I Offered Something to God

Based on a talk given by Dr. S.K. Upadhyay at an Interfaith Meeting in London on June 20, 1998, this article describes the highest miracle of Sai Baba–that of individual transformation.

I would like to share with you an experience I had six months ago. I call it “transformation.” It is wonderful how Swami changes the nature of His devotees, one by one. Sometimes He gives Himself the most difficult people to change. One such person is a man I have worked with for the past 22 years. Once my professor, he is a top ophthalmology scholar—the best in his field.

Over the past few years, this person (henceforth referred to as the professor) had often said, “I am going to India. When can I see ‘Sing Baba?’” He could not even pronounce “Sai Baba.” I always answered, “The time has not yet come for you.” But I really did want him to meet Sathya Sai Baba because I owed him something special. As my professor, he taught me a wonderful eye surgery technique. With Swami ‘s grace, I have taken this technology to several poverty-stricken areas. My mission is to restore the ability of people to see. When they open their eyes after surgery, they can see nature—a gift of God. When the bandages come off their eyes, they totally believe that God exists.

So, I had a deep desire for my professor to meet Sai Baba someday. To my concern, he had a rather grand notion of Sai Baba’s ashram. He imagined it was like the Vatican. He thought that when he got there, he would have an interview and sit down and talk with Baba. My teacher has operated on the eyes of many very important people in the world. Wherever he goes, he is greeted with great respect and receives red-carpet treatment. He expected the same to happen when he met Sai Baba. I tried to explain that Sai Baba’s way is very different.

Last year, thanks to an organization called Care and Share International Research Foundation, we acquired a new machine that gives instant relief to cataract sufferers. It is especially beneficial for poor people, since a person can have a cataract operation in the morning and go back to work the same day. Thus, a breadwinner does not lose wages. Swami happily accepted the machine for His hospital, and it was scheduled to reach Prasanthi Nilayam in July. Our team went to Puttaparthi to set it up, but it did not arrive on time. Swami told us to go back home. But said, “Swami, the machine is on the way. It is definitely coming.” Swami replied, “I know better. It is not coming—definitely. Go home and return in November.” I waited one day, two days, three days, four days—but it did not come. Then we left. Swami knew best. The machine arrived, finally, at just the time Swami predicted.

By that time, Swami had heard my professor’s prayer. When I asked Swami who should come, He agreed that my old teacher should accompany me. When I broke the news to my professor, he showed tremendous excitement. Then he instructed me to book him into the best five-star hotel—with a swimming pool. Alarmed, I tried to explain: “Sir, we are going to visit a beautiful, divine ashram. We won’t be in a five-star hotel. The only swimming pool will be the pool of love.” “Oh, I’m sure there’s a big town nearby,” he replied. I mentioned Bangalore. “How far is it?” he asked. “A hundred miles.” “Fine. I drive that far every day from my home in Camberly to London. I can stay in Bangalore and drive to the hospital in Puttaparthi every morning.” I tried to describe driving in India, which is not the equivalent of a trip from the suburbs to London. But my professor was not at all sure he wanted to stay in the ashram. I was worried. As the time approached, my excitement at taking him to see Swami turned to nervousness. I prayed. “Swami, I am bringing my professor, but I don’t know if he will fit into your discipline. Should we cancel the trip?” But Swami knows best.

We planned to travel on November 4, but when I called the professor on November 1, I found out that he was in Gibraltar. He returned November 3 and I asked if he had his visa. “No, you are arranging the visa.” “How can I arrange a visa without your passport?” Secretly, I felt relieved because now I thought I could cancel the trip. Then I remembered someone who could obtain a special visa for him. But the professor dropped a bombshell: “My wife wanted to go, too. She had never even been to a Sai meeting. I was worried. I said, “Where is her passport?”

“It’s in Camberly,” he replied. “She will fax you the information.” “Sorry,” I told him. “The high commission will not issue a visa on a faxed passport.” “But I must go. Swami is calling me,” he replied. “Then Swami will have to perform a miracle,” I said.

Immediately, two things happened. Friends came to see me, and I asked them to pray for me because I was so nervous. Fifteen minutes later, the High Commissioner of India came to the clinic. He told me he heard that I was leaving town and he wanted to consult about his eye problem before we left. I assured him that we would only be gone for a few days, but he insisted that something had told him to come today. “I will have to see you later on,” I said. “I have a problem.” “What’s the problem?” he asked. I explained that I urgently needed visas. He made one phone call and 40 minutes later someone arrived at my door with the visas. That is how Swami works. But I still had some worries because I had overheard the professor ask his wife to go to an expensive London shop to buy wine to take to India. “Is that necessary?” I asked him.

