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CHAPTER 5

Then, one full moon day in April 2002, I had another powerful vision in the early hours of the morning. I remember every detail of this dream clearly .

It was dusk and the lamps had been lit in the precincts of this very ancient temple. I was unfamiliar with this particular temple, that is, I was not aware of what the principle deity was. In strong contrast to my earlier dream where I had been in no doubt that this was indeed the Lord in Tirupathi, I was in a quandary. The temple seemed lovely and old, very old. I recall looking at the ancient grey, stone pillars—with bevelled grooves rising majestically to support the roof. There were two such pillars on either side of
the moola stambam or central pillar. I looked beyond and saw a dark doorway leading inside the sanctum sanctorum.

I could see no light here and the interior seemed engulfed in total darkness. I felt I had to see the deity but was unsure how to proceed inside. I remember looking around. Then, I saw him – an elderly man was sitting just to the south-west of the main shrine. In front of him was a low stool on which rested a well-worn prayer book. This man was hunched over his prayers, totally absorbed in them.

Very hesitantly, I approached him, and at the sound of my footsteps, he looked up. “Evening prayers are over today” he said, “ You will have to come back tomorrow morning”. I remember feeling extremely dejected. Nevertheless, I knew temples had their regulations. Slowly, I started to walk away.

Just as I was about to circum perambulate the inner sanctum, I heard a rustling and looked up sharply. All of a sudden, I found myself in the midst of a crowd of people. There were priests carrying lamps, followed by some more carrying platters
of fruits and flowers. There were women jostling each other in the crowd, carrying in their hands the customary , small, wicker baskets with coconuts, betel leaves, and flowers for an archana.

I remember following this crowd as they proceeded on their pradakshinam of the sanctum. The only thought in my mind was that I had no wicker basket filled with either fruits or flowers. How was I going to perform an archana? Finally, we arrived in front of the doorway that had earlier been totally dark and gloomy. Now, there
was the smell of incense, lot of lights from the lamps as the priests surged ahead,and behind them some of these women. It was soon my turn to go in. However, the minute I reached the large raised step leading to the inner sanctum, all the lights totally vanished,
and the noisy crowd evaporated almost instantly. I found myself with my left foot placed firmly outside the sanctum and my right leg poised to raise itself over the holy threshold.

Then, I felt the pain. It was the kind of numbing, paralysing pain that seemed to shoot
through my entire right leg, immobilising it completely. I found I could not enter this temple, after having come so far. I was totally dejected now, because I was burning with curiosity to see the deity inside, but this deity was eluding me.

I tried to budge my right leg gently but it did not help. It was as if a dead weight had been attached to my leg. I did not wish to give up and tried again, and again. Finally, after what seemed to be a long time, and with one mighty, last effort, I managed to get my right leg over the stone step. I found myself straining my eyes in the gloom to see the deity.

Then I saw her. The one very clear, distinct impression I have is that of oil lamps burning. Not one, but many – she was in fact surrounded by what seemed to be myriads of glowing lights. There was this divine vision, surrounded by a halo of lights walking towards me. Even as she approached nearer, the lights seemed to glow brighter. I felt I was not inside my body anymore. I was running, or floating towards this holy vision, almost pulled in a straight line, or as if propelled forward without any conscious will on my part.

I was running towards her and she seemed to be running forward towards me as if to embrace me. All I can remember are shreds of fear and trepidation mixed with this
extraordinary sense of total bliss. In my dream I heard myself say, “Balambikkai is coming towards me”. I don’t know why I said this. I do not know why I felt it was Devi, as a young girl coming towards me. But this was what I remember seeing and experiencing in this very extraordinary dream.

The next thing I remember was going up a short flight of steps, somewhere on the side of the temple premises. I remember it as being on the right –hand side of the sanctum. A kind of spiral stone staircase with grey, cold, steps led up to a doorway through which
we entered a room. I say “we” because I felt that the Goddess was somehow with me, mixed up with me in a manner that I couldn’t really understand properly.

The room we entered was long and rectangular, with no windows. But there was a light of some sort coming from somewhere. My mother was at my side and the three of us together were proceeding across the room towards the far side. I noticed another door in the far right hand corner of this rather curious looking room.

Then “she” came towards me – a young girl, with her hand outstretched – I thought it was the left hand. “Look at my hand”, she said. I looked and remember being very
surprised. This hand was very old, withered and dark in complexion and on the outstretched palm there were six distinct lines.

Mentally, I could not comprehend how such a divine and glowing deity full of the exuberance of youth, could ever have such a gnarled hand like that. Also, I seem to remember thinking that no one has six lines on their palm. There are just the three distinct lines of palmistry – heart, head and that of fate or destiny. Yet, I looked again at her outstretched palm, there were indisputably six dark brown/grey lines running parallel to each other. Then, even as I was perplexed, she said emphatically “Look , you have six lines on your hand as well”.

“I don’t”, I said, “I don’t have six lines on the palm of my left hand. Look, you can see yourself”. I stretched out my hand. She took my left hand and held it open, so she could see the palm. “You do have six lines here, just like me”. I laughed and said “ I certainly don’t have six lines running across the palm of my left hand. Maybe you do, but then you are Devi, my supreme Goddess – I can’t be like you”. She was very insistent, however.

All I remember was this continual insistence on the fact that I had the six lines just like her. Even as we were talking, I found that we had come very close to the door at the far end. My mother was walking behind me , and I was being led, so it seemed at the time, by this divine vision. Just as we reached the door, she said to me, “ I will
never leave you” .

I don’t know what impulse made me say this, but I uttered the following words: “ Please, I would like to go home now, I’m feeling very, very tired.”.

The next minute, I felt an enormous pressure on my chest. It was a hard pressure, as if someone had placed a heavy weight down on me. I also felt, that I had come back to my body. I was not “ floating”, but brought down to earth. The next feeling was that I was in a deep slumber, a deep stupor that I could not awake from. I remember feeling a bit afraid, in my dream, that I might never get up!

This is not an uncommon feeling. I have experienced this feeling of not being able to awaken from a dream, not being able to move my limbs, on many occasions. I summoned all my mental strength and began to force my lips to move. Slowly, I mouthed the syllables MU- RU- GA- over and over again. I don’t know why I appealed to this particular deity. I just did this several times, over and over again, until I felt I could move my legs, then my hands and finally, with great effort, opened my eyes. It was early morning, about 4.30 a.m. on a Friday. It was Pournami or Full moon that day. I woke up in a daze and looked at my hands. No, I did not have six lines on my left
hand. I was puzzled by the dream, but one thing I was sure of doing later in the morning. I wanted to say my Lalitha Sahasranamam and as I meditated in front of my puja closet, I felt a strong suggestion that I had to draw an image of this Goddess Balambikkai.

I finished my prayers on that Friday and immediately set about drawing the image of Baalaambika, as she appeared in my dream.

Over the course of the following week, I worked continuously on this portrait. I first drew the sacred mandapam or sanctified place where idols of deities are usually placed. As was common in all the drawings I’d done so far, this was sort of a raised platform with a
few decorated steps leading up to it. All around this I drew in some lamps. Usually, it was my practice to draw two lovely standing lamps – kutthu villakkus – at the base of this sacred portal. However, in this picture my intention was to depict the deity more or less
as she had appeared in my dream. In my vision, there were lots of oil lamps and the whole scene was bright and glowing from both an inner brilliance coming from the deity as well as from the myriad of suspended lamps. This is the effect I finally managed to
achieve.

By the Thursday of the following week, I had finished most of the picture except for the face. I had drawn Devi as a young girl standing on this raised platform with a string of prayer beads in one hand and the other hand turned inwards, as if in a protective
gesture, resting lightly against her thigh.

