Vision of the Lord Toward the end of last February, one afternoon I was rolling papads [savory snacks] in my house, when a letter came from Sri Vineethji who was at Bangalore. I did not open it then and there but kept it aside. The postman brought the mail and in it there were two letters for me, both from great Yogis of Northern India who treated me like their disciple and who were interested in my sadhana. I felt like a child sitting at their feet. I could not but open their letters; so I got my eyeglasses and read them. They had exhorted me to carry on my sadhana (spiritual practices) and recommended some further steps. I felt suddenly sad and lost. I sighed and wept because I was struck by the inadequacy of my efforts and the consequent insubstantiality of the progress made. I prayed to God that He might make me worthy of the tenderness and care that these Yogis were bestowing on me. I got some relief from my agony Then I remembered the letter from Vineethji that lay unopened on my lap. I tore the cover and spread it before my eyes. At the very end of the page he had written, “I had the darshan of Sri Sathya Sai Baba and He spoke to me also. He is the Inscrutable Mystery; He is Omniscient; how can I describe Him to you? I shall try my best when I come, to communicate to you my joy and His glory.” Believe me, when I read that sentence, I felt a flash of illumination pass through me. I became unaware of everything outside me. The eyes closed of themselves. There was no body consciousness. It continued like this, off and on, for two or even three days. Meanwhile, Vineethji came back from Bangalore; we decided to reach Puttaparthi a few days prior to Yugadi [festival]. Some days passed, I was immersed in dhyana, steeped in concentration. Then when I came down, suddenly, I knew not why, I took paper and pen and wrote a letter to Sathya Sai Baba, the Baba I had not seen! Why I wrote it, what I had to write, I did not know. I only know I wrote. It was a call from jiva to Shiva, a call that did not crave a response. I was like a tree putting forth fresh leaves in spring. That letter gave me so much happiness, merely writing it and sending it to Baba. Two or perhaps three days later, I wrote again. “Lord, You vouchsafed darshan to Vineethji; grant me, too, the darshan and shower on me, too, Thy grace. Make my life worthwhile, giving me the Vision of the Form I worship. You are the Ocean of Mercy; You are the Giver of all Boons.” I sent the letter, but somehow never worried about the reply. The mother is content if the child’s cry “Amma!” reaches her; she might not care to respond every time. The Lord made everything smooth for our journey; we reached Puttaparthi without any trouble, we had His darshan immediately on arrival. The next day, He called me in along with two other elderly ladies for “Interview”. The door was closed; while He was talking to those others, I was asked to move away into a place from where the stairs climbed to the first floor. I could see Baba, talking and blessing. Suddenly, I had a feeling that it was no longer earth, but heaven. I was thrilled in the Presence of God. I saw God before me in human form. Baba had His Hand on the wall, when He turned to me in the midst of His talk with those others and said, “I know, I know, your sadhana has all along been for merging with Eashwara. But why are you worried about that even when you are in the actual Presence? Do your duties as an embodied Atma and leave the rest to Me.” Thus, I understood that my Lord had known the agitations of my heart. I was overcome with joy at the motherly love and grace of Baba. My eyes opened a little. I recollected who I was and from where I had come. I saw before me in a flash Narayana Himself—my Ishtadevata, my Upasanadevata, He who came as the friend, guardian, and companion from birth to birth, through countless ages. As a hungry man gets calm when he has secured a plate of rice, I, too, got shanti [peace], at the sight of the Lord. I had not spoken a single word so far. Now, I was seized by the urge to speak. I placed my hands across my heart and said, “Lord! The ‘I’ must go, now, here; ‘You’, ‘You’ alone should exist.” He said, “It will, it will.” I held His Hand in mine (!) and said, “Prabhu! Narayana! You must dwell in this heart.” He replied, “I shall, without fail.” Two days later, Baba called both of us into that room; I feared that I will have to return to Dharwar and it will be some long time before I could sit at the Feet of the Lord. Then, I felt I had not sat at His feet at all, I entered the room wishing that He would give me that joy. He closed the door and asking us both to sit on the carpeted floor, He sat down Himself very near in front of us. Saying with a smile, “You desired to sit like this, is it not? Well. Do sit down now.”  “Come, come take the saguna (the Absolute with qualities) aspect also little by little.” He ordered. I replied, “How can I stop with the saguna? I do not succeed when I try to halt at that stage. In that vast splendor, this little light gets merged. How can I keep the mind on exterior things? Something pulls it in every time I try. If you grant me the capacity, I may succeed.” Baba smiled meaningfully and nodded that He would grant me the skill. He said, “While on the path of sadhana, this experience is quite natural. You see,

