Sri Sadguru Babuji Puri–Kamakhya Pilgrimage

 

From April 26 to May 12, 2026, numerous devotees of Sri Kalivanashramam undertook a pilgrimage to Puri and Kamakhya. As part of this pilgrimage, we had the opportunity to visit many sacred places, including the Konark Sun Temple, Puri Jagannath Temple, Sakshi Gopal, Girija Devi of Jajpur, Lingaraj Temple of Bhubaneswar, Kalighat Kali Temple, Dakshineswar Kali Temple, Belur Math, Gangasagar, the main ISKCON temple at Mayapur, Navadwipa where Sri Chaitanya Mahaprabhu walked, Vaidyanath, Tarakeshwar, Shrinkhala Devi, Maa Tara, Ekachakrapuram, Kamakhya, Umananda Ashram, Vasishta Ashram, and many other divine kshetras.

At these holy places, one experiences not only the glory of the presiding deities but also the sanctity that has accumulated through the presence and spiritual practices of countless great souls—from Jagadguru Sri Adi Shankaracharya to Gurudeva Sri Hanumat Kali Vara Prasada Babuji Maharaj. Such sacredness can only be truly understood through personal experience.

The Konark Sun Temple stands as a testament to the genius of our ancient sculptors. At the same time, its tragic history reminds us that rulers have often given greater importance to grandeur than to human values. After all, the Supreme Lord does not desire ostentation. Perhaps that is why this magnificent temple could not continue as a place of worship. The king had decreed that if the temple was not completed within twelve years, the twelve thousand artisans working on it would be put to death. Though the temple itself was completed, the installation of the pinnacle remained impossible. On the final day, the twelve-year-old son of the chief sculptor successfully installed it. Fearing that the king would punish all the artisans if he learned the truth, the boy leapt from the pinnacle and ended his life. Thus, despite its grandeur, the temple became ritually impure and ceased to be a place of worship.

At the Jagannath Temple in Puri, the Lord stands with outstretched arms as if lovingly inviting everyone. Yet the overwhelming crowds make one feel that simply emerging safely from the throng is itself an achievement.

Nor is this situation unique to Puri. Most of the major temples on the pilgrimage route face similar conditions. Even if God shows grace, a proper darshan often depends upon the goodwill of the priests. We sing:

"The wealthy man worth crores and the poor laborer striving for a meal are equal before Your grace."

Yet in practice, money often becomes the deciding factor.

Many people advocate removing temples from government administration and placing them under private trustees. However, in terms of cleanliness and organized services for devotees, the South Indian temples managed by governments often appear superior to many North Indian temples run by hereditary priests (Pandas). There, much depends upon fate. If one finds a good Panda, the darshan is smooth and fulfilling. Otherwise, newcomers and innocent pilgrims can easily be misled.

Even if one purchases a ticket and waits patiently, once standing before the deity, the atmosphere should be filled with peace and devotion. But when one is constantly pressured for money, how can the mind remain fixed on God? Yet it must be said that by the grace of Sri Gurudeva, all the priests who guided us explained the significance of each sacred place thoroughly and ensured that we had satisfying darshans everywhere.

In complete contrast stood the serene environments of the ISKCON Temple at Mayapur, the Dakshineswar Kali Temple, and Belur Math. There one encounters cleanliness, tranquility, and spiritual focus rather than anxiety about money. Significantly, all these places are closely connected with great Gurus. This reinforces the truth that a Guru is essential to understand how to truly perceive and worship God. Without the guidance of a Guru, even God may be reduced to a means of livelihood.

Returning to the Jagannath Temple, one of the most astonishing sights is watching the priests climb the towering temple spire every evening, regardless of adverse weather conditions, to replace the flags. Like our own Kaliprasad Deva, Lord Jagannath is also renowned for feeding countless devotees. Another inspiring story is that of Sakshi Gopal, another form of the Lord, who is believed to have walked barefoot all the way from Vrindavan to have darshan of Jagannath. It is a tale that sends shivers down one's spine.

The Girija Devi Temple at Jajpur is the Shakti Peetha where the navel of Sati Devi is believed to have fallen. It is therefore also known as Nabhi Gaya. The temple priest felt that his spiritual practices had borne fruit merely by having the darshan of Sri Mataji. So overwhelmed was he that he remained by her side until we finally departed from the town.

The Lingaraj Temple, where a Shiva Lingam and a Vishnu Salagrama are worshipped together in a single form upon what is considered the world's largest pedestal, is another example of the extraordinary skill of our ancient artisans.

To behold the Kalighat Kali Mata, who is enshrined in Sri Gurudeva's daily worship shrine, and to touch the Mother's tongue was a profound experience. Equally moving was visiting Bhavatarini Kali at Dakshineswar, where Sri Gurudeva had gone countless times during his spiritual practices and continued to visit annually after the Dasara celebrations. There we saw the room where Sri Ramakrishna Paramahamsa lived, the staircase where he anxiously awaited the disciples destined to receive the divine bliss he experienced, and the steps upon which he bestowed initiation upon Swami Vivekananda. Touching these sacred places was a deeply spiritual experience.

