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.
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.
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