Temple Entry This is a story about the mystery and miracle of Bhagavan. I am an American attending the University of Madras [Chennai]. Some days ago, a classmate and myself went to the Kapaleesvara Temple here in Madras. After one passes through the huge gate of the outer temple walls, one’s attention is attracted to the various signs that say­ `Non‑Hindus not allowed’. I had heard about such signs, but in all the years that I have been in India, I had never en­countered one. I told my friend to go on inside and that I would wait outside. Soon thereafter, an old man approached me. He said, “Please do not feel offended nor think badly of these people. This is merely the custom here.” As I silently held my peace, he went away. I began to talk to Baba in my mind thus: “Will this custom prevail forever? You, Yourself are Shiva, and though I’ve come to have Your darshan, I’m forbidden to enter inside. Is not the Lord everyone’s?” As I was mentally conversing with Swami thus, another old man came up to me and said, “Come”. My righteous pride rose up and I remained where I was. Twice again he repeated—”Come”. So I follow­ed him inside. As we began to circumam­bulate the Holy of Holies, he moved his hand, and it was full of Vibhuti. He smeared it all over my forehead and then reached over to a Goddess carved into the rock and removed some kumkum [red vermillion powder], which he also applied. We continued around and as we approached Lord Kapaleesvara he said, “Look”. I beheld the Linga to my satisfaction and then he led me to the con­sort of Lord Kapaleesvara for Her darshan. Then he said, “Now, go.” The next day I was on my way to Putta­parthi. Here is the mystery. Baba en­quired if I had enjoyed the darshan! Some people call `this’ the miracle—this transcen­dence of space and time. But to me the real miracle lies in His infinite care. As quickly as one turns toward Him, He is there with His compassion ready to respond. Such a small, simple act and yet to me it represented His greatest miracle of all­—His Love. ~John Grimes

The Clang  The family of Sethu Madhavan Nair, about eight miles away from the house where a few months back Naxalites committed the most gruesome killings, received a threatening letter from them, on 1‑3‑71. They felt that the Namasankirtan was their only shield. They decided on Akhanda Namabhajan for a week, six days, during day‑light hours, and on the seventh day all the 24 hours! The valedictory function was celebrated with immense joy and the atmosphere was most inspiring. mentioned that Baba has been revealing His presence by miraculous manifestations in the shrine room of the house. This must have been the immediate reason for the ire that was aroused in the hearts of atheists and votaries of violence. On the 8th, at 5 A.M., when Sethu Madhavan was near the washbasin at the back of the house by the side of an open window, a fellow appeared at the window and threw with fatal force a heavy chopper on the man! But Baba was quicker! He drew the devotee suddenly to the corner of the room, away from the fatal blow, holding him quick round the body. He actually felt Baba drawing him away! The chopper fell with a clang on the floor; Vibhuti had dropped all over the place

Ashok Kumar and The Vow Ashok Kumar, aged of 21, the three‑­wheeled scooter driver, was not honest! He cheated his customers every time to the tune of at least 25 paise. One day, he took a cus­tomer to Golf Links where he heard `a Baba’ had come. He stayed on to have His darshan. He saw Him twice that day. He desired to have His photograph, but could not get one. Next day, Providence directed me to him. I hired his scooter, and he was taking me through Golf Links Road. He turned around and asked me, `Did you see this Baba?” I pretended not to know so that I could draw him out. “Who is He?” I asked. For full half-hour, he narrated to me the miracles of Baba and how lucky he was to have His darshan, not once but twice. I was touched by his genuine enthusiasm. He said, “While taking His darshan, I took an oath that I would never cheat anyone.” When I reached home, I took him to the little altar where I had photographs of Baba garlanded, with small oil lamps burning and incense sticks