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His words are authentic...as Kasturi himself experienced, they are profound utterances, beyond the grasp of the ordinary...
Only an Avatar could say those words. Lesser souls like seers, siddhas, sadhakas, mahatmas, munis, ascetics and aspirants would not have the courage or, even if they mustered enough courage to utter them, the words would not have the ring of authenticity. |
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About four years ago, I happened once to go to Puttaparthi, by the night train from Bangalore. I reached the place by 10 a.m.. when I peeped into the old Mandiram near the village on my way to the new Prasanthi Nilayam, a furlong away, I was shocked by the heavy cloud of sadness that hung over it. For, the brother-in-law of Baba, (as we with our limited family outlook do prattle in delusion), Sri Subba Raju, Baba’s ‘sister’s’ husband, who was also his ‘maternal uncle,’ had passed away the previous evening and was buried late at night. I had known him as a good and active worker at the Prasanthi Nilayam, with a kind enquiry always on his lips, and so I was overwhelmed with sorrow. I also felt great anguish when I thought of the bereaved lady and her only son, a sweet little boy. With a heavy heart I moved towards the Nilayam, half apprehensive to meet there the stricken ‘brother’ and ‘nephew’ and doubting all the time whether the words I might use would be enough to express my sorrow and convey my sympathy.
When I reached the Nilayam I could not stop my tears, for, right underneath the portico, on the knee-high wall facing the garden, sat Baba with all the ‘relatives’ standing in a semicircle in front of him. The bereaved lady was evidently inside the Nilayam, for her lamentation could be heard outside. Dark despair lay thick on every face and all were eagerly watching Baba’s lips, waiting for his words.
Since I had not yet heard those words which only an Avatar could say, I had foolishly manufactured, on my way to Prasanthi Nilayam a sentence of consolation, in the conventional style, to be spoken to Him. But luckily, before I could commit that sacrilege, Baba looked at me with a bewitching smile, and seeing my tears, he said, “Why? What is this? Don’t you know me? If there is no birth and no death, how am I to pass my time?” and, then, he laughed!
“How am I?” …. “Birth and Death” …. “Passed My time” …. What a profound utterance, and before what an audience and against what a background!
I saw before me not Baba with a physical body 28 years old but the avatar of the Lord, Himself. Who else could have the courage? Who else could infuse into those words that true ring of authenticity? Ponder over this, brother reader; that is my prayer.
(an extract from Sanathana Sarathi April 1958)
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