To Our Dearest Lord Sai on His 96th Birthday Almost half a century ago, Lord Sai entered our lives, lives of all,What a sweet change swept over us! From mundane to sublime!Lost in a dark and dull slumber that must have lasted many ages,His glance cast at us, a family of me and my consort with four kids,As we went in search of a savior who could teach the sacred truth,A search that ended in the far away valley of the Abode of Peace,We became transfixed, silent, and still under the magic spell of Sai,Words lose their power, struck dumb to express the glory of Sai. Was it some deep longing within that drew us to Sai? We know not,Perhaps His compassion to save humanity from its piteous plight,A plight that let us all wallow in the murky slush of negative forces,A sorry state that set man against man, divine gift of earth ruined,That stirred the supreme consciousness to descend amongst us all,The descent of divine power into the sweet form of Sai grandeur,Manifested in a humble abode in a village tucked away in a valley,And taught the truant humanity the sacred path to find eternity. At this sunset stage of my life, my mind is steeped in Sai memories,Recalling my first sight of our Lord as He walked amongst devotees,Thrilled to the core of the divine spectacle of the Lord in His glory,In a garb of orange hue with a divine halo that stretched far and far,He came, He walked amongst the gathered crowd, exuding divinity,He smiled, He talked, He patted some, He collected letters from us,A splendid figure of divine charm, He exuded love and compassion,As He walked through, there was stillness, not a stir, not a murmur. Ever since that miraculous day when we beheld His brilliant shine,A shine that surpassed the brightness of thousand suns in the sky,Ever since our karmic merit led us to the powerful Presence of Baba,We as a family, surrendering at His Lotus Feet, hailed Him as Guru,Our supreme Guru who would lead us all from darkness to light.He graciously did, taught us to find within gem of our own divinity,Shrouded behind layers of illusion, beset in darkness so tragically,He taught us internal purity, freed us from the iron grip of vices,He patiently showed us how to open the fountain of love in us,That could embrace all creation with expansive love and a smile,Like a shining star in our horizon, He powerfully led us to the end. All the first forty years passed with His physical Presence in India,Beckoning us now and then, from the early years of close proximity,To the latter years of difficult access with thousands milling around,We had darshans when His divine energy poured in plenty as alwaysAs we sat there open to His flow of energy that embraced everyone,We had personal interviews where He rained His love in a free flow,We listened to His discourses that set us astir to search for Truth,We truly became dearest devotees to our Lord Sai in full surrender. But alas, to the dismay of devotees, our Lord decided to withdraw,From form to formless, from visible to invisible for us to grow fully.Like a loving mother who weans her children from utter dependenceTo grow sturdy and strong on their own right to find their own truth,So did our Lord Sai on a sad Easter Sunday withdrew from our sight,And left us first to mourn yet instilled the wisdom to find Him within.Ten years have passed since He left us, with all His teachings intact,We soon shall celebrate six and ninety years of His glorious entry.As November dawns, we wait to rejoice in our memories of Lord Sai,Hail to Thee Our Beloved Sai! Hail to Thy ninety-six years of Glory!     ~Kanaga Ranganathan, November 2, 2021

Spiritualism It’s an open door where others close,A smiling face that says He knows,A peacefulness that draws you near,An open heart and a listening ear. It’s a brilliant star from a long-lost age,That helps to turn each bright new page,It’s lovingness that comes from within,That brings us forth when it is time to begin. To send our Light both far and near;To seek, to learn, to tell, to hear.To find the peace and state of mindWe’d long thought man had left behind. And with this knowingness insideThere’s nowhere else for us to hide,But take our worth and thank in grace,To try and heal this earth, our place. And should we stray along our path,Sai’s hand will guide us to the task,So never fear—it shall be done,In peace and love and light we pass; Amen. ~Peter MillsSource: Sanathana Sarathi, April 1998

