Hide and Seek

We landed in Madras, but He was nowhere to be spied—
That slice of Orange Robe amidst the crowd­—
We suspected that the fellow who tipped us off had lied.
And we scolded him in words, harsh and loud.

But he knelt and begged our pardon—
­Said he couldn’t take the blame;
That Swami’s plans and movements
Were a `hide and seek’ game.

He sent us off to Whitefield
To enquire for Swami there
But warned us, this could also be,
A ‘hit and miss’ affair.

We caught the train to Bangalore.
From there to Whitefield hied­—
Then we heard He’d left for Ooty
And we very nearly died.

We waited with the monkeys
Outside His Whitefield House;
We waited like a patient cat
Watching the hole of a mouse.

“He’ll be back in a couple of days,” they said,
“Or a week or two at most.”
“He was seen in Bangalore yesterday”
“Or, may be, it was the Holy Ghost.”

After waiting a week, we set out for Ooty
And got there, late, the next day;
We were greeted by someone snooty
Who said, “Swami is in Bombay”!

Disappointed, frustrated, and down at heart
We sat and bewailed our fate;
When a lady kind said, Swami was back,
And we could see Him at the gate.

But all we saw was a dome of hair
That filled the back of the car
And a radiant smile as He raised His Hand
To us who had come so far.

He’d gone off on some sudden mission­—
Nobody quite knew where;
But would definitely be on the 21st
At Puttaparthi for a Festival there.

We headed for Andhra’s rocky wilds
By train, pony‑cart and bus;
And while the wheels were turning round
My mind was churning thus.

“Even if You stood before me now
A foot away in space,
I’m so annoyed, I would not deign
To look upon Your Face.”

But at Puttaparthi, our fate was the same;
And our luck, we did deplore
As we saw the white car drive out of the gate
And head for God‑knows‑where.

I stormed and fumed, I fretted and cried,
And wished I’d stayed at home and sighed,
“I’ll wait for you in my little room—
­”Resplendent Lord of Parthi, please come soon.”

He came to me, soon, in a Vision,
With a Love greater than mine;
I could scarcely bear to look at Him,
His gaze was so Divine.

“Through how many ages in vain,”
He said, “Have I chased after this heart!
But now it is mine, O Dearest One,
Can anything keep it apart?”

~Anon
Source: Sanathana Sarathi, June 1977