On her crown, she wore a crescent moon and her dress was not a saree but instead a kind of skirt and blouse ensemble typically worn by young girls. I was quite happy with the progression of my painting so far. I had taken greater care than usual in drawing this
image. My thoughts and prayers had as always rested on that supreme goddess Lalitha, whose thousand names I recited constantly, in waking as well as in sleep and dream state. I rose with her Holy name on my lip and went to bed thinking about my beautiful Devi. Somehow, nothing else in the world seemed to be of any importance. It was at this time that my children began to be more conscious of the amount of time I was spending immersed in prayer. Although to this day, I have never allowed my prayers to
hinder the carrying out of daily household tasks, my prayers and meditation started to bother my children greatly.

I must admit that I have never enforced religion on my children, because my mother had never done this to any of us. We naturally imbibed religion from the atmosphere around us. However, for my girls, the fact they had been born and brought up in the very
materialistic western society meant they could not easily tolerate my religious practices.

They could not appreciate my “Indian” music, or understand my prayers, if by some chance, they heard me playing my audio tapes loudly. Consequently, I listened to all my
Vedanta tapes and prayers with the help of headphones.

Normally this did not bother me. I felt that these disturbances were merely some more obstacles that I had to overcome in my spiritual quest. I did not allow the children’s attempts to distract me in my meditation affect me too much and tried as far as possible
to work on my paintings when they were at school. To this day, they have never seen my earlier sets of paintings because I had kept them all very carefully hidden in my drawing book.

This painting was different. I wanted to finish it as quickly as possible, so the children as usual made remarks that I was “at” my paintings again. In their minds, I was slowly becoming God- intoxicated.
However, regardless of all these distractions, I had made good progress on this drawing. Finally, only the eyes had to be drawn. I always reserved the drawing of the eyes to the very last.

I was very meticuluous when it came to drawing the face and in particular the eyes. The expression had to be just right. I have never considered for a single moment that it was “I”, who created these lovely pictures. I have always felt myself to be just an instrument
carrying out divine instructions. So, on this auspicious Friday, I decided to pray to Durga for her blessings before I drew in the eyes. I went into the bathroom to wash my hair with the intention of starting this Friday off on a good tone. What followed was just an
unfortunate series of events.

With absolutely no prior warning, my back froze just as I bent down to pick up a towel to dry myself after my bath. There was a searing pain that extended from the base of my spine, all along the right leg. I could not move. Luckily, the mobile phone was near my side and I just managed to call my husband for help before collapsing on the floor. Help was quite long in coming and there were further complications because I had locked the apartment door from the inside. A locksmith had to be called to try and get it open from the outside. I could hear the anxious voices of my daughter and husband from outside as they discussed the possibility of just breaking down the door.

At this point, I was lying on the ground, waves of pain racking my leg and back. I tried hard to hoist myself up, but found it impossible to shift my leg, let alone try to stand.

However, with one last attempt, I managed to first crawl, and then stumble
the few paces to the front door. I remember turning the key inside the lock and heard it open before passing out. The next thing I remember, was that I was on the bed, on my tummy with an ice pack on my back.

The doctor arrived much later that evening and I finally got some extra strong pain killers. But it was bad news. I had a lesion or tear in my disc, with the result that the projecting portion of the disc was putting pressure on a vital nerve, thus sending those shooting pains down my right leg. The next few weeks passed in a painful daze. I had to have a lot of powerful medication. In addition, I had to take a lot of bed rest. I found it very difficult to either sit or stand and could walk only very slowly and with much pain.

I did not understand why this had happened to me, particularly on the day I was going to draw the face of my Goddess. I spent most of the next few weeks in bed, recuperating and listening to my indispensable audio cassettes. I tried to find some solace in the
teachings of Paramartha and did my prayers and meditation lying in bed.

It was at this time that yet another piece of bad news came my way. My mother informed me on May 27th, that in the very early hours of that day, our beloved Swamigal had attained Samadhi. I was totally shattered by this news.

There were several selfish reasons for this.

In the weeks leading up to this event, I had asked my mother to visit Swamigal and get his blessings for my sake. Actually, my mother had mentioned that Swamigal wasn’t very well and had been admitted in hospital. She did not give me too many details, perhaps
because I had this painful back condition and she did not want to add to my worry. I told her then that I had this desire to take in all my paintings of Devi from this last, third set to Swamigal and personally get his blessings. So, the news that Swamigal had shed his
human body came as a big blow! There was nothing anyone could do except pray—and this is what I did.

My mother gave the exact time when the holy last rites were to be given on that day. I managed with great difficulty to take a shower and then went to my very neglected puja cupboard. I cleaned it a bit and then lit a lamp. I looked at my photograph of Swamigal and then couldn’t keep standing any more. This effort had been too much for me. I got back into bed and recited prayers, mentally, for the next couple of hours, thinking of no one else but him and remembering his kind face in my mind.

CHAPTER 7

It was on a Sunday, in early September, 2002, that I visited Sri Bala Peetam housed in a small village called Nemili, on the outskirts of Madras. My mother and sister came as well. Once we reached the sleepy little village of Nemili, it wasn’t hard to find the place. However, I was in for a surprise.
Instead of the usual temple structure, we found an ordinary, nondescript house! We were reassured this was the temple of Bala. Rather hesitantly, my mother, sister and I walked inside. We removed our slippers, in the dark, narrow , hallway. Above this entrance was a picture of a goddess, depicted as a very young girl, wearing a green skirt – paavadai – and blouse, holding a book in one hand and a string of beads in the other.

We took a few steps over this threshold and came inside a very large hall. On the far side of this large room was a dais, and on this was quite an elaborate mandapam. I was straining my eyes to observe the main deity, but could not really see her!

As we were pondering about this, an elderly gentleman came out of one of the rooms on the side of this hall. He motioned for us to sit in front of the dais and then, pulling up a chair, proceeded to give us the background information about the deity and how the house had become sanctified. Apparently, over 150 years ago, a very small idol of this goddess, called Bala, had been found by one of this gentleman’s ancestors, a devout Brahmin called Subramanya Iyer. This idol is very tiny, about the size of a thumbnail, and was discovered in the river bed following a dream in which goddess appeared to Subramanyam and told him that Bala ( an incarnation of Raja Rajeshwari) would come to his house to rest and bless those who visit her. The young girl proceeded to give precise instructions about how she would be found in the nearby river.After a relentless search for three days, this tiny bronze idol seemed to float into the cupped hands of a delighted and grateful Subramanyam.

The tiny figurine of Bala was then placed in a special small, throne in the puja room, just below the idol of her mother, Raja Rajeshwari and prayers were offered. An elaborate tradition of worship has been carried on by successive generations of this family. Slowly, people from neighbouring towns and villages started to come and worship the image of this tiny child-goddess. There were some miracles – and, as some devout believers spread the word, more people came to see “Bala” and get her blessings.
It seemed that Bala, the child- Goddess could alleviate most of the problems faced by her sincere devotees. Marriages that keep getting postponed or delayed soon get arranged with Bala’s help. Women unable to beget children soon become mothers, children struggling with their studies are able to complete higher education and get gainful employment. What Bala “gives” her sincere believers is endless!
Every possible life-situation or problem is envisaged and remedies are provided in the form of melodious songs. All a person has to do is recite these songs with faith and Bala seems to do the rest.
Any unfavourable event is soon reversed, be it lack of education, ill health, financial problems, and so on.

