My darshan done, I made my way off the dais where Amma was seated. I had to step gingerly over those still shuffling forward on their knees for their darshans. At this time, I noticed the usual throng of meditators seated around Amma. Apart from Her attendants, there were some devotees who sat cross-legged, for varying lengths of time in Her vicinity, hoping perhaps to benefit from physical proximity to the Master. I had never seriously meditated before, nor had I ever sat so close to Amma, for any length of time. I was tempted to give it a shot but decided to postpone the trial to another day. This was only my first day here after all. I was hungry, and a little abstracted with thoughts of the reunion with Amma I had just had, after an interval of four months. I needed to eat (food of the physical kind) and chew on my thoughts.
I exited from the temple and walked towards the Western canteen, which is situated near the front gate of the ashram. Just before I got there, I met the same Swamiji who had advised us to consult Amma, and seek Her blessings for our child. Perhaps due to the fact that we had met only days previously, he recognized me readily and smiled in greeting. I greeted him in turn with a breezy hello, before realizing that I had fouled up with protocol. The Swamiji, to his credit, did not convey the slightest hint about my slip. I should have touched my heart with my right hand and said "Namah Shivaya" (Salutations to Lord Shiva, whose embodiment I see in you) of course, but I forgot. I was still a relative newbie to this whole spiritual thing. The Swamiji asked me whether I had managed to meet Amma and convey my story. I replied in the affirmative and briefly narrated the exchange I had with Amma minutes before. He took note and then went on his way.
Presently I arrived in front of the Western canteen. It seemed little more than a converted cowshed. It was staffed by a couple of young Western girls. They had Indian names. My first encounter with the apparently common practice of adoption of Indian spiritual names by Western devotees, had taken place with my American travel companion (from the airport to the ashram). That brother had introduced himself to me using his Indian name. I found myself being mildly amused by this practice. Later, in my spare moments, I would muse more deeply about the social and spiritual implications of this process of acculturation, if that is the mot juste in this context. But for the nonce, I was content to order two vegetarian burgers and fries, while smiling inwardly (in the nicest way, without any mockery) at the sight of a white-sari clad, young, blonde Savitri in the kitchen shouting out to a 6-foot tall, middle-aged, Western man with shoulder-length brown hair, worn in a bun that had come half undone, "Mukunda, your toast is ready."
Om Amriteshwaryai Namah
Friday, April 25, 2003
Wednesday, April 23, 2003
Part 11: First Darshan In Amritapuri
At the end of my internal deliberations, I was left with a few operating principles or algorithms:
(1) Brevity was key. The length of my intervention could not be much more than the duration of Amma’s KISS (Keep It Short, Stupid?!)
(2) My agenda would have to reflect the most pressing concerns of my family and myself. While I had a healthy layman’s interest in world peace and quantum biology, I had to admit that there were other, more mundane questions that kept me awake at night.
(3) Within the area labeled family concerns there were some issues such as employment and sadhana that concerned me more than the other members, and other issues such as the health and welfare of our child that more actively engaged my wife. My wife argued, and I had to accept, that asking questions about my sadhana would have been too selfish, when we had a pressing child health issue to contend with.
(4) It was axiomatic with me that Amma already knew all there was to know about our situation. Therefore, I assumed that She would make the inevitable defects and deficits in my communication, respectively, good and whole.
The queue numbers rolled by. Pretty soon, it was time for me get up and join the queue. While waiting my turn, I tried to do the important things - focus on my speech and slip into a devotional mood, but my efforts were only partially successful. Periodically, I found my attention being drawn to a study of the surroundings. Just when it seemed most important for me to stay on beam and with the message, I found myself engaged by trivia such as, for instance, the way in which the person standing in front of me shifted his weight, or the snatches of conversation carried on by those nearby that wafted to my ears.
Notwithstanding these minor failures, I am happy to report that not a single inappropriate thought crossed my mind in that time, or for that matter in the entire time I spent at Amritapuri. As I say this, I do realize that all thought is perhaps inappropriate in a Advaitic sense, but I refer here only to the more gross varieties such as sexual thoughts, for instance. The credit for this phenomenon (the temporary suspension of all libidinous impulses; it lasted over 30 days and more than spanned the duration of my stay at the ashram) properly belongs to Amma, since it has few parallels in the rest of my life.
