Page 326 - Light of Divinity

Light of Divinity

Drop your pretensions here

I used to take breakfast for the sewaks in the mandir. Guruji was
usually in paath at that time. My parents used to keep the Friday
fast. This typically means not eating anything that’s sour, not even
touching it. It was a Friday, and my mother had strictly instructed
me not to consume any such thing.

That day, Guruji was out early, and as I came in, he instructed
another devotee, Sudama, to get me a cold drink. I was more than
happy to have Guruji’s delicious prasad and left contented, thanking
my stars for his darshan and the unexpected prasad. But I was
scolded at home. I was dejected, but brushed the episode aside.

In the evening, we went to the mandir again. Guruji was in a good
mood and sat down for satsang. We were all listening intently. He
made a comment about the fasts people keep, remarking that such a
practice was bogus. As was his wont, he didn’t say it directly, but the
point drove home: “You are in the house of God, do what he tells you and
forget the humdrum practices that pretend to reach God in silly ways.”

A laddoo the size of two cricket balls

Guruji blesses some people with the sach khand prasad, prasad that
he produces by divine will and which is referred to as a ‘miracle’.
I have been fortunate enough to experience many such instances:
Gold ear-rings in dollar notes, hot halwa, misri-cased burfi, chocolate
and vanilla burfi, motichur and besan laddoos, Himachali hat.

One day in Jalandhar, Guruji had gone to a devotee’s house for
dinner. Langar was served and, as usual, the sangat ate before
Guruji. Seeking an extra second of his divine presence, I finished
off early and sat next to him while the others were eating. He was
sitting straight, with his wrist resting on his knee and his fist closed.
I felt Guruji would give prasad (nothing happens without divine
will: that’s probably what he wanted me to take note of), so I was
concentrating on him.

As the sangat gathered around after langar, conversation started.
I was looking at Guruji’s fist. Just as he opened it, a laddoo as large
as two cricket balls appeared—as if you had a piece of sponge
that enlarged as you opened your fist. At first, nothing seemed
extraordinary and then it sank in—a laddoo had not just been

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