The Profoundness of the Guru’s Teachings

Gurudev Siddha Peeth, April 2006—the peak of summertime. The golden glow of the rising sun made everything shine.
I was on my way to Annapurna Dining Hall for breakfast. The birds were twittering. The tall trees were beckoning. The gentle breeze was wafting through the shakti-filled atmosphere.
As I rounded a curve on the Ganesha Pathway, I saw Gurumayi walking in my direction. The sun's golden rays were showering down upon her, and she looked like a mass of radiant saffron light. Gurumayi was walking so swiftly that in no time we were in front of each other. We both smiled, and I brought my hands together in namaste, offering my pranam to her.
Gurumayi said in Hindi, “Hmm, you are wearing a kaftan!” A kaftan is a collared shirt in thick handspun cotton.
I nodded and said, “Yes, Gurumayiji.”
Gurumayi’s smile broadened, and she added, “Today, you are looking like a typical Dilli-wali.” A Dilli-wali is one who comes from Delhi, where most politicians, journalists, professors, and government officials wear traditional cotton outfits of just the sort I had on. We both laughed.
Gurumayi then said, “I haven’t seen you since last week!”
I told her I had not been well, and she asked what was wrong. I replied that I had been dehydrated. By then a fellow sevite who was passing by joined us, and said with a smile, “Pallavi carries her water bottle everywhere; she drinks so much water. I think she must be making an excuse for her absence!”
We all laughed, and then Gurumayi looked at me very intently. She made a gesture, moving one of her hands from her mouth down to her heart. “It must have not been absorbed,” she said, gently. Hearing those words and seeing Gurumayi’s gesture gave me a sense of profound tranquility. Gurumayi was looking at me with immense love and compassion, and I started to feel a sudden and strong throbbing in my heart.
After a few moments, Gurumayi continued on her way past the Ganesha murti, and I went on to breakfast. As I was making my way down the path, I could feel the throbbing more and more intensely, and I knew that this had been an extraordinary interaction. The way I was feeling in my own being, Gurumayi’s gesture, and her expression—everything had been extraordinary! Gurumayi’s words started to resound in my mind: It must have not been absorbed! I could feel a gentle tingling sensation in my brain. My mind couldn’t quite grasp what had been imparted, yet I was somehow certain that it was both profound and subtle. The essence of Gurumayi’s words seemed to be taking a seat in my heart.
A couple of hours later, I went to Amrit for tea. As I poured tea into one of the Amrit’s orange cups, I noticed that the tea was leaking out from the cup’s bottom. I poured it into another cup, and as I did so, I was struck by the meaning and significance of the word absorb—by what it means to absorb. The understanding moved from the solid, physical plane of the cup right into the deep and subtle core of my being. It came to me that, like the cup, I had to be a vessel that could hold what was poured into me. Only if I absorbed the knowledge given by my Guru would I fulfill the purpose of my birth, which is to attain the Self.
Did I not know this before? Of course, I did. Now, however, I reflected on it with intent. I realized that what matters is not how much knowledge I have received over the years, it is how much knowledge I have absorbed.
I continued to mull over this newly revealed wisdom, and after several days had passed, I attended a meeting with Gurumayi. In this meeting I made a presentation. While speaking, I felt thirsty and so I paused to drink some water. There was a pin-drop silence in the hall as someone passed me my water bottle. I opened it and started to drink. I took about three sips, slowly and with relish. I could feel the stream of water going down from my mouth into my throat, down my esophagus, and into my stomach. My heart felt refreshed. As I was putting the cap back on the bottle, I glanced at Gurumayi, who was looking at me with a benign smile and nodding her head. I smiled at Gurumayi in return, feeling that her smile was an affirmation of all I had been contemplating about what it means to absorb. I realized that for the first time in my life, water tasted like nectar and that, when taken in measure, it was capable of being absorbed and quenching my thirst.
This experience became a turning point in my Siddha Yoga sadhana. I had gained a new awareness of how Gurumayi imparts invaluable knowledge to us through her teachings and her being. When seekers are willing and open to receive this knowledge, then they are able to notice these teachings manifesting in their mundane activities—such as pouring tea into an orange cup! Gurumayi’s teachings now permeate my entire life.
Gurumayi has transformed a Dilli-wali into a dil-wali. Gurumayi has transformed me, a devotee from Delhi, into a devotee who abides in my own dil (heart), which is constantly refreshed by Gurumayi’s teachings.
Dr. Pallavi Rathod began attending Siddha Yoga satsangs in 1982, the year she was born. Her grandfather led a Siddha Yoga meditation center at their house in New Delhi. Pallavi later served on staff in Gurudev Siddha Peeth for more than twelve years. She offered seva in the Music, Taruna Poshana, Publications, and Translation departments. Currently, Pallavi offers seva from home as a Hindi-language reviewer and translator for the SYDA Foundation. She lives in Thane, India with her husband, Abhijeet. She holds a PhD in Hindi language and literature.

Gurudev Siddha Peeth, April 2006—the peak of summertime. The golden glow of the rising sun made everything shine.
I was on my way to Annapurna Dining Hall for breakfast. The birds were twittering. The tall trees were beckoning. The gentle breeze was wafting through the shakti-filled atmosphere.
As I rounded a curve on the Ganesha Pathway, I saw Gurumayi walking in my direction. The sun's golden rays were showering down upon her, and she looked like a mass of radiant saffron light. Gurumayi was walking so swiftly that in no time we were in front of each other. We both smiled, and I brought my hands together in namaste, offering my pranam to her.
Gurumayi said in Hindi, “Hmm, you are wearing a kaftan!” A kaftan is a collared shirt in thick handspun cotton.
I nodded and said, “Yes, Gurumayiji.”
