In
Confidence
From
Baba, His Story
At Ootacamund
in the Nilgiri Hills, when the Summer Course on
Indian Culture and Spirituality for college
students came to a close, Baba held an exclusive
session with the student participants. He was
then in an unusually jovial and reminiscent
mood. He desired to thrill the students with an
account of His early days at school, so that
they might realize that His oft-quoted
statement, 'My
Life is My
Message',
was true even when He was physically emerging
into boyhood, and even before He had announced
His advent as an avatar.
He related to them how He moved among his
cousins and classmates, His teachers and
comrades, and also the villagers of Puttaparthi,
Bukkapatnam, Uravakonda and Kamalapura. He would
exhort them to ponder over this chapter of His
story and implant in their hearts the ideals He
had placed before Himself even as a child. When
the summer course of 1978 held at Bangalore
concluded, students who had heard of the
Ootacamund discourse pleaded with Him to
disclose to them episodes of His boyhood days,
at school and outside, in which He provided
glimpses of His
Leela
(divine play); and Baba graciously revealed to
them a few more incidents of the past which laid
bare His mission and His divinity.
In the pages
of
Part I
of this series, I have mentioned that even as a
child of five summers, He had earned the
epithets, 'Guru'
and 'Brahmajnani',
because He corrected and counselled the children
who gathered around Him as playmates, and
because His conversation and conduct were on a
level of consciousness higher than even the
adults who sought to guide Him.
[*]
Even as a child and later at school, He was meek
but morally fearless, abhorred violence,
vengefulness and falsehood, and preferred simple
living to gaudiness and ostentation. He could
easily sing, dance, and compose hymns and poems,
while other children of the same age were still
struggling with the first few letters of the
alphabet. He also demonstrated ready compassion
for birds and animals. He avoided meat and eggs,
and shed tears of sympathy when drought animals
like bullocks were mercilessly beaten. He stood
forth as the leader of a band of children to
whom He taught the ways of God and the means to
win His grace.
He stayed most
days at the house of the
Karnam
(village accountant) where the mistress,
Subbamma, tended Him with maternal care. Baba
sought shelter in her affection in order to
avoid the sight of slaughtering fowl in His
family home nearby and to watch the
Puja
(worship) conducted by that Brahmin lady in the
room set apart for ceremonial rites. Baba never
played truant at school. Rather, He relished the
company of children, whom He helped to get the
best out of school.
Towards
Upper Primary School
At Ootacamund,
Baba narrated the story of a journey in a
crowded cart drawn by a pair of bullocks from
Puttaparthi to Bukkapatnam, and from Bukkapatnam
to Penukonda, sixteen miles away. He was then
ten years old. He and the other children could
scarcely squeeze into the cart; a few spilled
over. They were in the lower primary class and
could join the upper primary school only when
they had passed an examination which was to be
held at Penukonda town. There were eighteen
children in all, overcrowding the vehicle.
Whenever the road rose to negotiate a bump or a
hill, the bullocks could not drag the cart
behind them. So the children were pulled out and
made to walk up. There was also no brake to hold
the cart in check as it rolled downhill and, as
a consequence, the children had to walk the road
downhill also! The children were sent to the
'distant, unfamiliar town' from their homes,
after propitiatory prayers to the family
deities, prayers that were also meant to help
them pass the examination.
At Penukonda
they stayed together, and the teachers who led
them gave last minute lessons. Baba agreed to be
in charge of the kitchen. Lunch and dinner for
the party were cooked by Him and He did not
demand or welcome help from anyone. This
arrangement continued on all the three days of
the examination. Baba had no time to revise His
texts, nor could He attend the special classes
held by the teachers. Yet, when the results were
announced a few weeks later, He happened to be
the only candidate declared fit to proceed to
the upper primary school! The good people of
Bukkapatnam, the village three miles away,
warmly welcomed Baba into the school situated in
their village, taking Him through the streets on
a chair placed on a flower-bedecked cart that
was drawn by caparisoned bullocks, right up to
the doorstep of the school. They were all happy,
even proud, that the
'wonder-boy'
of Puttaparthi, already famous as
'God's
Son',
was attending classes in their
school.