Baba is the Breath of My Life The world is a big theatre where the sky is the roof of lightsBig and small. The Earth is carpeted green dotted with colorsAnd all the lives in the sea, in the air, and on the earthAre actors, playing various roles, at His commandSome enjoying, some suffering, some jumping, some fallenThis variety show has marvelous interest, with two screensCalled Day and Night, brilliant, on the stage, for one and all.Into this world, I am ushered in, by BabaTo play my role of a fool, now smiling, now weepingNever steady in devotion to one great and grand idea.But, Baba likes me, as He has made me by His own handAnd plays with me, as a child will play with a pup!And so every breath of mine is from BabaWho sits in my heart, blowing life through meHis breath ambrosial, for my joy. O my ecstasy is beyond compare!O……Baba, Thou art Sai (the Mother), Baba ( the Father)Thou art the Bandhu (the Relative) Sakha (the Friend)How can I forget Thee and live here?If thou wert not with me, nay life would collapseAnd nothing would be left of me.Now, I am able to breathe, sing, and speakBecause Thou art the Life of my life, the Breath of my breathThou art the root and the fruit of my lifeThou art my God in all His Glory;Yea…Thou art Lord Sri Krishna, come down to earthTo lift all souls submerged in world’s restless Ocean of SamsaraI saw Thee and I See Thee, and my glory is in clingingTo Thy sacred Feet and washing them with my tearsBefore offering the flowers growing in any heartFor Thy Worship and Thy Love,Down the valley, up the mountain,All over the dwelling places of menBaba’s footprints blaze with loveTo enrich the soil and the soul of man. I am a poor and humble devoteeWho has drunk deep Baba’s mannaMy joy has risen full to its brim,My Peace is dancing before my eyes;I love nothing but Baba’s beaming eyesI love nothing but Baba’s beaming smilesI owe nothing to anyone but to BabaWhose Grace abundant has fertilized my heartWhereon resplendent harvest has been garneredTo fill the Earth with my joy and peace.Let me fulfill Baba’ s CommandmentThat nothing but Peace and Joy we shall have. ~Dr. K. Vaidyanathan, M. A., Ph. D. (Dr. Vaidyanathan full of “ecstasy beyond compare” shed his physical body last month. His was a dedicated life saturated with Divine grace, as these and other poems and writings of his that we have offered to readers have revealed.) Ed. Source: Sanathana Sarathi, May 1966

