“Jagadodharana Adisidale Yashoda” – never has a song so deeply encapsulated what it means to share our mundane lifetimes in the company of the divine. While His very presence uplifts our lives from mundane to extraordinary, he also gives us the experience of seeing him play a part in the normalcy of our day-to-day lives. Just as Sri Krishna engaged in play with His mother Yashoda, His gopalas, and His Gopikas, despite being the Lord of the Universe, our Beloved Swami also involved us in His small plays now and then, all to give us a chance to learn something anew.

Hailing from Mumbai, Siddharth Nayak brother had the chance to enjoy the proximity of Swami during his days as a student at the Institute. As part of Swami’s personal entourage, he had the opportunity to assist and interact with Swami at close quarters. As he delves into the pages of fond memories in his diary, Siddharth brother shares with us a story of his interaction with Swami.

This story is from those days when Swami used to give darshan in his wheelchair. He used to come to the mandir in His car, drive around among the devotees and stop on the edge of the 3rd block where I would be waiting with the other equally blessed brothers to take Him onto the foyer or the interview room per His direction. As happens with most humans, over time, while assisting Swami every day, a small voice rose up in me. A voice that said that Swami was dependent on me. Without me, Swami would be deeply inconvenienced. While this feeling built up in me little by little, I should have anticipated that a lesson was soon coming my way. And it just happened to come during an unexpected moment.

I was in my usual place outside the interview room when Swami’s car stopped after His darshan round. As the car door opened, I looked up to His face. Instead of the usual brilliance of His smile, I was greeted with a grim indifference. It was the look that immediately told me that someone was in trouble. And a little later I realized that someone was me. I slowly wheeled Swami into the interview room and led Him to His usual place. As I then waited for His next command, Swami looked at me annoyed and said,” Who asked you to be here? I have no need for you. Wait outside.”

Surprised (and hurt), I excused myself and sat outside. After some time, I was told Swami was asking for me. But when I went inside again Swami asked me,” Who called you inside? Wait outside.” Now this repeated 4-5 more times that day. By the last time, I was also exasperated. When I got called in again, I was mentally asking Swami “What is going on?” This time however Swami instead, of repeating the same asked me to get the then head of the Book Trust. He was a senior gentleman, about 65-70 years of age. So I had to help him inside the interview room and also assist him in sitting. Just as I was thinking that now things are back to normal, Swami again looked at me and said, “What are you doing here? I don’t need you. Go and sit outside.” As I quietly went outside and sat in my place, the small voice in me woke up. Swami cannot move around with my help. The head of the Book Trust is also aged and will need my help to come out of the interview room. Let’s see how they manage without me. Even as these egoistical thoughts went through my head, I saw the interview room open. There stood Swami and the head of the Book Trust, both standing unsupported. In front of my eyes, the head of the Book Trust walked independently and sat back down in his place.

And as I looked back at Swami from him, I saw him look at me and shrug – as if asking me – “Do you really think I need you?” And that was when the mirror of my ego shattered. Even as I realized the lesson that I was being taught, He, always being one step ahead, lovingly called me to His side and let me help Him back inside.

One morning, less than 50 words, and a lesson for a lifetime was imparted to me. His acting as if He was dependent on me was His way of giving me an opportunity to be a part of His grand play. “I” had nothing to do with it. It was He who made the “I” relevant in this whole situation. And that realization immediately led to a wave of gratitude as I realized it was His love and benevolence which had given me this opportunity to live my life so close to Him. And that lesson has since been firmly etched in my mind. He wore the cloak of an 80-year-old in a wheelchair, but that was for our learning. He still is the Master of the Universe, and we are all actors in His stage. We have an opportunity to play a part in His work, His work will happen anyway as per His will. Every interaction with Him, every conversation, every eye contact, every gesture – it was all for our benefit. He was here, taking a quick swim in the ocean of the Samsara, so that He could show us the right currents to follow. And while He was doing all this, He was walking amongst us, talking to us, celebrating His mortal journey with us, so that we could one day understand what He really wanted us to learn.