Finally, on to the great denouement of the day, actually a bit of an anti-climax. I reached the head of the queue, and the minders had us edge forward the last meter or so, on our knees. Having taken darshan before, I was reasonably familiar with the routine and tried to be as co-operative as I could. The air around Amma smelt nice. I had noticed that fragrance on previous occasions as well, and I put it down to some kind of incense or perfume or cleaning agent, that Her attendants probably employed on a routine basis. By now, my whole attention was focused on the mission at hand and I had become less conscious of the people around me. Strangely enough, I cannot remember a single face from this darshan crowd, although a number of faces from previous and subsequent darshans are still etched in my memory.
At the penultimate position, an attendant asked me, as usual, what language I would understand. I answered, “Malayalam”. I was told how to approach Amma and how to rest my weight, so as not to hurt Her. Then I found myself in front of Amma, and She took a-hold of my head with Her right hand, while winding down a near-simultaneous darshan with a female devotee from the other queue on Her left side. Then she tucked my head under Her, so that Her lips were upon my right ear, and She said “Ammade kuttoo” (meaning “Amma’s dear son”, as nearly as I can translate) a number of times. It felt nice but I did not glimpse ‘Brahman’, feel the kundalini shakti (latent reservoir of spiritual power) surge or anything like that. I wanted to hug Her back warmly but did not do so for fear of hurting Her. Then She let me go, but instead of rapidly making way for the next devotee’s darshan as I normally do, I straightened my back so that my eyes were almost level with Hers, and sought permission to speak to Her for one minute.
She assented with a nod and I launched into my little talk. I told her that I had a child with a seemingly intractable medical condition, that I had previously seen Her in country X before, and that one of Her Swamis who had recently paid us a visit, had suggested that I bring a stick of sandalwood, for Her to bless. I then fished out the stick of sandalwood, from a pouch I wore around my waist, over my shirt. Amma heard me out and gave instructions for the sandal-paste to be applied on my child’s forehead every night before sleep. I did not say a word about anything else and She did not either.
I sensed that the darshan was over. I looked for Her feet, so I could touch them and then touch my forehead, to express my reverence in the customary manner. As usual, I failed to spot Her feet, since She sits cross-legged with Her feet tucked under Her, so I contented myself by lightly touching Her knee with the tip of my right ring finger and transferring the touch to my temple. Then I backed away and the next man closed in. I found some space and did a prostration. There was not enough room for a full-length prostration, so I did something like a three-quarters version, kneeling forward and touching my forehead to the ground but not extending my body full-length.
I was a little self-conscious as I did this, so I am afraid I did not do it very well. I was torn between doing it well and doing it quickly, as I was loathe to upset the progress of the queue, and take up the most valuable real estate in the world – at Amma’s feet. As a result, I ended up doing a rapid-fire prostration, that must have seemed odd to anyone who was watching. I imagined the unspoken censure of bystanders: “What does this idiot think he is doing? Is this a sashtanga pranamam (full-body prostration) or a caper by a circus clown?” Fortunately, I think it was only my imagination working overtime and that nobody noticed, or if they did, they did not really care too much.
Om Amriteshwaryai Namah
(1) Brevity was key. The length of my intervention could not be much more than the duration of Amma’s KISS (Keep It Short, Stupid?!)
(2) My agenda would have to reflect the most pressing concerns of my family and myself. While I had a healthy layman’s interest in world peace and quantum biology, I had to admit that there were other, more mundane questions that kept me awake at night.
(3) Within the area labeled family concerns there were some issues such as employment and sadhana that concerned me more than the other members, and other issues such as the health and welfare of our child that more actively engaged my wife. My wife argued, and I had to accept, that asking questions about my sadhana would have been too selfish, when we had a pressing child health issue to contend with.
(4) It was axiomatic with me that Amma already knew all there was to know about our situation. Therefore, I assumed that She would make the inevitable defects and deficits in my communication, respectively, good and whole.
The queue numbers rolled by. Pretty soon, it was time for me get up and join the queue. While waiting my turn, I tried to do the important things - focus on my speech and slip into a devotional mood, but my efforts were only partially successful. Periodically, I found my attention being drawn to a study of the surroundings. Just when it seemed most important for me to stay on beam and with the message, I found myself engaged by trivia such as, for instance, the way in which the person standing in front of me shifted his weight, or the snatches of conversation carried on by those nearby that wafted to my ears.