Baba was the
cynosure of all eyes at Bukkapatnam. Though He
seldom listened to the lessons and rarely opened
His textbooks, He was hailed as the brightest
pupil of His class. This drew upon Him the
envious looks of the ones who trudged along with
Him every day from Puttaparthi. They often
overpowered Him physically while on the
Chitravathi sands and dragged Him along,
ruffling His shirt and knickers and damaging
them out of shape. When the Chitravathi was
flowing, they dowsed Him with gusto. Baba said
that He neither protested nor complained, but
bore all this as the pardonable sport of
ignorant youngsters. His refused to name any of
the tormentors nor did He bear any ill will
against them.
As
Monitor
In
those days every classroom echoed with the swish
of the teacher's cane, which was busy falling on
the backs or palms of the luckless little brats.
When the teacher got too exhausted to inflict
the punishment, this privilege was transferred
to the brightest boy in the class. Baba said
that one day the question presented before the
pupils was: "Describe
the glory of
India."
The answer had to be in English. The other boys
knew little of India, and less of English. Baba,
however, tersely but confidently replied,
"Consisting
of high mountains, large rivers with many
branches and many plains, India is beautiful
with all these grand
contents."
Baba then related to us details of the rest of
this episode:
"The
punishment the others deserved according to
the teacher was my slapping them on their
cheeks. I was to hold their noses tight with
the left hand and then give them the
resounding slaps. There were about thirty
students in the class, some far taller than
me, and I had to climb upon a bench to fulfil
my most unpleasant and unpopular duty. But I
could not bring myself to slap them as
forcibly as the teacher wanted and my blows
fell softly on their cheeks. So the teacher
was angered. He called me near and shouted,
'Did I want you to apply
Haldi
(turmeric, used as a cosmetic) to their
cheeks? I asked you to beat them. I shall
show you how.' He held my nose and counted
the slaps he gave me, about thirty or so,
before he stopped. I bore it all in silence,
for a teacher should not be insulted or let
down. It was my fault for having annulled, by
softness, the purpose of the punishment he
desired to inflict, however absurd the prize
for my superior knowledge of Indian geography
and history."
Baba disclosed
that, being the monitor of the class, He was
burdened with duties and clothed in
authority.
"I
undertook to show the students and the
monitors of other classes how a monitor
should conduct himself. I would reach school
a few minutes earlier than the rest. I
cleaned the blackboard before the class
commenced and often had to clean even the
benches and
desks,"
Baba
explained.
"Rama
sat at the feet of Vasishta and attended
class with other boys [See
Ramakatha
Rasavahini, Ch.
5].
Krishna, too, had
Sandeepa
as his guru, [see Bhagavatha
Vahini Ch.
41]
while Sudama and others were his classmates.
When the formless, attributeless Divine
Principle takes human form and appears among
men, It has to conduct Itself as an agreeable
companion and as an understandable example to
contemporaries."
In His
discourses Baba confirmed that He had 'willed'
the incident at the Bukkapatnam school when the
chair stuck to the posterior of Kondappa, one of
His teachers. He confessed that His intention in
reducing him to a ridiculous figure was not to
avenge His having been made to stand up on the
bench for hours. He had designed it only to
reveal a little of His uniqueness, give a
glimpse of His divinity, and to make the world
around Him sit up and ask,
"Who
is this boy?"
When
Kondappa's hour of teaching was over, he
naturally had to vacate the chair for Mehboob
Khan who was to take the next class, but he
could not get up because the chair stuck to him.
[see
The Rhythms of His
Feet]
The boys suggested that the calamity had
happened because Sathya was punished. Then
Mehboob Khan, who loved and adored Baba, and who
had glimpses of His divinity, revealed to
Kondappa, "You do not understand.