Gurumayi’s smile broadened, and she added, “Today, you are looking like a typical Dilli-wali.” A Dilli-wali is one who comes from Delhi, where most politicians, journalists, professors, and government officials wear traditional cotton outfits of just the sort I had on. We both laughed.
Gurumayi then said, “I haven’t seen you since last week!”
I told her I had not been well, and she asked what was wrong. I replied that I had been dehydrated. By then a fellow sevite who was passing by joined us, and said with a smile, “Pallavi carries her water bottle everywhere; she drinks so much water. I think she must be making an excuse for her absence!”
We all laughed, and then Gurumayi looked at me very intently. She made a gesture, moving one of her hands from her mouth down to her heart. “It must have not been absorbed,” she said, gently. Hearing those words and seeing Gurumayi’s gesture gave me a sense of profound tranquility. Gurumayi was looking at me with immense love and compassion, and I started to feel a sudden and strong throbbing in my heart.
After a few moments, Gurumayi continued on her way past the Ganesha murti, and I went on to breakfast. As I was making my way down the path, I could feel the throbbing more and more intensely, and I knew that this had been an extraordinary interaction. The way I was feeling in my own being, Gurumayi’s gesture, and her expression—everything had been extraordinary! Gurumayi’s words started to resound in my mind: It must have not been absorbed! I could feel a gentle tingling sensation in my brain. My mind couldn’t quite grasp what had been imparted, yet I was somehow certain that it was both profound and subtle. The essence of Gurumayi’s words seemed to be taking a seat in my heart.
A couple of hours later, I went to Amrit for tea. As I poured tea into one of the Amrit’s orange cups, I noticed that the tea was leaking out from the cup’s bottom. I poured it into another cup, and as I did so, I was struck by the meaning and significance of the word absorb—by what it means to absorb. The understanding moved from the solid, physical plane of the cup right into the deep and subtle core of my being. It came to me that, like the cup, I had to be a vessel that could hold what was poured into me. Only if I absorbed the knowledge given by my Guru would I fulfill the purpose of my birth, which is to attain the Self.
Did I not know this before? Of course, I did. Now, however, I reflected on it with intent. I realized that what matters is not how much knowledge I have received over the years, it is how much knowledge I have absorbed.
I continued to mull over this newly revealed wisdom, and after several days had passed, I attended a meeting with Gurumayi. In this meeting I made a presentation. While speaking, I felt thirsty and so I paused to drink some water. There was a pin-drop silence in the hall as someone passed me my water bottle. I opened it and started to drink. I took about three sips, slowly and with relish. I could feel the stream of water going down from my mouth into my throat, down my esophagus, and into my stomach. My heart felt refreshed. As I was putting the cap back on the bottle, I glanced at Gurumayi, who was looking at me with a benign smile and nodding her head. I smiled at Gurumayi in return, feeling that her smile was an affirmation of all I had been contemplating about what it means to absorb. I realized that for the first time in my life, water tasted like nectar and that, when taken in measure, it was capable of being absorbed and quenching my thirst.
This experience became a turning point in my Siddha Yoga sadhana. I had gained a new awareness of how Gurumayi imparts invaluable knowledge to us through her teachings and her being. When seekers are willing and open to receive this knowledge, then they are able to notice these teachings manifesting in their mundane activities—such as pouring tea into an orange cup! Gurumayi’s teachings now permeate my entire life.
Gurumayi has transformed a Dilli-wali into a dil-wali. Gurumayi has transformed me, a devotee from Delhi, into a devotee who abides in my own dil (heart), which is constantly refreshed by Gurumayi’s teachings.
Dr. Pallavi Rathod began attending Siddha Yoga satsangs in 1982, the year she was born. Her grandfather led a Siddha Yoga meditation center at their house in New Delhi. Pallavi later served on staff in Gurudev Siddha Peeth for more than twelve years. She offered seva in the Music, Taruna Poshana, Publications, and Translation departments. Currently, Pallavi offers seva from home as a Hindi-language reviewer and translator for the SYDA Foundation. She lives in Thane, India with her husband, Abhijeet. She holds a PhD in Hindi language and literature.

Gurudev Siddha Peeth, abril de 2006— el verano en todo su esplendor. El brillo dorado del sol naciente hacía que todo resplandeciera.
Yo iba al comedor de Annapurna para desayunar. Los pájaros gorjeaban. Los altos árboles seducían. La suave brisa se mecía en la atmósfera llena de shakti.
Al tomar la curva del sendero de Ganesha, vi a Gurumayi caminando en mi dirección. Los rayos dorados del sol la inundaban y ella parecía un cúmulo de radiante luz azafrán. Gurumayi caminaba tan ligera que de inmediato estuvimos una frente a otra. Las dos sonreímos, y yo junté las manos en namasté, ofreciéndole mi pranam.
Gurumayi dijo en hindi: “Mmm, ¡llevas un kaftán!” Un kaftán es una camisa con cuello, hilada a mano en grueso algodón.
Asentí y dije: “Sí, Gurumayi”.
La sonrisa de Gurumayi se hizo más amplia y agregó: “Hoy pareces una típica Dilli-waali.” Dilli-waali es alguien que viene de Delhi, donde la mayoría de los políticos, periodistas, profesores y oficiales de gobierno usan ropa tradicional de algodón, tal como la que yo llevaba ese día. Las dos nos reímos.
Gurumayi dijo entonces: “¡No te había visto desde la semana pasada!”
Le conté que no me había sentido bien y ella me preguntó qué me sucedía. Le dije que me había deshidratado. Entonces otra sevita que pasaba se nos unió y dijo con una sonrisa: “Pallavi lleva su botella de agua a todas partes, toma mucha agua. Creo que debe estar disculpándose por su ausencia.”
