My memories of Swami Nityananda!!!

By Vanita Shenoy

 

Shri Kandlurkar Narshimha Prabhu

My Memories of Param Pujya Swami Nityananda of Ganeshpuri

My memories of Param Pujya Swami Nityananda of Ganeshpuri go back to my early childhood. I vividly remember seeing Swamiji with my own eyes. I was about ten years old when Swami took Mahasamadhi. I recall sitting on my father’s shoulders, watching all the proceedings of that profound day, my heart heavy with grief. Even today, a sense of loss lingers within me.

I grew up listening to countless stories of Swamiji’s leelas and grace, narrated lovingly by my parents and relatives. I was born after Swamiji had blessed my mother — a blessing that shaped our lives in ways beyond measure.

My mother hailed from a small village near Sagar in Karnataka. She was just around fourteen years old when fate dealt a heavy blow — both her parents passed away, leaving behind five young children, with my mother being the eldest. One of her sisters passed away soon after the loss of their parents. At that tender age, she was left to care for her two younger brothers, aged around twelve and six, and her younger sister, about eight years old. With no adults to guide them and barely any families living nearby — the rest of the relatives residing about five kilometers away in Sagar — they lived in fear, in a large, isolated house surrounded by fields, struggling to manage the household and farm.

They had an uncle, K. Narasimha Prabhu, affectionately known as Kandloorkar, who was based in Mumbai and an ardent Swami Nityananda devotee. A small-time sandalwood trader with a deeply spiritual inclination, he frequently visited Swamiji. Once, overwhelmed by his yearning for spiritual renunciation, he requested Swamiji to grant him sannyas (renunciation). Swamiji refused. But Kandloorkar persisted, even declaring that he would not leave Swami’s presence unless granted sannyas deeksha. Swamiji, in a rare show of outward anger, threw stones at him — one of which hit his bald head and caused bleeding — yet Kandloorkar remained steadfast, unwavering in his devotion. Seeing this, Swamiji smiled warmly and, with great love, told him, “Sannyas is not for you in this lifetime.”

Instead, Swamiji gave him a different mission. He said, “There are two girls in your village — bring them to Bombay. You have to take care of them.” Kandloorkar understood immediately; Swamiji was referring to his two orphaned nieces, who he himself worried about but had been helpless to support earlier.

Accordingly, Kandloorkar brought the two girls, along with his own mother, to Bombay. Having no home of his own, he arranged their stay at Chembur Bhat’s house (incidentally, the father-in-law of Ahilya, daughter of Sushilakka and Sitaram Shenoy). Every week, they would visit Ganeshpuri, staying in one of the two modest rooms adjacent to Swamiji’s nivas. They would carry grains, rice, spices, and cook simple meals on earthen sigrees — rice, sambhar, saar, — and offer it to Swamiji, who always preferred plain, non-spicy food and partook only very little.

During this time, by Swamiji’s unseen grace, Kandloorkar’s sandalwood business flourished beyond imagination*. He became a leading figure in his trade circle. Eventually, he purchased a house in Karnataka Society in Matunga and moved his family there.

*To know more about this Sandalwood Oil Business –

Shri K N Prabhu is seen wearing a black cap (sitting extreme right)

On one of their visits, Swamiji suggested a marriage alliance — an eligible bachelor, the brother-in-law of Sitaram Shenoy. Kandloorkar approached the Shenoy family, and thus, my mother was married to Anand Kamath, my father, who was also Sitaram Shenoy’s cousin. Remarkably, at that same wedding, my father’s cousin-sister (Koppaliaakka)’s brother-in-law saw my mother’s sister and proposed marriage — thus, by Swami’s grace, both the sisters were married joyously and with much celebration.

Later, Kandloorkar himself married at the age of fifty, blessed with a wonderful family and two sons. Swamiji’s words — that sannyas was not meant for him in this lifetime — had indeed come true.