“To My Fellow Pilgrims” Have you heard our Baba speak? Have you heard our Baba speakAt public meetings anywhere?He never calls it speech;Nor will you name it so!He does not raise His voice, harangue,Or rouse the mob or rail or flail;He does not hesitate, He will not calculate,Hum and haw and pause and ponder,Making you wonder why you came!He does not wait and wander,Collecting thoughts, contriving notes;He does not waste a moment, decorating speechIn showy lace and frills, clothing borrowed textsIn shimmering gauze. He is no orator, pompous, proud,Clamoring for claps, publicity‑mad! He will not circumambulate, declaim…or, even…‘speak’!He is the Rain‑cloud, bringing LifeTo the parched ones here below! He ‘talks’… He ‘talks’ to you, and you,and every single you that has gathered there;To every single Arjuna, with heavy heart and empty hand,Afraid to fight the battle of Life on to Victory.You feel He has come for you, to you. You see Him, silently looking around!The searchlight eye full circle swings!How lucky you are there!He smiles; He wins you by that smile!You scarce can take your eyes from off that Face,So alluring, so Divine!You scarce can pull your heart from off His grip;The clasp is cool comfort!The silence deepens…Though thousands have been squatting, waiting,For hours and hours…Himalayan stillness; twilight calm! Premaswarupulara!The Golden Hour has come!Heaven’s Gate ajar!The voice is sweet as honeyHived by Heavenly bees from Parijata trees!His call is clarion clear!O! ‘Tis thrilling, ’tis filling rapture in the soul,Flowing like the Ganga, freeing the bound,Yielding rich reaping, for just ploughing and sowingWelling and swelling like Gersoppa Falls,Yielding vast power, for just wheeling and wiring! His talk is a cascade, so limpid and pure,Teaching, never preaching, unravelling all knots,Stilling the questionings ere they emerge in mind;Defining, refining, consoling the pining,Commanding, yea, demanding the bending of pride,Sparing no one, be he ruling or serving. Chiding, reprimanding the fool, and fanatic;Joking and coaxing, poking fun at all hoaxing;Quoting from what He said in the past ages,Detailing facts of His incarnating—Resplendent poetry, spontaneous, sublime,Painting pictures of transcendent Truth,Parable, proverb, scintillating bright,Tinkling, twinkling, tintinnabulating lilt,Every hour a minute, every minute a second;Every word a mantra, every phrase, Sutra,A Gayatri a sentence, Upanishad a speech!For He is no well or tank or river!His is the ocean of Wisdom Divine! Oh! His words shower mercy, like morning dewOn every heart‑bud awakening from dreaming. He is feeding your roots and speeding the sap,Sprouting the buds, painting the petals,Perfuming them well, inviting the bees,Ripening the pods, with each word of His!There! The meaning of His word, a tiny seedDrops on your rock‑like heart! And wonder of wonders!It germinates there! … sprouts and puts forth leaves!The silken half‑blind baby‑roots do run aboutTickling the stone, jabbing, pleading for suckling!Succeeding at last, it grows; and, growing into a tree,Your rock is broken into clay! His talk, you will find, is cooling, not freezingWarming, not burning; raining, not flooding;Healing the ailing and hearts bewailing;Soothing, not searing; no toxin, but tonic;Balming and calming; all fact and no fiction! Every sentence spreads joy and scorches gloom,Impelling attention, compelling assent,Dispelling dejection, repelling sloth,Attracting you nearer, detaching from bonds,Infusing courage, and fusing creeds,Imposing no doctrine, composing all feuds,Informing (so charming!), never harming, disarming!Sifting the responding, lifting the desponding. Stressing on ‘Doing, Behaving and Living’,Appealing for ‘Feeling, Believing and Acting’. Calling all listening, to spurn imitating,Vainly disputing, blind leading the blind,Knocking at Paradise through power and pelf,Or boasting of branches of family tree,And seeking for peace, in earning and spendingAnd wanting and panting and hoarding and guarding.As you hear Him talking, you quietly resolveTo take a step forward on the pilgrim road;Unfold your wings and soar into the sky!You feel you are a Lion, cheated into bleating!A diamond, set in dirty lead!Engaging in no fray, enraging no foe,He is welcoming all, who are thirsty or starving,Or limping, or blinking, or climbing and sliding,Raising the stooping, embracing the droopingAssuaging pain, assuring His Grace. He reminds us all of the road we have missed.He describes the joy of the journey’s end.He opens our eyes; He strengthens our limbs;He heartens the struggling, groping his way,Awakening the sleeping, making the sitting stand,The standing to walk; the walking to reach! Proclaiming, revealing, announcing to allAsserting His coming for our burden assuming,Redeeming the wayward, the downcast, diseased;Underlining the Truth, undermining the false. Ah! What is this? What luck! What Grace!Even as He talks; ‘it’ blossoms into song,Oh! Captivating Song! He teaches us to prayTranquilizing all the furious waves,Steeling the nerves and strengthening the will,Attuning our soul to Dharma! Sathya! Prema! And when it stopsAnd you open your eyes,You find them full of tears!Your neighbor weeps like child for mother,But Why? Look up and see; He has left the dais!Be proud you had the chance. From this moment, I knowYou are bound to be an ascending, attempting, adventurous soul. Arjuna, resuming arms for the frayWith Krishna leading the horses aright­—How lucky you heard Him talk! ~N. Kasturi(Poem read in the Holy presence on 16‑10‑58)Source: Sathya Sai Speaks, Vol. 1

The Birth of our Beloved Before Kali Yuga [Iron Age] started, sweet Lord Krishna oft proclaimed“To this Earth again will I be born, when it is steeped in shame”. And thus it was so written, ‘pon the Gita’s golden page“For the protection of the Righteous, I am born from age to age.” And then the world retreated deep—into Maya’s cold embraceA handful cried to God Himself to assuage them with His Grace. Thus in humble Puttaparthi, as the Lord destined it beA little one was coming to the Raju Family! Unknowing Easwaramma, beauteous with childHad begged the gods for a son—the Lord Himself just smiled! Midnight marked the holy advent of November twenty-thirdThe pious family lay at rest; there was but naught a word! SUDDENLY! Tamboura’s [musical Instrument] drone ethereal with ecstatic joy of drum“Proclaimed out of their own accord: “The Lord Himself will come!” Thus in the earliest morning, Easwaramma felt the pangsAnd the Greatest God began descent unto this lowly plane. The mother partook of worship, water sanctified, and flowersAnd the village was chanting “Shiva! Shiva!” in these dawning hours! The Sunrise was the Advent! The dawn of Humankind’s dreamThe Divine and Glorious Babe was born, aglow with Light Supreme. The blessed year-1926—thus our Precious Lord appearedAnnouncing once again to all! —”I am your Charioteer!” A cobra, strange, ‘neath Baby’s Bed—­mysteriously made it shakeFor mighty Vishnu rest again—as Sesha­sayi ‘pon the snake! God lay in His New Body, tiny head in halo’d cloudAnd measured lofty Powers with which He’d been endowed! His smile captured all the Hearts of those who were so bless’dAnd wondrous realms of Divine Abode could this little face suggest! `Sathyanarayana’ was given as His NameSupreme Embodiment of Truth, Full-Grace Full Sri, Full Fame! A celestial little laugh amidst a head of silken curlsDazzled Mother Earth and delighted all the worlds! O, if we could have peered then—into those sparkling Lotus EyesWe would have wept with joy and cried­—”He’s come for us! Our Sai!” Soon the air was softly filled with the breath of jasmine bloomLittle Sathya radiated Bliss! And a God’s Perfume! Our Merciful little Gopal, now Sathya in this lifeCame to comfort the weary world for her human tears and strife. The Lord’s figure grew into a charming abode of GraceToday lakhs come to get the Darshan of His Blissful Face! O, our Great Sai Baba—You’ve toiled here forty-four sweet yearsWhat merit have we won that You call all of us “My dears?” Let us kiss Your Lotus Feet, O God, on this auspicious dayGrant that there we’ll e’er remain, to never go astray! So on Your Glorious Birthday, Lord, may every heart rejoiceJAI! We are all reborn! We’ve hearkened to Thy Voice! ~Mrs. Michael ShultzSource: Sanathana Sarathi, Jan. 1971