The elderly priest who was narrating this story took pains to emphasise the fact that people who wanted their wishes fulufilled didn’t necessarily bargain with the goddess—i.e. give donations or contributions either in cash or kind, as is so often
the case at many temples, if their sorrows vanished or desires were fulfilled. Instead, at this temple, pilgrims enter and get her blessings. Goddess Baala is aware of the problems afflicting her devotees and quite simply takes care of them. Now, this might
seem far-fetched to most rational human beings, struggling to cope with the many disasters life deals to them. However, the statement that the elderly priest made was very simple and it could only appeal to those who had immense faith in the many aspects of saguna bhakthi.

I felt an enormous sense of calm sitting in front of this little shrine. I closed my eyes and savoured the feeling of perfect serenity that seemed to envelope the whole room. Very rarely, have I felt that divine presence so much, as I did that day, sitting in the front hall of this small house that was also a temple. I have experienced the same feeling in just one other temple- that was at Skandashramam, in Salem, when I was similarly seated, with my eyes closed , at the feet of Swamigal.

I had taken with me, on this occasion, copies of the six black and white Devi pictures I had drawn—( the third set of paintings). I had initially wanted Swamigal to bless them, but as he had passed on, I requested the elderly priest at this Bala temple to bless them
instead. Later, as we did our namaskarams and were about to leave, the priest came up to me and said he really liked my paintings and would it be possible for him to have in particular, my drawing of the “Bala”, as she appeared in my dream.

Now, the six pictures that had just been blessed had been a gift from me to my mother for her birthday, so I informed this man, I couldn’t really give him that particular copy on that day.

On the way back to Madras, I felt a bit guilty I hadn’t acceded to the man’s request and mentioned this to my mother. Her reaction was surprising – she had been standing right next to me as we took leave of the priest. “I don’t really recall him asking for any of your
pictures,” she said, “ it must be your imagination”. I decided not to dwell on this issue and we left it at that.

However, the sequence of events that followed were rather surprising. It just so happened that my children were going to visit their aunt and uncle in Poona for a few days. I wanted to send a gift for my sister-in-law, and decided to give her a selection of prints from my drawings. I chose a few prints and gave them to a nearby art gallery to be framed. I requested they do a rush job on it as my children were leaving early next morning. The people at the art gallery promised to deliver the framed pictures on time. As things turned out, they didn’t live up to their promise and the framed pictures reached me too late. So, I decided to give a few to my uncle in Madras and after
he made his selection, there was only one framed print left – this was of course, the picture of Bala.

Even at this point, I didn’t think too much about either this remaining picture, or the priest’s request. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to visit this temple again. After all,
Nemili was quite a distance from Madras and I was pre- occupied with other matters at that time. However, I was destined to visit this temple not just one more time but twice!.

One day, my sister- in-law, who runs a school for Down’s Syndrome children, decided to take her entire school on an outing to this particular temple, so they could be blessed. After all, the deity here was a child- goddess, and like the priest there told us, she loved
children, and in particular loads of sweets. So, armed with a lot of offerings, particularly biscuits and sweets, I went along with my sister-in-law’s school and the staff for the second visit to this lovely house. Just as we were embarking on the trip, I took the framed print that was left behind and, remembering the priest’s request, I decided to give this to him when we reached Nemili.

This little half-day outing was greatly enjoyed by all the children at this very special school. They sat in perfect silence during the small puja performed by the priest and were delighted when they received their prasadams – sweets. All this time, I sat at the back of the hall and placed my picture out of sight behind a pillar. My intention was to give the priest the picture after the short ceremony was over.

Finally, as the children were trooping slowly out of the hall, I got up to retrieve my picture. Just then, the priest’s wife came from a room at the back of the hall and said “ Oh, is that a picture of our Bala? She looks just as if she is seated on a swing”. Apparently, that is the manner in which this child goddess often appears in the visions to her devotees – seated on a swing! I said I wished to give this picture to the temple, if they wanted it. Of course, they were delighted and the priest said to me “ You know, the other day when you came here with all the six pictures of Devi, I really wanted to have this particular picture, but I didn’t ask you as you seemed intent on taking them back. See how Bala herself has brought it back for me!”. I was astounded. I had heard his mental thoughts as clearly as light of day!

My children returned home to London after a few weeks in Madras and I decided to stay on longer in order to spend some more time with my mother, and also to fully recuperate from my back problems.

During this period, I had a few visions. It was always the same goddess who kept appearing, very briefly, just before I was fully awake in the mornings. The distinguishing feature of this very dark-hued goddess was the golden crown she wore – represented by the hood of a cobra! I was puzzled by this and decided to visit the temple of
Karumarriamman at a place called Thiruverkadu, near Madras. The deity here has a serpent’s hood on her head, as a crown.

Later, I had a very strong mental suggestion to draw the picture of this deity, Karumarriamman. This time, I decided to draw a bigger sized image of the goddess. My intention was to paint the deity using colours, rather than the stark black and white images I had previously done. Within one week, I managed to finish the picture of the deity and I was very happy, especially with the expression on her face. There was a serenity and calmness that was indeed divine. I decided to paint this picture in glowing colours and set about buying my painting materials.

Whilst I was engaged in this task, I experienced another powerful vision. This was in September 2002. I was in a temple along with a few members of my family. There was a crowd of people standing in front of the shrine, in this (unknown) temple. Directly in front of me stood a young boy. All I was aware of was that something was wrong with this boy. He appeared to be afflicted with a mental ailment. I moved forward and placed my hand on the boy’s neck. My hands stroked the back of his head. All of a sudden there was this surge of light emanating from my hand . There was a very bright flash of light. I knew that whatever had bothered him or troubled him was over.

He seemed perfectly calm and normal. The people around me surged forward to embrace him. “ He’s Alright now”, they cried. No one noticed me. The bright flash of light that came out of my hands seemed to have back fired. I was lying on the ground, in pain. No one seemed to care. At last, one young person helped me up to my feet. I remember crying out the name of my Goddess Bhuvaneswari .
“Amma, please help me”, I wept, as I ran around the precincts of this temple. Finally, I came to a short flight of steps on one side of the temple. This seemed to lead up to a small shrine. No one was about. I crept up and made my way to the door of this little room. It was ajar. Slowly, I ventured inside to get a glimpse of the deity. To my surprise it was a small image of the Goddess enthroned on a snake.
The wide hood of the serpent rose majestically above this diminutive goddess, as if protecting her.

While I was staring at this fascinating sight, I heard the rustle of people coming towards this shrine. There was a large procession of people making their way
towards the shrine, but one figure at the head of the group caught my eye. This was His Holiness Shanthananda Swamigal. He was coming towards me with a gold crown on the top of his head that was a snake’s hood. Smiling very gently when he saw me, he said
“Why Uma , you have come here before I could”. Then, he turned towards a priest and said “ Give her a nice, big garland of roses”.

I shall never forget this incident. While I do not understand what it meant, I was happy just to receive the blessings of my Guru before I finished my painting. From that small start, I have carried on to execute many more paintings to date.

However, due to a sudden turn of events, I decided to cut short my stay in Madras and return to London. I thought I should make an effort to visit that temple in Nemili one final time before I left.

This time, my aunt and uncle accompanied me. Usually, it is the custom to place a phone call to the house at Nemili before departure from Madras, just to ensure that the priest is at home. After all it is run as a normal household and he might well not be there when we
reached. I tried ringing the number but was unable to get through. After several attempts, I decided to just take a chance and drive on. I prayed that Bala would give me this last opportunity to visit her. I remembered what the priest said “You cannot come here until she wants you to visit her”.

The three of us set off one afternoon, a couple of days before I was due to return to London. When we reached the house in Nemili, the front door was locked and there seemed to be no one about. Our car driver went to the side of the house and
tried to peer through the windows, but could not spot anyone. I was disappointed!