Las tres nos reímos, y entonces Gurumayi me vio muy atentamente. Hizo un gesto, moviendo una de sus manos de su boca a su corazón. “No ha de haber sido absorbida,” dijo, suavemente. Oír esas palabras y ver el gesto de Gurumayi, me dio una sensación de profunda tranquilidad. Gurumayi me veía con inmenso amor y compasión, y empecé a sentir un latido repentino y fuerte en mi corazón.
Después de un momento, Gurumayi siguió su camino más allá de la murti de Ganesha y yo me fui a desayunar. A medida que avanzaba por el sendero, podía sentir el latido más y más intensamente, y comprendí que esa había sido una interacción extraordinaria. La forma en que me sentía en mi ser, el gesto de Gurumayi y su expresión: ¡todo había sido extraordinario! Las palabras de Gurumayi empezaron a resonar en mi mente: No ha de haber sido absorbida. Podía sentir una suave sensación de cosquilleo en mi cerebro. Mi mente no lograba captar lo que le había sido impartido, pero de algún modo yo estaba segura de que era a la vez profundo y sutil. La esencia de las palabras de Gurumayi parecía empezar a asentarse en mi corazón.
Unas horas más tarde fui al Amrit a tomar té. Al verter el té en uno de los vasos anaranjados del Amrit, noté que el té se estaba saliendo por el fondo del vaso. Vacié el té en otro vaso y, al hacerlo, me impactó el significado y la importancia de la palabra absorber, lo que significa absorber. El entendimiento pasó del plano sólido, físico, del vaso, directo hacia el núcleo profundo y sutil de mi ser. Comprendí que yo, como el vaso, tenía que ser un recipiente que pudiera contener lo que se vertiera en mí. Solo si yo absorbía el conocimiento que me daba mi Guru podría cumplir con el propósito de mi nacimiento, que es alcanzar el Ser.
¿No sabía ya esto? Desde luego que sí lo sabía. Ahora, sin embargo, reflexioné sobre ello con atención. Me di cuenta de que lo que importa no es cuánto conocimiento he recibido a lo largo de los años, sino cuánto de ese conocimiento he absorbido.
Seguí reflexionando sobre esta sabiduría recién revelada, y varios días después asistí a una reunión con Gurumayi. En esta reunión hice una presentación. Mientras hablaba me dio sed, así que hice una pausa para beber un poco de agua. Cuando me pasaron mi botella de agua, había en la sala tal silencio que se habría oído caer un alfiler. Abrí la botella y empecé a beber. Di como tres tragos, despacio y paladeándolos. Podía sentir el agua bajar de la boca a la garganta, al esófago, al estómago. Mi corazón se refrescó. Al cerrar la botella, vi a Gurumayi, que me observaba con una sonrisa benigna, asintiendo. Le sonreí también, y sentí que su sonrisa era una afirmación de todo lo que yo había estado contemplando sobre lo que significa absorber. Me di cuenta de que por primera vez en mi vida, el agua me sabía a néctar y que si la tomaba en la medida justa, podía ser absorbida y saciar mi sed.
Esta experiencia dio un giro importante a mi sádhana de Siddha Yoga. Había alcanzado una nueva conciencia de la forma en que Gurumayi nos imparte un conocimiento invaluable a través de sus enseñanzas y de su ser. Cuando los buscadores están dispuestos y abiertos a recibir este conocimiento, pueden entonces advertir que estas enseñanzas se manifiestan en sus actividades mundanas, ¡como servir té en un vaso anaranjado! Las enseñanzas de Gurumayi penetran ahora mi vida entera.
Gurumayi ha transformado a una Dilli-waali en una dil-waali. Gurumayi me ha transformado a mí, una devota de Delhi, en una devota que vivo en mi propio dil (corazón), que se renueva constantemente con las enseñanzas de Gurumayi.
La Dra. Pallavi Rathod comenzó a asistir a los satsangs de Siddha Yoga en 1982, año en que nació. Su abuelo dirigía un centro de meditación de Siddha Yoga en su casa en Nueva Delhi. Más adelante, Pallavi sirvió en el staff de Gurudev Siddha Peeth durante más de doce años. Ofreció seva en los departamentos de Música, de Taruna Poshana, de Publicaciones y de Traducción. Actualmente, Pallavi ofrece seva desde su casa como revisora y traductora del hindi para la SYDA Foundation. Vive en Thane, India, con su esposo, Abhijeet. Ella tiene un doctorado en lengua y literatura hindi.

Gurudev Siddha Peeth, im April 2006 — der Höhepunkt der Sommerzeit. Das goldene Leuchtender aufgehenden Sonne lies alles erstrahlen.
Ich war auf dem Weg zur Annapurna Dining Hall zum Frühstück. Die Vögel zwitscherten. Die hohen Bäume winkten mir zu. Eine sanfte Brise wehte durch die von shakti erfüllte Atmosphäre.
Als ich auf dem Weg an der Ganesh-Statue um eine Kurve ging, sah ich, wie Gurumayi auf mich zukam. Die goldenen Strahlen der Sonne fielen auf sie herab, und sie sah aus wie eine Ansammlung von strahlendem, safrangelbem Licht. Gurumayi ging so schnell, dass wir nach kürzester Zeit voreinander standen. Wir lächelten beide und ich legte meine Hände zum namaste zusammen und bot ihr meinen pranam dar.
Gurumayi sagte auf Hindi: „Hmm, du trägst einen kaftaan!” Ein kaftaan ist ein Hemd mit Kragen aus dicker, handgewebter Baumwolle.
Ich nickte und sagte: „Ja, Gurumayiji.”
