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