“You said there were no good drinks available there, so we want to take our own,” he said.

“But you can’t drink in the ashram.”

“Why not? Even the Pope shares wine with people.”

“But you are going to the Divine. ‘Di’ and ‘vine’ means no wine!”

The professor told me not to worry, that everything would be all right. I worried.

When I got home that night, my wife showed me a fax from a friend. It was a beautiful message of Swami, “My son, why worry? He is my guest. I will look after him.” I felt as if a burden had been lifted. I sat right down and thanked Swami. But He continued to test me. Within an hour, the professor called to ask if we were going first class. I told him our group always travels economy to save money. “You should have told me,” he said. “I never travel economy class. I’ll take my checkbook to the airport and change my seat.” I told him I doubted that he could make a last-minute change. He sounded very unhappy. To make matters worse, at the airport the next morning, all our hospital paraphernalia put us far over the weight allowance—by 200 pounds! “We must take everything,” I told the Air India receptionist. “It is all for Swami. If you don’t send it, we can’t perform eye operations.” The receptionist said she would see what she could do. Shortly she returned, “Are the professor and his wife in your group?” “Yes.” “Fine,” she said. “They are first class passengers, so you are allowed the additional weight.” “How did they get I first class tickets?” I asked. “I don’t know,” she replied. “I just received a fax saying they had been promoted to first class.” Everything was in order. Swami had arranged for the professor’s upgrade.

We arrived in Bangalore at three in the morning and I was eager to start for Prasanthi Nilayam. I hoped we would get there for the morning darshan (sight of a holy person). When I reach India, I have only one thought-to see Swami. I never stop to rest in Bangalore. But the professor said, “I am feeling tired. I need a few hours’ sleep. Can you find a hotel for me?” “Everything is filled,” I replied. “You can rest at the ashram.” But convinced that he would not be able to concentrate on the operations, the professor insisted that he needed rest now. We found a hotel nearby for him and his wife. I was upset because I had nothing to do-except sit and wait for him to wake up. I tried to find out what was happening in Prasanthi Nilayam but had no luck. What Swami wills cannot be changed. I had learned this lesson time and time again. Still, I wanted to push my luck and go as soon as possible.

The professor woke up around eleven. I prayed we would make afternoon darshan but halfway to Prasanthi Nilayam, he wanted to stop for a drink. “No, no,” I said, “The drinks here are no good. They could be polluted, and you have had no vaccinations.” But we had to stop.

Finally, at 4:15, we reached Puttaparthi. All the people in the accommodation’s office were in darshan. We left the taxi outside the ashram and went inside. One of our friends who was arranging accommodation was with us. He guided us to the mandir (temple), and the professor sat right in front on the verandah. Wearing his best suit and tie, the professor was sweating and puffing. Everyone was looking at him.

Swami came out and invited us into the interview room where some friends of ours from Russia were also waiting. Swami asked the professor how he was. “Sir, I am fine,” he replied. He spoke to Swami as if He were a person, calling Him “sir.” Swami said that since the professor was not used to sitting cross-legged, he could stretch his legs out. “There are no Seva Dal (volunteer) workers here,” He said, “So you can be comfortable. Inside here you are all right.” Swami was very kind. He switched on the fan and we sat down. I wanted to speak to Swami about the professor’s accommodation problem. I began, “Swami, he…” Swami interrupted me, “You keep quiet. Do not talk.” So, I kept quiet. Then Swami turned His attention to a young Russian who was sitting next to Swami’s chair. He materialized a beautiful ring upon which was carved the sacred Om. Instead of giving the ring to the young man, Swami threw it to the professor who caught it. “What do you think it is?” Swami asked. He looked at the ring and said, “I don’t know exactly what it is, sir, but it is some sort of holy sign. I recognize it because Dr. Upadhyay uses it each time he starts something new.” Swami said, “ln the West, you say that the world started with a big bang. This is the same primordial sound from which the whole world came. It is called Om. Say it with Me. Om.”

I did not realize that Swami was doing this to initiate him. At that moment, the professor was sitting with his legs stretched toward Swami. I felt very uncomfortable because I did not think that was correct behavior. But the moment I tried to open my mouth, Swami silenced me, “Keep quiet. ” Suddenly, as the professor said, “Om,” his stretched legs folded, and his hands came together in reverence. He said, “Yes, Swami.”