The Hills of Puttaparthi The Hills of Puttaparthi Grey, rugged, stately, they stand, timeless, and serene:The morning sun turns them into a slate-blue wall,And in the soft rays of the setting sun, they glowWith fast-changing tints of a ravishing rainbow.They tell of old feuds, of man’s love and hate,Of the unbroken drama of his passion and grief.Perhaps in some dark caves amidst their rocky slopes,Above the gurgling waters of the meandering streams,Lived the Seers who had seen God face to face,And taught to weary mankind the Peace of the spirit.They still stand, the grey, rugged, stately hillsSerene, above the valley of green fields and tiny hamlets.And in the Valley, itself, a new Miracle is on.The Divine Formless in a human form has arisen,Teaching the ancient wisdom to seekers far and near.Unwearied, compassionate, His clarion-call He sounds:Awake and listen! For a new Voice in accents clear,Reverberates through these grey, rugged, and stately hills.  He Speaks He speaks and His words caress the spiritLike the soft petals of a new-blossomed flower.He smiles and the ripples of that smile spreadUnto the far reaches of the afflicted heart.The veiled mystery of birth and death,The soul’s perplexity and the spirit’s caverned gloomAre driven away with magic wave of His handRaised to cheer to bless and to sustainLonely pilgrim life’s rugged and thorny way ~H. Sunder RaoSource: Sanathana Sarathi, July 1964

Your Mercy Before I had the luckor as I see it nowYour Mercycame down on melike the star‑lightpenetrating throughthe encircling gloomI little knewwhat form to meditate. The gods of my fatherswere all thereall lying transfixedin a death-like tranceinert, unresponsivelike fragments of a phantom. All came aliveon a suddeneach rising afreshshaking off the dust of agesrestored to his pristine glorywhen in the star‑lightof Your Mercyflashed forth as formsthrough which you, my Swami,had manifested yourself. Such an impregnable rockis thrown up out of the quick-sands.My lost gods are recovered for me. Behind my closed eyesblooms out a worldrich with the fragranceof lotus‑feetthe twang of the arrowthe enchanting flute‑melodythe effulgence of the swan‑bornegoddess, her fingers playing at Vina,the drum, the trident,the snake‑roll, the crescentof Shiva the androgynous. ~Dr. P. P. Sharma, KanpurSource: Sanathana Sarathi, Nov.

