God- What's in a name?

24th October 2009, Puttaparthi

All my life, I have believed in the presence of a primordial, ultimate force that triggered all of existence, way in the beginning. I grew to believe that force was Sri Sathya Sai Baba, physically. I thank my stars for being brought up by elders who imbibed in me this association. If I have myself figured out, I know I’d feel this poignant restlessness over the vagueness of the term “force”. I would need it to be defined in tangible terms, and it is now. But I had always only had a rather superficial devotion towards Baba. Pretense ruled my reality. It felt nice to be spiritual, but I never really was. Until, I think, today.

My eighteenth birthday began with a whole lot of typical teenage fun. Friends popped in at midnight with a cake, we aimlessly wandered in the dark streets and had a sleepless night on the terrace. Then I caught my flight to Bangalore and taxi to Puttaparthi, Prashanti Nilayam. Got a room, ate lunch at the nostalgic Western Canteen and snoozed for a good two hours. It was then time for darshan. Thinking I was late, I quickly paced towards the gargantuan Sai Kulwant Hall, where devotees in ten thousands, had already seated themselves in the traditional, discipline manner. I found myself a spot in the back, without sacrificing a good view. The hall boomed with the sound of two men chanting what I thought were endless recitations, into the mike. The entire, spacious ashram echoed with their voices, in fact. Several minutes later, it ended. I felt an excitement in me. He could be entering any minute now. This anticipation was rather unfamiliar. The bhajans began. As always, I followed and sang along. The third bhajan however, did something to me, I never thought possible. It was a familiar bhajan that I’ve heard and sang a number of times before. “Nand ke dulare, Yashoda ke pyaare”, in praise of Lord Krishna. Before I could make sense of what I was feeling, tears began to flow out of my eyes. I choked. I didn’t know why. This kept occurring in irregular but frequent intervals.

Then He arrived, assisted by four sevadal men in white and white (the general Prashanti Nilayam attire). Although a miracle-worker, the personification of divinity, and my perception of God, He had assumed the form of a human being and therefore suffered the problems of aging and accidents. There He was, in his bright orange robe, hair a lot less bushy than it had been, but presence still as powerful. I began to bawl. I had to bite my lips to keep from sobbing out loud. They were not tears of joy. There wasn’t a hint of a smile on my face. But they were not instigated by sorrow, either. I felt an inexplicable emancipation. I felt thankful. I could hear my conscience saying “thank you” a million times. I cried and I cried.. And I cried. Until He was out of sight, I cried. I didn’t even care that some of the women in my precinct were eyeing me. Whether out of sympathy, empathy or ridicule, I don’t know. They were the last things on my mind and in my sight. My brown stole had little black stains on it from wiping my kohl-lined eyes.

I am not an emotional girl. Except for laughter, all my emotions have always been under my control, particularly anything to do with the release of tears. What then, made me sob so uncontrollably, I wondered? I didn’t understand that complex emotion behind my tears. I couldn’t give it a name. Then it struck me that perhaps this is what the spiritually mature call “devotion”. I believe I have finally discovered where my devotion truly lies. It was probably always there. I only needed an opportunity like this to realize it. I needed to come here when I was more mature. I needed to come here and absorb the peace in solitude. I finally did.

I walked out of darshan, feeling such absolute contentment.

24th April 2011, Madras

I woke up in the morning and looked out of the bedroom door, getting a perfect view of the television. The news channels were saying that Sri Sathya Sai Baba is no longer amidst us, physically. He had died of a liver and respiratory system failure, after 28 days of being hospitalized. There were people weeping in the news, celebrities communicating their grief and interviews of those close to the Bhagwan. Every channel made it a point to reiterate that Sai Baba had followers and devotees from all over the world, in millions. They referred to him as a “Spiritual Leader”. Well, that is one way of being politically correct of his designation, if he had to be given one.

Some believed him to be the God Almighty. Some thought he was another messiah like Christ. Some disregarded him as a hoax, a magician. Some chucked wretched allegations at him of sexual abuse and murder. Some thought him to be a self actualized soul.
I fall under the last category.

