Seeradhi Panindhorku

It is Deepavali after all, yet, can it ever be the same without Swamiji? This is a picture i have taken of swamiji's sannidhanam in shivanjali, coimbatore in july. it is with great love and devotion that abhishekam, alankaram, and puja are done here daily.

Many years back, on a tape of swamiji's songs, i found my heart and my mind struck and stuck to the love and longing in swamiji's voice as he sang this song. the feeling was difficult to describe, yet utterly memorable and deep. he sang of shivananda as if his heart would break against the cascade of notes, through the cascade of notes. it is in this song, hearing it, that i experience a little of what i can do to experience deep love. i have the lyrics here and i have loosely translated them into english, to offer the sense of the song, in my own words. i have also changed the original "shivananda" to "shantananda". as swamiji felt for swami shivananda, his guru, so do i, in my own humble way, feel for my swamiji, swami shantananda. swamiji composed the song in the ragam of mohanam - the scale of enchantment.

yaar tharuvaar enakku
arulinaal anubhavam
adhishaya aananda
aathma sudaroliye
seeradhi panindhorku
sevadi thandharulum
chinmaya moorthi satguru
shantaananda

gnaana gangaiyin ootru
nin thiru paadam
prema pravaaham
nin thiru meni
bodha pravaaham
nin thiru vaakku
moksha samraajyam
nin thiruvarule

seeradhi panindhorku
sevadi thandharulum
chinmaya moorthi satguru
shantaananda...

om hreem shantaananda hamsaaya vidmahe
thanno hamsaaye prachodayaat

who else will bless me but you, swamiji?
you who gave me your love
the very moment my head touched your feet
you who showed me divine beauty
flowing like the ganga
you who showed me love that
flows like a river in flood
you who showed me the light
of the sages
will you show me too the final goal?
but
will you show me you once again?

Remembering Love 7

"O SWAMIJI spent so much time with us," Chellamah mami told me. "Those days, whenever he came to kuala lumpur, either from colombo or bombay, he would come home. he would come to our homes. there would be morning satsangh in someone's house... he'd sing, and carry us along with his beautiful voice... and then, he'd talk to us about life, about living, about god, about philosophy and religion. it was such an experience to listen to him. he filled our hearts with hope.

"after the satsangh, he would have breakfast with us, and then he'd talk some more, joking and laughing with us. making us feel that we belonged to him, and that he belonged to us." chellamah mami would smile with tears in her eyes, and look distant for a little while, and the memory would return. "then, someone would whisper something to swamiji, and he'd say, alright, we are going to jey's house for lunch. all are welcome... and the lunch would flow into tea and dinner at someone else's house..."

chellamah mami told me of those days when swamiji had first begun to plant seeds of a special kind of love in all their hearts. this love was himself. he cajoled, inspired, teased, hugged, advised, taught... he loved them with his being, with his presence in their midst. they had never met anyone like him who would give of himself so freely. whatever knowledge he could give, whatever little morsel of care and concern he could reveal, they received, and knew that it was truth and sincerity because they felt it in their hearts.

it needed no words.

i listened to chellamah mami's stories of this one long, continuous picnic with swamiji, and it reminded me of the leelas that krishna would play with the gopis and the gopas. all that i had read of krishna, in the puranas, those were just stories... but here was a man who recreated and sustained a similar atmosphere of love and spontaneity in the lives of simple, humble people who were looking for something...

there was arulampalam mami who told me many stories too, and between the two ladies, i would often sit and listen in amazement, moved to tears by their wonderful experiences of and with swamiji.

my clearest thought: i had missed the boat. i had come too late to enjoy that time of getting to know swamiji. now it was just work, carrying out his work. no doubt with him. but they all had a fifteen year headstart!

i made a wish with my tears...

within the year, swamiji announced at tryambakam that he wanted me to start hansa designs in kuala lumpur, revive hansa magazine. nagen stretched out a hand, "i will help you with a few things, ket."

and from that time onwards, there was not a day that swamiji did not call me into his presence. my desk was just outside his office, and each morning, when he arrived, we would all enter to do namaskaram. before everyone could finish doing that, he would start talking to me. each day, he would tell me something different. about the masters, about the blank check, about surrender, about karma. he would give me work to do... "design this for me... write this for me..."