filling the room with fragrance. I gave him a photograph of Baba. He received it gratefully and said, “Baba has heard my prayers.” I engaged him again and after reaching the destination, he said the charges were Rs. 4.40; I gave him a ten‑rupee note; he returned a fiver, and I asked him to keep the small change due. Meanwhile another customer got into the scooter. While Ashok and I were engaged in conversation, the `customer’ managed to `pocket’ the ten-rupees note that had fallen on the ground! As I was about to leave, he came running, “Saab! You have not given me the ten rupee-note!” That was a great shock. I gave him another tenner, and told him, “If you find my first note in any of your pockets, return it to me”. Next day he came to my place. He returned the ten-rupee note. He begged, “Saab! I committed a big mistake”. He explained, “The `gentleman’ who hired the scooter had stolen this note. I detected it when he took the money from his pocket to pay my dues. When anyone gives me a currency note, I fold it always in a different manner. I saw such a note in his possession. He refused to give it to me. There was a fight, a crowd gathered, a policeman came, and the `gentleman’ reluctantly parted with it! After the crowd dispersed, the policeman asked me, “Why should you return the note to that Saab? Let us share it; give me five and you take five” But I told him, “If I am involved in an accident, you are not coming to help me! Baba will come there and help me. I have taken an oath before Baba that I will never more cheat anyone”. This is one specific example of how an illiterate scooter‑driver turned honest. Maybe many thousands have turned a new leaf in their lives. He Knows. Delhi’s polluted air has been sanctified by His visit. He alone can do it.                                                     ~R. Ramanujam, New Delhi

He Is There After two years my husband and I were again at Brindavan (in March 1982), suddenly choked and breathless as that longed-for flame-colored Form appeared through the gates. Later, Swami said to me: “How are you?” and added, “You are sad!” How to explain the pain of separation that the Form engenders at my level of consciousness wherein the sense of duality still exists? Perhaps much more so while in India, for one’s thoughts are apt to run on geographical lines. Baba is in Madras… Baba is in Bombay… Baba has come…. Will He look? Will He speak? and so on. It is inevitable that when that Form disappears from view there is the ache of separation, however much one has experienced His omnipresence. As Baba once pointed out to Dr Hislop, “You know Swami to be omnipresent, yet when you return to your hotel in Bangalore you think of Swami as being at Brindavan!” Whenever there is form there is the pain of parting, for form is maya [illusion]. But our essence, the atma, is encased in form! It must express itself through a physical vehicle. At the same time as we are strivi­ng to rid ourselves of body-consciousness, identification with the form, and to realize the One in the many, we can only learn to love the Formless through the Form, the Unmanifest through the Mani­fest. So “the Lord has to come in human form, so that He can be listened to, con­tacted, loved, revered, and obeyed. He has to speak the language of men and be­have like human beings, as a member of the species…. The human mind cannot grasp the Absolute, Attribute-less Princi­ple; it is abstract and beyond the reach of speech, mind, and intellect.” (Baba) This is the devotee’s dilemma. And the limitation and paradox of the human con­dition often takes on ludicrous aspect. Here am I, in private interview, in the Presence of the Formless Absolute mani­festing in this unique Form “invested with the totality of Cosmic Power,” and what am I doing? I am foraging in my handbag in order to lend my spectacles to my husband who needs to read something! The mind boggles. And then we are speaking of organizational matters, and He sums up a compli­cated situation in just three words which are so comical, so apt, that one wants to burst out laughing! We are talking so informally, so naturally, like ‘Partners’—with God Incarnate. And then I am speaking to my Dearest Friend, from Whom no secret is hidden. There is time to ask three or four of the 100 questions I’ve longed to ask for months—and which now got out of my head! As He answers, and explains, there is that divine smile and I am rivetted to those Eyes which are all-seeing, all-knowing, dark pools of Love, sometimes even twin­kling because in that communion He knows that I know that He knows what remains unspoken. I take the Hand of my Mother and lay my cheek against it. And finally, the Fa­ther lays His Hand on both our heads, saying, “I will bless your efforts … Come back this evening.” And