However, just as we were leaving, I decided to take a last chance. We went up to the front door and saw through a small crack in the door that there were some slippers inside. Someone must be inside the house. We called out loudly. After what seemed like a long time I heard the shuffle of footsteps and the door was opened by a young man. Apparently, his father, the priest was taking his afternoon nap. He requested us to come inside the hall and
wait.

After a short while the priest appeared and to our great delight performed a puja and gave us blessings. He told me as we were leaving that I had tremendous faith and this would always protect me. My aunt and uncle were particularly happy as they too felt the divine presence here and were touched by the simplicity and courteousness of the people who lived in this house. That last visit I still cherish very much indeed.

I packed the unfinished portrait of Karumariamman, in my suitcase, intending to finish it when I returned to London.

It was mid- September when I arrived. I decided to paint the picture of Amman during the Navarathri period that was to follow shortly.This nine day period of worship for Durga is perhaps one of the most important festivals in the Hindu calendar. It was during this period that the Goddess, assuming the forms of Kali, Lakshmi and Saraswathi, successfully fought and destroyed the terrible demons and asuras who were harassing the Devas.

The esoteric significance, of course, is that as humans, we should constantly be on guard and fight against those negative qualities like anger, greed, lust and laziness, all of which prevent us from ever understanding our true nature.

Foes within us are the dark qualities, while the enemies outside are those whom we alienate due to some reason or the other. I started the painting on the first day of Navarathri. As was my usual custom, I prayed to Lord Vigneswara, the remover of all obstacles and then recited the Lalitha Sahasranama. Nine glorious days were spent adorning and decorating the picture I had drawn. My concentration
was at all times only on Devi, as I idealised her, in numerous forms. Mentally, I was chanting Lalitha Sahasrama incessantly, along with other hymns and slokas on Durga. Whenever, I found my mind veering off even a little, from thoughts of the Divine, I recited the mantra mentally or listened to my Vedanta tapes. In fact, by now my daily routine was so well established that the entire chunk of 8 or 9 hours
during the day were spent in constant meditation or contemplation of a particular deity, follwed by Vedanta.

I finished my first large colourful portrait of Devi Karumari Amman on the final day of Navarathri. I framed the picture myself and hung it above the fake fireplace in our living room. This was the very first painting to be hung in the flat. More would continue over the next year.

I was quite pleased with this portrait of the goddess and wanted to take a photograph so I could send it to my mother. The Goddess looked grand seated on her golden throne, carrying in her many hands, both weapons of destruction as well as symbols of prosperity
and happiness. I had decorated her with many beautiful, coloured stones and the whole effect of this finished picture was, in my mind, quite breathtaking.

In fact, she seemed very alive and seemed to energise me whenever I gazed on her in deep contemplation. I wanted my mother to share this sense of happiness, albeit through the medium of a photograph. However, I was mistaken. I spent an entire roll
of film taking various shots of the portrait from different angles and using various light settings. When the pictures were developed I had a huge shock. Not one single photo had been developed properly. In fact, all I saw was a sea of black, with a few non identifiable
patches. At the same time, I felt deep down in my heart that I was being sent a message—“ Don’t develop my pictures, or send them to anyone”, the Devi seemed to say.

I decided not to take any more photos just then. In any case, I soon found myself busy with drawing my next picture. It had always been my desire to visit the famous Meenakshi Amman temple in Madurai, especially since I knew that this ancient place had been a source of inspiration to Swamigal.

Indeed, I read in his biography, that he had spent a lot of time as a youth meditating before Goddess Meenakshi. So, I decided to paint her, as a lovely maiden, dressed in a
green sari, holding the customary parrot in one of her hands. It was during the painting of this deity that I started to listen to the chanting of Rudram, Namakam and Chamakam. I studied these ancient slokas very carefully and marvelled at both the structure and content of these powerful verses. Lord Shiva is extolled as the very essence of all things in the universe. The inventory of this great universe occupies the central portion of this great vedic chant! As a work of poetry, in language, style and content, all aspects of this heartfelt prayer to Lord shiva to bless humanity are powerful, and the vibrations set off by the precise chanting of these verses helped me to achieve a great deal of concentration.

It took nearly an entire month for me to finish my work of art. I used a lot of colourful crystals to embellish the picture and was very happy that by the divine grace of God, I could produce such a beautiful image of the deity. I framed this picture by myself and requested my husband to hang it in the living room.

Now, I must explain here that while my husband did not impede in any way either my spiritual progress or my interest in art, he remained largely indifferent to it and was terribly ignorant of the deep philosophical truths expounded by our religion. However, he did promise to hang up the painting, as it was very heavy and difficult for me to accomplish the task by myself.

One weekend, while I was busy in the kitchen, he decided to undertake this task. He informed me he was going to hang the new painting over the mantelpiece, in the same place we had first placed my painting of Karumarriamman. I hesitated, almost involuntarily. It was as if a sudden premonition crossed my mind. I said, “ Please don’t take down that Karumarriamman painting, I don’t think she wants to be moved”.

My husband however, only laughed—“ It’s only a painting— she’s not going to mind, surely!” I didn’t reply and instead went about my normal chores in the kitchen.
For a while there was silence.

Then, without warning, I heard a loud crash and the very certain sound of splintered glass. My only thought was “Amma, how can you allow your portrait to be broken – the painting I had done with no other thought except pure love for you”.
I ran to the living room and found broken glass scattered in all directions. My husband’s hands were bleeding and he was standing in the middle of the room, totally speechless.
He had taken down the painting of Karumarriamman and placed it on the ground. However, the portrait of Meenakshi Amman he had tried to hang in its place had crashed down within seconds. A closer inspection revealed that only the frame had broken. My painting of the Goddess had survived intact and not a single stone I had embellished the picture with had even budged.

My husband was totally stupefied, and without me having to utter a word, quietly restored the Karumarriamman to her original place. In fact he made the comment “ That’s the last time I touch this painting, unless she wants me to move her, I will not!”.

As a fitting end to this little episode, my husband was able to get a free , new, glass frame from the shop, again, by sheer generosity of the owner!

CHAPTER 4

My painting of Lord Vigneswara was completed. I moved on to another deity. At this time I used to recite Lalitha Sahasranama( thousand holy names of the Goddess) every day and I wanted to focus on Shakthi in various forms. I began a drawing of Durga. Again, I started these drawings by offering prayers to Pillayar, Guru and then the specific deity in question . Shri Santhanada Swamigal had composed a kavacham on Durga.

I made a habit of listening to this along with my other prayers. I continued to listen to Swami Paramarthanada’s pearls of wisdom as well. In this manner, I managed to finish sketches of Bhuvaneswari, and Kamakshi Amman. Later, I did a few sketches of Lord
Muruga, Shiva and Vishnu. These pencil sketches were embellished with black ink, so they would look more effective. I shall call these my first set of gross paintings. There were three sets of these black and white paintings in total, always dealing with the
same set of deities.

The reason for this classification is rather curious. I carried on for nearly three years with this type of art work. It was always a portrayal of Devi in many forms, followed sometimes by Vishnu and Murugan. When I had completed my very first set of paintings, I gave a few away to family members hoping they would bring the recipients good luck. However, as I had not maintained copies, I set out to draw some of these images all over again. This second set, it seemed to me, turned out slightly better than my first attempt. I remember that my portrayal of Durga in the first set had been a little crude and the face lacked a serene and calm countenance. In the second set of Devi paintings, the eyes were more lively and benevolent and this seemed to transform the
image from just a crude drawing on paper to one which seemed to have more life!

