The Last Darshan III

The Last Guru Poornima

A Living Presence Beyond the Physical

As I sat in Bangalorewalla Hall and looked across the room, I saw many long-time devotees of Bhagavan Nityananda seated together, their faces wrapped in quiet contemplation. These were souls who had been touched deeply by His grace, each carrying memories of His unconditional love, subtle guidance, and, for some, extraordinary miracles that left no room for doubt about His divine stature as a Mahavatar.

Bhagavan never held formal discourses, organised spiritual retreats, or offered structured lessons. Yet, to live in His presence was to be enrolled in a sacred and unspoken ‘virtual classroom.’ Every glance, every silence, every act was pregnant with meaning. The teachings flowed not from books but from the force of His presence. It was a continuous shower of divine pearls of knowledge—showered freely and abundantly—but only the alert and receptive few gathered them. For many others, those precious insights passed by unnoticed, lost in the fog of worldly preoccupations.

Bhagavan constantly urged His devotees to live with intensity and integrity. He emphasized the need for regular sadhana (spiritual practice), the importance of discharging worldly duties with responsibility, and the pursuit of a life rooted in inner commitment. Each moment with Him was an opportunity to learn, to reflect, to transform. Yet, as is common in the human condition, most came to Him seeking relief from suffering, fulfillment of desires, or worldly success. He never denied them—His compassion was boundless—but He also served as a mirror. “Bhav Taisa Dev” He would say, meaning: As is your inner attitude, so will your experience of the Divine be.

Toward the end of His physical presence, He remarked with sorrow, “There is so much to give, but no takers.” The infinite treasure of spiritual wealth lay before all, but few recognized its value.

As the devotees sat in that hall, many quietly traveled back in time—to the moment they first met Him, the first words He spoke, the first glimpse of His divine form. They recalled the ways their lives had been shaped under His gaze—lives transformed not just by outward change, but by inner awakening. They also remembered their own shortcomings—the many lessons He gave, which they had often failed to put into practice. Yet, they knew that He had never left them. He had simply moved from the outer form into the inner sanctuary of their hearts.

Now, in the aftermath of His Mahasamadhi, they resolved to walk the path He had shown, with greater sincerity. His form remained enshrined within them, as they balanced their lives between Prapancha (worldly responsibilities) and Paramartha (spiritual pursuit). They came to realize that while His physical form had vanished, His guiding presence had only grown more subtle and expansive.

There’s a beautiful anecdote about Kullur Swami, who in his early years served Bhagavan Nityananda closely. Each evening, after bathing in the hot springs of Ganeshpuri, he would light camphor at every spot where Bhagavan had once sat or rested, continuing this ritual devotion until one day, Bhagavan called him and said, “What are you doing? That is not how one should pay obeisance. One must offer ‘Urvadanda Namaskara.’”

This instruction held deep meaning. ‘Urvadanda Namaskara’ can be interpreted in two ways: externally, as raising both arms above the head in surrender; and internally, as the yogic practice of Pranayama, where the prana is held between the eyebrows (ajna chakra), in Urvaswatch. Bhagavan was pointing him to the deeper form of worship, one rooted in spiritual practice, not just ritual. The true namaskara, He implied, is an inward journey—an act of merging the ego with the higher Self.

His was a unique ‘spiritual school’—no exams, no certificates—but those who absorbed His teachings, practised them, and lived them with sincerity were assured of spiritual graduation in the form of Jeevan Mukti (liberation while alive). Yet many believed that proximity alone—physical closeness—was sufficient for grace. They hoped to be ferried across the ocean of life without personal effort. But the Guru only lays the boat; the disciple must still row.

On another occasion, Bhagavan told Kullur Swami, “Ganeshpuri Nitya Darshan”—meaning, in Ganeshpuri, the Darshan is eternal and unbroken. Kullur Swami reflected on these words for years, and only much later, when his body had grown heavier and he struggled to ascend the steps to the Samadhi Mandir, did the true import become clear. Bhagavan was teaching that the Darshan of a Sadguru is not confined to physical eyes or locations. Simply coming to Ganeshpuri—even once—can bring ceaseless grace. For Bhagavan’s presence was not limited by time or space. It is Nitya—eternal.

Indeed, for such a Great One, there can be no “last Darshan.” He continues to live in every heart that remembers Him with love, in every home where His name is uttered with faith, in every act of compassion and selfless service done in His spirit. His voice echoes through the verses of sacred scriptures, through the speech of genuine teachers, through the laughter of innocent children, and the wisdom of realised souls.

Above all, He abides as the Inner Guru—the silent witness and eternal guide—within the depths of one’s own heart. Whenever two devotees gather and speak of His leela, He is present. Wherever His name is sung in bhakti, He responds. He is never absent.

His Darshan, therefore, is not a memory—it is a living reality. It spans not just this life, but many lifetimes. Bhagavan Nityananda remains forever accessible, free, and unconditional—open to all who invoke Him with sincerity. As Lord Krishna told Arjuna: “Declare it boldly, O Son of Kunti, that My devotee shall never perish,” so too can it be said of Bhagavan—His grace is unwavering and His hand ever extended to those who call upon Him, even in silence.