The mystical atmosphere at the Cossipore Garden House, where Sri Ramakrishna spent the final months before concluding his earthly incarnation, is beyond description. The peace prevailing in the rooms inhabited by the Master, Holy Mother Sarada Devi, and their household and monastic disciples is indescribable. In front of the house still stands the tree beneath which, on January 1, 1886, Sri Ramakrishna performed the famous “Kalpataru Leela.” On that day he openly declared his divine nature and touched his disciples, granting them exalted spiritual states. Nearby lies the cremation ground where his sacred memorial can be seen.

Belur Math, the headquarters of the worldwide Ramakrishna Order, is vast and beautiful. Sitting in meditation before the divine image of Sri Ramakrishna Paramahamsa in the main shrine, one feels as though the Master himself is lovingly embracing and drawing us into his lap. The gentle evening breeze flowing across the Ganga adds to this sublime experience.

The sacred sea bath at Gangasagar on the eve of Vaishakha Purnima left many unforgettable memories for all the devotees. Sri Mataji entered the sea holding Sri Guru Padukas in her hands while we stood in two rows forming a V-shape around her. Eager to receive the blessings of the Divine Mother and the Guru Padukas, the ocean surged with huge waves and even caused Mataji to lose balance twice. As a third great wave approached, Mataji cast a powerful glance toward the ocean for a brief moment. The sight is unforgettable. The wave that had rushed forward like a tiger suddenly became as gentle as a kitten, transformed into a small ripple, bowed at her feet, and retreated. Until all the devotees completed their baths and the abhisheka and worship of the Guru Padukas were concluded, not another large wave appeared.

Darshan at the ISKCON headquarters in Mayapur, which spreads Krishna consciousness throughout the world, was a wonderful experience. Despite the presence of thousands of devotees, the atmosphere was marked by remarkable silence and discipline. The orderly manner in which everyone waited for darshan was truly admirable.

Although the crowds were heavy at Vaidyanath Jyotirlinga, renowned for curing all ailments, at Tarakeshwar, and at Maa Tara—where Sati Devi’s third eye is believed to have fallen—each place offered a deeply satisfying spiritual experience. Jagat Gauri Mata, regarded as Shrinkhala Devi, is believed to protect the surrounding villages from snake-related afflictions.

The exceedingly rare darshan of Mother Kamakhya was granted to all of us through the grace of Sri Gurudeva. This is the Shakti Peetha where the Yoni of the Divine Mother, the source of all creation, is believed to have fallen. While the priest in the sanctum was reciting the sankalpa and proclaiming that those who touch the sacred Yoni of the Mother here will be freed from rebirth, a devotional song arose in my heart:

"O Mother, how many births have I already taken? How many more must I take? O Mother, grant me no further births; instead, unite me with You."

Yet another thought also arose: if every birth comes through the womb of the Divine Mother, what fault is there in taking countless births as Her child?

In addition to all these sacred places visited by Sri Gurudeva, we also visited Shillong, which was blessed by the dust of his feet. Its natural beauty and museums showcasing the culture of the northeastern states are truly worth seeing. The Nohkalikai Falls at Cherrapunji were mesmerizing no matter how long one gazed at them. Cascading from the Shivalik Hills—the foothills of the Himalayas, whose name evokes the matted locks of Lord Shiva—the highest waterfall in India reminded one of the descent of the Ganga.

Yet the tragic story behind the falls demonstrates how destructive jealousy can be. It also explains why Sri Gurudeva repeatedly spoke of envy, jealousy, intolerance, and resentment as distinct but related weaknesses. A woman named Ka Likai remarried after the death of her husband. Her second husband became jealous because she loved her infant daughter more than him. In a horrifying act, he killed the child, cooked her flesh, and served it to the mother. Upon learning what she had unknowingly eaten, the grief-stricken mother leapt into the waterfall and sacrificed her life.

That this pilgrimage was completed safely without any untoward incidents, despite taking place in Bengal during election and result periods—times often associated with violence—is due solely to the boundless grace of Sri Gurudeva and the power of the recitations of Sri Shiva Kavacham and Sri Devi Khadgamala Stotram performed by all the devotees under the guidance of Sri Mataji.

After successfully completing the pilgrimage, devotees shared with one another their experiences of Sri Gurudeva during the train journey home. Upon returning to Sri Kalivanashramam, they performed abhishekas to Sri Ramalingeswara Swamy, Kumkumarchana and homas to Sri Mahakalikā Parameswari Mata, and Sri Sadguru Pada Puja. Offering the fruits of the pilgrimage at the holy feet of Sri Gurudeva, they felt truly blessed.