Again, I remember giving away a few of these pictures, but this time I managed to retain photocopies of the original. During the evolution of these drawings, I continued with both prayers and philosophical lectures side by side. Although this was a period in my
life when there were a lot of turbulences, I felt that I could handle them without depending or leaning on other people for help. I was still relying on God as the last resort, for any unexpected curves life could toss at me. This was still, very much a major dependence and, despite all the lectures of Paramartha, one more hurdle I could not jump over just yet.

As if to reflect this inner uncertainty of mind, my art work took on a different nature as well. After the completion of the second set of God paintings, I began to explore an alternative medium of painting. At that time my eldest daughter wanted me to come up with some ideas of craft objects to sell at her school’s Christmas fair. So, I put aside my God paintings for a while and came up with the idea of creating photo frames using glass paints. I made quite a number of these photo frames in different sizes decorated in
an array of dazzling floral patterns. These proved to be quite popular and from there I moved on to creating a few floral wall hangings using the same floral motifs. In fact, my children insisted I should hang a few of these on the bare walls of our flat.

Although I did as they suggested, I felt a small voice inside me protesting- “ Put up some pictures of Gods, instead”. I considered this for a moment and then let it go. My children’s desires were more important. Curiously enough, these floral paintings did not
rest on the walls too long. I simply gave them away to a family member who happened to admire them. Even at this time I did not realise the significance of “that little voice”.

I think the true awakening of my inner consciousness, in the light of restrospection, occurred when I was involved in drawing the third set of paintings. After my episode of dabbling with different types of glass paints and floral patterns, I somehow got the urge to draw another set of Devi paintings. My intention at this point was merely a technical one – I wanted to improve my drawing skills.

Somehow, as always, my art had to reflect the on going process of self inquiry and self cleansing as well. Thus, I began the third and final set of Devi paintings. I worked on a series of five images over a period of a couple of months in the first quarter of 2002.I
had by now exhausted all the audio cassettes on Vedanta my mother had periodically sent me so far, and had already listened to the Upanishads several times.

In fact, I knew exactly what Paramartha would say next at any pause, or the particular joke he would make so we could understand a concept easily! I returned to my prayers and paintings. And subconsciously, I returned to my dependence on Swamigal. My mother would meet him quite often and he would always inquire how I was. For my part I would always ask my mother to seek his blessings on my behalf. So, it continued—with art reflecting my spiritual soul searching.

It was also during this period that I started having my visions. One day in the autumn of 2001, I had a very strange dream. I was at Tirupathi witnessing the splendour of the Lord as prayers were said and flowers were being offered.

I can recall this dream very vividly, because I could even smell the fragrance of incense and camphor that swirled about me. The priests were chanting Vishnu Sahasranama and my mouth was moving in unison reciting these thousand holy names of that supreme Lord.

The Lord, bedecked in garlands of many hued flowers, seemed to stay in my dream for a long time – as if he was giving me a private audience. I woke up in a daze. It was early in the morning on a Friday. Looking back now, almost all such dreams have occurred
early in the morning of a Friday, many, on full moon days.

Prior to this incident, I had always slept quite soundly, and except for some fanciful and rather illogical dreams, my dreaming state had been very ordinary- not unlike that of any other average person. I must however admit that during the summer of 2001, I visited
Tirupathi temple along with my sister. Somehow the darshan we received that day was not very fulfilling to me. First of all, we had to
stand in the dharma darshan queue for what seemed like ages, and when we reached the main sanctum, we were told that no particular puja was going on just then. We could only get a very distant glimpse of the sacred idol. I have had better darshans
before, and although I was happy to see the Lord, albeit from a distance, in my opinion, it was only second best.

Later, we descended the sacred hills and made our way to Tiruchaanur to visit the Alamelu Thaayar temple. Here, we found we did not get a glimpse of the main deity
at all as there was a massive crowd. There was a puja being conducted outside using the Utsava Murthi. I barely managed to get a sight of the Devi here because even as we hurried to get a view, the priests pulled a curtain in front of the idol. On the whole, I felt
very sad and, in a way, let down by my gods. “I only came to see you and seek your blessings- why didn’t you grant me even that simple pleasure? Haven’t I been praying to you all these years, with single-minded concentration? Is this how you reward me?” All
these questions were running through my mind. Anyway, nothing more could be done and my sister and I returned home.

Back in London after that summer visit, I had this beautiful vision of the Lord. I remember excitedly calling my mother on the phone and telling her all about it. I continued all my prayers with renewed vigour. Things were fairly normal for a while until the next curious dream incident.

This occurred later that year. This dream was very unusual because I felt as if I had already died. At least, my physical body was no longer relevant. Instead, I felt as if I was being pulled upwards by a very powerful magnet. This is indeed the exact sensation I felt at the time (funnily enough, corroborated by a visiting Swamiji over a year later). I felt propelled upwards into this huge glowing and shining globe of light, and felt myself leaving the body from right at the top centre of my head.

There are very few such incidents that I can now recall with accuracy. This was one of them and the very force of that pull was the lasting impression I had of this dream. I told my mother about this as well. She thought that since I did a lot of prayers it might not be too surprising to get such a dream. However, only I knew that despite what anyone might say or comment, these were not your ordinary dreams reflecting the subconscious wishes or desires. I can honestly assure you that at no time had I wished to leave this body
voluntarily or otherwise!

It was only after these powerful dreams that I renewed my paintings of Devi. Over a few months in the early part of 2002 I managed to draw five of them—Durga, Bhuvaneswari, Mahalakshmi, RajaRajeswari and Maangaadu Kamakshi Amman.

At this time, I was going through a rough patch in my personal life and my main intention in drawing these figures was not only to gain mental strength, but also to appeal to Devi, whom I considered to be a Mother, as a last resort to help me and my family. This third set of paintings was more beautiful in my opinion than the previous attempts. The faces of my Devis appeared truly serene and calm.

However, over the next few months, the problems I encountered seem to only grow in size and my patience was to be sorely tested.

In a very radical move, I decided to completely stop all my prayers. I was not disheartened that my prayers had yielded no fruits – because at no point had I set up a bargain with God.

I just decided to stop the prayers and concentrate on Vedanta instead.

Listening to thought provoking lectures replaced meditation and japa. I returned to Paramartha’s tapes. Unconsciously, my mind was firmly established in bridging that gap between dvaita and advaita. I was now more concerned with every minute detail of how
I interacted with the world around me in an effort to overcome my negative qualities. This period of introspection had been going on for quite some time, but seemed to have somehow now gained momentum.

CHAPTER 3

I was now at that juncture where my road began to twist and turn treacherously. The only amazing fact was how my interest in art began to take over and act as a buffer to this inner turmoil and turbulence. I needed spiritual guidance, but I was miles away from
home. My religious paintings seemed to bring calmness and peace of mind, at least temporarily , until Swamigal came back into my life – or so, I thought.

One day in 1993, my husband decided to change the décor of our London flat. He had been complaining for some time now that our small flat had become too cluttered with my many bronze statues and paintings. So, we went from clutter to minimalism almost
overnight. . We had Laura Ashley floral designs and patterned wallpaper. My girls were delighted with the transformation and I didn’t mind particularly just as long as everyone was happy. Also, I reasoned to myself, true faith is only in the heart. The removal of all
vestiges of Hinduism and Indian art were only external. It could never affect or shake my belief in Goddess Bhuvaneswari. Instead, I had the carpenter create a small puja cupboard in a corner of the kitchen. In this small space I stuck a few pictures of deities and placed my bronze statue of Bhuvaneswari. My puja and prayers continued as always.Only, the paintings seemed to be put on hold.

