The Guru

Resource experts say because India is hugely populated, there are bound to be shortages. But one thing we've never been short of, is mysticism and mystics. And there are all sorts here, the long haired ones,the shaven headed monks,the dancing dervishes, the rope trick guys,there are even the fierce types, those you just want to run away from, and probably should! But then again there are the prayerful kind, the gentle kind, the joking kind, the simply ,'kind', the meditative kind,who live in the Himalayas and visit the mainland once or twice in their life, and we are not even short of those who say they have spent many lifetimes in many worlds.   But when it comes to Gurus,the masters among mystics,it is serious business for each family.  It is the Guru that defines your spiritual lineage and everyone looks upto theirs with the same reverence, as the rest of the world would, say ,to patron saints.little wonder then, that Indian grannies tales dutifully and unerringly tell their children, that the deities of today were once the Gurus of their forefathers. My grandmother too, had a Guru. We grew up hearing of Him in sacred whispers, alternately ,we only had to whisper Guruji (reverred master) if we wanted grandma's face lit up, and when grandfather,who we children had code named 'The big lion', also gave her company, in letting out a rare smile from his iron chest, we were convinced that our Guru had magic. Sometimes, we would sit beside her silently as she did her prayers in a little room full with pictures of gods and goddesses, and a photograph of Guruji was in the centre of them all. Pleased, whenever she would catch us looking at the photo, she would always say, "God can come to anyone in any form, in my life, i have found him " "when can we meet him grandma?" , all the kids wanted to meet God desperately.  "In time" she would reply, and we would become more desperate. When i was eleven,my parents decided i was grown up enough to be sent to a boarding school, and i was lucky enough to be admitted to Mayo college,far away in the desert state of Rajasthan, but among the finest in the country.Life in Mayo was great !  great,and hectic. It was designed to keep young minds busy and in preparation to face the world as winners. This was, perhaps a little insulation from the roaming mystics of the street, as we were hardly ever allowed to go out of school campus, and even when we did,movies, eating and dating were all we could think of, we never had the time to chat up ith the odd mendicant. Going home in the holidays was always something we would look forwards to,but those would seem to end sooner than they had begun, with more movies,eating and dating :) It was on one of those days, that sitting on the dining table  Big lion suddenly said,  "we are going to visit Guruji, would you like to come along?"   It was not really a question, for big lion never really used to ask , it was his job to declare things. Guruji's monastery was five hundred miles away, and going there in a group involved planning,so it was understood that grandpa was actually telling me to get prepared. All this while at school, though i had faithfully kept a photo of Guruji in my cupboard, on most days i would just fold my hands hurriedly in prayer while trying the impossible task of putting away my wet towels or combing my hair or something else, at the same time..always in a rush ,always trying not to be late for the first class. So, while Guruji was still boss, you could say,he had slinked a little backwards, into the subconscious mind. Now ,the memory of the prayer room all came back, and with it ,the old desperation of finally, finally getting to the monastery and meet Him. We did get there in a couple of days,and were alloted rooms, not very different from my own dormitory back at school, but i didn't mind. It was evening already, and so, we were told that we could not see him before the next morning. I was wondering how to pass my time, when the attendant monk asked me if i would like to see Guruji's room," why, yes,of course!"  