Notwithstanding these minor failures, I am happy to report that not a single inappropriate thought crossed my mind in that time, or for that matter in the entire time I spent at Amritapuri. As I say this, I do realize that all thought is perhaps inappropriate in a Advaitic sense, but I refer here only to the more gross varieties such as sexual thoughts, for instance. The credit for this phenomenon (the temporary suspension of all libidinous impulses; it lasted over 30 days and more than spanned the duration of my stay at the ashram) properly belongs to Amma, since it has few parallels in the rest of my life.
Finally, on to the great denouement of the day, actually a bit of an anti-climax. I reached the head of the queue, and the minders had us edge forward the last meter or so, on our knees. Having taken darshan before, I was reasonably familiar with the routine and tried to be as co-operative as I could. The air around Amma smelt nice. I had noticed that fragrance on previous occasions as well, and I put it down to some kind of incense or perfume or cleaning agent, that Her attendants probably employed on a routine basis. By now, my whole attention was focused on the mission at hand and I had become less conscious of the people around me. Strangely enough, I cannot remember a single face from this darshan crowd, although a number of faces from previous and subsequent darshans are still etched in my memory.
At the penultimate position, an attendant asked me, as usual, what language I would understand. I answered, “Malayalam”. I was told how to approach Amma and how to rest my weight, so as not to hurt Her. Then I found myself in front of Amma, and She took a-hold of my head with Her right hand, while winding down a near-simultaneous darshan with a female devotee from the other queue on Her left side. Then she tucked my head under Her, so that Her lips were upon my right ear, and She said “Ammade kuttoo” (meaning “Amma’s dear son”, as nearly as I can translate) a number of times. It felt nice but I did not glimpse ‘Brahman’, feel the kundalini shakti (latent reservoir of spiritual power) surge or anything like that. I wanted to hug Her back warmly but did not do so for fear of hurting Her. Then She let me go, but instead of rapidly making way for the next devotee’s darshan as I normally do, I straightened my back so that my eyes were almost level with Hers, and sought permission to speak to Her for one minute.
She assented with a nod and I launched into my little talk. I told her that I had a child with a seemingly intractable medical condition, that I had previously seen Her in country X before, and that one of Her Swamis who had recently paid us a visit, had suggested that I bring a stick of sandalwood, for Her to bless. I then fished out the stick of sandalwood, from a pouch I wore around my waist, over my shirt. Amma heard me out and gave instructions for the sandal-paste to be applied on my child’s forehead every night before sleep. I did not say a word about anything else and She did not either.
I sensed that the darshan was over. I looked for Her feet, so I could touch them and then touch my forehead, to express my reverence in the customary manner. As usual, I failed to spot Her feet, since She sits cross-legged with Her feet tucked under Her, so I contented myself by lightly touching Her knee with the tip of my right ring finger and transferring the touch to my temple. Then I backed away and the next man closed in. I found some space and did a prostration. There was not enough room for a full-length prostration, so I did something like a three-quarters version, kneeling forward and touching my forehead to the ground but not extending my body full-length.
I was a little self-conscious as I did this, so I am afraid I did not do it very well. I was torn between doing it well and doing it quickly, as I was loathe to upset the progress of the queue, and take up the most valuable real estate in the world – at Amma’s feet. As a result, I ended up doing a rapid-fire prostration, that must have seemed odd to anyone who was watching. I imagined the unspoken censure of bystanders: “What does this idiot think he is doing? Is this a sashtanga pranamam (full-body prostration) or a caper by a circus clown?” Fortunately, I think it was only my imagination working overtime and that nobody noticed, or if they did, they did not really care too much.
Om Amriteshwaryai Namah
Friday, April 18, 2003
Part 10: Atmikam And/Or Laukikam?
In the last episode, I wrote about the thought I devoted to the form of the impending communication with Amma. I may have neglected to cover a parallel mental struggle to decide the content of my communication. Such games are constantly being played out, in infinite variations, one after another in the arena of my mind. In the present instance, it felt rather like simultaneous, multiple mud-wrestling matches going on, in different pits at the same venue.