Artham Anartham: The Hidden Truth About Wealth

Arthamanarthaṁ bhāvaya nityaṁ 

nāstitataḥ sukhalēśas'satyam. 

putrādapi dhanabhājāṁ bhītiḥ 

sarvatraiṣā vihitā rītiḥ

(Contemplate always that wealth is misfortune;

There is not even a trace of happiness in it—this is the truth.

Even from one’s own son, the wealthy have fear;

Everywhere this is the established way.)

    In this Bhaja Govindam verse, the Jagadguru explains the true nature of money. All of us give great importance to money in our lives. We think that if we have money, we can enjoy all the comforts we desire freely. If we do not have enough money, we feel afraid. But here, the Swamiji says that money is of no real use. He also says that it does not provide even the slightest happiness. Furthermore, he says that a wealthy person even fears his own son. Let us see how.

    Money is extremely unstable. Even among the names of Goddess Lakshmi, there are names like “Om Chanchalayai Namah” and “Om Chapalayai Namah,” indicating her fickle nature. The money that is in your hands today—no one can say in whose hands it will be tomorrow. We are seeing daily the ups and downs of the stock market. In moments, wealth worth lakhs and crores disappears. Likewise, the happiness that comes from money is also just an illusion. Sri Babuji Maharaj used to say—if a rich man traveling in first class on an airplane suddenly gets severe stomach pain, will that luxurious seat give him any comfort?

    On the other hand, a person without money can sleep peacefully even on the roadside. But one who has more money than necessary—where is sleep for him? Every moment he fears from where someone may come and steal his money. Sri Babuji Maharaj used to narrate an incident. A merchant had the habit of stitching a cloth pouch inside his dhoti and keeping money in it. Once, he had to sleep on a railway platform. How could he sleep? He sat in fear the whole night, and the moment he dozed off from exhaustion, a thief who had been watching him cut his cloth with a blade. Unfortunately, it injured him in a sensitive place, and he ended up in the hospital.

    Not just that—one who thinks “this money is mine, mine” even fears his own son. When he is in middle age, he fears that his young son may waste his wealth on luxuries. In old age, if he hands over all his property to his son, he fears that he may be thrown out with nothing. At an age when he should peacefully chant “Rama, Krishna,” he instead struggles with documents, income tax, and worries endlessly. “Vriddhas tavat chintasaktah” — again, the Jagadguru says this.

    Moreover, if we do not have proper samskaras (impressions from past lives), money brings out all the negative qualities hidden within us. As long as a man lives with a meager salary, he thinks, “everyone is mine, what I have should be shared with others.” He showers love and affection. He even preserves a little cooked food as prasadam and eats it the next day. But if the same person suddenly gains wealth, everyone around him starts appearing as enemies. It feels as if the whole world is waiting to rob him. Even one who donates lakhs and crores for fame or merit becomes restless if a small spoon or cloth goes missing in his house. He does not hesitate to accuse anyone—from servants to his own son and daughter-in-law—of theft.

    Why does this fear arise even towards one’s own people? If we examine, as long as one has strength and authority, without any sense of “this is ours,” he behaves arrogantly with the attitude, “this is all mine, I will use it as I wish,” even ignoring his wife and children. Later, in old age, when strength fades and memory weakens, fear arises that his children may behave the same way and take everything away. But one who from the beginning thinks, “this is all God’s prasadam; this family too is His gift,” and lives with the feeling “this is ours,” consulting wife and children in all matters, instills the same values in them. Then there is no fear that they will snatch anything away. Duryodhana, who thought “this is mine, all rights belong to me,” lived in constant anxiety even in a palace. The Pandavas, who thought “this is ours, everyone is ours,” lived peacefully even in forests.

    That is why the Jagadguru again says: “O fool! Give up the thirst for acquiring wealth. Develop noble thinking and free your mind from greed. Whatever wealth comes to you as the result of your karma, live happily and peacefully with that.”

    Then a question arises—how is it wrong to have ambition to grow? But we have made the mistake of measuring growth only in terms of money. The one who is called the richest in the world today—what guarantee is there that he will remain so tomorrow? Someone else will surpass him. This is an endless race. Again, the Jagadguru says about this race: as long as a person is engaged in earning wealth, his family shows affection. Once his body becomes old and weak, no one even asks about his well-being. Then what has he really achieved?

    In this race, we forget our true goal and the purpose of life. No matter how much we earn, in the end, we must leave empty-handed. No one has ever taken even a single coin from here to the other world. Even if one could, it would not be valid there. That is why the Jagadguru says: “Do not be proud of wealth, people, or youth. Time destroys everything in a moment. Realize that all this is illusion and strive to attain the state of Brahman.”

    In the Bhagavad Gita, Chapter 16, Lord Krishna says that thoughts like “I have gained this wealth today, I will fulfill all my desires, I have this wealth and will gain more in the future” arise from demonic nature. Such people think, “I killed this enemy, I will kill others; I am powerful, happy, wealthy, superior,” and fall into delusion and ultimately into downfall.