in a moment, He has floated through the curtain. Once more we are privileged to become electrified by the students’ bhajan sing­ing, grouped around the Feet of their be­loved Lord, singing their hearts out. As the Arathi is nearing the end, with a final smile to treasure He disappears from our mortal sight. Perhaps I shall never see that amazing Form ever again, except when He wills it so, in a dream. For, next morning we are going—leaving Him be­hind, (it would seem) as we fly to Bom­bay, my heart crying out “Oh Swami… Swami…”, and the tears come. The bliss and gratitude for incomparable bles­sing becomes tinged with sadness at the parting from the Form. But when I got home to England He was there! When I go in my little car to the supermarket He is there. In my kitchen, in my study, He is there. When I feed the hungry wild birds He is there. When I go to sleep and when I wake He is there. I can talk to Him to my heart’s content for He is there, so often pressing down on my crown chakra—the beautiful, ting­ling pressure that for years has indicated to me that “someone was there”. When I asked Him about it He explained that it was “God contact… God consci­ousness… the Super conscious.” “You mean, Swami, that it has to do with You?” He put His head on one side, smiled with infinite tenderness, and said: “Of course!”  I feel like an ant at the foot of a moun­tain, seeing only the next stone. Or a bird in a cage. Or a butterfly struggling to emerge from a chrysalis in the rays of the life-giving Sun. But always He is there … —Peggy Mason, London Do not aspire to be a servant of God, working for wages; you reduce yourself to that level if you ask for this and that from Him in return for the praise that you offer or the sacrifice you undergo. Even if you do not ask, if the bargain­ing attitude is in your mind, or if you feel disappointed that God did not give you desirable objects in return for all the trouble you took to please Him, do not calculate profit; do not count on returns, do not plan for the consequence; do, since you have to do, since it is your duty. That is real puja. Dedicate the deed as well as the consequence to Him. Then you become His own, not, a cooly (day laborer) demanding wages. That is the highest level a bhakta can reach through sadhana. That is the reason why nishkama karma (desireless action) is so highly extolled in the Gita by Krishna. —Baba

God Never Changes Ilove miracles. I love to witness them. They make me feel happy. In the presence of a miracle, it seems there is nothing impossible in this world with God. When I see or hear of a miracle, I feel God is near at hand, before my eyes. It is God who can perform miracles; the rest of us can at best produce magic, which is only delicious illusion; there is nothing permanent about it. The miracles of Bhagavan have an enduring value; they create faith and hope, which is something to live by. Dominated by His supreme intelligence these miracles are possible; if the universe is dominated by a Sprit that is all love, truth, and joy, then miracles are possible that are all love, truth, and joy. When that sprit descends into flesh, incarnates as the Avatar, this miracle itself would make further miracles a reality. Throughout all the miracle-stories of Bhagavan there is the unmistakable positive note of His Divine authority. Let us not forget that He takes upon Himself the death pangs of sincere devotees those who call out to Him in despair and then He seems to suffer it. But He is as great in His suffering for others as He is oblivious and majestic in supreme unconcern about Himself. He is and has to be His own healer; with one part He heals that part of His body that has gone numb with paralysis; the Shiva in Him cures the Parvati in Him that is prostrate with paralysis. In India miracles after miracles have followed in the footsteps of the Divine incarnations. The pages of the Ramayana,Mahabharata, and the Bhagavata will bear eloquent testimony to the innumerable miracles wrought by the Avatars as object lessons for humanity. Let us take the case of that perfect example of a human television set that relayed happenings on the battlefield of Kurukshetra to Prince Dhritarashtra. Krishna Dwaipayana endowed Sanjaya with clairvoyance and clairaudience so that He could not only see what was going on in the battlefield but could also hear what the heroes were saying; and Sanjaya began to relate the events on the battlefield and conversations between Lord Krishna and Arjuna and out of this narration of Sanjaya was born the immortal Gita. So the birth of Gita is to be seen in a miracle and the miracle is by a Divine Personality, Veda Vyasa. Take again, how a stone produced that destructive force called Narasimha that killed Hiranyakasipu and the