he would take me in his car rides, to anywhere. he would make me listen to music with him. he would invite me to have lunch with him. not a day went by without my seeing him, and spending hours at a stretch, listening to him, getting to know him, letting him get to know me (as if that was necessary)... slowly, surely knitting a warm web of familiarity...

he kept me close to him for the longest time - i bow my head now in gratitude, my heart almost bursting - so that i could begin to understand his love. it took me awhile but it finally did dawn on me that he was granting me my wish to spend time with him, to get to know him, like others did.

he showed me that i was worthy of his love, that he could give me that. it was there for the asking. i received... now, looking back, i realised that i had received in great measure...

this is how i remember his love. my swamiji who loves me.

Remembering Love 6

Swamiji's 60th year must have been the most glorious for all of us at the Temple of Fine Arts.

well, at least for me, it seemed that way. this was the year when he took "a midsummer night's dream" everywhere, after his birthday celebrations in kuala lumpur. that april of 1994, the shrine he caused to be created in our midst in brickfields, with the sonorous chanting of the kasi priests every morning from the 7th onwards, the homams, the prayers, the ceremony, the cultural events, from dawn till dusk, and then, over to the pj civic centre for the performance of shakespeare's comedy...

it was the morning of his 60th birthday... he was seated under a canopy of fragrant jasmines, decorated with orange and yellow blossoms. he had been worshipped with love and devotion by everyone who had come. the place thronged with adoring devotees, gazing at this man who had caught all our hearts, won over many, many times by his unsurpassing love for us.

at the beginning of the puja of the morning, swamiji was garlanded with a hugely thick rose blossom garland. when the puja was over, he took the mike, and spoke of me, called me to him, and then, gave me the sweetest honour one could ever ever hope for as his devotee - he put his rose garland onto me. it was moist and heavy, and as i bowed my head to his feet, i knew not what to think, except that here was a moment of which i knew not the reason for.

looking back, thinking back, i believe now that he loved me deeply, knowingly, and wholeheartedly. and there i was, unconscious, unknowing.

will i ever be able to measure his love? get a glimpse of understanding? so that i can be resolutely grateful?



that year was glorious for me because he decided to take "a midsummer night's dream" everywhere. from kuala lumpur, we went to singapore. from singapore, we went to perth. and from perth, we took it to penang. it had never been like that before - the intensity of purpose and performance, its frequency, its all embracing capacity to hold everyone in each centre close to him.

it was glorious because i observed that the production required and necessitated the participation of shiva family members - his devotees who were not dancers but who had been watching all the time, perhaps nursing a secret wish to be able to take part. in this production, every uncle and auntie who had the inclination for the stage was picked, dressed up, made up, given a few tips on stage work as actors, and then, they were plunged into the colour and festivity of a beautiful experience. for the first time, the production gave so many of swamiji's devotees the chance to be in the great centre of his vision and his work. his work of sharing something beautiful but ephemeral that came through from the stage.

in my work with them, the joy in their eyes, the light on their faces, and the laughter that came from their hearts was always something for me to behold in wonderment, in appreciation, and in humility. i began to understand a little about how much he meant to each and every one of them... and the purpose of his presence in their lives.

every centre gave the opportunity to members in that centre to tread the boards of the stage. they thrilled to the costumes, the discipline required of them, the movement on stage. every nerve in their bodies sang to the song of his love, which manifested on stage as this shakespearean production.

in perth, while we were rehearsing in one of the studios of edith cowan university, he had given me a drink of mango juice. seated next to him, he had taken a sip of the fruit drink, and then he gently nudged me with the drink in his hand. i took it and, wordlessly, drank the whole thing.

was there another time that he had given a drink to someone else?

at that time, sujatha, arriving from singapore for the performance, was diagnosed with chicken pox. rehearsals went on. as the performance came to a finish, kalidasan, who was staying with me in dr bose's house, went down with the pox, too. i had never had the pox, and i was a little anxious.

nothing happened.

the show went to penang. but swamiji had to be in madras for a little while, and we had to make the necessary preparations for the show without him.

one afternoon, in the hall, as we were rehearsing, swamiji arrived. we jumped with joy, and quickly gathered around him, looking at him eagerly, so pleased to see him again. he started to tell us that while he was in madras, he felt that he was going to come down with chicken pox as well! but he had quickly taken some medication, and then, he smiled and looked at me deeply for an instant: i felt he was telling me something without saying it. "i would not get the chicken pox!"

in my mind, i said "thank you, swamiji."

when the show finished, and we returned to kuala lumpur, it was ganesh who came down with the pox and he was down for three weeks!!!

i knew then that he had protected me from suffering, and then, gave it to ganesh who was strong and sure.

this is how i remember his love. my swamiji who loves me.