After a while Swami told us that tomorrow morning, we should start the operations and train Super Specialty Hospital doctors in the new technique. Gradually everyone got up and left. “Where is the professor going to stay?” I asked Swami. He smiled: “There is no problem. He will stay in the ashram.” I also asked about the wine and He said, “Leave it outside.” I didn’t understand what He meant. He added, “Come tomorrow morning. I will give more instructions.”

This marked the first time I left Swami’s room utterly confused. Here He was, telling me to stay in the ashram, yet the professor had said he did not want to stay there. But when I went to join him, he said, “It’s foolish of me to think about staying somewhere else. I will stay in the ashram. I just want a room with a bathroom and a fan. That’s all, nothing else.” Total transformation! “What about your wine?” I asked. “Let the taxi man have it,” he said. “Just get our luggage and leave everything else outside.” That was what Swami had meant by, “Leave it outside.”

The next morning when we came for darshan, Swami had made arrangements for us to sit near His door. The professor asked, “Is it possible for my wife to see Swami also?” “That’s up to Swami,” I answered. “We don’t even know yet if He will see you.” “But Swami said He would see me,” the professor replied. “When Swami says He’ll see you tomorrow, His tomorrows are sometimes very long,” I told him. “It could be next year; it could be next life. He may see you. He may not see you.” “No,” said the professor. “This morning I prayed deep inside and I could hear Swami say, ’Yes. Both of you.'” Swami came and asked both of us to go inside. The professor whispered, “Ask about my wife.” “You don’t have to ask God for anything. He knows everything.” But Swami did not give us a chance to speak further. Suddenly, He turned to us, “Yes, yes. Call your wife,” He said. The professor had no idea how to call her. He asked how to do it. “Just stand and wave,” I suggested. “But how will she know I am calling her?” “You have only one wife,” I said. “No one else will come.” He had never done such a thing in front of thousands of people. He raised his arm tentatively, then stopped, thinking she must have seen him. God only knows how she spotted him. But she came forward and we went inside.

Swami spoke to several people, then turned to the professor’s wife. “What do you want?” He asked. I could not imagine why Swami would ask her this question because she had never known about Sathya Sai Baba. I had no idea what she would say. To my utter surprise, she responded, “Swami, I do not want anything. After looking at you, I just want Your grace.” Swami materialized a beautiful pendant with His picture on it and gave it to her. Then He turned to the professor and materialized a ring for him, saying, “This ring is a communication ring. Whenever you want to speak to me, speak through it.” As the professor stared at the ring, I nudged him to pay attention. Swami continued, “It took so long for you to come to me. You have been thinking of coming for the last 20 years. The time has come. You are a kind man. Now work for mankind.” How Swami plays with words! Swami took them to the inner room. After 20 minutes, they emerged and Swami said, “Go straight to the operation theater.” I asked the professor to wait for me since Swami had told me to stay back.

“What is your problem now?” Swami asked me. “No problem, Swami. I leave everything to you.” He spoke at length about the eye operations and the new machines. “Make sure that in the evening I get a report of what is happening,” He said. “Also, make sure that before you leave, my surgeons are as well trained as you two, so that they can do the operation on their own.” I was about to tell Swami that it had taken us years to learn the skills; I was going to ask Him how His doctors could possibly learn them in three days. But before I could speak, Swami said, “Do not worry about time and space.”

When we came out, we passed a woman sitting in a wheelchair. Swami asked her why she had not come inside. “Swami, You closed the door,” she said, “And no one was here to lift me up in my wheelchair.” “Wheelchair? Why are you in a wheelchair?” He asked. “Swami, I can’t walk,” she said. “Who said you cannot walk?” Swami was standing outside the interview room with 10,000 people watching. He extended His hand to the woman and said, “Hold my hand and get up.” The woman stood up and Swami pushed the wheelchair away. “You can walk now, ” He said. The professor was absolutely astonished. He didn’t know what to say. He did manage to say simply, “Swami, it would be nice if you could come to the operating theater.” “Oh, yes, l will be there,” Swami replied.

We went directly to the Super Specialty Hospital, changed, scrubbed, and went to the operating theater where a patient and all the instruments were ready. But the professor sat, waiting. “What are you waiting for?” I asked.

“Where is Swami? He said He was coming.”

“Yes, Swami said He was coming. He is here, but not necessarily in a physical form.”

“No, no. He told me He was coming.” And the professor—with six patients waiting and a staff eager to finish work so they could go to afternoon darshan—refused to start. So, I said to him, “Okay, you start, and I will find out what’s happening.” I changed and went outside.