However, for some unexplained reason the walls in our now, renovated flat remained unadorned from 1993 until 2002. This was not so by choice. We simply didn’t find an appropriate painting to buy as an investment- and there were other reasons too. My husband was very busy with his work and travel; the children were engrossed with studies, ballet and music lessons and none of us really had time to consider that the walls remained unadorned.

It was in the summer of 1993 that I met Swamigal again. I wanted my daughters to receive his blessings. At that time he was in Salem. A huge temple complex had been built during 1970’s on the top of a small hill near the village of Udayapatti in the Salem
district of Tamilnadu. The unique feature of this temple is that Lord Skanda faces the sanctum of his mother. Directly in front of the sanctum housing the statue of Skanda stands the magnificent 18 armed Goddess Ashtaa Dhasa Bhuja Mahalakshmi Durga Devi,
the slayer of the demon Mahisha.

In the courtyard surrounding the temple there are huge statues of the five-faced, Heramba Ganapathi, Anjaneya, Vishnu and Shiva. A feeling of utter peace and serenity engulfed me as soon as I set foot in this holy place. My mother and I performed Guru Pada puja for
the Swamigal as soon as we entered the temple. Later, we had a private audience with Swamigal in a small room on the temple premises. He seemed very weak and frail, that day, and appeared a lot older than I had imagined he would be. It was obvious he was
in pain of some sort—an abdominal condition, he explained with a slight smile.

At this time Swamigal was actively involved in planning and building another temple complex near Madras and spent some time chatting with my mother about the difficulties in financing the project. Then, he turned his attention to me and asked me if I had a
health problem as I had lost a lot of weight. I reassured him quickly and said that perhaps my body was just unable to handle the common stresses of life very well. I have never felt it appropriate to discuss personal problems or family issues with a Swamiji . I feel
one has to really sort out these issues at a personal level. I just needed his wisdom and blessings at this point. I also informed him that a mantra he had given me (through my mother), wasn’t really working well for me. Ignorant as I was then, I did not realise that I
was not a worthy recipient for the mantra, not the other way around

In fact, a curious incident happened while reciting this mantra and I narrated this to Swamigal. At that time in London, we were fortunate to have as our neighbours a lovely couple who lived in the flat upstairs. A Christian lady married to a Muslim. Over the years, we had got to know them well and they loved my children, spending a lot of time every day playing with them . One day, this lady knocked on our door in a panic. Her husband had been admitted in hospital and was in a critical condition. Apparently he had
collapsed suddenly and had been given just 48 hours. The couple’s only son, a doctor, had come down to be of comfort to her.

Distressed at the sight of her grief and seeing how she was so close to a state of nervous breakdown, I immediately rushed to my puja cupboard and gave her some vibhuti. “Apply this on his forehead”, I told her. Later, she informed me she had smeared it all over his body. I assured her in the meanwhile I would pray for his life. Although a Christian, this lady had been on a visit to Tirupathi, some years ago while on holiday, and she was aware I maintained a daily routine of prayer every morning. So, she seemed to take strength from my assurances.

During the next 48 hours I recited the mantra Swamigal had given me. However, my thoughts were entirely focused on my neighbour and I prayed he would live. I knew chances were slim as his condition needed a liver transplant and chances of survival, according to his son, were not very good. The next day, my doorbell rang at 1 a.m. My husband and I feared the worst. Imagine my surprise when I was greeted with a huge smile. That look of relief on my neighbour’s face said it all. She thanked me gratefully, convinced my prayers had helped. She attended church regularly and we were both on the same plane of understanding.

Swamigal listened to my story and then said quite abruptly “Get up and go that picture of my Guru”. I got up and walked towards the enormous picture of his guru “Judge Swamigal”that adorned almost the entire wall on this side of the room. Swamigal asked me to do sankalpam and then namaskaram in front of this picture depicting his Avadutha preceptors. Then, he asked me to sit directly in front of him. He said “I will give you a mantra now, but this is one that you have to chant in your mind. Keep the image of the Goddess Bhuvaneswari firmly in the space between your eyebrows, and then, mentally chant this mantra now, in front of me, with your eyes closed, sixteen times. Make sure that even your tongue doesn’t move during this mental chanting.” I did as I was asked. I closed my eyes and meditated on Goddess Bhuvaneswari and recited the small mantra sixteen times. At the end, I could feel a warm and pleasant sensation rather like a mild electric current pulsing through my entire body.

I opened my eyes and he smiled. We did our final namaskaram and while giving the kumkum and vibhuti prasadam, he said to me “Remember your sankalpam. Have full faith in Her at all times. “He repeated these words in English “full faith” several times,
emphasising them. “If you do this mantra with full faith and devotion thinking of no one else but her”, he continued, “then she will enter you and become one with you. There will be no difference between you two.” He said this and laughed loudly- not in a mocking tone- but the laugh seemed to tell me “This is such a simple truth and yet no one comprehends it”.

This was Vedanta in a nutshell. But at that period in my life, I was still coming to grips with “God” as a Saguna deity. “Nirgunam Brahman” seemed a long way away!
Instead, I listened to what he said and nodded my head dutifully. I wasn’t sure what he meant by this merging business! How could I , such a lowly, miserable creature assailed by so many negative qualities, ever be compared to the Goddess of incomparable virtue?

Later, reflecting on what he said, I thought if I did the meditation in the way that he instructed me, I would probably see a big glow in front of my eyes. This would then grow bigger and bigger and then totally engulf me. Maybe, I reassured myself, that is the process by which the goddess will enter me. How long would she stay inside me? Would this be a temporary or permanent phenomenon? I had heard stories of how the spirit of the goddess would enter some deities, particularly during temple functions. Somewhere, at the back of my mind there was a bit of real concern. I should guard against becoming totally mad.

I remember leaving Skandashramam that day feeling curiously rejuvenated. Before leaving, I requested Swamigal’s permission to take a photograph of him as well as the temple deities. I needed this for my puja cupboard back in London. I still have and cherish that photograph I took of him on that day. His eyes are gentle, and smiling and seem to say “Don’t worry about any upheavals in life. I’m here to help you”.

That visit was a very special experience for my eldest daughter as well. She was to sit secondary school entrance exams for a prestigious independent school later that year. Competition for entry into this particular school is always fierce and we hoped she
would be lucky.” Pray for me, mummy”, she said on the morning of that day long exam. I was hoping she would get an easy essay question in the English part. She did well, managing to secure a place and I felt relieved my prayers had been answered.

However, it was only a year later that she told me what she had written for the English essay portion of the exam. The title had been “Write about an unforgettable experience or journey in your life”. My daughter said “Mum, I didn’t mention this earlier in case you would worry- but I wrote about our trip to Salem and our meeting with that lovely, wise man”. In my heart I said a silent prayer to my Guru. He had helped her as well! Of this there can be no doubt. I made my daughter rewrite her essay and sent it over to him in India. She had titled it “The Shining beacon of hope”.

Over the next few years, I gradually increased the amount of time I spent every morning doing my prayers and meditation. This transformation took place gradually without any conscious or concerted effort on my part. I just felt happy sitting cross-legged on a
mat in front of my puja cupboard, every morning saying prayers such as Vishnu Sahasranama, Lalitha Sahasranamam, and so on.

Sometimes, I would play audio cassettes of prayers and slokas and listen to them with my eyes closed, deep in meditation. At first, my mind refused to stay calm and thoughts would flash by almost continuously. Slowly, the occurrence of these random thoughts
slowed down and over the course of the next three years, I was able to sit down, close my eyes and think of my Guru and then the Goddess Bhuvaneswari in quick succession. Moreover, I found that I was able to hold on to these images for a progressively longer
period of time.