Raju
is not an ordinary person; He is a divine boy
and I have seen divine brilliance in Him many
times. Withdraw the punishment you have given
Him immediately and your own punishment will
disappear." Then Mehboob Khan asked Baba to step
down from the bench and Kondappa, too, could get
up and walk away.
The
Classmates
Swami
narrated the events at Uravakonda (about thirty
miles away from Anantapur), where He spent about
two years with His elder brother who was a
teacher of the Telugu language in the high
school there. [N.
Kasturi:]
I myself visited Uravakonda a year and a half
ago. There I walked along the long, broad
verandas of the high school, hallowed by His
footprints. I spent some times in the room which
was once His classroom and sat on the same desk
that had been used by Him as student - a
bench-cum-writing desk, with a makeshift shelf
underneath the incline of the top. Three pupils
could sit on each bench with their books in the
bottom shelf. I sat on the bench and imagined
little Baba seated next to me!
Dr. Moinuddin,
now a medical practitioner at Uravakonda, was
with me at the school that day. He had been a
contemporary and classmate of Baba. He said, "I
was allotted a seat on the bench directly behind
Baba, and I could tease Him by whisking away His
cap. He would then implore me to return it to
Him, for no student could attend class without a
cap. I knew that Baba would not fight or
complain to the teacher or whisk away my cap in
turn; He was so quiet, soft and non-violent. So
I would insist on His creating some sweetmeat
for me -
a rasagolla, a laddu
or a Mysore pak.
I was tired of taking sugar-candy. Baba would
then circle His palm twice or thrice and produce
for me my favourite sweets. But this invariably
set all tongues dripping. So a general clamour
would arise for a repetition of the act and the
noise would bring in the teacher. Then, he too,
would have his share before the lesson began."
Another of His classmates, Sri Sitha Rama Rao,
told me that Baba had confided in him that He
would set the world right and establish the
reign of truth in all lands.
I saw the
tangled branches of the old dwarf trees right in
the centre of the quadrangle. Baba had described
to us how He used to play the monkey game on
five trees in that quadrangle. Two of the trees
have now been axed, but Providence has spared
the rest. The monkey game involved two rival
bands of primates. They crawled along the
branches, then dangled without dropping, moving
from one hold to another, trying to unnerve and
to demoralize members of the rival band, until
one of them was touched and declared 'out'. They
snarled and growled at their rivals as angrily
as they could. They swung and swayed, clung and
clambered, slid and slithered. If they fell,
they 'died' and were pronounced 'down and out'.
They shook the branches with all their might to
unseat the 'monkeys' of the opposite gang,
loudly jeering and cheering all the while. If
any of them slipped into the vocabulary of homo
sapiens and revealed his true identity, he
'died' at that instant. Baba gave each one of
them some sweets at the end of the game. Many
like Dr. Moinuddin, who had once frisked and
frolicked on those trees, are even today chewing
the sweet cud of memories of the
game.
The
Scout Troop
Swami related
in a discourse the story of His 'boy scout'
days.
"We
had a physical instructor," He said, "who
formed a school scout troop. He was very
insistent that I should enrol, and though I,
too, was eager to use the chance to direct
the 'good turns' of scouting towards the path
of Sadhana (spiritual discipline), I could
not join because my family was too poor to
afford the uniform and other contingent
expenses. To make you aware of the depth of
their poverty, I shall relate an incident: I
used to attend classes every day wearing the
same shirt, for I did not have a second. Some
of the boys who discovered this fact started
laughing at me. They teased me on the way to
school and back and, pulling at my worn-out
shirt, they tore it. As I had no pin to even
keep it together, I was forced to use a
cactus thorn plucked from the fence of my
neighbour's field to serve the
purpose.
"Realising
the reason which held me back from the troop,
my chums were very sad. The boy who always
sat to the right of me was the son of the
chief accountant at the revenue office. He
went to his father and persuaded him to make
two pairs of uniforms comprising a khaki
half-sleeved shirt along with khaki knickers.
