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As learnt at
the Lotus Feet of Bhagavan
by
N. Kasturi (1897-1987)
" Om
Namo Bhagavate
Vâsudevâya
"
Kasturi His
tongue was dry, for he had asked thousands more the
way, They
had misled him into many an alley blind, His
head was free of ego cargo; There
was a glint in his eye "Show
me the road to Prashanthi" I was
happy, for he knew what he could get "Show
me the road to Prashanthi" O the
agony on his lips, "Why
seek a road," I asked him. I told
him, "Dear Friend, you are already there! You are
the Sathya of the Sai, Know
this, you have reached Prashanthi -
N. Kasturi -
Dear Reader!
Tamaso Ma Jyotir Gamaya
Mrityor Ma Amritam Gamaya"
"From the Unreal, lead me to the Real
From Darkness, lead me to Light
From Death, lead me to Immortality"
This
longing of the human heart, verbalised in this form more
than a thousand years ago in the Brihadaranyak
Upanishad
[and
purport],
has stirred into agony millions in every continent
through the million years of human history. At various
stages of human evolution man has grasped in his despair
the hand extended by quacks and pretenders, maniacs and
morons who have exploited him to the verge of extinction.
Luckily for him, in many lands and at frequent intervals,
saints and sages, teachers and poets, mystics and masters
journeyed into realms beyond the boundaries of 'reason'
and gained the awareness of the Real, (which is the Truth
of what appears as unreal) the Light (which hides under
cover of what appears as darkness) and the Immortality
(which wears the mask of continuous death). These
messengers of Truth have served as Light beacons for
pilgrims, trekking away from themselves, towards the One
whose many they are. When they reach the One, they
realise that they were always there, at Prashanthi
Nilayam, the Home of Supreme Peace. Man is now
moonstruck; he is enslaved by monstrous machines; he is
fascinated by the prospect of wholesale suicide. His head
is swollen with the poisonous vapour of ego, so much that
it is about to burst. Love alone can cure the malady.
Love alone can still the storm. Love alone can encourage
the nations to cease growling at each other.
The
Road to Prashanthi
A pilgrim asked me once.
He had argued long and loud;
For they showed the road that led to ivory towers
And castles in the air,
And higgle-haggling counters that dealt with plots
In Heaven and in Paradise
Or battle fields where brain clashed with barren
brain.
Thick with tangling arguments
They sent him along dark corridors of hatred and of
fear.
Taking their words as true, he had waded through vales of
tears
Deafened by conflicting cackles of clamour and of
claims
At every crossroad he passed, he said, the canvassers of
traffic
Did fill his ears with cynical spite.
His ears tingled, he said, with consecrated song.
He longed to know the road to
Prashanthi
He knew it was his journey's end.
And a thirst in his throat
And a groan, hiding inside the chest
A pang, a pain, a pull,
A chronic homesickness
These made him kindred to me!
I am much in need of rest -
Where Swami's Presence is.
There, fear is afraid to show itself
And grief is out of bounds.
They gave me, he said, a map of the route
But, how can a map show me the Truth?
The question in his eyes!
"Your feet are for securing foothold
Not for trudging mile after mile
Behind every shadow show.
Roads take you along many a bed and bump
And, make you follow diversions galore
Through bleak and barren land
With trails of dust suffocating thick.
The road is littered with tolls and jolts,
Segmented into mine and thine"
"Show
me the road to Prashanthi
The sun is setting, quick, quick," he said.
Wherever you are, 'tis Prashanthi'
Listen ... His laughter you can hear!
Open your eyes, His Glory is clear
In starry sky, flowery field, the crimson cloud
The baby prattle, the murmuring stream
Stay. Dont stray; Be still, Dont will.
When you rise and start to walk, stay,
Swami says - That is the word,
The I whom Time cannot declare as, was or is;
There is no they or we, no terminus,
No then or now; you're simply IS.
Without moving a single step.
