Most of the people in my circle know I have a huge crush on Krishna. I love Him so much that even during some mundane affairs, say if I am watching a scary movie, I visualise hugging Him, and go about watching it. He is my lover boy, if I may call Him that, and anything remotely associated with Him makes me smile.
It so happened that curiosity got the better of one of my friends, and she asked whom I love more: Sai, my guru, or Krishna, my lover? [Technically speaking, both of them are one and the same, and so are all of us. But lets not let digress in the name of Advaita.]
What I said to her in words then was reflected in my actions today, and I don’t know what to make of it.
The morning that was:
Now that I live in Parthi, I usually sit in the public block for darsan, as draping a saree everyday is the last thing I want to do. Furthermore, the Mahasamadhi view from the public block is way better. Today was special, and I decided to drape myself in a saree, and get a seat in the students’ block.
The Guru Purnima saree that Swami gave in my student days has a pink-blue shade, while the 80th birthday saree has a dark green shade. As much as my heart leaped at the blue, I decided ‘birthday‘ saree suited the occasion.
I reached the hall, got myself seated somewhere in the public side, as there was no proper students block as I expected. I gave my pranams, and very soon things felt different.
“Is it just me. or do other people share my sentiment?” I thought to myself.
Veda chants were going on, the cows were brought in, the Institute boys played their instruments, the school kids were forming a line, coming in one by one, we were seated and there were sprawling gaps between people. Few of them still fought over places.
Somewhere it felt monotonous. My students block was either empty, or it didn’t exist. Where were my fellow girls? Why is there such a gap?
Tears welled up from places, I didn’t even know existed within me.
I missed my Swami.
He was not there. Physically. Maybe He was, but I couldn’t see Him. I missed Him, and I missed Him more by the second. Everything around me reminded me of Him.
Mr. God walked this place. In His yellow shiny robe, He glided through the hall. Stopping here and there, taking letters – giving a smile – blessing – scolding – reprimanding – laughing – joking!!!
Looking onscreen reminded me of what one Anantapur teacher told to us when we were students: “Don’t look at the TV to catch a glimpse of Swami. Even if you get to see just a hint of His robe, or the crown of His hair, that’s fine, but have His direct darshan. You can look at Him through the TV any other time.”
Darn! Those words of Shahida Ma’am pierced my heart. How true were her words!
I missed craning my neck, and sitting all crammed up. I hated the spaces next to me. It brought me no joy, or comfort. More tears cascaded down. I missed my Swami.
The video guys focussed on the peacock feathers that added beauty to the Mahasamadhi. For the first time in my life, those feathers failed to bring a smile on my face. I missed my Swami.
The brothers were singing ‘Adharam Madhuram’, and the beautiful form of my guru flashed before me.
“Dalitam madhuram, phalitam madhuram”
[Separation and its effect – how could they be sweet – I wondered!]
The Kulwant Hall looked forlorn. The resounding claps of everyone assembled took me to my very own Giridhari, my Sathya Sai. How He used to clap vigorously when He sung bajans, and His clap was soon followed by ours, and that bhava thundered through the ashram.
His honey dripping voice that said, “Premaswarooplara” Why don’t I hear it now?
I contemplated on His form in my mind’s eye, washing Him with the only thing I had: tears. I cradled Him in my bosom, not wanting to let Him go. He stayed put, and it felt so beautiful. I watched Him sway to the music, His lotus feet placed on the footstool. I dearly held Him, and watched Him as He adjusted His unruly yet glorious crown of hair. I hugged Him some more, and felt His divine tresses. He still stayed put, my giridhari.
I was brought back to the current day, when a prasad fell on my lap. That momentary lapse took me again to those days, when He used to stand infront of the interview room window, watching us as we ate the prasad. Smiling, nodding, elevating our awareness to levels we cannot comprehend.
My Sai ❤ My most beautiful Sai ❤ How much I missed Him!
I realised it was my first festival at Parthi after April, 2011. I have had daily darshans, but I never visited on festival days, except ofcourse on Aradhana day. But Aradhana day was different, but this was Krishnashtami.
“Oh darn! Krishna, I am so sorry. Its different without Him you know.”
I left the hall with mixed emotions. “Krishna is my lover boy. True that! But Swami, YOU… You are… ” and the below song rang in my ears ❤
To being trapped in the romance of dvaita!