There were, broadly speaking, two main areas of concern that I was bringing to Mother. One area, which I looked upon as being in the laukika (worldly) realm, pertained to the material situation of my family and myself. The other area, which I tended to classify as atmikam (spirituality), was related to my own spiritual progress. There were a number of focii of interest within each of these areas. The medical condition of my child, a perpetually unstable job situation and relationship issues (among members of my family) were some of the pigments on the laukika canvas. The atmika canvas was dominated by the brush strokes of faith and practice. More on faith, in a moment.
I have not yet narrated the story of my first meeting with Amma. At the present rate of centipedal crawl, it may take a few years yet before that particular tale gets told, if ever. My intention, in holding that back, is not born of a perverse desire to stoke the suspense. As a matter of fact there is no suspense at all; that tale is as plain as the rest of my life. It is only in the telling that colour sometimes creeps in. However, the point to be noted at this juncture is that my coming to Amma did not have any finality about it. In some ways, the drift towards spirituality in general, and Amma in particular seems to have been inexorable, even inevitable, if you study the events of my life, but there was no specific clincher that anchored my devotion. And that brings me to the issue of faith. I had come to Amritapuri, looking for something that would either shake my evolving faith in Amma as God and Guru, or solidify it beyond all doubt.
So that was one of the implicit items on my atmika agenda. I was looking for some evidence; my mind framed a proposition for Amma, a challenge in a way, that ran roughly like this: "If You are all that is purported, please give me some evidence. It does not have to be big or grand, or alter the conditions of my life in any appreciable way, but it must meet my standard of proof, a standard which I expect You (Amma), in Your omniscience to divine, not out of my arrogance, but as a matter of course." I fancied that I had a bit of a scientific temper, and a rational bent of sorts, and I expected that Amma would know exactly how to go about convincing me. I was prepared to settle for something considerably short of a published and peer-reviewed finding in Physical Review Letters (a leading journal of physics) for instance.
I also mused about the propriety and prioritization of these issues. Was atmikam to take precedence over laukikam or the other way around? Were my categories, a priori as they were, even approximately correct? What if what I considered to be spiritual was really worldly and vice versa? About a year ago (but well after my Amritapuri encounters), a senior Swami (monk) in the Ramakrishna order whom I consulted, told me that it was folly to draw a line in the sand to divide the spiritual from the material within my life, and that an integrated and holistic perspective was better. This basic idea, in spore form, had been present in my mind even before the RK Swami brought it to life by the addition of his teertham (literally holy water, used as a metaphor here, for his words of wisdom). If my atmika-laukika polarization dissolved in the face of such logic, how would I decide on what issues to prioritize? On the other hand, if I held on the categorization, how would I decide which issues within each class to take up? My mind was taken up with questions of this nature. I was a little vexed for a time, but eventually clarity descended, and I was able to approach Amma with the semblance of a plan.
Om Amriteshwaryai Namah
There were, broadly speaking, two main areas of concern that I was bringing to Mother. One area, which I looked upon as being in the laukika (worldly) realm, pertained to the material situation of my family and myself. The other area, which I tended to classify as atmikam (spirituality), was related to my own spiritual progress. There were a number of focii of interest within each of these areas. The medical condition of my child, a perpetually unstable job situation and relationship issues (among members of my family) were some of the pigments on the laukika canvas. The atmika canvas was dominated by the brush strokes of faith and practice. More on faith, in a moment.
I have not yet narrated the story of my first meeting with Amma. At the present rate of centipedal crawl, it may take a few years yet before that particular tale gets told, if ever. My intention, in holding that back, is not born of a perverse desire to stoke the suspense. As a matter of fact there is no suspense at all; that tale is as plain as the rest of my life. It is only in the telling that colour sometimes creeps in. However, the point to be noted at this juncture is that my coming to Amma did not have any finality about it. In some ways, the drift towards spirituality in general, and Amma in particular seems to have been inexorable, even inevitable, if you study the events of my life, but there was no specific clincher that anchored my devotion. And that brings me to the issue of faith. I had come to Amritapuri, looking for something that would either shake my evolving faith in Amma as God and Guru, or solidify it beyond all doubt.
