tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-152406072012-02-17T08:18:51.210+08:00Random walks on the spiritual path with Amma - my God, Guru and SelfHumble Wormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07318809028156393940noreply@blogger.comBlogger271100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15240607.post-63843697365328124882007-08-10T07:18:00.000+08:002007-09-02T03:28:47.794+08:00

I don’t have a clear idea on where I’d like to take this narrative. Do I fast-forward or rewind? Mere play seems so ordinary. Disc/Video jockeys don’t do that anymore, opting instead to crash, cut, scratch and spin. Our canvas today is hip-hop framed in heavy metal, street-side babble bounded by noise. Do I dare strike an orthogonal note? Certainly not. You have to rumble in order to register. So

Humble Wormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07318809028156393940noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15240607.post-1160764083490961982006-10-14T02:20:00.000+08:002007-09-02T03:26:31.491+08:00

To continue the story, we got to conversing for a bit – the air traffic controller and I. He shared his impressions of the ashram with me. To his gaze, most people there appeared to be stoned. He seemed pretty sure of his thesis that the average Joe there was high. I tried to present the view that most folks were solidly anchored to the ground, and that the few who seemed to have attained

Humble Wormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07318809028156393940noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15240607.post-1131584264996556112005-11-10T08:39:00.000+08:002007-09-02T03:17:54.401+08:00

I am going to skip ahead a couple of days in my itinerary, to when my solitary stay was terminated by the entry of a flat mate. I had been warned when I took the room, that I could have it to myself for the first three days, but that I would have to share it for the remaining couple of days of my stay. Notwithstanding my foreknowledge, I was still surprised when the appointed day rolled around

Humble Wormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07318809028156393940noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15240607.post-1130175261939623012005-10-25T01:33:00.000+08:002007-09-02T02:57:43.822+08:00

Did I suggest somewhere in the previous episode that X3 resembled a kondatum, a dried twig? Perhaps I ought to take back that characterization and replace it with milch cow, as my hapless protagonist can surely be milked for another story at least.I happened to quiz X3 on his sadhana (spiritual practices) and he told me that he had been practicing kriya yoga (a breathing technique used in

Humble Wormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07318809028156393940noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15240607.post-1123731806737502002005-08-06T11:39:00.000+08:002007-09-02T03:01:00.458+08:00

After that tragi-comic excursion into my unexpressed (to X3) thoughts, we return to the main story. We observed how, half a decade of construction notwithstanding, the man’s delicate defenses were swept away by the deluge of desire. He drew up a plan to have a romp, a sexcapade outside the ashram. I found his choice of Kurukshetra (specifically, the theater of war in the epic Mahabharata and, in

Humble Wormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07318809028156393940noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15240607.post-1123729958563652082005-07-31T11:08:00.000+08:002007-09-02T02:36:32.952+08:00

After much rest and reflection, an itinerant devotee returns to the trail. In the intervening months, Mother has written a few more words in this loiterer’s book of life. Her words do not yet sum up to a full sentence; not even a subordinate clause, barely enough for a phrase perhaps. Despite Her terseness, a hint of intent is now apparent to this actor, an insignificant extra in Her cosmic

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After a gap of almost a year, I return to continue my story. There is an element in my personality that craves structure and order. I hate to leave a job unfinished. It may be a pointless project, devoid of meaning but having once embarked on the mission of my own accord, I feel compelled to see it through. There is this story in the Puranas, where the Devas and the Asuras, in a rare

Humble Wormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07318809028156393940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15240607.post-1123727887813391622003-11-26T11:36:00.000+08:002007-08-31T20:33:29.691+08:00

X1 also explained how being a Swami was not exactly the fun thing it might appear to be from the outside. The Swamis, according to him, were held to far tighter standards than the rest. Amma, in ways variously subtle and gross, was constantly holding their feet to the fire, notwithstanding the external glitter associated with their senior positions in the hierarchy. In this sense, the prime

Humble Wormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07318809028156393940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15240607.post-1123727149225398962003-11-17T11:24:00.000+08:002007-08-31T20:17:27.206+08:00

X1's reply indicated that the desire to be something, anything (in the organizational context) had been completely scrubbed from his mind, if indeed it had ever existed. When asked if he would be a Swami (monk) someday, he just looked upwards and said that whatever Amma wished would happen. He did not say it wistfully or with longing but in respectful surrender to Her Divine will. He seemed to be

Humble Wormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07318809028156393940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15240607.post-1123726966261974932003-11-09T11:16:00.000+08:002007-08-31T20:11:40.772+08:00

X1 spoke to me of Amma with profound reverence. His veneration of Her, while unostentatious, was clearly very deep. When he spoke of Amma, his eyes would look into the distance and he would take a deep breath. At the risk of a little exaggeration, it may be said that I almost sensed the exhalation of incense from his nostrils; his homage to Amma was that vivid. He seemed to have virtually

Humble Wormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07318809028156393940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15240607.post-1123721783657147812003-11-09T09:44:00.000+08:002007-08-31T20:07:09.589+08:00

As I stood outside the souvenir shop, conversing with X1, I was struck by his intensity. Upto that point, I had not come across any other ashramite with the kind of intensity that was evident in his mien. I don't remember exactly how it came up, but at some point in our conversation, we touched on the subject of death. X1 said to me with considerable feeling, "Death is a joke. If anyone dies here

Humble Wormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07318809028156393940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15240607.post-1123667945329774712003-09-28T17:55:00.000+08:002007-08-31T19:58:02.426+08:00