    Then how should we view and use wealth? Sri Babuji Maharaj said: “A bank employee handles lakhs of rupees daily, but has no attachment to it. The moment attachment arises, he ends up in jail. Similarly, a devotee should act with responsibility and care in worldly life, but without attachment. Consider yourself a trustee of wealth, not its owner.”

    Bhartruhari said that wealth has three paths: charity, enjoyment, or destruction. If one neither gives nor enjoys, the wealth is lost in the third way. Among these, charity is the best. That too should be done without desire for fame or reward, and with proper understanding of time, place, and recipient, as taught in the Bhagavad Gita. Enjoying what one has is the middle path. Otherwise, wealth is lost to thieves, rulers, or fire.

    Our culture gives more importance to knowledge than wealth. Wealth earns respect only in one’s locality, and that too temporarily. But a learned person is respected everywhere. Money may not be useful in other countries, but knowledge is universally valuable.

    Then what is true wealth? What remains with us forever? Sri Gurudev said, “The wealth of Nama Smarana (remembrance of the Divine Name) is your true wealth.” “Keep increasing the treasure of the Divine Name.” Time spent in remembrance of God and satsang is accumulated in your eternal account. In this Kali Yuga, the only wealth worth earning is the wealth of Nama Smarana. There is no other way to cross worldly bondage, as taught in the Kali Santarana Upanishad.

Parabhava

Ugadi is approaching. I should quickly buy a panchangam and check my horoscope for the year.

“Sir! Please give me one panchangam!”

No sooner did I say that than my usual streak of misfortune seemed to start again. Every year, my horoscope promises less royal fortune and more humiliation. And this time, the very name of the year itself is Parabhava! Oh Lord! It feels as though my life is already doomed.

But then I wondered—
Why am I thinking like this? Instead of reacting, why don’t I break down the name and understand its real meaning?

“Bhava” means birth.
“Para” means something higher, greater, or beyond us.

In the Bhagavad Gita, the Lord says:

“indriyāṇi parāṇy āhur
indriyebhyaḥ paraṁ manaḥ |
manasastu parā buddhir
yo buddheḥ paratastu saḥ || 3-42 ||”

Meaning — the senses are great, but greater than the senses is the mind. Greater than the mind is the intellect. And beyond even the intellect is the Self, which illumines them all. That supreme Self is called Para.
All of us have emerged from that Para-tattva. The Upanishads too explain how from the Self arise space, air, fire, water, earth, plants, food, and finally man.

Likewise, speech too is said to have four forms — Para, Pashyanti, Madhyama, Vaikhari.
The seed-form of speech, devoid of language or form, is Para-vak.
Shri Babuji Maharaj used to say, “I can sense your intention six months before it arises in you.”
That primordial state is Para.
From there, it slowly takes shape as an idea — that is Pashyanti.
When that idea grows by taking the support of language but remains within the mind, it is Madhyama.
And when it finally comes out through the mouth as audible speech, it becomes Vaikhari.

The Narayanopanishad also states that from the seed-like will (sankalpa) of Narayana arose prana, mind, senses, the five elements, the deities including Brahma — the entire creation.
So all of us are born from that supreme Narayana — truly, we are Para-sambhavas, or Parabhavas.

That is why Shri Gurudev never liked the verse “pāpo’ham pāpakarmāham pāpātmā pāpasambhavaḥ.”
He would say,
“You are not born of sin. You are born of the Self. You falsely consider yourself a sinner and become bound. You are like a lion raised among goats — you think you are a goat, but your true nature is lionhood. The moment you realise your real Self, you are ever free.”

Thus, we are indeed beings born of Para.

There is another way to see it:
We experience parabhava—defeat or humiliation—only because of others.
We constantly change ourselves based on what others may say about us or think of us, craving their approval.
But the moment our mind stops reacting to external stimuli and dissolves into the supreme Self, parabhava disappears entirely.
Is this not the very definition of a sthitaprajña?
Who can humiliate a person who abides in his own true nature?
For such a one, royal honour and insult are the same.
Neither can shake him.

Therefore, the year named Parabhava actually carries a profound message:
“Set aside these trivial horoscopes and seek the highest state — the Para-state — your true Self.”

See how even from despair and hopelessness, Gurudev would ignite inquiry and offer a divine message!
May we always be blessed with such noble reflection, in all times and circumstances.

O Gurudeva, bless us that such sacred enquiry remains ever alive within us!

Om Pūṣa-dantabhidē Namaḥ

In the Śrī Śiva Aṣṭottara Śatanāmāvali, one of the names is “Om Pūṣa-dantabhidē Namaḥ.” Pūṣa is a name of the Sun God. After all, it is the Sun who nourishes the entire world. Then why did Parameśwara break the teeth of such a nourisher like the Sun?