Gurumayis Lächeln wurde breiter und sie fügte hinzu: „Heute siehst du wie ein typischer Dilli-waali aus.” Ein Dilli-waali ist jemand aus Delhi, dort tragen die meisten Politikerinnen, Journalisten, Professorinnen und Regierungsbeamte traditionelle Baumwollkleidung von der Art, die ich gerade trug. Wir lachten beide.
Gurumayi sagte dann: „Ich habe dich seit letzter Woche nicht mehr gesehen!”
Ich erzählte ihr, dass es mir nicht gut gegangen sei, und sie fragte mich, was mir gefehlt habe. Ich antwortete, dass ich Flüssigkeitsmangel gehabt hätte. In diesem Moment kam ein Seva-Kollege vorbei, gesellte sich zu uns und sagte lächelnd: „Pallavi schleppt ihre Wasserflasche überall mit sich herum, sie trinkt sehr viel Wasser. Ich glaube, das war nur eine Ausrede für ihre Abwesenheit!”
Wir lachten alle, und dann blickte mich Gurumayi sehr aufmerksam an. In einer Handbewegung führte sie eine ihrer Hände von ihrem Mund herunter zu ihrem Herzen. „Anscheinend ist es nicht aufgenommen worden”, sagte sie sanft. Es schenkte mir ein Gefühl von tiefer Ruhe, diese Worte zu hörte und Gurumayis Handbewegung zu sehen. Gurumayi blickte mich mit unermesslicher Liebe und großem Mitgefühl an, und ich begann ein plötzliches und starkes Herzklopfen zu spüren.
Ein paar Augenblicke später setzte Gurumayi ihren Weg an der Ganesha murti vorbei fort, und ich ging zum Frühstück. Als ich auf dem Weg weiterging, spürte ich das Herzklopfen immer stärker, und ich wusste, dass dies eine außergewöhnliche Begegnung gewesen war. So wie ich mich im Inneren fühlte, Gurumayis Handbewegung und ihr Gesichtsausdruck – alles war außergewöhnlich gewesen! Gurumayis Worte begannen in meinem Geist nachzuklingen: Anscheinend ist es nicht aufgenommen worden! Ich spürte ein leichtes Kribbeln im Gehirn. Mein Geist konnte noch nicht richtig erfassen, was mitgeteilt worden war, dennoch war ich irgendwie überzeugt, dass es sowohl sehr tiefgehend als auch sehr subtil war. Die Essenz von Gurumayis Worten schien sich in meinem Herzen festzusetzen.
Ein paar Stunden später holte ich mir im Amrit einen Tee. Als ich den Tee in einen der orangefarbenen Amrit-Becher goss, merkte ich, dass der Tee aus einem Riss im Boden des Bechers tropfte. Ich schüttete ihn in einen anderen Becher um, und in diesem Moment kam mir die Bedeutung und Wichtigkeit des Wortes ’aufnehmen’ erst so richtig zu Bewusstsein — was es bedeutet, etwas aufzunehmen. Das Verstehen bewegte sich von der greifbaren, materiellen Ebene des Bechers unmittelbar in das tiefe und feine Innere meines Wesens. Es ging mir auf, dass ich – wie der Becher – ein Gefäß sein musste, das das, was in mich gegossen wurde, auch behalten konnte. Nur wenn ich das Wissen, das mir mein Guru gab, aufnahm, würde ich die Bestimmung meiner Geburt, das Selbst zu erlangen, auch erfüllen.
Hatte ich das nicht eigentlich schon vorher gewusst? Selbstverständlich. Aber jetzt dachte ich gezielt darüber nach. Ich erkannte, dass es nicht darauf ankommt, wieviel Wissen ich über die Jahre hin erhalten habe, sondern darauf, wieviel Wissen ich aufgenommen habe.
Ich dachte weiter über diese neu offenbarte Weisheit nach, und als ein paar Tage vergangen waren, nahm ich an einer Besprechung mit Gurumayi teil. Bei diesem Treffen hatte ich etwas zu präsentieren. Beim Sprechen wurde ich durstig und machte also eine Pause, um etwas Wasser zu trinken. Man hätte eine Stecknadel fallen hören können, so still war es im Raum, als mir jemand meine Wasserflasche gab. Ich machte sie auf und fing an zu trinken. Ich trank etwa drei Schlucke, langsam und mit Genuss. Ich spürte das Fließen des Wassers von meinem Mund in die Kehle, die Speiseröhre hinunter bis in den Magen. Mein Herz fühlte sich erfrischt. Als ich die Flasche wieder zuschraubte, streifte mein Blick Gurumayi, die mich mit einem wohlwollenden Lächeln anschaute und nickte. Ich lächelte Gurumayi ebenfalls an und spürte, dass ihr Lächeln all meine Kontemplation darüber, was es bedeutet, etwas aufzunehmen, bestätigte. Mir wurde bewusst, dass zum ersten Mal in meinem Leben Wasser wie Nektar schmeckte und dass es, wenn ich es in Maßen zu mir nehme, aufgenommen werden und meinen Durst stillen kann.
Diese Erfahrung wurde zu einem Wendepunkt in meiner Siddha Yoga sadhana. Ich hatte eine neue Bewusstheit davon erlangt, wie Gurumayi unschätzbar wertvolles Wissen durch ihre Lehren und ihr Wesen an uns weitergibt. Wenn Suchende gewillt und offen sind, dieses Wissen zu empfangen, dann sind sie auch in der Lage zu erkennen, wie sich diese Lehren in ihrem Alltag offenbaren — zum Beispiel, wenn sie Tee in einen orangefarbenen Becher gießen! Gurumayis Lehren durchdringen nun mein ganzes Leben.
Gurumayi hat eine Dilli-waali in eine dil-waali verwandelt. Gurumayi hat mich, eine Anhängerin aus Delhi, in eine Anhängerin verwandelt, die in ihrem eigenen dil (Herzen) lebt, das fortwährend von Gurumayis Lehren erfrischt wird.