i said,  "come along then",  he said, and led me through myriad halls and enigmatic steps that culminated in a final chamber. It was plain, but neat,His room. There were hardly any belongings, which is why my eyes quickly spotted a muscle building machine. Whose  *bullworker *  is that?" i asked "Guruji's,of course" he replied. That surprised me, but i didnt waste a minute in placing my own hands at the grip,the moment the monk exited the room, i dont know if i was doing a reality check, or seeking some kind of blessing,i had, after all, just gotten into the age of gymming myself. "This is interesting" i thought, "My Guru gyms? this is God's gym? Oh man!" Back in our own room, i was still elated with the feel of the bullworker yet tingling in my fingers, thinking nothing could turn out better,  when grandma entered. I knew that look on her face , it was the one she had when she wanted to give us something from big lion's treasures , without his knowing. "You know, just after the evening prayer, and before dinner, Guruji visits the nun's kitchens to make sure the food being served in the ladies dining is wholesome,i am going there with some other ladies to just take a quick blessing,  want to come along?" I couldnt believe it," yes ,yes!" i jumped to my feet, it was good to be grandma's favoured kid in God bonding, getting to meet God before the others! and then reason struck joy, "but how will i go into the ladies dining hall ?" "Dont you worry "she said," you're a big boy, but not too big for me to hide at my side with my saree,” she said, “like old times.." And so, we reached the dining hall , me, a 'fourteen year old thinks he's seventeen'  boy huddling alongside an old lady, bumping into other women, themselves too excited to note improprieties.   He was there before us. Imposing, graceful, magnetic, his presence was what you would expect, like say in the senior most Jedi of an inter galactic film ,someone ,you have been waiting to see right till the end. He was that, and more, standing tall in his stainless white robe that covered his head in a hood, smilingly dishing out fruit to those that greeted him. "Ah Shakuntala, you have come!", he said even when we were at the entrance. "Yes, Guruji" grandma squealed ,happy to be spotted in a thousand. "And whats that you're hiding?" "My grandson,Guruji,he was very keen to see you, he couldn’t wait ". I revealed my head from her protective veil. "Whats your name, boy?" he roared ,much like big lion, only, i kept getting the feeling that he was big big lion. "Shailendra" i said. "Hmm Shalindera" he repeated in his robust punjabi accent, "what does it mean?" "King of the mountains" (Shailendra , therefore, is also an ephitet for shiva... at this point, lets flashback a bit... say 49 years ago,when my mom was watching some film, and she saw on the credits, the name Shailendra, who was a great lyricist of his times, and while i , at the time,was still snuggled cozily inside her stomach,she probably wanted a poet son, and promptly named me that in advance.. and this did fit into the indian scheme of things, where there's a tradition of naming your kids god's names, so that you'll invoke Him, even while , yourself provoked, you yell at them..:) and knowing these type of knowledgeable stuff ,i had answered with the definite pride of what is in a name.)   "So, the king of the mountain has so much yearning (for god) Hmm,good,it is good..." So humming, Guruji had vindicated our breaking of the rules! and then, placing a fruit in my open palm , his huge lotus eyes on mine, "but if you stay with the ladies, then, a lady you shall become", he added, and walked away.   'God is one, the wise call him differently' , goes an old Indian adage,it follows that the paths to Him are also many. Good Gurus, like good guides, suggest different routes for different people, that best suit their present spiritual ripeness .Sages have instructed simple devotion , a sweet surrender to whatever God or His saints will ,for the emotional kind, traditionally finding a large percentage in indian women.This is called the Bhakti marg. Meditations,yogic disciplines and intense Self inquiry, on the other hand, are prescribed for the "already a little stout" that enter the spiritual Gym. These constitute Raja and Jnan Yoga. Years later, when the mystic in me did start surfacing, i realised that Guruji had initiated me into my path,on that first meeting,replacing a sacred chant of formal baptism with his wry humour.For all paths ultimately end in a merger of the seeker and the sought,they culminate in the state of Advaita,"not two", and it is finally known that the ONE consciousness does not have any separation. I wrote out a poem for Him in my book of tributes to the divine, published some thirty years afterwards.   Sadguru deva namaya ! now that I meet the truth, He will give himself, I thought, but, he simply took.   All that darkness gone, with just one look, what remained as resplendence, was I !   Sadguru deva namaya !   Welcome to your self , he said, you looked for God, He gave you me, mystic is the circle of return, I give you He!   We are all, reflections of we, lighten up, and see! *bullworker: An arm exercising Machine used by athletes and bodybuilders. (Shail Gulhati, the Author is a mystic writer based in Jammu)