devotee was saved. As we grow in the knowledge and love of Bhagavan Sathya Sai Baba, we grow in the understanding of His miracles. They are meant to emphasize the supremacy of the Divine over nature, the power of sprit over matter. Bhagavan has come to bring spiritual uplift to us, to save us from our misdeeds. He has come to convince us of the Existence of God and His Kingdom of Righteousness. He showers blessings to heal us of bodily infirmity. He has come not only to heal the body but to heal the heart that is sick, a far harder task. He has come to help us to help ourselves from our own folly, from the powers of darkness and ignorance. Some people think that mere prayers and faith can perform miracles. But only the Divine Spirit of God—the Savita—the Life Giver can manifest miracles. There is another aspect of Bhagavan’s miracles that has not received proper emphasis. I refer to its Holiness. It is burning Holiness. It burns the dross away; the pure gold of evolved personality remains. Did not Baba’s Holiness shatter the naked Sadhu’s pretense? The Sadhu was sent from the town where he was displaying not only nudity of body but nakedness of sprit. A whole life spent in a fruitless make-believe was destroyed in a moment by Baba’s Holiness. Notice the same holiness, which convinced Kalpagiri, whose soul was heavy with a murder that He had committed, to go to the police, surrender himself, confess His guilt and undergo the sentence. And Kalpagiri, unable to stand before that Holiness, determined to surrender himself and take the punishment and obey Baba even unto death. ‘Go, confess, and undergo cheerfully whatever punishment they give you. You will not be hanged. I promise you that your neck shall wear a Japamala (rosary), which I shall myself put around it. Come to Me after the sentence is over.’ That burning Holiness drove Kalpagiri to atone for the evil deed. He went to the police, surrendered himself, confessed his guilt, was tried for murder, and sentenced to death in due course of law. Bhagavan’s assurance flowered into reality and the President intervened with His prerogative of mercy. Kalpagiri’s life was saved. Once again, the verse of the Gita has come to life: “My devotees can never perish”. The Lord was as true when He uttered that on the battlefield of Kurukshetra in the dim past as He is today. Then it was Lord Krishna who held out that assurance. Today it is Sathya Sai Bhagavan. God never changes; yes, He changes never. ~A. K. Das, Bar-at-LawSource: Sanathana Sarathi, July 1969 Man has to master two foes — Kala and Kama, the ravaging tactics of Time and the undermining strategy of Desire. He must not allow Time to rob him of strength and vitality too soon; he must not allow Desire to lead him astray from the search for Shiva—who mastered both Kala and Kama. He subdued Kala or Yama in the Markandeya episode; He burnt Kama, when he dared draw Him into his bond.  ~Baba

“Swami, please speak to me…” Dr. Sunder Iyer, a Doctoral Research Scholar & Former Faculty, Department of Commerce, at Sri Sathya Sai Institute of Higher Learning, Prasanthi Nilayam Campus shares one of his beautiful experiences with Bhagavan. “GOD is more truly imagined than expressed, and He exists more truly than is imagined.” – Anonymous Sometimes, when I begin to write about someone whom I love, great and beautiful feelings arise in my heart. However, when it comes to confining these emotions to a limited set of alphabets and words, found in a few pages of dictionaries… that becomes an impossible task. Hence on occasions when I speak or write about our Lord, I always resort to an easier means. In other words, one’s feelings and one’s relationship with his God has always been personal, and such experiences can never be revealed. But then there are always the Divine manifestations of the Lord that are perhaps the fruits of such intimate relations that can be shared. When the Lord lets the devotees experience His majestic omniscience and omnipotence, then it becomes a Leela [Divine play]. And it is these Leelas that have been a perennial source of faith and inspiration to all those who have sought shelter at His Lotus Feet. I open the worn-out pages of my old dairies, and I dig into them to find out which of these experiences I can share with you. I cannot help but feel… What intimate hours I once enjoyed,How sweet their memory still.But they have left an aching void,That world can never fill. February 21st, 1981… and my hand stops. As I go through this page, my mind races back through the corridors of time, and I find myself seated in the first line in the evening time, and Swami finishing His usual darshan has just taken some devotees for an interview. It so happened that during those times I had just ventured into the Yoga path and the