I believe that the word ‘God’ is merely used to refer to an entity of entirety. Some wise men say that we are all God, that God resides within us. We are God. We are all parts that constitute one unit, one whole piece, the universe. Sri Sathya Sai Baba advocated that there is one religion, the religion of love, and one God, and he is omnipresent. Never did he proclaim Godhood for himself. He said he is God, and so are the rest of us. Why God is omnipresent is because God- he, she or it- is every atom that makes a molecule. God is the primary unit of all existence, and not necessarily the Omega. God is that start button that triggered off all existence. God is the current that brings light to a bulb. God is life. He isn’t the big boss, up in heaven, ensuring that man behaves himself. He isn’t even necessarily a ’he’. God is just the single word for every single thing that constitutes the universe. The universe is the aforementioned entirety, or Brahman. God. Every unit is an integral part for the making up of the universe. Every unit is God. So yes, God CAN have failed vital organs and fall prey to the curse of mortality.
The Advaita school of thought believes just that. Man and the Lord are one. There is no distinction between the two, for God is what man is made of.
Sai Baba realized the God in him and pleaded with humanity to see their God within. In an attempt to bring such an enlightenment to mankind, he earned the respect of many and the mockery of many others. He insisted that his devotees should not shed their religion to follow him. He preached a single religion which unites all the already established schools of thought and belief. The Sanathana Dharma. The religion of Love.

He has now taken leave of his physical body, but being God- like the rest of us- is still lingering about. Whether he lives on in the mind, in books or through his work, he lives on nonetheless. He has established schools, universities, water plants, hospitals and whatnot. If nothing else, he can be considered God for his foresight and philanthropy.
He induced tears in me on my eighteenth birthday for reasons I still cannot put my finger on. Devotion was what I thought it was, but is devotion so powerful as to bring out such intense emotions in you? For me Sri Sathya Sai Baba was the cushion I fell back on, every time I had a crisis. Nobody knows it, but I chant “Om Sri Sai Ram” endlessly, before setting out to do anything. Just the thought of that omniscient smile, eases me of all anxiety. That day was the last time I saw him physically. He was in a wheelchair. It was like seeing a parent handicapped, for the first time. I grew up, being taught to have faith in him, and though my ideas have evolved since my eighteenth birthday, I still believe he is a superior kind of God. A miracle worker, whose mere name had the power to lift my spirits. I do believe that I am God. But he had something in him that gave him the power to attract minds from all realms of worldly life. Hitler, Mother Theresa, Gandhi, they all possessed similar power. Why weren’t they thought of as God? They were God too, they just didn’t realise it, and instead either worshiped someone else, or no one at all. All of India seems to have realized the God in Sachin Tendulkar, why is it so difficult to see the God in yourself? Is it just easier to put that responsibility on someone else? Sai Baba definitely didn’t think so. He believed in himself. He took the responsibility of being God to a whole religion of people, and how he succeeded! Atheists just don't know what they're missing out on. Agnostics are just confusing themselves.

Sai Baba announced that he would soon be back in the form of Prema Sai. I see no harm in believing that to be true. There are devotees who prayed to him for their loved ones. Who are they going to pray to for him?
For me… He is still here.

Curtain Call

The pounding sledgehammer in my stomach woke me up in the middle of the night. Groaning in pain, I walked towards the bathroom. I didn’t know that in the very next room, an 86 year old lady was being kept awake by an even mightier sledgehammer, somewhere inside her aging body. My grandmother had been bed ridden for five years, her condition worsening every summer. By this time, she had lost comprehensibility, mobility and clarity in speech. The only way she communicated was through smiles, mumbles, head shakes and finger pointing. She was strong. She was rusting, but she never let it bog her down.