He rolled up one pair and put it on the shelf
of my desk with a note that was addressed to
me which read: 'You must take this and wear
it. We are brothers, so do accept this from
me.' But I was not happy, and decided to
refuse this gift. I left the uniform on the
shelf of his desk along with a note saying,
'If you wish our friendship to last, you must
not indulge in such games of giving and
taking material objects. When a needy person
accepts something from another, anxiety lurks
in his mind as to how he might return the
favour, while pride enters and pollutes the
mind of the giver over his act of charity.
True friendship should be from heart to
heart. If we build friendship on a
give-and-take basis, the person who takes
feels small and he who gives feels proud.
Such friendship does not last. So I am not
accepting the clothes you left on my desk and
am returning them to you with this note.' The
next day that boy pleaded, 'You can return
them to me after leaving the scout movement.'
But I did not agree even to that. 'I do not
need nor seek help,' I told him. 'I seek only
the chance to help and show others the best
way to help. Besides, your father got the
uniforms made for you - they were not meant
for my use. I am Truth, as my name indicates.
If I wear it instead of you, I will be
setting Truth aside.'"
I am tempted
to relate in this context what happened to a
kinsman of mine about twenty years ago. He had
bought in Rangoon, a Burmese umbrella,
flat-topped, with a bright, garish-coloured
cloth cover, as a birthday gift for his sister
living in Bangalore. But as she refused to
accept it, it was lying unused. Later his
parents placed it before Baba as an offering.
Baba told them, "Why
do you bring Me stolen articles? This belongs to
your daughter, whether she uses it or
not."
Anything offered to Baba must be
'ab
initio'
intended for and dedicated to Him.
The
Thursdays
At Uravakonda,
I looked into the well from which Baba used to
draw water for His home everyday and carry it,
slung across His shoulder, in big mud pots. The
well is at least one kilometer away, and Baba
trudged the distance six times a day. The well,
the only potable water well in the village,
being very deep, He must have gone through great
physical strain to get the pots filled.
"The
time spent in supplying water for the home did
not leave me any time for other
activities,"
says Baba. I was also able to see Mr. Mehboob
Khan, the teacher who loved and revered Baba as
a boy, and who had foreseen that He would one
day become a World Teacher.
The house
where Baba lived with His elder brother is now a
jumble of mud blocks. We scrambled in and stood
reverentially before the sacred spot where Baba
had started sitting every Thursday after
declaring Himself as the reincarnation of Shirdi
Sai. Even as we were standing lost in reverie,
an old resident of the village related a story
of those years: "One night, a group of women
from an adjacent village journeyed to Urvakonda
by bullock-cart to witness a movie. They were
huddled in a thick cluster in the cart. Taking
advantage of the oncoming night, a woman
unfastened a gold ornament from the hair of the
woman sitting beside her. The loss was
discovered only when the women alighted, but
none suspected the other, since they knew one
another well. Some suggested that the ornament
might have got loosened by itself and fallen on
the road, while others asked the lady to
recollect whether she had worn it at all. Then
an old man ventured to say, 'There is a 'miracle
boy' here whom we can consult. He is the brother
of the Telugu teacher.' As soon as they trooped
in, Baba sighted them and said, 'Eh Janakamma!
Give the jewel back!' The startled Janakamma did
as Baba had ordered, her head bent in shame.
Baba told the others, 'Go! Take her also to the
movie with you. Repentance is enough punishment.
Forget this lapse. It was your fault, tempting
the weak-minded woman. I am sure she will not do
it again, for she has been blessed by Me.'
"
The
Rocking Chair
Baba
told the students how He had borne poverty and
hardship in His childhood and youth, in silence
and without complaint. There was a rocking chair
in the house, upon which Baba sat one evening.