Dr. Pallavi Rathod nimmt seit 1982, ihrem Geburtsjahr, an Siddha Yoga Satsangs teil. Ihr Großvater leitete ein Siddha Yoga Meditationscenter in ihrem Haus in Neu Delhi. Pallavi diente später mehr als zwölf Jahre lang als Mitarbeiterin in Gurudev Siddha Peeth. Sie bot seva in den Abteilungen Musik, Taruna Poshana, Publikationen und Übersetzung an. Zurzeit bietet Pallavi von zuhause aus seva als Korrekturleserin und Übersetzerin für Hindi für die SYDA Foundation an. Sie und ihr Mann Abhijeet leben in Thane in Indien. Sie hat einen Doktortitel in Hindi und Hindi-Literatur.

Gurudev Siddha Peeth, avril 2006 — le pic de l’été. Le rayonnement doré du soleil levant illuminait tout.
Je me dirigeais vers la salle à manger Annapurna pour le petit-déjeuner. Les oiseaux gazouillaient. Les grands arbres se balançaient. La douce brise animait l’atmosphère emplie de shakti.
Alors que je suivais une courbe du sentier de Ganesh, j’ai vu Gurumayi qui marchait dans ma direction. Les rayons dorés du soleil tombaient sur elle, et elle était comme une masse radieuse de lumière safran. Gurumayi marchait si vite qu’en un instant, nous nous sommes trouvées face à face. Nous avons souri toutes les deux et j’ai joint mes mains en namaste, lui offrant mon pranam.
Gurumayi a dit en hindi: « Hum, tu portes un kaftaan ! » Un kaftaan est une chemise à col, en coton épais tissé à la main.
J’ai hoché la tête et j’ai dit : « Oui, Gurumayiji ».
Gurumayi a eu un large sourire, puis elle a ajouté : « Aujourd'hui, tu ressembles à un Dilli–Waali typique ». Un Dilli–Waali est une personne qui arrive de Delhi, où la plupart des politiciens, des journalistes, des professeurs et des fonctionnaires gouvernementaux portent un habit de coton traditionnel, exactement comme celui que je portais. Nous avons ri toutes les deux.
Gurumayi a dit alors : « Je ne t’ai pas vue depuis la semaine dernière ! »
Je lui ai répondu que je n’avais pas été bien et elle m’a demandé ce qui n’allait pas. J’ai répondu que j’avais été déshydratée. À ce moment, une autre sévaïte qui passait par là s’est jointe à nous et a dit avec un sourire : « Pallavi emmène partout sa bouteille d’eau ; elle boit tellement d’eau. Je pense qu’elle doit chercher une excuse pour expliquer son absence ! »
Nous avons ri toutes les trois, puis Gurumayi m’a regardée très intensément. Elle a fait le geste de porter une main de sa bouche à son cœur. « Sans doute n’a-t-elle pas été absorbée » a-t-elle dit, gentiment. Le fait d’entendre ces paroles et de voir le geste de Gurumayi m’a donné un sentiment de profonde tranquillité. Gurumayi me regardait avec un amour et une compassion immenses, et j’ai commencé à ressentir dans mon cœur une soudaine palpitation intense.
Quelques instants après, Gurumayi, poursuivant son chemin, a dépassé la murti de Ganesh et j’ai continué vers le lieu du petit-déjeuner. En descendant le sentier, je sentais cette palpitation de plus en plus intensément et j’ai compris que cet échange avait été extraordinaire. La manière dont je me sentais dans mon être, le geste de Gurumayi et son expression — tout avait été extraordinaire ! Les paroles de Gurumayi ont commencé à résonner dans mon esprit : sans doute n’a-t-elle pas été absorbée ! Je sentais un doux picotement dans mon cerveau. Mon esprit n’arrivait pas vraiment à saisir ce qui avait été révélé, et pourtant j’étais certaine que c’était à la fois profond et subtil. L’essence des paroles de Gurumayi semblait s’installer dans mon cœur.
Quelques heures plus tard, je suis allée prendre le thé à l’amrit. Alors que je versais le thé dans un des gobelets orange de l’amrit, j’ai vu qu’il s’écoulait par le fond. Je l’ai versé dans un autre et en faisant cela j’ai été frappée par la signification et l’importance du mot absorber — par ce que cela voulait dire, absorber. La compréhension s’est déplacée du plan solide et physique du gobelet jusqu’au cœur profond et subtil de mon être. Il m’est venu à l’esprit que, comme le gobelet, je devais être un récipient capable de garder ce qui était versé en moi. Ce n’était qu’en absorbant la connaissance donnée par mon Guru que je pourrais accomplir le but de ma vie, qui est d’atteindre le Soi.
Ne le savais-je pas déjà ? Bien sûr, je le savais. Maintenant cependant, j’y réfléchissais avec intention. Je réalisais que ce qui comptait n’était pas la somme des connaissances que j’avais reçues au cours des années, c’est la somme des connaissances que j’avais absorbées.
J’ai continué à penser sans cesse à cette sagesse récemment révélée, et quelques jours plus tard j’ai participé à une réunion avec Gurumayi. Dans cette réunion, j’ai fait une présentation. En parlant, j’ai eu soif et j’ai fait une pause pour boire un peu d’eau. Il y a eu un silence tel qu’on aurait pu entendre une mouche voler dans la salle pendant qu’on me passait ma bouteille d’eau. Je l’ai ouverte et j’ai commencé à boire. J’ai bu environ trois gorgées, lentement et avec délice. Je sentais l’eau qui descendait de ma bouche dans ma gorge, puis dans mon œsophage et dans mon estomac. Mon cœur se sentait rafraîchi. En remettant le bouchon sur la bouteille, j’ai vu Gurumayi qui me regardait avec un sourire bienveillant, en hochant la tête. Je lui ai souri à mon tour ; je sentais que son sourire confirmait tout ce que j’avais contemplé à propos de ce que veut dire absorber. J’ai réalisé que, pour la première fois de ma vie, l’eau avait un goût de nectar et que, prise avec mesure, elle pouvait être absorbée et étancher ma soif.