We all know the story from Daksha Yajña. When Satī Devi immolated herself in the sacrificial fire, Lord Shiva, assuming a fierce form as Vīrabhadra, destroyed the sacrifice and severed Daksha’s head. On that occasion, Vīrabhadra also punished the other gods who were present there. Since they silently witnessed adharma and injustice happening before their eyes and chose to remain indifferent—thinking, “They are big people; why should we interfere?”—they too had to undergo punishment. As part of that punishment, the Sun’s teeth were knocked out.

That is why, on Ratha Saptami or on other Sundays in the month of Māgha, when sweet rice (paramānnam) is prepared as an offering to the Sun God, it is cooked without any hard ingredients (not even cashew nuts).

The scripture says:

“Kartā kārayitā chaiva prērakaścha anumōdakaḥ
Sukṛtaṁ duṣkṛtaṁ chaiva chatvāraḥ samabhāginaḥ.”

When a good deed or a bad deed is performed, four people equally share its result: the one who does it, the one who causes it to be done, the one who instigates it, and the one who approves of it. Therefore, when a virtuous act is being performed, even if we cannot actively participate, at least rejoicing in it earns us merit. Similarly, when a sinful act is taking place, if we do not have the power to stop it, we should call upon those who can, or at least remove ourselves from that place. If we remain there as silent spectators, we too become participants in that punishment.

In the Mahābhārata, during Sri Krishna’s peace mission (Rāyabāra episode), the Lord warns Bhīṣma and Droṇa:

When pure truth and dharma are oppressed by sin and injustice, and those who are capable of preventing it choose to ignore it, the harm falls upon them. However, the Divine always stands ready to uphold truth and righteousness.

Though the elders knew that the Kauravas were on the side of adharma, they supported them and consequently suffered punishment. They clung to their personal duty (svadharma) while neglecting the higher duty of universal welfare (viśeṣa dharma). On the other hand, to uphold this higher dharma, Sri Krishna even set aside His personal vow of not wielding weapons and was prepared to launch the Sudarshana Chakra at Bhīṣma.

Truth never changes. But dharma varies according to time and place. Protecting one’s life and family may be one’s duty; yet, for the sake of the nation, a village may have to be sacrificed; for the sake of the village, a family; and for the sake of the family, even an individual. This is the subtlety of dharma.

However, if injustice and unrighteousness occur before our very eyes, and we justify the wrongdoer merely because he belongs to our family, caste, religion, language, or state—or at least refrain from condemning him—we too must share in the consequences.

Under the influence of Kali Yuga, narrow-minded identities have grown so strong in our country that society has reached a stage where even great souls of the past are insulted simply because they do not align with our present ideology. Like in the story of the wolf and the lamb—where the wolf says, “If not you, then your father or grandfather muddied my water,” and devours the lamb—today people justify punishing innocent individuals for injustices committed centuries ago by someone loosely connected through caste or religion.

But dharma has nothing to do with such superficial distinctions. In the Mahābhārata itself, both Kauravas and Pāṇḍavas belonged to the same nation, religion, caste, and even the same family. Yet one side became the embodiment of dharma and the other of adharma.

In this context, we should remember Martin Luther King Jr.’s words:

“The SILENCE of the good people is more DANGEROUS than the BRUTALITY of the bad people.”

If we cannot even verbally condemn the injustices happening around us, we too must bear the consequences.

Then the question arises: what is dharma? In Hindi, the word “dharma” is sometimes used to mean religion. But what true dharma is, the Mahābhārata itself explains:

“That which causes pain to you if done by others—
O noble one, do not do that to others.
Refraining from such actions
Is the highest among all paths of dharma.”

The Mahābhārata declares that the greatest dharma is simply this: do not do to others what causes pain to you.

Even Lord Rama gave several opportunities for peace before waging war against Ravana, who abducted his wife. Likewise, the Pandavas offered many chances for reconciliation before fighting the Kauravas who usurped their kingdom and insulted Draupadi. Even during the war, they welcomed enemies who chose to join their side. After the war, they honored the fallen foes and performed proper rites to grant them noble afterlife.

But those who, driven by narrow caste or religious prejudices, unjustly harm others and insult great souls cannot escape punishment at the hands of Parameśwara—the supreme symbol of equality toward all beings. Likewise, those who directly or indirectly encourage such wrongdoing, or remain silent spectators, too will not escape consequences—their teeth, metaphorically, will also fall out. Not opposing injustice is in itself injustice too.

Makara Sankranti

Naresh: Happy Sankranti, brother!

Suresh: Same to you, Naresh! Do you know Sankranti actually comes every month? Today is one such Sankranti. The one we celebrate grandly is Makara Sankranti.

N: But what exactly does Sankranti mean, brother?