initial enthusiasm was in its full swing. Yogasanas, breathing exercises, postures, various practices and all such matters occupied the place of prime importance among my thoughts. Often I would indulge in fantasy… roaming in the Himalayas clad in a loin cloth perhaps… or lying next to a snow leopard… performing austerities. But as it happens to most of us, these ideas remained and vaporized within the realm of fantasy, for I soon found that somehow the monthly special lunch bell had the power to penetrate through the deepest of my Samadhis and I would invariably be the first in the line, waiting at the dining hall. But, nevertheless, in the years that followed I have kept on, and despite all my shortcomings, Sai has always seen me through these. The experience I am going to relate is of my one such occasion, when He let out His hand for me to grasp, as if saying, “Come on, you have a long way to go.” And I am a seasoned seedFrom Your own storesMy growing up, therefore,Is Your responsibility. Swami had come a few days earlier to our hostel and pleased us with His Divine discourse. One of the points that caught my attention was that of the chanting of ‘Soham’ Mantra. Swami explained and demonstrated how this sacred Mantra can be chanted through regulation of breath. Immediately, resolutions were passed in mind (which is not a very uncommon feature for those of my category) and I decided to practice it for the rest of my life. this mantra [formula] as and when possible. As each day had passed and as evening drew near, my heart would bloom with expectancy, perhaps Swami would acknowledge my ‘sincere’ practice, speak a word to me, or give me a Namaskar. The first day passed without even as so much of a glance, but I was not deterred. I went on more firmly. But, somehow, when on the second day Swami passed by me without as so much of a glance, my spirits were down in the dumps. Nevertheless, a ray of hope still hung in the frail cobwebs of mind, for the next day our class was going first in the line. So, the evening of this third day found me sitting in the first line in the portico. The sun was just setting for his nightly intermission, and even as his golden rays bathed all of us not merely in light, but also in quite uncomfortable warmth, my mind was going on “Soham… Soham…” Finally, the door opened and the usual hush passed over the atmosphere. All attention was on the door, expectancy accompanied by eager eyes and prayerful hands. My already upright position became more upright as He came closer. “Swami”, my mind uttered softly but in all vanity. “Swami, here I am looking at You… speak to me.” Swami passed by me, spoke to a boy next to me, smiled, patted him, and went on. He finished His usual round of darshan and came back. By then, the portico was full of devotees who had been chosen for interview. I knew now that the probability was nil. As He passed by me once again, the soft uttering of my mind now gave way to ferocious yelling (fortunately all this was within). “Swami,” I screamed within my mind, “I have done what You advised, for three days now, and there has been no response from You.” But He heard me not and the few more seconds that passed were filled with an unforgettable war between prayer and despair. As leisurely as ever, Swami motioned the devotees inside, and with a last look that went above my head, a smile to my partner. He closed the door and the floodgates holding my tears opened. My upright position now became low, and I was busy fighting my tears lest somebody should see. Most of the shadows of life arecaused by standing in one’s own sunshine. All my hopes were shattered; the fruit that my ego so eagerly sought was now beyond my reach. Even the innermost hidden desire to tell my friends how Swami had responded to my spiritual sadhana lay bare. I was thus vainly trying to hide the

On the Day Sri Ramana Maharshi Attained Samadhi On April 14, 1950, an extraordinary event took place at Puttaparthi. Maharshi passed away in Thiruvannamalai, Baba went into a trance at around 9 pm. He went into a trance quite suddenly and threatened to fall. We, another devotee Sri Krishna and I, held out our hands to support Him. Baba lay prostrate on our hands when suddenly His body rose up in air from our arms. He was as stiff as a board, and He was murmuring “Maharshi has reached Me.” Later, the sole of His right foot split open and nearly two kilograms of sweet smelling Vibhuti gushed forth. While we collected the Vibhuti, Baba was still levitating. After a while He descended and returned to His normal self. He then informed us that Sri Ramana Maharshi had merged in Him. The news of Sri Ramana Maharshi’s Samadhi appeared in the newspapers the next day. The time mentioned was the same as that of Baba’s trance.’