So that was one of the implicit items on my atmika agenda. I was looking for some evidence; my mind framed a proposition for Amma, a challenge in a way, that ran roughly like this: "If You are all that is purported, please give me some evidence. It does not have to be big or grand, or alter the conditions of my life in any appreciable way, but it must meet my standard of proof, a standard which I expect You (Amma), in Your omniscience to divine, not out of my arrogance, but as a matter of course." I fancied that I had a bit of a scientific temper, and a rational bent of sorts, and I expected that Amma would know exactly how to go about convincing me. I was prepared to settle for something considerably short of a published and peer-reviewed finding in Physical Review Letters (a leading journal of physics) for instance.
I also mused about the propriety and prioritization of these issues. Was atmikam to take precedence over laukikam or the other way around? Were my categories, a priori as they were, even approximately correct? What if what I considered to be spiritual was really worldly and vice versa? About a year ago (but well after my Amritapuri encounters), a senior Swami (monk) in the Ramakrishna order whom I consulted, told me that it was folly to draw a line in the sand to divide the spiritual from the material within my life, and that an integrated and holistic perspective was better. This basic idea, in spore form, had been present in my mind even before the RK Swami brought it to life by the addition of his teertham (literally holy water, used as a metaphor here, for his words of wisdom). If my atmika-laukika polarization dissolved in the face of such logic, how would I decide on what issues to prioritize? On the other hand, if I held on the categorization, how would I decide which issues within each class to take up? My mind was taken up with questions of this nature. I was a little vexed for a time, but eventually clarity descended, and I was able to approach Amma with the semblance of a plan.
Om Amriteshwaryai Namah
Friday, April 04, 2003
Part 9: Preparing For Darshan
After unpacking my bags and settling into my new penthouse ;) I headed down to see about getting a darshan token. As I said before, it was a lean season and the crowds were not that large. Still my number was in the 1200+ range. But I was in no hurry, since I had all day and then some. I had some time to kill before Amma's arrival in the hall of the Kali temple. I tried calling home on my mobile, to give my family an update on my situation, but found that it could not pick up the network signal. So I walked over to the pay phone booth and made my calls. After I was done running up a bill of several hundred rupees, I stepped out and began talking to people.
My first contact was a householder ashramite in his early 40s (I'm guessing). He and his wife had no children and had been with Amma for a number of years. I opened conversation with an introduction and brief sketch of my situation and he responded likewise. While we were talking, I noticed a general flutter among people at large, and guessed that Amma had arrived. She had indeed. I did not see which way She made Her entrance but at any rate, She was now in the temple hall. I tarried for a while longer with my new acquaintance, before going over to the darshan hall.
I sat down cross-legged in the hall, while queues formed on both sides - on the left side for the men and on the right side for the women. I felt some mild excitement, a sense of anticipation but it was nothing to write home about. I went over my agenda in my mind, rehearsing exactly what I would say when my 20 seconds of air-time came up. The complexity and difficulty of the task cannot be overstated. As most of you are probably aware, compressing your life's events and concerns into 3-5 short sentences is not something that is easy to do. I found myself thinking about structure, composition, prioritization and such other technical questions pertaining to the delivery of my intended message.
I also had to wrestle with the issue of language. I had the choice of speaking to Amma directly in Malayalam - my mother tongue, in which I was reasonably fluent but far from being accomplished (my knowledge of spoken Malayalam is fair but I don't know how to read and write in the language) or, in the alternative, of speaking to her via an intermediary in English, a language which despite its foreignness, is my strongest suit. I decided that English would be (sort of) fake, unnatural and even misleading; I did not wish to represent myself as a brown Sahib, an Indian-foreigner, typical of a species that is alienated from its own culture and tradition. Also, at our first darshan, although it had been my wife who did the talking (I had not said a word), the language used was Malayalam. Therefore in deference to tradition, and with regard to continuity/consistency, I opted to sacrifice the higher clarity that might have accrued through my resort to English; I decided I would speak in Malayalam.
While I actively pondered the modalities of speech delivery, a part of my brain was passively engaged with the idea that Amma's omniscience (an article of faith with me and a necessary axiom for any devotee, IMHO) rendered physical communication somewhat redundant. I figured that the superfluity, such as there might be, was extant purely on Amma's side. For my part, I clearly had a need to engage Amma physically and I saw little point in repressing or denying that drive. What then was the true import of verbal communication with Amma? I fell upon the notion that it was a ritual, a shell devoid of meaning on its own but meaningful as an expression of some underlying truth. And what was that underlying truth? Children babble, not always coherently, but the Mother always listens. To Her children, She might appear to respond (or not at all) in ways that seem variously intelligent, empathetic or just abstruse. However, regardless of the quality of physical communication, the Mother or Guru (remover of darkness) is at all times doing what is necessary for the betterment of the child or disciple.
