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.