Cette expérience est devenue un tournant dans ma sadhana du Siddha Yoga. J’ai acquis une nouvelle conscience de la manière dont Gurumayi nous transmet une connaissance d’une valeur inestimable par ses enseignements et par son être. Quand les chercheurs sont ouverts et désireux de recevoir cette connaissance, ils ont la capacité de noter ces enseignements qui se manifestent dans leurs activités profanes, comme de verser du thé dans un gobelet orange ! Les enseignements de Gurumayi imprègnent maintenant toute ma vie.
Gurumayi a transformé une Dilli-waali en une dil-waali. Gurumayi m’a transformée, d’une disciple de Delhi, en une disciple qui réside dans mon propre dil (cœur), continuellement rafraîchi par les enseignements de Gurumayi.
Le Docteur Pallavi Rathod a commencé à assister aux satsang du Siddha Yoga en 1982, l’année de sa naissance. Son grand-père dirigeait un centre de méditation Siddha Yoga dans leur maison, à New Delhi. Plus tard, Pallavi servit dans l’équipe de Gurudev Siddha Peeth pendant plus de douze ans. Elle a offert de la seva dans les départements de la musique, de Taruna Poshana, des publications et de la traduction. Actuellement, Pallavi offre de la seva à domicile comme traductrice et relectrice d’hindi pour la SYDA Foundation. Elle habite Thane, en Inde, avec son mari, Abhijeet. Elle a un doctorat d’hindi et de littérature.

Gurudev Siddha Peeth, Aprile 2006, al culmine della stagione estiva. Il bagliore dorato del sole nascente faceva brillare ogni cosa.
Mi stavo dirigendo verso la sala da pranzo dell’Annapurna per la prima colazione. Gli uccelli cinguettavano. Gli alti alberi era come se mi salutassero. Una brezza leggera si diffondeva attraverso l’aria satura di shakti.
Appena girato un angolo sul sentiero di Ganesha, ho visto Gurumayi venirmi incontro. I raggi dorati del sole si riversavano su di lei come una pioggia: sembrava una massa di radiosa luce color zafferano. La camminata di Gurumayi era così svelta che in un batter d’occhio ci siamo ritrovate l'una di fronte all’altra. Ci siamo scambiate un sorriso e io ho unito le mani in namaste, offrendole il mio pranam.
Gurumayi mi ha detto in hindi: “Hmm, indossiamo un kaftan!” Il kaftan è una camicia col colletto rigido fatta di uno spesso cotone tessuto a mano.
Ho annuito e ho detto: “Sì, Gurumayiji”.
Gurumayi ha fatto un sorriso ancora più grande e ha aggiunto: “Oggi hai l’aria di una tipica Dilli-waali”. Una Dilli-waali è una persona che viene da Delhi, dove la maggior parte dei politici, giornalisti, professori e funzionari governativi è vestita esattamente con lo stesso tipo di abito tradizionale di spesso cotone tessuto a mano che avevo indosso io. Abbiamo riso entrambe.
Gurumayi ha poi continuato: “È una settimana che non ti fai vedere!”
Le ho risposto che non mi ero sentita bene, e lei mi ha chiesto cosa mi fosse successo. Ho replicato che mi ero disidratata. Mentre parlavo, una sevaita che passava di là ci ha raggiunte e sorridendo ha detto: “Pallavi si porta appresso la sua bottiglia d’acqua ovunque; beve tantissima acqua. Secondo me cerca solo di trovare una scusa per giustificare la sua assenza!”
Abbiamo riso tutt’e tre, poi Gurumayi mi ha guardata con grande attenzione. Ha fatto un gesto, muovendo una mano dalla bocca giù fino al cuore. “Si vede che non è stata assorbita”, ha detto dolcemente. All’udire queste parole di Gurumayi e alla vista del suo gesto, ho provato un senso di profonda tranquillità. Gurumayi mi guardava con immenso amore e compassione, e io ho cominciato a sentire un energico e improvviso aumento dei battiti del mio cuore.
Dopo qualche istante, Gurumayi ha ripreso il suo cammino oltre la murti di Ganesha e io sono andata a fare colazione. Mentre procedevo sul sentiero sentivo sempre più intensamente il battito del mio cuore; sapevo di avere appena avuto un’interazione straordinaria. Il modo in cui mi sentivo, il gesto di Gurumayi e l’espressione del suo volto: ogni cosa era stata straordinaria! La parole di Gurumayi mi risuonavano nella mente: Si vede che non è stata assorbita! Avvertivo un leggero formicolio nel cervello. Non riuscivo, solo con la mente, ad afferrare bene ciò che mi era stato rivelato, tuttavia ero in qualche modo certa che si era trattato di qualcosa di profondo e sottile allo stesso tempo. L’essenza della parole di Gurumayi sembrava si stesse accomodando nel mio cuore.
Un paio d'ore più tardi, sono andata all’Amrit per un tè. Mentre versavo il tè in uno dei bicchieri arancioni dell’Amrit, mi sono accorta che il liquido colava fuori dal fondo del bicchiere. L'ho travasato subito in un altro bicchiere e, proprio mentre lo facevo, il senso e l’importanza della parola assorbire mi si sono rivelati, proprio il significato preciso di assorbire. La comprensione si è spostata dal piano solido, fisico del bicchiere al centro profondo e sottile di me stessa. Mi sono resa conto del fatto che anch’io, come il bicchiere, dovevo diventare un contenitore capace di trattenere ciò che vi viene versato. Solo se avessi assorbito la conoscenza che il mio Guru mi dava, avrei potuto realizzare il fine della mia nascita, quello di raggiungere il Sé.
