The story about the crow who put stones into the pot half filled with water, till the level of water rose enough for it to drink. These are Amma’s satsangs – who likens the story of the water and the crow to that ‘something’ that is already in you but needs effort – the stones – to be experienced. Who narrates stories from her childhood in such a fashion that the highest vedantic truths seem to shine so clearly out of homilies, you wonder how you missed them.

Looking at the small child sitting at her side, Amma just turning around and saying – we should take the addresses of all these small children. There are so many around like small butterflies. One day we will call all of them to the ashram and I will play with them.

Amma tweaking the cheeks of an eighty year old devotee and calling him Unnikanna or little krishna. Amma hugging one devotee close to her heart, feeling, absorbing all her pain, herself shedding tears with them while telling her not to cry, to be brave.

Amma reminding a girl that in her excitement she had forgotten to put the garland she had brought for Amma, and laughing in her inimitable throaty fashion.

To a volunteer who pulled an old man somewhat roughly after darshan, Amma asking – “Would you do that if that was your father?”

This is Amma’s darshan. This is Amma.

All very simple, very earthy, seemingly everyday – but Amma’s presence puts in that extra something that makes all of these the epitome of spiritual teachings, experience and expression. Amma’s Love which says that there is no two. My children and I are one.

The presence of a living master. Truth with a body. Sat Chit Ananda. But all of these are so seemingly everyday that you can miss them if you are not there.

In that one instance when you are there, and you get a glimpse, you wonder with awe – ‘Who is this? You see her giving darshan endlessly and you wonder – does this Love have no limits?’ It seems like an endless flow – with no beginning and no end. It seems like My Amma – all of Our Amma.

— Nijamrita