My Amritapuri Experience: Part 11

[Guest guest]

Continued from Part 10...

 

At the end of my internal deliberations, I was left with a few

operating principles or algorithms:

(1) Brevity was key. The length of my intervention could not be much

more than the duration of Amma's KISS ("Keep It Short, Son"?!)

(2) My agenda would have to reflect the most pressing concerns of my

family and myself. While I had a healthy layman's interest in world

peace and quantum biology, I had to admit that there were other, more

mundane questions that kept me awake at night.

(3) Within the area labeled "family concerns", there were some issues

such as employment and `sadhana' that concerned me more than the

other members, and other issues such as the health and welfare of our

child that more actively engaged my wife. My wife argued and I had to

accept that asking questions about my `sadhana' would have been too

selfish when we had a pressing child health issue to contend with.

(4) It was axiomatic with me that Amma already knew all there was to

know about our situation. Therefore I assumed that She would make the

inevitable defects and deficits in my communication, respectively,

good and whole.

 

The queue numbers rolled by. Pretty soon, it was time for me get up

and join the queue. While waiting my turn, I tried to do the

important things - focus on my speech and slip into a devotional

mood, but my efforts were only partially successful. Periodically, I

found my attention being drawn to a study of the surroundings. Just

when it seemed most important for me to stay on beam and with the

message, I found myself engaged by trivia such as, for instance, the

way in which the person standing in front of me shifted his weight,

or the snatches of conversation carried on by those nearby that

wafted to my ears.

 

Notwithstanding these minor failures, I am happy to report that not a

single inappropriate thought crossed my mind in that time, or for

that matter in the entire time I spent at Amritapuri. As I say this,

I do realize that all thought is perhaps inappropriate in

a `Vedantic' sense but I refer here only to the more gross varieties

such as sexual thoughts, for instance. The credit for this phenomenon

(the temporary suspension of all libidinous impulses; it lasted over

30 days and more than spanned the duration of my stay at the ashram)

properly belongs to Amma since it has few parallels in the rest of my

life.

 

Finally, on to the great denouement of the day, actually a bit of an

anti-climax. I reached the head of the queue and the minders had us

edge forward the last meter or so on our knees. Having

taken `darshan' before, I was reasonably familiar with the routine

and tried to be as co-operative as I could. The air around Amma smelt

nice. I had noticed that fragrance on previous occasions as well, and

I put it down to some kind of incense or perfume or cleaning agent

that Her attendants probably employed on a routine basis. By now, my

whole attention was focused on the mission at hand and I had become

less conscious of the people around me. Strangely enough, I cannot

remember a single face from this `darshan' crowd although a number of

faces from previous and subsequent `darshans' are still etched in my

memory.

 

At the penultimate position, an attendant asked me, as usual, what

language I would understand. I answered, "Malayalam". I was told how

to approach Amma and how to rest my weight so as not to hurt Her.

Then I found myself in front of Amma and She took a-hold of my head

with Her right hand while winding down a near-simultaneous `darshan'

with a female devotee from the other queue on Her left side. Then she

tucked my head under Her so that Her lips were upon my right ear and

She said "Ammade kuttoo" (meaning "Amma's dear son", as nearly as I

can translate) a number of times. It felt nice but I did not

glimpse `Brahman', feel the `kundalini shakti' surge or anything like

that. I wanted to hug Her back warmly but did not do so for fear of

hurting Her. Then She let me go but instead of rapidly making way for

the next devotee's `darshan' as I normally do, I straightened my back

so that my eyes were almost level with Hers and sought permission to

speak to Her for one minute.

 

She assented with a nod and I launched into my little talk. I told

her that I had a child with a seemingly intractable medical

condition, that I had previously seen Her in country X before and

that one of Her Swamis who had recently paid us a visit had suggested

that I bring a stick of sandalwood for Her to bless. I then fished

out the stick of sandalwood from a pouch I wore around my waist, over

my shirt. Amma heard me out and gave instructions for the sandal-

paste to be applied on my child's forehead every night before sleep.

I did not say a word about anything else and She did not either.

 

I sensed that the darshan was over. I looked for Her feet so I could

touch them and then touch my forehead to express my reverence in the

customary manner. As usual, I failed to spot Her feet since She sits

cross-legged with Her feet tucked under Her so I contented myself by

lightly touching Her knee with the tip of my right ring finger and

transferring the touch to my temple. Then I backed away and the next

man closed in. I found some space and did a prostration. There was

not enough room for a full-length prostration so I did something like

a three-quarters version, kneeling forward and touching my forehead

to the ground but not extending my body full-length.

 

I was a little self-conscious as I did this, so I am afraid I did not

do it very well. I was torn between doing it well and doing it

quickly, as I was loathe to upset the progress of the queue and take

up the most valuable real estate in the world – at Amma's feet. As a

result, I ended up doing a rapid-fire prostration that must have

seemed odd to anyone who was watching. I imagined the unspoken

censure of bystanders: "What does this idiot think he is doing? Is

this a `sashtanga pranamam' (full-body prostration) or a caper by a

circus clown?" Fortunately, I think it was only my imagination

working overtime and that nobody noticed, or they did, they did not

really care too much.

 

To be continued in Part 12...

 

Om Amriteshwaryai Namah

 

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