Ma prima non lo sapevo? Certo che sì. In quel momento, però, avevo cominciato a rifletterci intenzionalmente. Allora ho capito che ciò che importa non è tanto quanta conoscenza io abbia ricevuto nel corso degli anni, bensì quanta conoscenza ho assorbito.
Ho continuato a rimuginare su questa saggezza appena rivelata, e, dopo diversi giorni, ho preso parte a una riunione con Gurumayi. In questa riunione dovevo fare una presentazione. Mentre parlavo a un certo punto ho avuto sete, così mi sono fermata per bere un po' d’acqua. Nel momento in cui qualcuno mi ha passato una bottiglia d’acqua, nella sala non si sentiva volare una mosca. L'ho aperta e ho cominciato a bere. Avrò preso all’incirca tre sorsate, lentamente e con gusto. Sentivo l'acqua che dalla bocca scendeva giù nella gola, e poi nell’esofago e infine nello stomaco. Ho sentito che mi rinfrescava il cuore. Rimettendo il tappo alla bottiglia, ho lanciato uno sguardo a Gurumayi, che mi stava guardando con un sorriso gentile e annuiva con la testa. Ho restituito il sorriso a Gurumayi, sapendo che il suo sorriso era una conferma di tutto ciò che avevo contemplato sul significato di assorbire. Mi sono accorta, per la prima volta nella vita, che l'acqua sa di nettare, e che, se assunta nella giusta misura, possiede la capacità di essere assorbita e di estinguere la mia sete.
Questa esperienza è diventata un punto di svolta nella mia sadhana Siddha Yoga. Ho sentito di avere acquisito una nuova consapevolezza sul modo in cui Gurumayi, con i suoi insegnamenti e con tutto il suo essere, sa impartirci un’inestimabile conoscenza. Quando i cercatori sono aperti e disposti a ricevere questa conoscenza, allora sono anche in grado di riconoscere questi insegnamenti quando si manifestano nelle attività più ordinarie, come quella di versarsi il tè in una tazza arancione! Ora gli insegnamenti di Gurumayi permeano la mia intera esistenza.
Gurumayi ha trasformato una Dilli-waali in una dil-waali. Gurumayi ha trasformato me, una devota di Delhi, in una devota che sa stare nel proprio dil (cuore), costantemente rinfrescato dagli insegnamenti di Gurumayi.
La dott.ssa Pallavi Rathod ha cominciato a partecipare ai satsang di Siddha Yoga nel 1982, l’anno in cui è nata. Suo nonno conduceva un centro di meditazione Siddha Yoga nella loro casa a Nuova Delhi. In seguito, per oltre dodici anni, Pallavi ha servito nello staff del Gurudev Siddha Peeth. Ha offerto seva nell’ambito della musica, del Taruna Poshana, e delle pubblicazioni e traduzioni. Al momento, Pallavi offre seva da casa come traduttrice ed editor in lingua hindi per la SYDA Foundation. Abita a Thane (India) con suo marito Abhijeet. Pallavi ha conseguito un dottorato di ricerca in lingua e letteratura hindi.

Gurudev Siddha Peeth, abril de 2006 – O auge do verão. O brilho dourado do sol nascente fazia tudo brilhar.
Eu estava no caminho do Refeitório Annapurna para o café da manhã. Os pássaros cantavam. As copas das árvores mais altas ondulavam. Uma brisa suave soprava através da atmosfera carregada de shakti.
Ao virar uma curva no Caminho de Ganesha, vi Gurumayi caminhando na minha direção. Os raios dourados do sol se derramavam sobre ela e ela parecia uma massa de luz alaranjada radiante. Gurumayi caminhava com tanta agilidade que rapidamente estávamos frente a frente. Nós duas sorrimos, uni as mãos em namaste e ofereci meu pranam a ela.
Gurumayi disse em hindi, “Hmm, você está vestindo um kaftaan!” Kaftaan é uma camisa com colarinho feita em tecido de algodão cru.
Eu concordei com a cabeça e disse, “Sim Gurumayiji”
O sorriso de Gurumayi ampliou-se e ela acrescentou, “Hoje você está parecendo uma típica Dilli-waali”. Dilli-waali é alguém que vem de Delhi, onde a maioria dos políticos, jornalistas, professores e membros do governo usa roupas tradicionais de algodão como a que eu vestia. Nós duas rimos.
Gurumayi disse então, “Eu não te vejo desde a semana passada!”
Eu disse a ela que não tinha passado bem e ela perguntou o que havia de errado. Disse que tinha tido uma desidratação. Nesse momento um colega sevita que passava se juntou a nós e disse com um sorriso, “Pallavi carrega sua garrafa de água para todos os lugares. Ela bebe muita água. Acho que ela está dando uma desculpa para sua ausência!”
Nós rimos e então Gurumayi me olhou intensamente. Ela fez um gesto, movendo uma de suas mãos da boca para o coração. “Ela não deve ter sido absorvida”, disse gentilmente. Ao ouvir aquelas palavras e ver o gesto de Gurumayi, tive uma sensação de profunda tranquilidade. Gurumayi me olhava com tanto amor e compaixão que comecei a sentir meu coração batendo mais forte.
