Preface (written on April 24th, 2011):
Less than 24 hours ago, I wrote and posted the following entry. This was during the time when Sai Baba was in a critical state of health. As we know now, early this morning, on Easter Sunday, Swami passed away. I don't want to change anything I have written below, because it still remains true, though asking for His immediate and full recovery as I have done, is clearly no longer possible.
Swami always said, 'My Life is my Message'. Though His life as this avatar has ended, let His message live on forever, and let us continue to follow His teachings, and to raise our children, and our children's children with the same love, compassion and divine guidance we have been blessed with in this lifetime.
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When I was about 12 years old, my parents took my sister and me to India for the very first time. We went on a spiritual pilgrimage to Prashanti Nilayam, the ashram where Bhagawan Sri Satya Sai Baba resides. Some of you might be asking, who is Sai Baba?
'I am God. And you too are God. The only difference between you and Me is that while I am aware of it, you are completely unaware'
This is His response when asked about His identity. Providing an entire summary of His life and mission would be an entry on its own and not the intention here (especially since most of my readers already know about/are devotees of Swami). But for further reading, I highly recommend the Sai Radio website, which provides a truthful explanation. My purpose is not to try and convince or instill belief in those who do not believe, but to merely express my own experiences and devotion.
Up until my visit to Prashanti, Swami's presence in my life was only in the form of pictures, prayers, bhajans (spiritual singing) and stories I was told by others about Him. Every Saturday morning, we would have our Bal Vikas classes with the other children. Bal Vikas means the blossoming of a bud into a flower - and so too we blossomed through spiritual education. We would learn about epic stories such as the Ramayana and Mahabharata, practice singing bhajans, and mould our bodies into various asanas during yoga class (not all at the same time of course!). Most importantly though, we were taught the importance of Swami's five-fold path for leading a meaningful life: Satya (Truth), Dharma (Righteousness), Shanti (Peace), Prema (Love), and Ahimsa (Non-Violence). Adherence to these five principles in all aspects of our life would keep us on the right spiritual path. One of the most beautiful aspects of Swami's teachings is that they are applicable to all faiths and religions. His aim is 'not to disturb or destroy any faith, but to confirm each in his own faith, so that the Christian becomes a better Christian, the Muslim a better Muslim and the Hindu a better Hindu'. I prayed to Swami every night, thanks to my parents’ reminders, and tried to embrace the five-fold path to the best of my abilities.
But suddenly I found myself at the tender age of 12, implanted into the birthplace of all my spiritual education. Before this, Swami had come into my world. Now, I had come into Swami’s world and something felt radically different. On the first day we went for darshan (blessings from Swami) we sat amongst the hundreds of devotees in the darshan hall, patiently waiting to see Swami walk past us. We were so many rows behind His path (everyone draws numbers in order to determine the seating) but you could not miss Him in His bright orange robe. Suddenly this being who I had only seen in pictures and videos, this being who I had prayed to every night, whom I sang the praises of in bhajans, was walking only a few metres in front of me. Tears were falling from my eyes, and I was overcome with a deep love for Swami that I suppose was hiding inside me for many years.
On one of the days as we lined up, waiting for our turn to pull a number for darshan seating, someone in my family (perhaps my mum or one of my aunts who had come with us) had pulled out either a number 1 or 2 (the details are foggy). This was very exciting – finally one of us would have the opportunity to sit so close that we could maybe speak with Swami or bow to His feet, with His permission. Through the generosity of my family, they let me take the number and sit at the very front. They passed me several letters we had been taking with us every day, from other family members, hoping that Swami would collect them personally from my hands. My heart was racing, and a thousand thoughts were going through my mind: What if He asks me something? What if I can’t understand Him? What if He lets me ask a question? What do you ask God? And so on and so on.
Then Swami appeared and began to walk on His usual path. Once I saw Him, all the thinking stopped. He slowly walked past us, with His right hand lifted, showering His divine blessings upon us. My hand was stretched out with the letters, just like the hands of those beside me, and my focus was on His face –trying to take in this moment of closeness that I may never experience again. He looked at me, with an endearing gaze, His dark eyes filled with pure love, and a slight smile. My eyes brimming with tears, my mind completely empty, I could think of nothing to say. He continued walking along, and the letters remained in my hand. I will never forget that moment, because it reminds me so much of the way my mother looks when she is immensely proud of me. The literal translation of Sai is mother, and it was that brief moment, a moment that could not have lasted more than two or three seconds, in which I most clearly understood the meaning of His name, Sai.
This is the only story I have to tell of my experience with Swami. I don’t have dreams about Him, He has not spoken to me, He has not materialized anything for me. But I don’t really need anything else to know that every cell of my body, every inhalation and exhalation, every word I speak, is one with Swami. When I pray, I do not pray to Him, but I pray in salutation to the oneness of our divine beings. When I feel lost or frustrated, I say to myself ‘Swami, I surrender everything to you, do as you wish’ and I find solace in my unwavering faith that He knows what He is doing.
But this month, that faith has definitely been tested. On March 28th, Swami was hospitalized and continues to be in a critical state of health. All over the world, millions of his devotees have been praying for His physical well-being. We are all puzzled as to why He has chosen to suffer in this way, what is the meaning and intention behind His condition? For the first time in a long time, I find myself praying to Swami, asking Him to please, get better. I feel a depth of sadness and grief that I’ve not felt before. Even writing this entry has been a long process, filled with many tears. In my mind, I know that we shouldn’t be so attached to forms, and I know that Swami’s existence is beyond His form. But in my heart, when I close my eyes, I still see the image of Him smiling down at that 12 year old girl, and part of me is unable to detach. I know many of you reading have probably been feeling the same way over the past month, and I’ve been reading about the many prayers and bhajans that have taken place for Swami, longing to be with you all during this very difficult time.
If one thing has become clear, it is the pure, all-encompassing love that we share for Bhagawan. Let us channel that love in our prayers for His immediate and full recovery.
Om Shanti, Shanti, Shanti (Let peace prevail everywhere)
Sai Ram