When His brother's brother-in-law saw Him
rocking Himself in the chair, he was very
incensed and remarked, "Who gave you permission
to sit on that precious chair and rock back and
forth like a Maharaja! Get up and go out of
here." Baba replied,
"The day is coming when I will be a Maharaja
sitting on a silver chair. You will live to see
the day."
This angered him all the more, but he did not
pursue the persecution. About seven years later,
the Rani of Chincholi, who could not bear to see
her Swami sitting on a wooden chair, brought a
silver chair for Him. But Swami did not permit
the chair to be unpacked even during the
Shivaratri or the Dasara celebrations. On the
occasion of Swami's birthday, His brother's
brother-in-law came to Puttaparthi. Then Baba
asked him, of all people, to unpack the silver
chair and place it in position on the dais of
Prasanthi Mandir which was then ready for Bhajan
gatherings. The man shed tears of repentance and
asked to be pardoned. Baba soothingly told him
not to worry. This was, perhaps, the only
instance when Baba reacted, for He usually bears
others' anger with remarkable indifference and
restraint. He told the boys that He was ever
alert to guard the honor and reputation of the
family in which He was born, and to ward off the
derision of cynics and carpers.
The General
Stores of Kote Subbanna, from where Baba got His
apparel and items of stationery in return for
songs and slogans, was still there as I could
see. It is now being run by Subbanna's grandson.
Subbanna had once sought Baba's help for
boosting the sales of his baby foods and
ayurvedic drugs. Baba agreed, and in return
got from the shop the articles He most needed
but could not purchase. The publicity value of
Baba's lilts was great, for, as I was told by
the contemporaries of Subbanna, when these were
sung in chorus by several boys carrying placards
advertising a product, it would be sold in no
time. Venkapa Raju, Baba's father, thanked
Subbanna for the help he was rendering Baba, as
a result of which He could replenish His
wardrobe and get a few notebooks. Whenever a new
product (like 'Balamrit' of Pundit D.
Gopalacharlu of Madras) had to be introduced to
the people of Uravakonda, it was done by means
of such street music. There was a weekly fair at
the town, and on such days, when the villagers
from surrounding areas assembled, Subbanna had a
hey-day with his placards and his merry
'choirboys'. [see for this story
'The
Cattle Fair']
The
Mentor
Swami said
that even as a boy He had been intent on
correcting the vagaries, vices, defects and
deficiencies of society, by means of ridicule
and satire expressed in drama and poetry.
'Cheppinattu
Chesthara?'
which means, 'Are
your deeds in accordance with your
words?'
is a fine example of His educative experiments.
It exposed the hypocrisy of parents and teachers
- an evil which children and pupils
spontaneously absorb. So also today, Baba
exhorts us to coordinate thought, word and deed.
He tells us that when He spent vacations at
Puttaparthi, He composed long lampoons in folk
metres, on the evils of drink, the absence of
literacy and the irresponsible accumulation of
debt by the villagers. These songs were quickly
learnt by the children who were taught by Baba,
and were recited by them in groups in front of
every house. Some householders were angered at
this onslaught on their shortcomings and
fixations, but many encouraged the boys to
continue their reformatory task.
The village
accountants also were a target of Swami's
lampoons. There was one who prided himself on
his 'Hitler moustache', on his watch with its
shining strap and even on his Don Juan
diversions. Swami told the students how he had
composed a satire in verse on him and trained a
band of urchins to parody his pomp. They stood
opposite the door of his house and sang it till
their voices turned hoarse. The butt of their
ridicule came out to thrash them, but the
members of the gang fled into the many lanes and
could not be impounded. Such shout-and-run
tactics were continued until he shaved off the
horror under his nose, removed the leather-strap
from his wrist and gave up his secret visits.
Baba also wrote a play in Telugu entitled 'New
Times', which revolved round a poet who was
ignored and insulted while alive, but whose
stirring poems provided his son enough
ammunition for a rousing victory in an election
a few years after the passing away of his
father.
