The experienced devotees watch for signs: a stirring among the musicians, gathering of cameramen, a flurry at the sound system…the intent and intense begin to jockey for position, the closer the better.  Unfortunately, this usually leads to the same savvy and experienced folks scoring the “best” spots near Amma at practically every venue.  However, Amma has her ways, and practically anyone can be catapulted into the perfect spot to experience Amma’s divine bliss in song.  However, the real “perfect spot” has little to do with proximity, but tuning of the mind and heart.

After the excellent view from the place I was sitting was blocked by a photographer, I moved to the stage almost directly behind Amma, where I had an excellent view of everyone’s face but hers!  Amma began to sing “Muka Hridaya”.  Hearing Amma sing this classic bhajan took me back to past days when Amma would take us to the beach late at night to meditate.   It was glorious to sit with Amma in the stillness of the dark night with the waves swelling slowly toward the shore.  The stars twinkled dimly in the humid sky, echoed by the tiny lights of the fishing boats lined up on the horizon.    At the end of the meditation, Amma would often rise and walk along the seashore.  Arms lifted to the sky, she would sing as she walked along the shore with wavering steps.  The waves would search for her feet and her nose ring would scintillate like the stars.  This was one of the bhajans she would often sing on those evenings.

With a start, I returned to the packed steel building of the present, as Amma began to sing “Kattinu Katayi”.   Again I remembered another time Amma sang this bhajan, maybe a dozen years ago in the Kali Temple at Amritapuri.  Amma began to sing the profound lyrics based on the Keno Upanishad”: O Mother, who shines as the Ear of the ear, Mind of the mind, Eye of the eye. Thou are the Life of the life and thy Being is the life of the living.  As she sang tears began streaming down her face without ceasing.  Finally she was unable to continue the song.  She buried her head in her hands, but the tears flowing from the corners of her eyes would not cease.  With tears in their eyes, the ashramites sang “Hridaya Pushpame Parayunin”  to her: Tell me, O flower of my heart, what is that emotion that makes your eyes moist?”  The music swelled and the tears swelled until Amma got up and left the hall and we were left there immobile and in stunned silence.

But tonight was the night memories were made for the bhajan “Aye Haan”.  It was the last of the three bhajans Amma sang that night in the new Chicago ashram.  I watched the faces of the people below staring intently at Amma.  As the song progressed, their expressions changed and the focus seemed to shift to some other Loka.  Tears, closed eyes, smiling faces, ecstatic faces.  A couple of men who were the last ones in the queue waiting to get darshan sat in front of Amma for two songs utterly incredulous at how fate had put them there.  They actually seemed to be in a state of shock as they perched on their chairs, directly in front of the flood of bhakti and shakti that was pouring from Amma.

Walking on the damp grass under the waxing moon that hot and humid night after Amma had left the hall, I thought how Amma has been doing pretty much the same things for her entire life.   She feeds people, meditates with them, sings with and to them, travels to programs; it’s just that the scale has massively changed.  She used to feed the ashramites a rice ball at lunch, now she hands hundreds of devotees their plates at a meal.  She used to sing alone or with small groups of people, but now it is often with thousands.  She mediated on the seashore or under the coconut trees with a small group, now she meditates in sports stadiums.  However, Amma never changes.  She is ever relaxed, blissful and complete.

Neither can the eyes reach Thee, nor the mind grasp Thee.  Words are hushed in Thy presence, O Mother.  Those who say they have seen Thee have not really done so, as Thou, O Great Goddess, are beyond the intellect.

Rta
Elburn, Chicago