Om Amriteshwaryai Namah
My first contact was a householder ashramite in his early 40s (I'm guessing). He and his wife had no children and had been with Amma for a number of years. I opened conversation with an introduction and brief sketch of my situation and he responded likewise. While we were talking, I noticed a general flutter among people at large, and guessed that Amma had arrived. She had indeed. I did not see which way She made Her entrance but at any rate, She was now in the temple hall. I tarried for a while longer with my new acquaintance, before going over to the darshan hall.
I sat down cross-legged in the hall, while queues formed on both sides - on the left side for the men and on the right side for the women. I felt some mild excitement, a sense of anticipation but it was nothing to write home about. I went over my agenda in my mind, rehearsing exactly what I would say when my 20 seconds of air-time came up. The complexity and difficulty of the task cannot be overstated. As most of you are probably aware, compressing your life's events and concerns into 3-5 short sentences is not something that is easy to do. I found myself thinking about structure, composition, prioritization and such other technical questions pertaining to the delivery of my intended message.
I also had to wrestle with the issue of language. I had the choice of speaking to Amma directly in Malayalam - my mother tongue, in which I was reasonably fluent but far from being accomplished (my knowledge of spoken Malayalam is fair but I don't know how to read and write in the language) or, in the alternative, of speaking to her via an intermediary in English, a language which despite its foreignness, is my strongest suit. I decided that English would be (sort of) fake, unnatural and even misleading; I did not wish to represent myself as a brown Sahib, an Indian-foreigner, typical of a species that is alienated from its own culture and tradition. Also, at our first darshan, although it had been my wife who did the talking (I had not said a word), the language used was Malayalam. Therefore in deference to tradition, and with regard to continuity/consistency, I opted to sacrifice the higher clarity that might have accrued through my resort to English; I decided I would speak in Malayalam.
While I actively pondered the modalities of speech delivery, a part of my brain was passively engaged with the idea that Amma's omniscience (an article of faith with me and a necessary axiom for any devotee, IMHO) rendered physical communication somewhat redundant. I figured that the superfluity, such as there might be, was extant purely on Amma's side. For my part, I clearly had a need to engage Amma physically and I saw little point in repressing or denying that drive. What then was the true import of verbal communication with Amma? I fell upon the notion that it was a ritual, a shell devoid of meaning on its own but meaningful as an expression of some underlying truth. And what was that underlying truth? Children babble, not always coherently, but the Mother always listens. To Her children, She might appear to respond (or not at all) in ways that seem variously intelligent, empathetic or just abstruse. However, regardless of the quality of physical communication, the Mother or Guru (remover of darkness) is at all times doing what is necessary for the betterment of the child or disciple.
Om Amriteshwaryai Namah
Part 8: The Purpose Of My Visit
Before coming down to Amritapuri, I had met Amma, for the first time in my life, in the country where I reside. My first darshan (I plan to leave the narration of that event to a later date) took place just four months prior to my Amritapuri visit. It was only after going through the first darshan and attendant interaction with other devotees that I began to grasp the contours of Amma's routine and methods. I quickly figured out that I wanted to take mantra-diksha (initiation into disciplehood with a holy phrase) and learnt that it was normally done during Devi Bhava.
My first darshan was a quick in-and-out affair and I had not bothered to stick around for any of Her satsangs (spiritual gatherings), much less the Devi Bhava. However, soon after Her departure from my country, I found my spiritual hunger increasing by leaps and bounds. I wanted to do something, anything to get started on the spiritual curve. I kicked myself for not taking mantra-diksha, when I had the chance during that very first visit. I thought things over and decided I could not wait for another year to pass, before I did something that at least seemed concrete.
Mantra-Japa (continuous chanting of the mantram) appealed to me more than some of the other forms of spiritual effort such as pooja (ritualistic worship) or seva (service). All my life, I had been inclined to view poojas as something of a spectator sport at best, and a nuisance at worst. My visits to temples also had been few and far between, undertaken with reluctance or under family pressure. As for seva, although I had read enough by then to appreciate that selfless service was an integral element of the spiritual path, I was not yet ready to grab a broom or write a cheque.
