A Saint Comes for Swami’s Help

Nityanandaji:

There was one night in the early days, when Swami used to open the ashram to the public. We can barely imagine what this place (shIva saI mandIr, Penukonda IndIa) would be like if it was still open to Indians like it was in the beginning. Twelve years ago, thousands would come every moon. Some of them would wait for days, for the chance to sit in a large group with Swami. They would stand in the rain, they would lay in the rain, they would sit out there until they had a chance to see Swami.

It was an elderly sadhu, in his late seventies, early eighties, who walked a little crippled. He was dressed all in safron orange, carrying a stick and bag. A pure sadhu and from the looks of it, he’d lived a hard life. He was waiting and waiting.

Swami came in during Aarthi, sat in his chair immediatly got the old man’s attention, and called him over. We students were standing in the corner of the temple. When that old saint knelt at Swami’s feet, he gazed up at him with the most earnest, pleading, focused look. An eighty-yearold man kneeling at the feet of a 25-year-old man. A quite jolting scene from the normal human values point of view.

During one of these moon periods, it was a Full Moon, it was pouring rain. There were hundreds of Indians still waiting. It was the third night; they’d been there for a long time waiting to see him. And the Westerners – you know, we’d just kind of waltz over and expect Swami to give us attention -- actually, he often did! In retrospect, it’s painful to think about our expectant attitudes. But in any case, that’s our karma now. That night one of the Indians waiting stood out.

Then the Aarthi concluded, and Swami called us up upstairs to the terrace of the Jesus temple. It was just an open roof then. He was uncharactoristrically silent, and seemed to be in a wistful mood. He sat on one little bench and looked quietly into the distance for quite a while.

When he spoke, he asked us, “Did you see me talking to that old saint?”

We said, “Yes.”

“That saint, he really touched my heart.” He said, “He knew perfectly how to handle the Divinity. It offends the human sensibility in me for an old man who’s crippled and in pain to hobble over and painfully kneel in front of me.” At the end, the saint had layed his elderly body out in full pranam, putting his head on Swami’s feet. Swami said, “That offends my human values, but he’s not pranamming to this flesh, and these bones, he’s pranamming to the Divinity inside.”

The man had asked Swami, “Please help me,” then described his problems, because Swami is a sadguru, a true master. We’ve seen many saints come for his help. They come because they are stuck in their relationship with Mother Divine, they want Her darshan or they’re stuck with the angels or stuck with whatever yoga or advanced practice they are doing.

He didn’t say what this saint asked for, only that he asked for help in his process. Swami was quiet again. The saint said, “Please, I’m doing my job as a student, you do your job as a master.”

With that phrase, Sai Kaleshawar told us, “that saint really hit it!” Swami was touched, and that old sadhu would absolutely get what he asked for. It was a golden moment for Swami, he said, to be in the presence of that kind of humility and reality. That saint wasn’t looking at his physical form and feeling shy or embarrassed. No way! He knew how to use the moment with Sai Kaleshwar and ask for what he needed. He knew how to talk in a very humble way, “I’m doing my job as a student.” He had the ability to command on Swami through his devotion and humility. “You do your job as a master.” The master is powerless against our love. That’s a big secret.