S: When the Sun—or any of the nine planets—moves from one zodiac sign to another, that transition is called Sankranti, Kranthi, or Karthe. Among these, the Sun is the most important for us. When He enters the zodiac sign Makara (Capricorn), the sacred period of Uttarayana begins. That’s why we celebrate this Makara Sankranti as such a major festival.
Now tell me, Naresh—where does the Makara (crocodile) appear in our Puranas?

N: Oh yes! In Gajendra Moksham, the elephant was caught by a crocodile, right?

S: Exactly. Actually, we call it Gajendra Moksham because Lord Vishnu saved the elephant from the crocodile. But think about it—the crocodile also attained liberation! It died at the hands of the Lord Himself, through His Sudarshana Chakra, and was freed from the cycle of birth altogether.

N: True. But when I think about it, something strikes me. Vishnu seems to show partiality towards the crocodile rather than the elephant! After all, the elephant is a jarayuja (born from the womb), while the crocodile is an andaja (born from an egg).

S: So what?

N: That’s exactly it! His vehicle Garuda is andaja. The serpent-bed Adi Sesha is andaja. And He even wears Makara Kundalas (crocodile-shaped earrings)!

S: That doesn’t mean anything. For Him all beings are equal. Samoham sarva-bhuteshu na me dveshyo ’sti na priyah — “I am equally present in all beings. I have no hatred toward anyone, nor special affection toward anyone.” That’s what the Lord Himself says in the Gita.

N: Okay, let’s agree. But then the same Lord says in Bhakti Yoga:
Yo mad-bhaktah sa me priyah,
Sa cha me priyah,
Bhaktimaan yah sa me priyah,
Bhaktimaan me priyo narah,
Bhaktah te ’tiva me priyah —
He says again and again: “My devotee is very dear to me!” Isn’t that partiality?

S: That’s the subtle point. Air is everywhere around us, but only when we stand under a fan do we feel it strongly, right? Similarly, the Supreme dwells everywhere equally. But bhaktānaṁ hṛdayāmbhoje viśeṣeṇa prakāśate — He shines especially in the lotus-like hearts of devotees.

To hold on to Him, you must first hold onto devotees.
That is exactly what the crocodile did. That is why it attained liberation.

N: But how? It harmed a devotee, didn’t it?

S: Think once more. Before the Lord arrived, the crocodile and the elephant fought for a thousand years. For the elephant, it was a life-and-death struggle, so it held on. But what need did the crocodile have? If it let go of that elephant, it could always find some other prey.
Just like the elephant, the crocodile probably had its own wife and children. Imagine how many times they might have come and said:

“Why are you so stubborn? For years you’ve been clinging to that elephant’s leg without food or sleep! Let it go and hunt something else!”

Yet the crocodile never gave up its grip.
Sri Babuji Maharaj often said: “Strong, unwavering grip—that is true vairagya (detachment).”

To attain devotion and knowledge, we must first possess this kind of powerful detachment.
That is exactly what this Makara Sankranti teaches us—develop the crocodile-like grip of firm detachment.

N: True, brother! Then tell me, what is the deeper meaning behind Lord Vishnu wearing Makara Kundalas?

S: Lord Vishnu’s birth star is Shravana, which falls under Makara Rashi. So they say He wears Makara Kundalas to symbolize both. But the deeper meaning is this:

“Sannyasya śravaṇaṁ kuryāt” — say the rishis.
When listening (śravaṇam), one must renounce all other distractions. Only with such detachment and firm attention will śravaṇam transform into contemplation (mananam) and then deep meditation (nididhyāsanam).

If you sit in satsang but keep watching people come and go, bite your nails, or get distracted, the teachings never enter your ears—nor your heart.

To convey this truth, the Lord adorns His ears with Makara Kundalas—symbolizing focused, unwavering listening born of detachment.

N: Thank you, brother! You beautifully explained how much firm resolve and detachment—like that of the Makara—are needed for devotion, knowledge, and for spiritual teachings to truly sink in.
Once again, wishes of Makara Sankranti to you and your family! Let us pray that our Guru grants all of us such divine detachment.

Proximity Without Experience

    

    Some disciples proudly proclaim that they are very close to their Gurudev—that they constantly enjoy the fortune of seeing him, touching him, and conversing with him. But as Gurudev himself once explained: if you keep water in one glass and sugar in another glass side by side for any number of days, will the sweetness of the sugar enter the water on its own? Likewise, if we do not truly absorb the Guru’s teachings, practice the path shown by him, and attain inner spiritual growth, then no matter how long we live in the Guru’s physical proximity, our inner vices and weaknesses will not disappear.

    Moreover, Gurus are physicians who cure the disease of worldly existence. A doctor keeps a severely ill patient in the hospital for a long time, sometimes even under constant ICU supervision. But a person with a minor ailment is examined for a few minutes, given medicine, and sent home. In the same way, a very dirty cloth has to remain longer in the washerman’s care to be properly cleaned.