So anyway, the point of that preamble was to explain that one of my missions in visiting Amritapuri was to take mantra-diksha from Amma. There were other objectives as well. I have a child with a serious medical issue and my family (more than I) hoped for some kind of benevolent intercession from Amma. My wife and child had accompanied me on my first darshan, so the issue had already been brought to Amma's notice, but my wife wanted me to make a second reference. This (the child's condition) is an issue that absolutely dominates my wife's consciousness, so I saw no harm in following her suggestion. Also, prior to my travel, I had consulted with one of Amma's Swamis (ascetic disciple); he told us that Amma sometimes asks for sandalwood paste to be applied, and that with Her blessing we might observe some amelioration of our child's condition. So I had come down to Amritapuri, armed with a stick of sandalwood and expected to get it blessed by Amma.
Apart from these two major objectives, I also intended to use my visit to conduct a deeper survey of the Amma phenomenon. I had been attracted to Amma via her biography and the Road to Freedom books but now, as I stood on the cusp of a deeper involvement with Amma, I wanted to check things out in person. My intention was not to conduct any rigorous kind of study; rather the idea was to absorb influences that would either confirm my intuition that Amma was my Guru or weaken it. The mission was data collection, in other words.
Om Amriteshwaryai Namah
My first darshan was a quick in-and-out affair and I had not bothered to stick around for any of Her satsangs (spiritual gatherings), much less the Devi Bhava. However, soon after Her departure from my country, I found my spiritual hunger increasing by leaps and bounds. I wanted to do something, anything to get started on the spiritual curve. I kicked myself for not taking mantra-diksha, when I had the chance during that very first visit. I thought things over and decided I could not wait for another year to pass, before I did something that at least seemed concrete.
Mantra-Japa (continuous chanting of the mantram) appealed to me more than some of the other forms of spiritual effort such as pooja (ritualistic worship) or seva (service). All my life, I had been inclined to view poojas as something of a spectator sport at best, and a nuisance at worst. My visits to temples also had been few and far between, undertaken with reluctance or under family pressure. As for seva, although I had read enough by then to appreciate that selfless service was an integral element of the spiritual path, I was not yet ready to grab a broom or write a cheque.
So anyway, the point of that preamble was to explain that one of my missions in visiting Amritapuri was to take mantra-diksha from Amma. There were other objectives as well. I have a child with a serious medical issue and my family (more than I) hoped for some kind of benevolent intercession from Amma. My wife and child had accompanied me on my first darshan, so the issue had already been brought to Amma's notice, but my wife wanted me to make a second reference. This (the child's condition) is an issue that absolutely dominates my wife's consciousness, so I saw no harm in following her suggestion. Also, prior to my travel, I had consulted with one of Amma's Swamis (ascetic disciple); he told us that Amma sometimes asks for sandalwood paste to be applied, and that with Her blessing we might observe some amelioration of our child's condition. So I had come down to Amritapuri, armed with a stick of sandalwood and expected to get it blessed by Amma.
Apart from these two major objectives, I also intended to use my visit to conduct a deeper survey of the Amma phenomenon. I had been attracted to Amma via her biography and the Road to Freedom books but now, as I stood on the cusp of a deeper involvement with Amma, I wanted to check things out in person. My intention was not to conduct any rigorous kind of study; rather the idea was to absorb influences that would either confirm my intuition that Amma was my Guru or weaken it. The mission was data collection, in other words.
Om Amriteshwaryai Namah
Wednesday, April 02, 2003
Part 7: Finally, A Room With A View
Before I go further with this interminable account of my stay, I would like to make a small clarification. Since I have arrogated to myself the right to post anonymously, I believe I also have a duty to protect the identities of the people I encountered during my stay. Therefore my descriptions of characters in these accounts may be altered to mask their true identities. There are no deep or dark secrets to hide, and none of the participants in my experience stipulated confidentiality, but I still deem it appropriate to take the identities out of the narrative. There is a story to be told (some may join issue with me on that!) but I see no reason why any of the characters that feature in it must be addressable.