Remembering Love 5

SWAMIJI told me, "I was in a bookshop, flicking through the pages of A Midsummer Night's Dream, and the line "i want that indian boy" caught my eye." this had started swamiji's mind ticking. what was the connection here? was it possible to bring out this almost submerged element in the play, and give it a bit more elaboration? was it possible to relocate the action of the play in india? "ket, i want you to write the script."

wow! to tackle shakespeare, the haloed bard of english literature, and represent the story in the way we do things at the temple of fine arts! i was too excited to be scared. if he believed i could do it, i could do it, i told myself. i set to work almost immediately, and finished the adaptation in two weeks. i indianised all the names of the characters, relocated the action in rajasthan where the pomp and glory of martial prowess could match theseus' and hippolyta's background. and the element of parental oppression - easily identified with in the new scenario. the lovers' quarrel and final reconciliation were no problems at all, that being universal.

"let the fairy king oberon be ananga, and his titania, the goddess bhogawati," swamiji said. "puck can be renamed deepak!"

we went into production in march 1994, straight after we had finished odissi odyssey. the performance would be offered on his 60th birthday in april! we worked day and night, in the control room, swamiji choosing music with us. we found ravi shankar's sitar concerto no 1 highly useful. the choreographers worked on the floor from morning till night. umesh, sukhi, shankar, sarasa, and geetha painstakingly created new movements to match the colour of the music. borrowing from past dance sequences, they pushed at the limits of their imagination. the work was feverish. so was the tension. it seemed to be a haphazard way of doing things. but it was exciting nonetheless. at least for me.

since every single dancer who could take part had to be dancing in some scene or other, i had to wait till 10.30 each night before i could work with those who were cast as the group of villagers who would present a play in the king's court. and for the first time, the dancers were given a chance to create and dramatise their characters themselves. with a little help from me. thus far, this had been a neglected aspect of most productions - or at least the approach to drama came from the dance perspective. the oft-repeated court scenes in previous dance productions always required a dignified delivery of lines, and in time, this became the style of delivery for most scenes during the voice recordings.

the drama improvisation sessions helped to free up the voices and characters, and gave many scenes a more natural quality. i believed that it made the performances more accessible for the audience. and being so passionate about the work, i began to throw ideas on costumes and set design at shyamala and sarasa. i envisioned a huge tree trunk, fallen and aged, as the centrepiece for the set. it would delineate the forest immediately. we would do without the painted backdrops. it would be more realistic!

swamiji said no! i was curious. and perplexed.

later on, he whispered to me about krishnamurti mama, the uncle who had been painting backdrops for us throughout the years. swamiji told me that he got the feeling it would be mama's last project. this gave me a new perspective to swamiji's work.

it opened my mind to other existences, other thoughts, other feelings apart from the work at hand. at the temple of fine arts, every production had always been a collective endeavour. each person who came, could volunteer and give of himself in whatever he or she could, and go away feeling that something had been offered. it was swamiji's way of affirming our sense of belonging, our sense of usefulness, and our sense of purpose.

it immediately struck me then, that life is not just the work at hand but more so the work on the soul. this was swamiji's work. he saw krishnamurti mama's need to contribute, even at his advanced age, so that he could continue to feel useful and needed, to feel that he counted in more ways than one. through the work on the production, swamiji gave krishnamurti mama back to himself.

i understood then that swamiji knew how each of us needed to do things for him, so that he could affirm our belief in ourselves. and there was also the possibility that by krishnamurti mama's working on the production, his dedicated service would count for more merit, more punyam, so that he could continue to serve swamiji in years to come.

i learnt then that there is more to life than work - even work done as dedicated service to a guru. there is death. there is hope, and more important, there is love. love so wide and open, it embraces and soothes. it nourishes the soul. there is love.

this is how i remember his love. my swamiji who loves me.