There
was no dearth of people around. But everyone had his pre-arranged group and agenda
for discussions, to be able to spare even a side-glance at me, let alone extend
a smile. However, an elderly gentleman was enjoying solitude near the pathway
to the Oak basement – close to the de facto ladies gazebo. On closer scrutiny I
observed he was either in deep meditation or chanting mantras. On my third round
I saw him collecting his belongings – a hand-towel, mobile phone, and the specs
cover – probably to head back home.
“Doing
Japam enjoying a cool breeze, Sir? I asked him, from a distance of five metres.
“Come, come,” he hailed me. I joined him. “I am Sundaram. I too chant - Vishnu Sahasranamam,” I said, to set the
ball rolling. No reaction. Maybe he is not impressed. “Also Rudram and Chamakam,” I added, though it
is six months since I recited R&C. On rare occasions I allow myself such
liberty, to boost credence to my spiritual bio data. You never know it might trigger
re-start of R&C. In which case the end will justify means.
“I
am a devotee of Satya Sai Baba, of Puttaparthi,” he announced. “I too had
darshan of Baba thrice – once in Delhi and twice in Puttaparthi,” I added, in a
bid to be at par. But his experiences
were of a different league. On one occasion he and his wife had got a special paduka made which they somehow wanted
Baba to wear so that it stays blessed and they could worship it at home. But they
were no VIPs. So they stood on the side as Baba walked by giving darshan. Suddenly
from nowhere his wife pushed the paduka on
to the carpet as Baba was approaching. Baba stopped, wore them for a while, and
moved on. “Can you believe that, Subramaniam? He asked. “Sundaram,” I modified.
“Years
later my wife had to undergo spinal cord surgery,” he unfolded his second
experience. Her brother, a senior doctor in another discipline, had made all
arrangements for her surgery. But our friend won’t give the green signal
without Baba’s directive. The family was based in Hyderabad, and Baba was then
in Whitefield. He rushed to Bangalore, stayed in the ashram for three days
hoping for Baba’s darshan, and audience. Two days passed. No luck. The third
day afternoon he had booked his ticket for Hyderabad. That morning also Baba
went past the crowd and our friend waited in vain. After walking past him ten
steps, Baba stepped back towards him. “Baba, Sharada (name changed), spinal
cord, operation, …” he fumbled. Baba probably signaled him there was no need.
He returned to Hyderabad, and told them to abandon surgery.
A
few days later he booked tickets to take their daughter back to Ahmedabad after
delivery. “Buy one for me too,” came a voice from behind. It was his wife,
still confined to bed. “For you? You can’t even get up on your own. How can you
board the train?” he asked, but booked one, just not to displease her. A day
before the journey she began to be on her own, and undertook the journey
successfully. “All Baba’s grace, Mr Sundar Raman,” he shared proudly. “Just
Sundaram,” I clarified. “Yes, can you beat that, Judge Sundaram?” he quipped.
V
V Sundaram
Maple
3195
15
Sept 2017
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