However, my mother faced yet another trial: she did not conceive for four years after marriage. In those days, society often pressured men to remarry if a woman did not conceive within a year. Facing this stigma and not wishing to be a burden on her beloved uncle, my mother, in deep despair, quietly slipped away one night during a visit to Ganeshpuri. She sat alone in the jungle, hoping that a wild animal would take her life. As she sat crying, suddenly a beam of light shone on her face — Swami was standing before her, holding a torch. Gently flashing the light on her tear-streaked face, he said, “Everything will be alright.” But my mother, overwhelmed with sorrow, protested. Swami, with infinite compassion, repeated, “Get up and go to your room. Everything will be alright.”

She obeyed silently. Soon thereafter, I was born. As Swami had assured, everything indeed became alright.

Throughout my childhood, we continued to visit Swami. Every concern, every difficulty, was laid at his feet, and he would bless us with silent solutions.

When I was about six months old, I developed a terrible skin rash with high fever, and no medical treatment seemed to work. My parents took me to Swami. He instructed my mother to bathe me in the hot water kundas and then bring me to him. After the ritual bath, Swami had his sevak offer me coconut water and placed two bananas in my tiny hands. I would grasp one banana, then drop it when offered the second — and Swami played with me thus for some time. With that coconut water and banana — despite my raging fever — I was lovingly fed. Astonishingly, within two days, all my rashes vanished without a trace.

Another deeply etched memory relates to my mother’s suffering from a severe abscess on her waist. She became bedridden, wracked with pain, and our family doctor gave up, declaring surgery the only option — a serious ordeal in those days. My father rushed to Swami for help. Swami directed him to consult a doctor — either Dr. Menon or Dr. Nair (I don’t clearly recall) — a homeopath at Matunga. Though the doctor expressed doubt, he honored Swami’s faith and dispensed medicines, offering them before Swami’s photograph and a lit lamp. Miraculously, within two weeks, my mother was completely cured, without surgery or even a scar.

There were countless such instances where Swami’s love, grace, and compassion protected and guided us.

When my mother was pregnant with my younger brother, she craved sweets and fruits — luxuries she could not indulge in while living in a large joint family. During one visit to Ganeshpuri, she noticed heaps of fruits, sweets, and flowers before Swami. As she sat quietly among the crowd, Swamiji called her near, picked up large, heavy boxes of sweets along with fruits, and blessed her. My mother said she lived off those sweets and fruits for days, and her cravings disappeared. She would often recall this incident with tears of gratitude, saying, “Swami was both my mother and father — he looked after me at every step.”

Even after Swami’s Mahasamadhi, his presence and blessings remained tangible.

In 2002, my brother became critically ill, and the doctors declared that he would not live more than a few days. I was shattered. I prayed before Swami’s photo, pleading that my aged parents should not suffer the agony of putrashoka (loss of a son). Miraculously, the very next day, the treating doctor — unaware to us — had gone abroad, and a replacement doctor administered an experimental, expensive injection. Within five minutes, my brother revived. He survived several more years — living until after both our parents had passed peacefully — and left this world only after completing their final rites, in 2008. Swami fulfilled my prayer in His own mysterious, merciful way.

As for Kandloorkar, he remained a lifelong devotee, deeply immersed in sadhana. Often entering states of trance, he rarely spoke, but would sometimes utter Swami’s sayings. He believed firmly that only those destined by Swami could reach him. He would recount that people with critical or mocking intentions would find themselves unable to reach Ganeshpuri — their vehicles would break down, illness would strike, or other obstacles would intervene. But true devotees, or those in desperate need, always found their path cleared and protected.

Transportation was poor in those days, making such experiences even more remarkable. Even today, I have experienced this — whenever we long to visit Ganeshpuri, even if planned at the last moment, everything falls into place, and we often find ourselves arriving on auspicious occasions. What else can it be but Swami’s grace?

In his later years, on one Lakshmi Pooja day during Diwali, Kandloorkar suffered a paralytic stroke. Half his body became paralyzed. Yet he refused hospital care, declined even to let doctors enter his home, and instead immersed himself completely in inner sadhana and meditation — accepting everything as Swami’s will.

Vanita Shenoy is the daughter of Shri Anand Kamath, brother-in-law of Shri Sitaram Shenoy