    We also know that even those who attained nearness to God—such as salokya, samipya, and sarupya—fell away when they failed to attain Self-knowledge and overcome their inner traits. Jaya and Vijaya were not merely residents of Vaikuntha; they were gatekeepers of the Lord’s inner sanctum, enjoying intimate proximity (samipya) and even likeness (sarupya), possessing four arms like the Lord and bearing the conch, discus, and mace. Yet, unable to rid themselves of ego, they incurred a curse. As a result, over three births, all the evil tendencies hidden within them surfaced and were washed away. Only after becoming pure, like a thoroughly cleansed garment, did they regain the Lord’s presence.

    In their first birth, as Hiranyaksha, there is no mention of him being married or having a family—yet he was consumed by the desire to possess the entire earth. What would he do with it? For whom would he keep it? Nothing but baseless greed! Similarly, Hiranyakashipu, after receiving boons and conquering the gods, became so intoxicated with pride that he believed himself to be God. Such arrogance takes one so far astray that it leads to the utter loss of discernment—even to the extent of killing one’s own son who refuses to accept one’s views. To cleanse these traits of greed and arrogance, the Lord had to incarnate as Varaha and Narasimha.

    In the second birth, they became Ravana and Kumbhakarna. Ravana, despite having many wives, was never satisfied—his lust drove him to desire every woman he saw. Even after living for hundreds of thousands of years and having sons and grandsons, his craving did not diminish, eventually reaching such an extreme that he could not restrain himself even before the Divine Mother herself. Kumbhakarna, though fully aware of dharma, was bound by blind attachment to his brother. One striking fact is that all these demons were well-versed in dharma and were devotees of God in one form or another. Yet, lacking the spiritual strength to overcome even a single dominant weakness, they became instruments of destruction and ultimately perished themselves. To cleanse these tendencies of lust and delusion and bring them back to Himself, the divine couple Lakshmi–Narayana had to incarnate in human form and endure immense effort.

    In the third birth, as Shishupala, the dominant flaw was baseless jealousy—an inability to tolerate anyone else receiving what he could not. As Dantavakra, it was irrational anger. Driven by rage that Krishna had slain his friends, he rushed into battle without assessing his own strength or limitations. Compared to the earlier vices, these two traits were relatively easier for the Lord to cleanse.

    Thus, to eliminate each single flaw, they had to take separate births and live cursed lives for hundreds, thousands, and even millions of years. If such is the case, then what loss is there in us boasting about our greatness merely because we remain close to Gurudev, while making no effort whatsoever to change, despite harboring all these defects within ourselves? Unfortunately, such behavior even brings criticism upon the Guru. Normally, when someone stays long in a hospital or ICU, we feel compassion for them, not jealousy. But when Gurudev—the physician of samsara—keeps a deeply flawed soul close in order to reform him, the world wrongly attributes the disciple’s faults to the Guru and criticizes him. Even fellow disciples may think, “Isn’t this injustice? Though noble people are drifting away, Gurudev is embracing this wicked person so closely!”

    There is a vast difference between God’s incarnations taken to punish the wicked and protect the righteous, and the incarnation as Guru that comes to reform everyone equally. In the Guru-form, there is only transformation, never destruction. That demands extraordinary skill, patience, and endurance. It is easy to investigate a criminal and impose severe punishment, but how difficult it is to keep him under constant supervision, completely reform him, and send him back as a good human being! This is the immensely difficult task Gurudev accomplishes through his causeless compassion. Gurudev would say, “If even one person listens to my teaching, becomes transformed, and attains the supreme bliss that I constantly experience, then this incarnation of mine is fulfilled.”

    Yet he does not stop with just one. “I am a cashew nut from Kamarapukota(known for its indelible ink)—once I catch hold, I never let go,” he used to say. Thus, every soul that comes into his association must be transformed and uplifted; he cannot abandon them midway. But we, for our part, must understand this truth and sincerely strive to recognize and overcome our own defects. That alone is the highest service we can render to Gurudev. Merely staying close to him physically or managing his worldly affairs cannot be considered true service. The true purpose of proximity is to experience for ourselves the supreme nectar of Brahmananda that he constantly lives in.

The Mother's Gentle Smile

 

“With her gentle smile that shines like the cool rays of the moon, the Mother immerses the mind of her beloved consort, Lord Kameshwara(Mandasmita prabhāpūra majjatkāmēśa mānasā).”

Let us try to imagine why the Divine Mother smiles so, and what thoughts in Kameshwara’s mind might be the cause of her sweet laughter.

Perhaps the Lord, the Moon-crested one, was anxious: “She may be upset that I wear upon my head the Moon who was cursed by her father Daksha Prajapati.” To reassure him, the Mother might have smiled and said: “Swami! Even before you, I had adorned the crescent moon of the eighth night (ashtami) upon my forehead, shining beautifully(Aṣṭamī candra vibhrājadaḷikasthala śōbhitā). Not only that—I wear both the Sun and the Moon as earrings!(Tāṭaṅka yugaḷībhūta tapanōḍupa maṇḍalā)” And with that smile, his mind found peace.