Depois de alguns momentos, Gurumayi continuou seu caminho, passou pela murti de Ganesha e eu fui para o café da manhã. Enquanto andava pelo caminho, eu podia sentir a pulsação mais e mais intensa em meu coração e sabia que aquela tinha sido uma interação extraordinária. A maneira como me sentia em meu próprio ser, o gesto de Gurumayi e sua expressão – tudo tinha sido extraordinário. As palavras de Gurumayi começaram a ressoar em minha mente: Ela não deve ter sido absorvida! Eu podia sentir um formigamento suave no meu cérebro. Minha mente não conseguia compreender bem o que tinha sido transmitido e no entanto eu tinha certeza que era algo profundo e sutil. As palavras de Gurumayi pareciam tomar seu lugar em meu coração.
Algumas horas depois fui ao Amrit para um chá. Enquanto despejava o chá em um dos copos laranjas do Amrit, notei que o líquido vazava pelo fundo do copo. Despejei o chá em outro copo e, ao fazê-lo, fiquei impressionada com o significado e importância da palavra absorver – pelo que significa absorver. O entendimento mudou do plano físico e sólido do copo para o núcleo profundo e sutil do meu ser. Percebi que, como o copo, eu tinha que ser um recipiente que pudesse conter o que me é dado. Somente se eu absorvesse o conhecimento dado pelo meu Guru, realizaria o propósito do meu nascimento, que é alcançar o Ser.
Será que eu não sabia disto antes? Claro que sim. No entanto, agora eu refletia sobre isso com a intenção. Percebi que o que importa não é quanto conhecimento eu venho recebendo ao longo dos anos, mas quanto conhecimento eu tenho absorvido.
Continuei a ponderar sobre essa nova sabedoria revelada e, após muitos dias, participei de uma reunião com Gurumayi. Nesta reunião, fiz uma apresentação. Enquanto falava, senti sede e fiz uma pausa para beber um pouco de água. Um silêncio pairou sobre a sala enquanto alguém me passava minha garrafa de água. Abri e comecei a beber. Dei uns três goles, lentamente, saboreando. Podia sentir o fluxo de água indo da boca para a garganta e descendo pelo esôfago até o estômago. Senti um frescor no meu coração. Enquanto colocava a tampa de volta na garrafa, olhei de relance para Gurumayi, que olhava para mim com um sorriso benevolente e balançava a cabeça. Retribuí o sorriso, sentindo que o sorriso dela era uma confirmação de tudo o que eu havia contemplado sobre o significado de absorver. Percebi que pela primeira vez em minha vida, a água tinha o sabor de néctar e que, quando tomada na quantia certa, era capaz de ser absorvida e saciar minha sede.
Esta experiência se tornou um ponto de virada na minha sadhana em Siddha Yoga. Adquiri uma nova percepção de como Gurumayi transmite para nós um conhecimento inestimável através de seus ensinamentos e de seu ser. Quando os buscadores estão dispostos e abertos para receber este conhecimento, são capazes de perceber sua manifestação nas atividades mais corriqueiras – como despejar chá num copo laranja! Os ensinamentos de Gurumayi agora permeiam toda a minha vida.
Gurumayi transformou uma Dilli-waali numa dil-waali. Gurumayi me transformou, uma devota de Delhi, numa devota que habita em meu próprio dil (coração), que é constantemente revigorado pelos ensinamentos de Gurumayi.
Dra. Pallavi Rathod começou a frequentar os satsangs de Siddha Yoga em 1982, ano em que nasceu. Seu avô dirigia um centro de meditação Siddha Yoga em sua casa em Nova Delhi. Pallavi, mais tarde, serviu na equipe de Gurudev Siddha Peeth por mais de 12 anos. Ela ofereceu seva nos departamentos de Música, Taruna Poshana, Publicações e Tradução. Atualmente Pallavi oferece seva em casa como revisora e tradutora de hindi para a SYDA Foundation. Ela mora em Thane, Índia, com seu marido Abhijeet. Ela possui PhD em idioma e literatura hindi.
Bhandara, India
Delhi, India
I was wondering if I had done something wrong, thinking that perhaps I wasn’t doing my sadhana diligently enough.
Then one morning, I read Pallavi’s Reflection on Gurumayi. Then I asked myself how much I had absorbed the guidance I had received through innumerable dreams. I understood that now it is time for me to absorb the grace and guidance I’ve received. Then I can move forward with ease, and the path will unfold naturally.
Hyderabad, India
Delhi, India
Delhi, India
For me, at that time, Gurumayi’s words led me to reflect on where I was going in my work life, and I soon realized that the answer was, “Not very far!” I decided then that when I got back to the United States, I would resign from my job and start my own business. In my case, this was a good decision, which has allowed me to have more financial security and more time to offer seva.
I still keep contemplating, “Where am I going?” and that keeps me focused on this great path, doing the things that keep me aligned with my goal.
Connecticut, United States
Mumbai, India
Hurlstone Park, Australia
Khargone, India
Cologne, Germany
I have been diving into Gurumayi’s books. As I do so, it feels in some way like I am reading these books for the first time. Yet I have in fact read them at many different times over nearly three decades of Siddha Yoga practice.
Today, the words seem to enter me more deeply; they seem to resonate with every cell in my being. I grow still. My heart recognizes the truth of the Guru’s words; all the answers are here, and always have been. What has changed is my ability to hear, to hold the experience, to hold the knowledge.
Although the journey is not yet complete, I am filled with gratitude for the Guru, for her teachings and her grace that illumine this sacred path, and for the Siddha Yoga practices that have enabled me to hear the teachings more deeply and to hold the shakti more profoundly.
Vienna, Austria
So now, when I am feeling dry or a little disconnected inside, it will be wonderful to think of Pallavi’s reflection and remember that Gurumayi’s grace permeates my life always and that my part is to open myself up to perceive it, and absorb it fully. After all, we have such a rich bounty of practices and teachings given by our Guru—if we fully assimilated just a few of them, or even one, that would be enough to get us to the goal.
New York, United States