The
house where Thammiraju, the teacher who
persuaded Swami to produce the play entitled
'Cheppinattu
Chesthara?'
on the annual day of the school, still stands
intact opposite a heap of mud that was once the
house of Seshamaraju. It is indeed a thrice holy
spot, for Swami spent many hours there with His
teacher and his devoted wife, engaged in
providing them precious glimpses of His
Leela,
while also playing with their son who was His
own age. By merely calling out their names, He
had made to appear on a wall of that house
images of the Ten Incarnations of Vishnu (see:
Bhagavân
on
Bhâgavatam)
and various other deities and saints revered by
the teacher's wife. She wrote a poem about this
incident in the monthly magazine published by
the Sai Samaj, Madras. The house of Narayana
Sastry, immortalized as the person who had
witnessed the golden aura around Swami when He
left home to
'carry on the task for which He had
come',
is almost adjacent to the place where
Seshamaraju
lived. Narayana Sastry had once the pride of his
scholarship pricked by Baba when, as a little
boy, Baba had questioned Sastry on his
exposition of the classical texts. We could get
some idea of the ecstasy that must have
overpowered Sastry that day, when we met and
heard Dr. Baronowski of the University of
Arizona, who was wonder-struck and delighted by
the
aura
he saw around Baba for days together at
Brindavan, Whitefield, when He gave
Darsan
to the thousands gathered on the grounds
there.
Teaching
Prayers
Swami told the
students that He had seen what we would call
'hard days', at Uravakonda, though He was the
favourite of the school and the town. He was the
'hewer of wood' and 'drawer of water' for the
family of His brother. He collected dry twigs
and branches from the hills around and tied them
up into a head-load bundle which he brought home
every two or three days. He drew water from a
well, the only potable source, which was not too
near. In spite of these and other exhausting
chores, He was ever fresh and vibrant and full
of infectious humor. His neighbors were
anguished at His plight and entreated Him to
write to His parents asking them to take Him
away. Some even offered to write the letter
themselves. But He told every one not to worry
for He was happy that He could be of service.
"Why
are you bothered? I enjoy being
useful,"
He would say.
I stood on the
very dais from where Swami used to sing,
everyday before the lessons began, the school
prayers before the assembled students. It was
from that very dais that, one historic morning,
Swami had announced,
"I
do not belong to you henceforth. I belong to
them who need Me and call on
Me."
[See The
Serpent Hill]
Swami said that He came down the steps even
before the congregation realized the
significance of what He had declared. Then He
walked to the house where His brother
(Seshamaraju), the Telugu teacher lived.
Throwing His books aside, He moved on to the
edge of the town, where stood the house of
Anjanajulu, the government inspector of Excise
Revenue. Anjanajulu loved and adored Baba.
Perhaps he was one of those who needed Him and
called on Him to illumine and liberate. But He
did not enter the portals of that house. There
are dozens of round, flat-topped boulders
obtruding among the trees in the open ground in
front of that house. Swami sat atop a
medium-sized one, right opposite Anjanajulu's
house. The congregation that followed Him from
school had swelled now to a sea of heads all
around. Anjanajulu had a vision that the trek
from school marked the inauguration of a World
Revolution. So he had a Mantap (a commemorative
structure) constructed over the stone, for it
had to be marked out from the rest. Recently
Baba permitted the good men of Uravakonda to
purchase and take possession of the land around,
and to erect a community hall for carrying on
service activities under His
inspiration.