Maybe the Ganga-bearing Lord worried: “She may resent me for bringing Ganga into my matted locks as a co-wife.” Then the Mother, smiling, might have said: “When half of your cosmic body itself is me, why would I ever be jealous of a tiny stream flowing in a corner of your hair?” And the Lord’s heart was soothed.

Perhaps the Three-eyed Lord trembled: “She may be angry that I burned her nephew Manmatha, who was trying to unite us.” The Mother might have laughed softly: “That poor boy was foolish! He tried to unite us with desire when in truth, through tapas (penance), we were always one. You were already mine, for I am Svadhīna Vallabhā, the mistress of my own beloved. But don’t worry—I revived him with my power as Sanjīvanī, the medicine of life.(Hara nētrāgni sandagdha kāma san̄jīvanauṣādhiḥ)”

The Father of Ganesha might have been filled with sorrow: “In anger I cut off the head of the beautiful son she created and gave him an elephant’s head.” The Mother, smiling compassionately, may have said: “No matter what the head is, every mother sees her son as the most beautiful in the world!(Agajānana padmārkaṁ)”

Perhaps the Lord, the beloved of Vishnu’s sister, worried: “She may mock me that I once was enchanted by the woman’s form taken by Vishnu, though I already have such a beautiful wife at home.” The Mother may have smiled sweetly: “The beauty of even father of the god of love himself comes only from my glance.(Anaṅga janakāpāṅga vilōkana) How then you could escape being charmed by Vishnu?”

The Lord of the Cremation Grounds may have wondered: “She might be displeased that I roam all day in burial grounds, covering myself in ashes, while she awaits me at dusk adorned with ornaments.” The Mother may have laughed gently: “What are these delivery halls or cremation grounds to me? With every blink of my eye, worlds are created, sustained, and dissolved.(Unmēṣa nimiṣōtpanna vipanna bhuvanāvaḷi)”

The Blue-throated Lord may have thought: “She might scold me for suddenly vanishing, drinking deadly poison, and returning with a blackened throat.” The Mother may have smiled with courage: “Swami, whatever you drink, I have no fear, for I am Sarva-mangalā, the source of all auspiciousness. Moreover, I am the medicine that can cure even Rudra himself!(Śivā rudrasya bhēṣajī)”

The innocent Bholenath may have worried: “She may reproach me for granting the destructive boon to Bhasmasura that almost consumed me.” The Mother might have smiled comfortingly: “When you have a brother-in-law who is the very sustainer of life (Vishnu), why fear? Did not my brother come to your rescue?”

Perhaps the Lord thought: “Poor Nandi has served me always, but now she has a new lion as her vehicle—he might feel threatened.” The Mother may have laughed: “In creation, though beings are different, even natural enemies, within a family they learn to live in harmony. That is the lesson of our household for the world.”

The Lord, clothed in tiger-skin, might have thought: “She may question me, for she rides the very tiger whose hide I wear.” The Mother may have smiled: “All the skins, all the bodies, all the forms of this creation are but my play. I am the Kṣetra svarūpa(field), Kṣetreśī (the goddess of the field), and Kṣetrajña-pālinī (the protector of the knower of the field).”

The Lord of Dissolution may have feared: “My fierce Pralaya Tāṇḍava may destroy the cosmos too soon.” The Mother may have laughed: “Do not worry. I shall balance your dance of destruction with my Lasya dance of joy, turning dissolution into delight”, forgetting that she herself is a Layakari.

The fair Lord might have mused: “How strange that though I shine pure and white like crystal, I am wedded to this dark wife.” The Mother may have smiled knowingly: “Why only black? I am all colors. I am Kāli, I am Śyāmala, I am Gauri. From me, the threefold nature of prakṛti flows, and from my essence even your whiteness arises.”

The Serpent-adorned Lord may have fretted: “She may fear these hissing serpents I wear.” The Mother may have smiled lightly: “What are serpents to me? Even my brother Vishnu rests forever upon a serpent couch!”

At Kālivana Ashram, the Lord Ramalingeshwara may have joked: “See, half the day the devotees spend not in the Shivalaya but in the Ramalaya, still calling it Devi Navarātri.” The Mother may have laughed: “Every woman delights when her life’s festivals are celebrated in her parental home! And Swami, do not forget—every Friday in Śrāvaṇa, your sister Varalakṣmī Devi is worshipped in your very temples. This year, there was even an extra Friday!” And the Lord himself laughed in return: “Ah! So that is why Navarātri is longer by an extra day this year!”

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Thus, in the tender conversations of Parvati and Parameshwara, as they exchange gentle smiles that shine like moonlight, what more could anyone desire than to let life pass beneath their radiance?