|Much have you given to me,
Yet I ask for more...
I come to You not merely for the draught of water, but for the spring;
Not for guidance to the door alone,
But entry into the Master’s hall;
Not only for the gift of love, but
For the Lover Himself!
As I sit back and ponder over the bygone days, I realise that someone has secretly entered into my life and enriched it with priceless love. I was blessed with boundless gifts. I did not know who the giver was, but felt His presence and His gentle touch.
'Once in the early nineties, Swami visited Madras, and was staying at Sundaram. After the suprabhatam was sung, the Lord glided onto the balcony and gave darshan to the thousands who were waiting there. My parents and I were also amongst the crowd of devotees who had come to enjoy the spectacle of love spreading far and wide to rekindle the spirit of mankind.
The mass of devotees, who were seated till then, rose in reverence with folded palms, and tried hard to get a glimpse of the Almighty. Tears of joy rolled down my mother's cheeks as she saw the beautiful form of Love in front of her. I was surrounded by people, and couldn't catch sight of the wish fulfiller, as I knew Him to be. I tugged at my mother's sari. She seemed to understand what was going on in my mind. Just then, the devotees started murmuring amongst themselves that the Balvikas children were to present a programme in the portico so that Swami could see the tiny tots from where He stood. As the crowd made way for them, I rushed through the narrow passage, and positioned myself in the front row. It was then that I had a glimpse of my Guardian, my Eternal Friend. I knew for certain that He is my comrade, and that the unseen hand is His.
As I grew up, God to me was only an entity I used to look up to in order to satisfy my petty fancies. When I was promoted to the sixth grade, attending bhajans in the neighbourhood was a part of my everyday routine apart from academics, fun and frolic. After the bhajans, it was a regular practice among the devotees to narrate some experiences of how Swami had touched their lives and made a difference. Hearing them, I used to yearn for the day when He would enrich my life with an experience.
My life that was filled with the warmth and affection of my kith and kin until then was suddenly thrown into turmoil and tension when I was afflicted by what the doctors diagnosed as tuberculoma of the brain. Initially, I had an agonizing pain in the head which eventually began to run down my spine. Sitting in the classroom for prolonged hours was becoming impossible. I could not sprint in the streets and sport with my friends. I had to discontinue my studies before a week elapsed, and my sprightly spirit, that always soared high, plummeted. I withdrew myself from academics and all the activities and aerial ambitions that an 11-year old would dream of.
A score of bitter pills, steroids and splenetic syrups replaced the bars of chocolate puddings and pastries. The doctors were not happy with my progress. The oral medication did not suffice, and they decided that the needle had to be used to relieve me from the anguish. I had sleepless nights due to the sudden spasms, and my colourful childish world was flooded with darkness. My worried parents surrendered to Swami. I was sure that Swami was making my biography a momentous and memorable one.
I asked Him to hold my hand and deliver me from despair. I prayed fervently and asked Him to renew my lost strength. Behind the silent dark walls, God answered my prayer, and my parents decided to take me to Puttaparthi. I was fortunate to sit in the front row. My mother too secured a convenient position to have Baba's darshan. The music began. Swami came gently walking towards where I sat. He took some rice grains from the lady who was sitting besides me, and showered them thrice on me. In my anxiety, I blurted out 'Swami, I do not want to take those injections any more.' His benign smile gave me an assurance that everything would be taken care of.
I travelled back counting my blessings. The follow-up CT scan reports disclosed that I was on the way to speedy recovery. My parents were grateful to Bhagawan who had granted their daughter a new lease of life. It is said that: 'the strongest metal cometh from the toughest furnace.' This phase of despair strengthened my faith in Bhagawan.
The love story does not end there. Years passed. Now, as His student, I am a humble part of His Avataric Mission. He shows us the path way to immortality by being our guardian. This is the assurance given to me in one of my dreams. I dreamt that all His students were made to stand in a line forming a human chain and were asked to walk behind Him. He turned to see if all His children were following Him. When He found that some of us had slightly deviated, He gently pushed us into the path set by Him. To my right was a beautiful garden, and to my left was marshy land. He said to me, 'if you follow Me, I will guide you to the garden.' The dream ended there but the message was clear. The goal is set and the path is clear. All we need to do is to tread it with commitment.'