The
Announcement
Seated upon
that boulder, Swami revealed that His devotees
were calling Him and that He could no longer
pretend to be a student or even a member of the
Raju household. "I
have My task to
complete,"
He declared, indicating that a part had been
accomplished while He was at Shirdi. He then
directed the congregation to sing
Bhajans
(devotional songs) and to recite the name of the
Lord. He stood forth as the Teacher of Teachers,
whose message can liberate man from grief and
greed. "Manasa
Bhajare"
He sang, "Guru
Charanam, Dustara Bhava Sagara
Taranam"
(Adore in song with sincere devotion the feet of
the divine teacher, for they can take you across
the ocean of misery). [Listen
how Swami sings this Bhajan
(MP3)
& Text]
Who was the divine teacher whose feet He was
referring to? Those who knew Him (but they were
only a few) recognized that they were in fact
the feet of Sai. Swami was emphasizing even in
those early years that union with God demands
communion with man. Swami saw the helplessness,
the distress and the disease that sapped the
happiness of people all around Him. He was moved
with compassion. The candle was no longer under
the bushel. Its light was soon to spread, bright
and blazing, in every heart and home, school and
sanctuary, village and town. Swami had made the
clarion call to the entire world to clasp the
feet of the Divinity which had condescended to
encase Itself in human form, and to be saved
from pollution and perdition. Those Lotus Feet
which He presented in their magnificence that
day, have walked on rose petals, snowy mountain
terrain, rain-soaked slush, fair-weather tracks
and sandy seashores, ever carrying consolation
to grief-stricken people in all
lands.
During the
short time He was at Uravakonda, Baba had
installed Himself in the hearts of both the old
and the young. He had brightened their eyes with
laughter and sweetened their ears with song. He
was the bard and the boast of the school, the
pride and paragon of the populace. Every family
had some story to tell about His mysterious
power, His love and His wisdom. So when He left
home and school and talked of His task and of
those waiting for Him the world over, their
courage failed and their tongues were tied in
unspeakable sorrow.
The
Tiger Skin
His
return from Uravakonda and the announcement at
Puttaparthi that He was the
Sai Baba of
Shirdi,
came when He was only fourteen years of age. But
the villages around, and even far off Anantapur
(forty miles away), knew of His being Sai Baba.
(photo:
on throne in
mandir)
One day a
jeep-driver crossed the river bed and walked the
streets of Puttaparthi, trying to locate Swami.
His master, a young English sub-divisional
officer, had gone for Shikar to the forest on
the other side of the Chitravathi, and while
returning to Anantapur the vehicle had stopped
right opposite Puttaparthi village. The driver
did his best, as did the officer, to get the
vehicle moving, but failed. The driver suggested
that there was a 'Boy'
at Puttaparthi who could materialize
Vibhuti
(sacred ash). Yes, "create, by a circular
movement of His palm, the very panacea for all
ills, even for the jeep!" Stranded halfway, the
Englishman agreed and let the driver go to the
village, while he himself sat in the jeep. The
driver bumped into the
Boy at
last, but was astounded to hear Baba say,
"I
am coming, myself, to the
jeep."
He walked across the sandy bed, and on reaching
the road, peeped into the vehicle and saw the
carcass of a tiger that the officer had shot
barely two hours ago. Swami's deep love for all
beings could not tolerate animals being killed
or tortured. He said,
"I
stopped the jeep at this place, for it is a
mother, whose three small cubs are at this
very time loudly wailing and calling out to
her, that you are carrying. Go back! Recover
those cubs and gift them to some zoo where
they will be well looked after. And do not
shoot wild beasts again, for they have caused
you no harm. Why do you kill them, surround
them and lay traps to catch them. Shoot them
instead with a more superior weapon, your
camera. That won't maim or kill
them."
The Englishman
was at once enlightened, and he never carried a
firearm again. Shooting wild beasts armed with a
camera, he discovered, was far more adventurous
and
Sathwic
(pure). He presented the orphaned cubs to the
zoo, and when the tiger skin came back from the
taxidermist, he brought it to Puttaparthi.
Prasanthi Mandir was then under construction. He
met Baba and placed the skin at His feet.
Sakamma of Coorg pleaded with Him to sit on it
in
Yogic
fashion, with a rosary between His fingers. She
had a photographer ready. And Baba obliged,
though He has never sat in
Dhyana
(meditation) or held a rosary!
A
Book On Him
Smt. Nagamani
Purnaiya has written a book in Telugu (later
also translated into and printed in English),
entitled, 'Divine
Leelas of Bhagwan Sathya Sai
Baba'.