Many months ago in Part 14, I announced with needless flourish that I would return to the chronological flow in my narration. Life intervened, and I found myself unable to maintain the posting routine that I had set for myself. I now return to post with your kind indulgence. However, I feel the need to deviate from my stated intent to stick to the time-line of events. In any case there is no

Humble Wormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07318809028156393940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15240607.post-1123663313175677132003-06-07T16:38:00.000+08:002007-08-31T19:50:16.143+08:00

The digression continues. Last time, I wrote mostly about the social effects of the spiritual identity question. I made the point that the identity project is suffused with some social tension, even if it is undertaken for the highest spiritual reasons. And when the reasons are less sublime, it goes without saying that the results may even turn out to be harmful. Some of my writing betrayed the

Humble Wormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07318809028156393940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15240607.post-1123661579819735802003-05-15T16:08:00.000+08:002007-08-30T10:36:08.120+08:00

After a hiatus of a few weeks, the pesky/friendly neighborhood insect (a glowworm, yours truly!) flits across your screen once again. The delay was a function of business (work and family chores) at some times and plain laziness at other times. I must also admit to being thrown off-track by Sister Premarupa’s request for clarification after my pot shot at the practice of Western devotees taking

Humble Wormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07318809028156393940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15240607.post-1123592062370471922003-04-25T20:39:00.000+08:002007-08-30T10:19:45.072+08:00

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

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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

Humble Wormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07318809028156393940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15240607.post-1123589270027536892003-04-18T19:33:00.000+08:002007-08-30T09:48:39.516+08:00

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

Humble Wormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07318809028156393940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15240607.post-1123575375543046982003-04-04T16:54:00.000+08:002007-08-30T09:44:05.511+08:00

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,

Humble Wormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07318809028156393940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15240607.post-1123572903679257252003-04-04T16:16:00.000+08:002007-08-30T09:35:07.400+08:00

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

Humble Wormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07318809028156393940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15240607.post-1123571449608039832003-04-02T15:57:00.000+08:002007-08-29T13:33:13.411+08:00

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

Humble Wormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07318809028156393940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15240607.post-1123570395522787502003-03-18T15:35:00.000+08:002007-08-29T13:27:14.804+08:00

I woke up early in the morning (early by my lax holiday standard, not the stringent Amritapuri standard) around 6.30am, feeling fine and rested. My sleep had been deep and uninterrupted, a minor surprise given that the physical conditions were less than sublime. Actually, I ought to amend that. Contrary to the impression I may have lent so far, the conditions, for sleep at least, were not all

Humble Wormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07318809028156393940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15240607.post-1123569230390437252003-03-16T15:16:00.000+08:002007-08-29T13:18:13.401+08:00

Once I had made my big decision (to clean or not to clean, that had been the question), I went about executing it. I swept all the rubbish into the corner where the termite mound was located and cleared some habitable space for myself. It took me over an hour but it was not physically exhausting. Just tedious. Then I entered my version of hell - the terrible toilet and went about cleaning a

Humble Wormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07318809028156393940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15240607.post-1123567133852999342003-03-15T14:39:00.000+08:002007-08-29T13:12:42.387+08:00

The reason for my mounting exasperation must be obvious, but embarrassment? Being recently clued into some of the essentials of the spiritual orientation - renunciation, frugality, humility and so on, I was not unaware that my role in the acco discussion was turning out to be far from exemplary. The way I saw it then, the unreasonable and insensitive attitude of that brahmachari was bringing out

Humble Wormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07318809028156393940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15240607.post-1123565714073432102003-03-08T14:24:00.000+08:002007-08-29T12:35:53.699+08:00

The roads began to get narrower and the ride became more bumpy. I guessed that we were approaching Amritapuri. My American companion had woken up from his nap by now, seemingly refreshed. He immediately entered into a discussion with me on how we should divide the cab fare between ourselves. I had called up the ashram office from overseas and booked a vehicle to ferry me to the ashram, and at

Humble Wormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07318809028156393940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15240607.post-1123564949219815872003-03-01T14:14:00.000+08:002007-08-29T12:33:07.306+08:00

A little detour before we get around to narrating how the Mother Of All Truckers ran me over...this is India after all, and here we never go directly from point A to point B without going everywhere else first!Before we began the ride, my American fellow traveller requested me to sit up front with the driver. He wanted to lie down on the back seat and sleep. He had come prepared with a pillow and

Humble Wormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07318809028156393940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15240607.post-1123564446617344202003-02-22T13:58:00.000+08:002007-08-29T12:27:35.201+08:00

This is the story of the time that I spent in Amritapuri some years ago. It is an ordinary tale, nothing dramatic, but I wish to record it for reasons not entirely clear or sound. Perhaps I wish to scour my mental garbage bin for little nuggets I can take home, or maybe, I want to reach out to an audience and share the confusion and mystery of the spiritual life. There may also be a creative/

Humble Wormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07318809028156393940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15240607.post-1123551559881897542003-02-22T10:36:00.000+08:002006-11-13T11:36:09.055+08:00

This is a serialized record of my experiences with Amma in Amritapuri. These blogs may be of interest to those invested in religion/spirituality in general and Amma in particular.Amma is Mata Amritanandamayi Devi. I look upon Her as God, Guru and the Self. However, I am currently situated on the distant outer margins of the spiritual involute and so my regard for Amma, such as it is, is more

Humble Wormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07318809028156393940noreply@blogger.com0