Very often, I would experience a total, unreal, darkness that I could see in my mind and then the unfolding of a rosy, red, many petalled lotus. This flower started off as a small shiny dot right in front of my eyebrows and then became more distinct as it opened out its
myriads of petals that seemed to dance and move in waves right in front of my eyes.

It was only with great reluctance I would come out of my meditation because I was aware of the pressing need to do house work and take care of the running of the household. My prayers and meditation only took place while the children were off at school and my husband away at work. None of them realised quite the amount of time I spent on cultivating my spiritual side. In fact, very often I had precious little time left after my daily prayers in which I had to cram all the housework and laundry – and then produce tea – and later, dinner for the children when they came home in the afternoon.

Three years went by in this manner. I found that my prayers were giving me a great deal of mental strength and peace of mind and I found myself reciting my Guru’s mantra almost automatically while taking a long walk, cooking or even grocery shopping. In fact, any mundane activity my mind was engaged in that didn’t require particular concentration was the ideal time for the mantra to seep in almost unnoticed. There was also another change taking place at this time to which I didn’t give much thought. My prayers, or so it seemed to me at that time, were making me very dependant on God, as a separate deity who had the power to make wishes come true and without whose blessings and divine grace I could not really function.

My prayers were some kind of a lifeline thrown to me to grab on to especially during times of mental stress. At this time, I spent a lot of time researching, especially on the internet, for the most powerful slokas one could recite for various specific deities. For example, there was this Kavacham( a type prayer form meant for protection of devotees) in praise of Lord Skanda that I became hooked on to. There was Aditya Hridayam( in praise of the Sun Lord), Lakshmi Stotrams ( for the Goddess of Wealth)—the list was endless. Then there were kavachams for Lord Vinayaka and Murugan and Guru composed by Swamigal himself, that I would recite or listen to sung melodiously on the audio cassettes. Very often I would fill my time during the day and the silence of the empty flat with just prayers – hymns from the Vedas were particularly soothing. When I sat down in front of my small puja place and looked at the photos of the various deities, there were not just inanimate figures. Instead, it seemed to me they were actually flesh and blood individuals, listening with great compassion to me and very often I did just that – talk to them like they were my mother, father brothers or sisters. I didn’t feel I had become God – crazy. This feeling of total supplication and familiarity came quite naturally because of the attitude of Bhakthi. I’m sure many a devotee has gone through this stage.

In fact, very often I would be angry with my Gods if things didn’t really go according to my miserable plans or wishes. I would rail and rant for sometime, realising even as I was doing this, the futility of this action.
So, in a sense, although I was firmly established on the Bhakti aspect of the spiritual path, I was not progressing terribly well as I was just transferring dependence on the Guru to dependence on various deities.

In 1996, I returned home during the summer to attend my nephew’s wedding. Although I had been coming home for a brief holiday during previous years as well, I hadn’t really met Swamigal again. This year was different. He was staying in Madras for a few days,
that particular summer at a devotee’s home. My mother accompanied me when we visited him. I found him extremely pre- occupied on this occasion. He had these huge architect’s plans in front of him – plans of the proposed construction of the huge temple complex near Tambaram. It was to be called Skandashramam.

He explained to my mother how he had managed to receive generous contributions from several wealthy business people to make his dream come true. At this point he expanded a bit more on the nature of the deities he meant to install at this temple. One deity, an incarnation of Lord Shiva would be represented as half lion and half bird. Two other deities representing Goddess durga or Kali were to be seen riding on lions and carrying terrible weapons of destruction in their hands. I still remember Swamigal laughing and telling us that this was the image in which Bhuvaneswari herself wanted to be worshipped at this temple. He had been blessed with these visions in his dreams. We sat and listened to the Swamigal. In particular, it struck me as very odd that he would want to build yet another temple complex and spend so much money on its construction. Surely, I thought, he has already established two big Ashrams and is doing a lot to promote the recitations of Vedas and Homams. Isn’t this enough? I came away from that meeting feeling a bit disappointed. I couldn’t understand the justification of spending a massive amount of money on a building to house some more deities, particularly in such an impoverished country like ours.. For some reason, unknown to me at that time, my faith in my Guru was being tested. I didn’t realise this at the time.

The period that followed immediately, is in my opinion, one of doubt and reasoning. Somehow, I had the feeling I was adrift in this mire of prayers and chantings and began to question my sanity and the very purpose of time spent on puja. It was clear that my japa and prayers gave me peace of mind, but they didn’t leave me satisfied in my spiritual pursuit.

I was losing the larger picture of the world around me by concentrating solely on a selective portion of it. I decided to do some more research into the actual philosophy of
the Hindu religion, rather than just accepting prayers as the only route to achieve peace of mind. Although I didn’t give up my prayers altogether, I simply shortened the amount of time I spent on them. For example, I would do just half an hour of prayers and meditation
in the morning. The remainder of my disposable time was filled with Vedantic Teachings.

I must mention here that my mother had been, over a number of years, attending a lot of lectures on various Upanishads given by a disciple of Dayananda Swamiji in Madras.
His name was Paramarthananda, and his lectures had become very popular and indeed fashionable in the city! I remember attending a few of Swamiji’s talks much earlier , about 6 or 7 years ago. Somehow, sitting and listening to Paramartha expounding on the three different states of conciousness went right over my head. The steady drone of his voice on that warm day was even soporific! I was obviously not ready to receive his wisdom at that point in my life. However, now, I had this curious feeling of incompleteness by persevering solely with my usual prayer routine. The desire to learn more about the actual philosophy and esoteric significance of these prayers was indeed paramount in my mind. Luckily, help was at hand.

My mother was more than happy to provide me with a large number of audio cassettes on various Upanishads and sacred texts. I started off with a primer called Tattva Bodha and progressed slowly through a few of the Upanishads such as Kathopanishad,
Isavasya, Kaivalyam, Mundaka and so on.

Swami Paramartha’s talks immediately appealed to me. His very lucid and sometimes
humourous style made difficult vedantic concepts terribly easy to comprehend. I spent hours and hours every day listening to him. It seemed to me that Swami’s voice, expounding truths that were as old as time , and yet so appropriate and relevant to our lives in the present, gave me renewed strength and vigour to carry on with my journey.

So, another chapter in my spiritual journey had started, even without my realisation.
I listened to about 200 audio cassettes expounding the greatness of Bhagavad gita. I must have gone over the entire series over and over again nearly three or four times. Every time, I would learn something new, understand better a concept or idea that I had
missed earlier. In fact, from the period 1996 up until 2001, I was listening non stop to any and every one of the cassettes that discussed Vedanta in detail. Even at this time, I did not realise that it was only Shri Santhananda’s unseen hand guiding me in this
direction. Instead, I felt, I was just lucky to have access to Vedanta just at the most appropriate juncture in my journey.

During a short visit home in the summer of 2001 I did have the opportunity of meeting Swami Paramartha. I thanked him sincerely for all the support he was giving me through the medium of his lectures. I mentioned to him then about the conflict in my mind, the
difficulty of approaching nirgunam Brahman, while still in samsara. He reassured me it was eminently possible and one should just persevere in this path, while at the same time doing one’s duty to the children and family. He gave me his blessing and for my part I
was extremely happy to receive it from a person so wise and learned. However, there was still a conflict in my mind. I was questioning various external paraphernalia of bhakthi and its manifestations.

It was during this intense period of reasoning and self- enquiry that I started to paint again. It soon developed into a time consuming hobby. I was only interested in drawing religious figures. So, the natural place to start was Vigneswara. At this time, I was drawing the deity’s image on ordinary sketching paper using a pencil. Without conscious volition, I always seemed to start these figures by first drawing the mandapam and Aasanam and then the image of the particular deity, starting from the crown adorning the head.

