A towering figure, his voice boomed in the darkened hall. His huge feet, like gnarled roots of a great oak, marched to the beat of his voice as he chanted mantras, walking amongst his shishyas who too were chanting. Every once in a while, he would check if the throng was pronouncing the mantras correctly, and when satisfied, walk to another corner of the hall… As he came closer, our eyes met. The intense gaze softened and he smiled… then he pointed towards his eyes and closed them slowly… I did the same. I heard his feet march away…. I closed my eyes and wondered, ‘Is he for real?’ A week ago, my cousin and I were driving back together and our conversation meandered from shore to shore until… looking straight ahead at the heat haze that shadowed the burnt brown landscape of an Indian summer, he asked, “Would I know a miracle if I saw one?” Now cousin’s a bit of a romantic, so I assumed that he was speaking in metaphors, as men in love often do… “Em (a friend of his) lost six kgs in t...
Journey of the spirit 'Sanatan Kriya'