In the foreword to the book she says, "I have
availed myself of every opportunity of
witnessing His divine powers." The book
describes more than 140 miracles, of which she
says "more than 115 were witnessed by me with
abundant joy." Nagamani Amma was the wife of Sri
Purnaiya, the chief commercial superintendent,
southern railways, and the miracles she records
were revealed at what is called the 'old' Mandir
(temple) in the village, in the first few years
after Swami's announcement. When the present
Mandir called
Prasanthi
Mandir was inaugurated in 1950, the Mandir at
the village became old! The miracles described
relate to cures effected by the administration
of
Vibhuti
created by Swami, and of raging floods subdued
at His command. Baba revealed to her,
"It
is because of your faith and trust in Me that
your bus could cross the river in spite of the
surging floods."
Swami created
Tulsi
(basil leaf) garlands, rings and pendants for
personal wear. He also performed surgical
operations. "One day I saw Swami throwing
something like a banana peel over the wall,"
narrates Nagamani Amma. "Then He came towards me
and asked for water to wash His hands which were
red with blood. 'You
had prayed to me to cure that man, so I operated
upon him,'
He said. That night I could not sleep due to my
anxiety for the man, since he was operated upon
without cocaine and in full consciousness. I was
very troubled by the thought of the pain he must
be suffering in the adjacent room, and so I
stayed wide awake. At daybreak Swami called me
and asked me to give the patient some surgical
cotton. 'Go
and give the cotton at
once'
He commanded. When I went in, after hesitating
at the door for a while, I found the patient
eating a plate-ful of idlies and
chutney. Swami stood behind me. 'This is not an
operation by a doctor,' He chuckled. 'I have
done it; so there is no pain caused, no rest
required and no special diet prescribed. He can
eat whatever he wants.' I was shown a long mark
on the stomach but could discover no stitches.
Swami said, 'The Vibhuti I created and applied
on his brow acted as an anaesthetic. I created a
Trisul
(trident) and a knife for the operation. After I
had finished, I smeared
Vibhuti,
and it was all over.'
"On another
day, four men came to Prasanthi Nilayam with the
intention of testing Swami," continues Nagamani
Purnaiya. "When they reached Bukkapatnam, three
miles away, they exchanged the wrist watches
they wore, deciding among themselves to find out
whether Baba would discover what they had done.
'If He is God, He should know,' they thought.
Swami called them and said,
'I know why you have come and what you were
talking on the way. One is wearing the watch of
the other. I know that you have come to test Me,
but this is a place for devotees. You can go
back to where you have come
from.'
"
The
Song He Made Them Sing
Baba had not
only to encourage
Bhajan
and give a boost to the declining
Bhajan Mandalis
(groups of Bhajan singers) in the village, but
He had also to compose
Bhajans
and
Namavalis
to satisfy the demand for new songs. During
those early years He wrote quite a few. The four
pillars of the mansion of
Sai Dharma
were first demarcated in one such song composed
by Him when He was seventeen years of age.
|
With
Sathya,
Dharma,
Santhi
and
Prema
Let, step by step, the pilgrim road of
life be trod.
Your duty is to but trudge and try;
Whether you win or lose the game - 'tis
the Will of God.
Fill your mind with God, be devoted in
full to Him;
'Twill grant you freedom from grief and
pain.
Janaka was king, but he lived in
God;
He ruled his realm and gained
Moksha
(liberation) too.
Why yearn for superhuman skills? Have
faith, O man!
They swell your ego and blind your
wisdom eye.
While passing through this trackless
jungle,
The name of God is the only guide.
Your heartland is a precious field;
Plough it with your mind; and use
Your virtues as animals yoked.
Hold the intellect as the whip to urge
them on,
And gather the harvest of love and
light.
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Bhajans
[*]
See also: Srîmad Bhâgavatam, Canto
7, Chapter 6: Prahlâda
Instructs His Asura
Schoolmates