In the case of Pillayar, I had started off rather ambitiously, trying to portray him with ten hands. As usual, I started my drawing by praying sincerely to Lord Vigneswara and recited the kavacham written by Shri Santhananda Swamigal. This is an established routine even now. Later, I would continue to work on my chosen picture, listening to my Vedanta tapes. Sometimes, I would listen to bhajans or prayers . However, my mind was always concentrating on the deity whose image I was drawing. I could not allow my attention to waver even for a second, because if it did, I found I could not draw effectively. Essentially, this whole process served to discipline my mind, to
first, concentrate, second, cleanse itself by listening to prayers and Vedanta, and finally, it allowed me to emerge from the experience by constantly being aware of my actions.

I was becoming more critical of my thoughts and actions and continuously assessing my
conduct and behaviour . What is the purpose of reading Bhagavad Gita or listening to Swamiji’s Vedanta, I thought, if I cannot do proper nidhidhyasanam or assimilation?

He said so often – “To be happy you don’t need anyone else except you yourself”.

How simple, yet so true. The great truths of Paraa Vidya and the Mahavakyams, are also extremely simple once you understand them.

One has to see Brahman in every inanimate and animate object, in nature, animals and human beings—in this universe. Love ,understanding and a genuine sense of forgiveness towards people who might hurt you are all great virtues. We have heard about
their importance since childhood and by attending classes on moral/religious studies in schools. Yet, how often do we put them into practice? I found from personal experience that one should consciously want to modify their behaviour before any results can be noticed.

In our ancient land there have been so many religious seers and guides. All of them have more or less worked towards the same goal; that is, helping people to go through life’s many challenges and acquire not just mental peace but also self-awareness. This is
and can be the only way forward for hordes of us still stuck to the Saguna way of worship. The shift from a very self-centred and selfish vision to seeing divinity in literally everything in the universe is what all these wise people preached.

All this is so simple for a person who is reasonably intelligent to understand. Yet, why do people wound each other unnecessarily?
Why do nations fight unnecessary wars and why are some people so evil? Prarabhdha and previous karma do go a long in helping us to understand why some people are criminals and why some others have a more sattvic nature. The three Gunas are indeed
mixed up in various proportions among people and we just have to accept it and move on.

This doesn’t translate as condoning a criminal or letting a thief or convict go unpunished. Dharma or righteous conduct should always be upheld and this is not the issue I’m discussing here. Instead, I am talking about getting onto that path of self awareness and self analysis that continually forces you to be more aware of your own shortcomings instead of just focusing on the apparent negative qualities of other individuals.

Progress can only be made when real understanding of human behaviour substitutes fault- finding. As I said earlier this fault-finding business makes you exhaust yourself by going round and round in a circle. Wrong doers never accept their faults. Instead they justify their own actions and find fault with you – and so on endlessly.

A SPIRITUAL JOURNEY.

CHAPTER 1.

The purpose of writing this book remains a mystery to me. I am merely an average human soul going through the tribulations of samsara. So, why should I write about my “spiritual journey”? How is this “journey” defined? Surely, millions of us inhabiting this world are at various stages on the path to self and God realisation. The ultimate goal for most seekers is, of course, attaining that perfect peace of mind, in our individual lives beset by so many personal financial, and mental problems.

Religion is the starting point for most people as they strive to find inner calm. Each religion is unique in the sense of specific codes of conduct to be followed, rituals to be performed and deities to be worshipped. For many, the study of scriptures and adherence to the fundamental tenets of their religion is enough to bring about a transformation in their own lives and the adoption of a world vision. Others still might prefer the intellectual stimulation afforded by scholars well versed in the shastras and Vedas – their logic being that God is the very essence or “sat” of the entire universe.

Most of us progress in our spiritual quest for supreme inner peace by small degrees, small steps. Each step is unique to every individual soul just as the experiences faced by each one of us in life are varied and inimitable. Progress, nevertheless, is faster for those who realise early on in their journey that peace and fulfilment can never be attained through impermanent, material objects, pleasures and human attachments. It is of course quite easy to write this: it is another matter altogether to condition our minds into this kind of reasoning. Life as we know it is all about interacting with people, dealing with issues and difficult circumstances. Some people we find ourselves liking, others we tolerate, and others still we hope to avoid altogether. Dealing with people, situations and events is a source of stress; in addition, our own desires, likes, dislikes and personal traits manifest themselves as huge stumbling blocks that impede our progress towards the detached state of mind so highly regarded by our
spiritual teachers.

In our Hindu religion, we have so many colourful deities, endowed with superhuman qualities. Praying to either one ishta devata (favorite deity), or by approaching a clutch of these Gods for various quick solutions to our problems, might seem a very tempting, easy way out.
Yet only some might be lucky enough to have their prayers answered, others may not be so lucky. True spiritual progress can only be attempted when both favourable and unfavourable outcomes are treated with equanimity: firstly, by regarding God as an entity apart from oneself, and later, by making that huge mental leap to the incontrovertible truth that God is indeed in you, is you, just as he is in every blessed object, sentient and non-sentient being in this world. If one is capable of so much love, devotion and faith
for his own personal God, how can he not share that love and extend it to everyone around him – especially when he knows they are made of that same God-like material? This is what the Vedantins preach. The truth is always very simple. For peace of mind to be attained, we have only to change our vision and priorities. Happiness can never be dependant on any object or human being – even a Guru. The preceptor is only a guide who exposes all our negative qualities so that we can deal with them, so altering our own true nature and attaining a closer union with God. These are some of the truths I came to acknowledge as a traveller – on my personal path towards self realization.

I should emphasise that I had never considered myself as a disciple of any Guru or “Holy” seer for the simple reason that I had never actively sought out such a person for help of any kind. Yet, if I am indeed writing these words today for a reason, they are the direct result of strong mental suggestions from a guru I have been exposed to from childhood. His name is Shri, Shri Shanthananda Avadutha Brahmendrar.

Shri Santhanada Swamigal (1920- 2002) belongs to the Avadutha tradition of Dattatreya. He is the third Guru in this. Math was founded by “Judge” Swamigal. The second in this line was Swayamprakasha Saraswathyavadutha Swamigal, the preceptor of Santhananda Swamigal. During his lifetime, Swamigal was instrumental in setting up various temples in South India and fostering the development of Vedic studies. He performed countless yagnas for the peace, harmony and welfare of humankind.

The temples he founded are : The Bhuvaneswari Adhistanam at Pudukkottai, Om Shri Skandashramam at Salem, Senthamangalam Dattagiri Ahsramam, and Om Shri Skandashramam in Tambaram. He obtained Maha Samadhi on May 27,
2002.

As fellow spiritual seekers moving along different routes towards the same goal, I invite you to share some of the extraordinary experiences I have had as a traveller. Unwittingly, even unknowingly, I have been firmly placed on the path of bhakti and am continuing to progress along this path with the blessings of my Guru . How did I progress from being a rather indifferent disciple to a totally committed one? The answer is now obvious. It has been revealed by the very pattern in which my life and interest in art has unfolded. Looking back over my life, there remains no doubt in my mind that in all the encounters I have been fortunate enough to have with him, Shri Santhanada Swamigal has reached out to help me on a subconscious plane. Even though he is no longer physically alive, I have been made aware many times – through visions and strong mental vibrations – that His spirit is indeed everywhere for those who seek him. He was and still remains an eternal and truly great soul whose significance I was ignorant not to realise or fully comprehend during his life time. My Guru was instrumental in placing me firmly on the path of devotion or Bhakthi and has guided me to my ultimate resting place, Sri Bala Peetam at Nemili.