The Smile on Moulmein Road Singapore’s skyline glittered like a field of stars as Meera stepped out of her CBD [Central Business District] office, exhausted from another day of deadlines. She wasn’t opposed to faith; she simply found no time for it. Life was busy enough. She hailed a taxi. The driver was an elderly Chinese man with a storyteller’s calm voice. As they drove toward Mandalay Road, the city noise softened. The taxi slowed on Moulmein Road, where three places stood like guardians of different prayers: The lanterns of the Chinese temple flickered like tiny hearts between the two larger sanctuaries. The driver pointed to it. “Long ago, an old lady cleaned that temple,” he began. “Very simple woman. Lived with her daughter. Woke before sunrise to sweep every corner. People walked past like she was invisible. But she was always smiling.” Meera raised an eyebrow. “What made her so happy?” “Every morning,” he said, lowering his tone, “someone greeted her kindly. A man in orange robes, with big hair and a glowing smile.” Meera leaned forward. “Someone from the Chinese temple?” The driver smiled mysteriously.“No. He came from next door—the Indian Mandir. She didn’t know his name. But he always said the same words: ‘Work is worship. Clean well. Every act is prayer.’ He gave her fruits every day. Such love in his voice! It made her broom feel like a sacred tool.” The rain began to drizzle, temple lights gleaming like halos through the wet glass. The driver continued:“The lady once told me, ‘He makes me feel I’m serving God by sweeping the floor. He treats me as equal to anyone who prays. He always says, ‘Love All… Serve All.’” One day she suddenly fell sick. On her final night, she held her daughter’s hand and whispered just one request: ‘Tell the smiling man I cleaned well. I served with love.” After her passing, her daughter searched for him. She walked through the church courtyard… then stepped into the Sathya Sai Mandir, heart trembling. She looked up at the wall. And there He was. The same hair, like a cloud of blessing.The same robe, orange like a sunrise.The same gentle, divine smile. It was Sai Baba. The man known by millions, who preached Love All, Serve All… had quietly visited a temple sweeper in Singapore simply to honor her sincerity. He recognized her service as prayer—even when no one else did. Meera sat still. Not converted. Not suddenly devout. But awakened to a truth she had forgotten: 🌼 Dignity is the highest worship.🌼 Service is greater than ritual.🌼 Love makes every task divine. The taxi stopped on Mandalay Road. Behind her, the Chinese temple glowed softly, the church bell chimed, and the Mandir lights seemed to shimmer in the mist—like the echo of a blessing that once said: Love All. Serve All.Work is Worship. ~ Meera, Indi

He at the Helm It was exactly one year ago that the sequence of events became even remotely perceivable. Swami Paramahamsa Mukta­nanda of Ganeshpuri was scheduled to arrive in Hawaii on the return portion of his American tour. With the multitude of hotel accommodations available and the innumerable homes that abound the slopes of Honolulu, it was a little surprising when Baba Muktananda accepted the invitation to stay in the `shell’ of our new home, still very much under construction! The invitation had been extended signifi­cantly, seemingly on impulse, partially based on Irene’s steadfast devotion to Baba Muktananda as her Guru (even though she had never met him) and partly on my reluc­tance to have anyone, including the illustri­ous personage of a Holy Man, to intrude into my life and the small flat we were then renting. All doubts and hesitations associated with meeting a `realized being’ for the first time welled up. How should I act? Will he see through me? The expectation of his arrival was fraught with discomfort. But from the instant of his arrival, Swami warm­ed our hearts. With affectionate smiles and embraces, he melted away the walls of resistance. With his discourses he removed doubts, and with firm mandates he instilled discipline. The darshans [sight of a holy man] he held and the shakti[power] of his presence permeated the at­mosphere with prema [love] and shanti [peace]. Physically, it has changed the `outcome’ of the house itself! Aspects of finish­—design were obviated and the building took on an air of simplicity and informality quite unintended initially. More importantly, the visit initiated a change in our lives, which