This afternoon, she suffered her last. What began as cringes and moans, turned into a vacant stare towards the ceiling. Relatives came pouring in. Nobody wanted to admit that she had breathed her last. It was something we could have all absorbed on our own, but instead we had to call upon strangers to confirm it. The Scrubs from a nearby hospital strutted in with their fancy equipment. One of them demanded a torch. And then the sledgehammer in my stomach went shooting up to my head. He stretched open both her eyes and flashed the torch light on her pupils. Her eyes were now unusually wide open, her mouth gaping mildly. Within the next minute we learned that we could run whatever tests we wanted to run, but none of them would bring life back into this old woman. The room burst into tears, but my father went about completing the formalities, emotionlessly. I had seen him tear up only once in my life. That was six years ago, when he sat by his father’s body, singing silently to himself, while two tears trickled out of his shut eyelids.

My father had lost his mother. My mother had lost her mother-in-law. My other grandmother had lost her best friend. Grieving relatives first comforted us. I found that really thoughtful. Ever since I was born, my grandparents had lived under the same roof as me. It was hard to imagine a house without my grandmothers. And now one of them had taken leave.

I found myself doing something I never thought I had the guts to do. I sat alone with a corpse. Though, it was my grandmother. I couldn’t link her to the aforementioned C word. She didn’t seem dead to me. She was my grandmother. One of the two women who love me as much as my mother does. A woman so beautiful, she smiled brightly everyday despite being immobile for six years. The sweet lady I tucked into bed every night, thinking this was the most genuine smile I had given to someone all day, every day. People were naturally drawn to her. I say this with conviction because we had people coming over to visit her every other day. It was heart-warming. Now I fear that no one will come our side again. She was what made people want to come to our home. And now, she’s lying lifelessly inside an ice box.

I watched her body turn a pale yellow, as I sat beside her. It was just the two of us in that room. I tapped on her a couple of times and called out to her. No, I was not going crazy from grief. Something about calling out to her liberated me. Every time I tapped on her shoulder, I felt a quick flicker of hope. As if she would open her eyes and ask me what. It didn’t happen, I knew it wouldn’t. My aunt came in now and then. She ran her palms softly over her mother’s face, and stroked her arms gently. She kissed her a couple of times. I watched, and felt this consuming warmth, even though I wasn’t the one being caressed. I wanted to hug my grandmother too. I wanted to kiss her ice cold cheeks and tell her I miss her already.

While all of India celebrated the coming home of the ICC Cricket World Cup, my family mourned the departure of our ultimate link, from the world. She ensured team India bagged the title of World Champions, before she left. She was considerate. She chose the day after the World Cup final to grab attention. All her life she had played second fiddle to cricket. Right from her husband, to her grandchildren, everyone has been cricket-crazy. She wasn’t going to meddle with that love, even during her last days. She timed her exit perfectly, the classy lady that she is.

Like every other night, she now lays asleep. She looks no different from her usual self, except that she has cotton stuffed into her ears, up her nostrils and Tulsi leaves in her mouth. She lies motionless inside a glass box like Snow White. And that is what she has always been to me. My Snow White. Her skin had always been soft and fair. Her eyes were a remarkably familiar blue. I couldn’t help but notice how exotic they were, when my father asked me to shut them, this evening. Her smile was relieving, whether she had her dentures on or not. Her hair was a beautiful white and gold, which even now frames her head so neatly. Today was the last time I combed her shiny hair.

Death is a remarkable thing. You ignore all of its warnings, and then it hits you with the most excruciating blow, out of nowhere. I lost two family members in the span of three weeks. One that taught me how to drive, and the other who had taught my father, close to everything he knows today.

When someone who has been around for every day of your life, suddenly isn’t with you anymore, it leaves you with an irreparable void. I want my grandmother back. If only I could defy all logic, reason and science. My father, a man of unbreakable stone, broke down, today. For the first time in my life, I saw him openly weep. I woke up to that dreaded sight, the morning after she delved into the world of nothingness. He stared at her ice box and silently wept. She had managed to induce tears in my hero. The man who had always been unperturbed by any worldly goings on. A man so detached and spiritual, reality was void of any fantastic elements for him. He is strong, all-knowing and bold. He is a happy man. But he had now lost the one person he was attached to…

And she didn’t even say goodbye.