I needed to speak to Swami. But you can’t just pick up the phone and call Him. I went into the little shrine room and prayed, “Swami, he won’t start without You. Please do something. Either come Yourself or just give him a sign to start the operation. ” Then I headed back to the operating room. When I walked in, the professor turned to me, “I think we should start. Swami will probably come halfway through. He is very busy.” I thanked Swami.

During the operation, something unusual happened. After a cataract is crushed by ultrasound and removed, the next step is to insert a new lens, called an implant. The moment the professor lifted the implant, Baba walked into the room. The professor was speechless, and for the first time, I could see tears in his eyes. He told me he would finish the operation, but I would have to instruct the doctors on the procedure. “I simply cannot speak,” he said. “I am in total bliss.” The operation was completed beautifully, and the professor found that Swami had left him a message, “Do not rush back; carry on with the second session also. I will see you tomorrow.” We proceeded with all the operations. Swami had selected very poor people—those who could never even dream of having expensive eye surgery.

If you were to visit the professor at work as a private surgeon in England, you would see a madhouse. Patients and doctors from every nation in the world come to confer with him. Normally, a person waits hours to see him. Yet here he was, operating on the world’s poorest people with great happiness and bliss. He was a totally transformed man. After the session, he told me something beautiful. “I have operated on some of the richest men in the world,” he said, “But I did not get this much satisfaction. Today, after operating on people so poor that they don’t even have decent clothes to wear, I feel I have offered something to God.”

Afterward, Swami spoke to him and said He would see him again. The 24-hour bhajans had just started in the mandir. The professor came and sat with me. As before, he had put on his new suit. I asked him why he did not wear something more comfortable-a simple kurta pajama or light trousers. “No,” he replied. “I heard Sai Baba tell someone, ‘Do not try to change yourself. Be yourself’ Do I ever wear kurta pajamas in England? No. If I go to meet the queen, or the Pope or the President of the United States, I go in the best suit possible. I am going to meet the Lord. It doesn’t matter whether I feel comfortable or uncomfortable. I should be in my best suit.”

The bhajans started and the professor sat, waiting for Swami. After an hour and a half, I noticed that his legs were getting cramped from sitting cross-legged for so long. I said, “I’m sure Swami won’t speak to you until tomorrow when the bhajans are over. Why don’t you go ahead on your trip?” He and his wife were scheduled to go to Bangalore so she could do some shopping. Afterward, they planned to go to Ooty and Mysore to see some historic places.

While he was away, I planned to stay and enjoy the bhajans. At eight o’clock, realizing that Swami would not see him that night, the professor left for Bangalore with his wife. But the next morning, he said to her, “I don’t feel like going out. I have come here for a purpose-not for sightseeing or shopping. You go ahead; I would like to sit here and read some Baba books.” His wife left with a friend and the professor stayed in the hotel. That evening, they went to bed early. But at 10 P.M., the professor awoke suddenly and asked his wife if she had heard anything.

“Yes,” she said. “I heard Baba say, ‘Come back.” He had heard the same thing. They agreed that the next morning, instead of going to Ooty, they would return to Puttaparthi.

Meanwhile, when the bhajans finished, Swami gave us prasad (sacred offering) with His own hands. He said to me, “Start the operation at 8 a.m. tomorrow. He is coming back.”

“But Swami that’s not our plan.”

“No, there is a reason for the change,” Swami answered

The professor and his wife got up at 4 A.M. and arrived at the ashram at 7.59. Swarm told us to go to the hospital right after darshan. “Everything is waiting for you,” He said. When we got there, we understood the rea son we were needed: the surgeons did not feel confident enough to do the operation on their own. We worked intensely all day. At four m the afternoon, we asked the head doc- tor if he felt more confident now. “Yes, now

I am happy,” he replied. We asked him to do an operation on his own and we watched him perform it perfectly. We rushed to Swami. Like a mother, he was waiting. Darshan was over, but we got there in time to take padanamaskar (touching the feet of a holy person). Then Swami explained, “I called you because I knew they were not ready to do the operation independently. Now the program is complete. That is why I said to him, ‘I’ll see you’” The professor had been worried that Swami would not see him before we left for home. He took Swami’s padanamaskar. Then Swami said, “Do not worry. This is your home. You can come anytime.” And He blessed us.

That is my story of how two people who knew nothing about Sai Baba—who, in fact, pronounced His name, “Sing Baba”—now sit down together for an hour each evening and read Swami s words. The professor is working to organize a mission that will take Swami’s message and the new technology from village to village. When Swarm touches someone, the transformation is total.