at that moment we could little comprehend. In quick sequence, other Swamis travelling through Hawaii further graced the home with bhajans and discourses. Swami Satchi­dananda of the Integral Yoga Society accep­ted an invitation, again seemingly offered on impulse, and added his grace and his lessons to the house. The `net’ was closing in on us; but we had yet to understand its basic implications! Then Indra Devi, beloved Mataji, on a brief stop‑over from India to Tecate (Mexico), delivered to a small gathering at the “Church of the Cross‑Roads” a testament in words and a film of her love for her Bhagavan, Sri Sathya Sai Baba. We had decided to attend the lecture simply because the name `Sai Baba’ denoted yet another Guru. The culmination of that evening left us with a sense of amazement at what we had seen and heard, but with a knowledge that this Baba was something quite different from all that we had previously encountered or read about. This was an Avatar [incarnation]; of this we were sure! The following day Mataji arrived at the house quite unexpected, and with more words of reverence for Sai Baba, she related the leelas [Divine plays] of Baba and the supreme love he bore toward his devotees. Books followed Mataji; we were inundated with tapes of bhajans recorded at Prasanthi Nilayam, and more printed material. The waves of Sai Baba rolled over us and washed us until it was all that we could to contain within us the need to travel to India; but this was yet to be. Numerous attempts were made, all meet­ing with obstructions. Some seven months later, all conditions jelled—visas, passports, finance—and we journeyed via Australia to India! Though all this took place, it must be said that the impetus of Baba’s calling us and all that had transpired during the past year remained vague in our minds… We arrived in Madras, and after a three-­hour lay‑over boarded a DC‑3 for Bangalore, arriving at 10’00 in the evening. The next morning, a call was placed to our only contact in India, Mr. K. Bhirumal, a devo­tee of Baba. He recommended that we journey immediately to Whitefield. Another taxi and then the pure delight of watch­ing Baba grace the rows of `royal poincianas’, lined thick with devotees. Upon reminiscing on our impressions later, we were struck with the feeling of complete familiarity that Baba imparts to even those seeing him for the first time! The figure, replete with silken dress, the gentle smile, and of course, the halo of hair were exactly as we had known it would be. We handed over a letter that Mataji had given us, somewhat awkwardly and in full awe. Baba commented, “Mexico! Indra Devi!” and passed on. Word came soon after, that we were to follow Him! Baba had blessed us with an interview; the total time that had elapsed since our arrival in India was 18 hours! The little Interview Room was crowded, and Baba launched into a general discourse with specific comments directed toward some, but seemingly applicable to all. Then… the Individual Session, in which he quickly cut into the secret depths of one’s own being, the problems of health, the previous meetings (!) where he had contact­ed (!) Irene via a dream, and the specifics of that dream and another (!), the difficul­ties of individual sadhana, the particular desire of each of us and our internal turmoil. Vibhuti, sacred ash, was manifested. All this… quickly, naturally, and spontane­ously delivered and conferred with a love and understanding that rendered new meaning to those old words. Here was a Confidante, Guide, Doctor, Friend, Father, Mother, and GOD all rolled into ONE! Here was the culmination of those past events within this lifetime and all the previous ones, Manifest, All Knowing, before us! It would be naive to say that either one of us can, even in a small measure, understand the Divine nature of Baba’s Calling, much less understand Baba Himself. It is readily perceptible, however, that the culmination of events leading to our arrival in Putta­parthi is in reality a point of conscious embarkation, (in essence, a New Birth), knowing that Baba is at the helm. Ours, of course, is hardly a unique story. There were no spectacular occurrences; there were no manifest leelas. Yet, all this is all His leela. Each one called to Prasanthi Nilayam comes on a wave of `seeming circumstance’. Names, times, places, and events vary from person to person; but the story remains ever the same—the directional moment toward Baba is