Sanathana Sarathi In Dharmakshetra… KurukshetraArjuna had a Sarathi!He was such a master SarathiThat He won the war for him!He held the reins of all the horsesHe helped his arrows to find their preyHe gave him courage, opened his eyesAnd made him a little wise.  He saved him many a time from wrongHe taught hire statecraft, soul-craft both.He blessed him on the battlefieldWith a Vision, where he foundThat He was no mere charioteer—That He was horse and wheel and whipSource and stream and seaDinosaur, daffodil, flea. We all are Arjunas todayWilling to wound, afraid to strike,Grasping a doubt and calling it FaithEager to reap, unwilling to bendBlowing big trumpets before the fray—God on our lips, greed in our hearts.In Dharmakshetra, Jagat-kshetraWe all do need a Sarathi,To teach us and train us the Gita wayAnd, make us fit to see Him so. We all do need a Sarathi.We haven’t far to goHe is here before us, now,With His lovely welcome smile.The same who led to victoryMany a doubting warriorOn many a famous battlefieldWhere I did fight with heAnd we fell foul of they. He knows each nut and bolt and springHe knows each inch of road.The tiniest blemish He spots and checksNo crack can escape His instant careNo leak, no streak, no squeak. He knows the speed which we can standHe knows when the breakdown comes and whyHe is the Goal which you must reach.Choose Him (He has chosen you already now)And seat Him securely in the heart of heartsAnd the road is smooth, the weather fine. There are no ups and downsIt is all so cool—an easy driveYou have only to trust HimAnd keep yourself mumYou can sing your way alongAnd when you come to journey’s endYou find you are not you, but He! Install Him in your heartSathya Sai SarathiThis Sanathana Sarathi. ~N. KasturiSource:  Sanathana Sarathi, Feb 1968

The Darshan at Dawn In the darkness of the misty mornRise silent prayers from a waiting crowd,Each, in the solitude of his own thoughts,Waits and watches. The sun hath not risen yet,The mist still settles in the heavy air,All around, Nature in her native gloryWaits and watches. The doves are hidden in the niches,Each, in her turn, bides her time,As the lonely elephantWaits and watches. Anon, as from nowhere,In the center of the temple doorThe Living God appears,“Brighter than a thousand suns,”Radiant in form, robed in red,A halo of hair holding a beautiful face,Slender in figure, of graceful import,BABA stands before the silent crowd. There is a stir in the air,All hands are clasped in prayer,Gently, softly He walksA few steps forward,To feast the fasting eyesOf many a man, woman, and child,And cast an all‑embracing glance,As though drawing each soul to Himself,Moving His hand in circles slow,Palm upward, one couldn’t guess why. “Om Sri Sai Ram,” “Om Namo Namostu”Rise like a soft whisper from all around,An awe fills the air, a bliss sublime;All eyes are fixed on that form divine,Hearts full to the brim, with loveThat knows no understanding,Eyes, overflowing with joyful tears,Hands clasped together in ardent prayerThat one moment those divine eyesMay rest on each lowly formAnd bless it in abundance. The air is still, the distant hillsStand in obeisance,Peace reigns supreme, and then,As though all good things must end,The Radiant Form retreatsToward the silver door,A moment, and He is gone, —stillLeaving behind His Presence unseen. Was it a command?The mist lifts from the air,The birds are aloft,All nature hums with life,A stifled shuffle of footsteps,And the lingering crowds disperse. ~RatnavathiSource: Sanathana Sarathi, Feb. 1974

Gratitude I saw A Man…His Voice was sweet, like Nectar,(When it flows!)And, when He spoke, the words fell, soft, Like dew‑drops on a Rose;His step was firm where’er He walked…His Foot‑prints… shining‑bright,And, tho’ gentle was His Touch,He was A Man of Might! And, like A Halo round His Head,He wore His coal‑black hair;And Love, just like a sweet Bouquet,Was offered everywhere!He brought a new un‑cloudedView unto my human‑eyes,And, tho’ I knew not whence He came,I knew The Man was Wise! The graceful Robe, around His Form,Caressed Him…Like a Flame,And then, I learned from a passer‑by,`Sai Baba’ was His Name! I sat among the growing throng…And, eagerly, I sought to understandHis Mystery…That filled my every thought;I saw Him heal an ailing child… And, soon…The Name of ‘Sathya Sai’ was chanted,EVERYWHERE!And, silent, as a passing breeze,And bare‑of‑foot… He trod,And ‘something’ whispered in my soul“This is not Man… BUT GOD!” The years have passed on restless wings,And, strong; the Bond remains…And, when I cannot understand,He silently explains! There is no ‘goal’ I can’t achieve…No Load I cannot bearAs long as (in my human way!)I see His Footsteps there!His Smile is SomethingI recall with tenderness …. And awe!For me… He spreads a Shining Path,And opens every door… Today…I kneel in gratitude,As tear‑drops fill my eye,And, whisper‑soft, I speak the words“I love You, Sathya Sai…” ~G. B. AustraliaSource: Sanathana Sarathi, Oct. 1987