. This continued for at least fifteen minutes. The two men sitting with Swami were beginning to look at me with somewhat puzzled expressions for my staring was different from what they had become used to.

After a few miles, Vittala Rao (a gentleman sitting on Swami’s left) asked me, “Hislop, why were you staring at Swami like that?” Instead of answering, I directed a question to Swami, “Swami, what was that blue color?” Swami replied, “Oh, that? Whenever there is something of unfathomable depth, it appears to be deep blue.”

That was the end of the conversation. Naturally the thought had come to mind that maybe He was Lord Krishna, but neither then, nor at any time in connection with this experience, did I ever say the name Krishna to Swami.

The matter rested until November, 1975, just before people started to arrive in multitudes for the birthday celebration. Swami’s schedule was still somewhat free and He was taking me with Him in the jeep and so on. Probably that was why I got invited into the interview. An army man and his wife had come from Assam. They were devotees, but this was their first time to actually see Swami. Often people wait for months for interviews, but this family was called as soon as they arrived. I was seated on the verandah of the mandir [temple] and saw them go into Swami’s room. No sooner had they entered than Swami motioned to me.

I saw the mother, father, son, and daughter of the family. Swami spoke to them most lovingly. He knew everything about their lives and it was very evident that He was an intimate member of their household.

After a while Swami said to me, “Hislop, tell them some experiences.” I complied and after mentioning a few experiences, I told the same story of the blue face that I have just related to you. But not even then did I mention Krishna’s name. The man was deeply impressed and words spilled from his lips, “Oh! That had to be Lord Krishna.”

Swami smiled and said, “Yes, that was Krishna, not the Krishna pictured by artists and imagined by writers. I showed Hislop the real Krishna.” The man said, “Oh, how I want to see Krishna.” Swami smiled again and said, “Wait; wait.”

There is a sequel to this story. About a month later, in December, at Brindavan, I was talking with Swami and I mentioned the names of some famous saints and gurus of the past and Swami said some things about them. Then the idea struck me that, wonderful though it must have been to know those great personages and learn from them, the present day was the first time since Krishna lived that one could have God Himself as guru. So I started to say, “Swami, in the thousands of years of time, since Krishna….”

Swami interrupted me before I could say another word and exclaimed, “Time since Krishna? I am Krishna. Where is time?” I folded my hands and bent low to Him and said, “Well, Swami, this is the best of all times, to be born!” Swami replied, “Yes, the most fortunate of all times. It is even more fortunate to be born now than during the Krishna avatar.”

Once before, within my hearing, Swami declared Himself as Lord Krishna. This story has been told in detail elsewhere. It happened in Dharmakshetra, at Bombay, and came about as part of the extraordinary drama of “the weeping saris” to which a few of us in the room with Swami were the fascinated witnesses. I had exclaimed that this had to be the re-enactment this very day of the drama of the mountain that had occurred in the avatars [incarnations] of Sri Rama and Sri Krishna. Bhagavan replied, “Yes, it is the same Rama and the same Krishna who is here this very day.”

In the light of what I have recited in the preceding pages, we need never look back with even the slightest tinge of envy to those fortunate people who lived during those wonderful days of the Krishna avatar [incarnation]. This very day, and every day that we look at our beloved Sai, we are, gazing directly at Sri Krishna.

Let us treasure His Divine presence. In ages to come, the rich experience of our days will be told and retold as the wondrous story of the Sai avatar.

~John Hislop
Source: Sanathana Sarathi, July 1977