He’s done it again! Just yesterday, I got an email message from Swami-ji. It reads as follows:
Blessed Atman,
Your loving email has been received.
Noted what you write about the suffering of Mother Nasreen [name changed]. A sum of Rs 5000/- is being sent today to your address, which you may pass it on to her.
Deepest love and best wishes,
Ever your Self
Ever since I was blessed with the good fortune of coming to know him, Swami-ji has been a pillar of support. He’s been wonderful in advising me when I feel low, sending me mails every now and then, wishing me well and sending me his love. Every time I’ve written to him for requests for monetary assistance for some cause or the other, he’s been amazingly generous. The last time it was for a project I was trying to help in a remote Buddhist-dominated area in the North-East. This time, it is for a Muslim girl from a family of modest means who is undergoing major medical treatment. ‘Mother’—that’s how Swami-ji refers to this girl in his mail, although she’s probably just in her 20s. For him, there’s no bar of caste or creed—everyone is a ‘blessed atman’, every girl or woman is a ‘Mother’.
Swami-ji lives in an ashram in the deep south of India. It’s an amazing place, set up almost a century ago. Although born in a Brahmin family, the founder of the ashram, who left this world around 50 years ago, transcended all narrow man-made barriers of community and caste, preaching the oneness of God and the unity of humanity. Constant taking of the name of God was the method he prescribed to people who came to him for spiritual advice—it could be any name, in any language and from any religious tradition.
Signifying the ashram’s delightful openness, a signboard at its entrance announces its welcome to people of all faiths. Inside the prayer-hall, pictures of spiritual seekers and Masters from what are conventionally considered different religious traditions adorn the walls. Hindu men and women sing bhajans to the accompaniment of a dholak and harmonium, as a party of visiting Christian nuns sits under a shady tree. A Muslim couple—the man wears a cap and sports a beard, and the woman is dressed in a burqa—joins the queue outside the ashram’s little clinic to get free medical help. For the founder of the ashram, as well as Swami-ji, who is now in-charge of the ashram, all of these—fellow human beings, no matter what their caste, gender or creed—are ‘blessed atmans’.
Blessed atman Swami-ji! Knowing you is truly a blessing!
Bura Jo Dekhan Main Chala, Bura Naa Milya Koye
Jo Mann Khoja Apnaa, To Mujhse Bura Naa Koye
[I set off searching for bad people, but I found not a single one.
Then I searched myself, and I found that there was no one worse than me]
(Kabir Sahib