So let us see, where was I? Yes, in the Indian accommodation office, waiting for the Western accommodation office to open. It opened at 11am as scheduled and I went up to meet whoever was in charge there. Achan in the Indian acco office had smoothed my path with a phone call even before I set out on this mission, so I climbed the steps to the Western acco office in the old temple with confidence. Over there, I spoke to a brahmacharini (female reunciate) of European origin. She took my passport and handed over the keys to a room in the Western block. Although I was travelling alone, and the normal policy was to group people together three or four to a room, she was kind enough to allot me a vacant room where I would be the sole occupant for the first 3 out of a total 5 days of intended stay. I had arrived, quite deliberately, in a lean season and there were probably lots of vacancies.
I had arrived after midnight on a Wednesday morning and planned to stay until Sunday to take in the Devi Bhava (Amma in Her Divine Mother aspect). So my plan was to take in a darshan (audience with a sage) every day when it was available. Friday was the only non-darshan day in my calendar, so I would take in a darshan a day upto Monday morning, when I planned to depart the scene. I had mentally gone over the dosage (in pills of Amma experience) beforehand and figured it was about right: 3-5 darshans in India, and the same number in my country of residence, when Amma comes a-visiting once a year. That was more than enough for me at the existing level of longing for Amma. After all, I had not felt, upto that point or even subsequently, the waves of indescribable bliss that many have claimed to experience in Amma's presence. Therefore I approached this calculation pragmatically; I was not out to spend every minute and second with Amma.
I gathered my luggage, thanked the brahmacharini at the counter and went off to my new quarters. It was in the building overlooking the swimming pool and kayal (inland waterway). The room was located at the end of a long corridor on a high floor. I let myself in and surveyed the scene. After my experience of the night before, this was like the Presidential Suite at the Waldorf Astoria. (I have never stayed at that swank hotel and never will, given my modest means, but I exaggerate merely for dramatic effect). I was overjoyed. The relief I felt was so immense, that even with my limited literary skills I could have composed a sonnet, on the spot, to 'The Room'. Posterity will record with gratitude that I did not succumb to the temptation to litter the universe with my uni-verse.
Om Amriteshwaryai Namah
So let us see, where was I? Yes, in the Indian accommodation office, waiting for the Western accommodation office to open. It opened at 11am as scheduled and I went up to meet whoever was in charge there. Achan in the Indian acco office had smoothed my path with a phone call even before I set out on this mission, so I climbed the steps to the Western acco office in the old temple with confidence. Over there, I spoke to a brahmacharini (female reunciate) of European origin. She took my passport and handed over the keys to a room in the Western block. Although I was travelling alone, and the normal policy was to group people together three or four to a room, she was kind enough to allot me a vacant room where I would be the sole occupant for the first 3 out of a total 5 days of intended stay. I had arrived, quite deliberately, in a lean season and there were probably lots of vacancies.
I had arrived after midnight on a Wednesday morning and planned to stay until Sunday to take in the Devi Bhava (Amma in Her Divine Mother aspect). So my plan was to take in a darshan (audience with a sage) every day when it was available. Friday was the only non-darshan day in my calendar, so I would take in a darshan a day upto Monday morning, when I planned to depart the scene. I had mentally gone over the dosage (in pills of Amma experience) beforehand and figured it was about right: 3-5 darshans in India, and the same number in my country of residence, when Amma comes a-visiting once a year. That was more than enough for me at the existing level of longing for Amma. After all, I had not felt, upto that point or even subsequently, the waves of indescribable bliss that many have claimed to experience in Amma's presence. Therefore I approached this calculation pragmatically; I was not out to spend every minute and second with Amma.
I gathered my luggage, thanked the brahmacharini at the counter and went off to my new quarters. It was in the building overlooking the swimming pool and kayal (inland waterway). The room was located at the end of a long corridor on a high floor. I let myself in and surveyed the scene. After my experience of the night before, this was like the Presidential Suite at the Waldorf Astoria. (I have never stayed at that swank hotel and never will, given my modest means, but I exaggerate merely for dramatic effect). I was overjoyed. The relief I felt was so immense, that even with my limited literary skills I could have composed a sonnet, on the spot, to 'The Room'. Posterity will record with gratitude that I did not succumb to the temptation to litter the universe with my uni-verse.
Om Amriteshwaryai Namah
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