The Blessings

 

The vast expanse of Anant—the Infinite Void—can appear daunting, even overwhelming, to those walking the spiritual path alone. It is like setting out on a journey without a map, amidst an endless sea without a shore. Yet, for the true seeker, Guru Krupa—the boundless grace of the Guru—becomes both compass and light. It is this divine grace that transforms the unknown into the known, the terrifying into the tender. Under its luminous presence, even the void becomes a sanctuary.

This grace was felt deeply by Raghunath Shenoy, who once humbly approached Bhagavan Nityananda with a heartfelt concern. He said, “O Deva, by Your grace, I have come to know You. But what about my children? Will they be left without Your love and blessings?” Bhagavan, ever the compassionate ocean of truth, smiled gently. He responded, “The seeds have already been sown in them. In time, they will grow into trees and bear beautiful flowers.” Such was the assurance of a Sadguru—not only seeing the visible but knowing the unseen, tending to not just the disciple before Him, but to generations yet to come.

Another moment of indescribable tenderness unfolded many years later in Kailash Ashram. A simple mother named Sunita Shenoy, who had once fed Bhagavan daily when He was a young wandering boy in Kanhangad, now found herself at His lotus feet. Time had passed, but Krupa remains timeless. Sitting quietly near His favourite chair, she folded her hands in reverence, her eyes reflecting both devotion and motherly affection. Bhagavan looked upon her with a gaze full of compassion and silent knowing. Through gestures alone—without uttering a single word—He asked repeatedly, “What do you want? What is your heart’s wish?” He inclined and stretched out His hand

In response, Sunita Shenoy did not speak. She needed no words. With tears glistening in her eyes, she gently clasped His divine palm in both her hands and touched it to her forehead. Her silent prayer was clear: “Your Endless Compassion for us, and abundance for my children.” A mother’s heart speaks in silence, and a Sadguru listens through the heart. What passed between them in that quiet moment transcended language—it was the pure communion between the Divine and a devotee, between a son and the mother who once fed Him with love.

To those from the Gowd Saraswat Brahmin tradition, this gesture held deep cultural and spiritual significance. In ancient times, our Dharma Gurus would place their feet upon the heads of disciples in blessing, much like Lord Mahavishnu placing His divine foot upon King Bali’s head in His Vamana Avatar—a symbolic act of surrender, grace, and upliftment. When Bhagavan blessed Sunita Shenoy in this silent, reverent manner, it was more than just gratitude. It was pratyaksha anugraha—visible grace. She had served Him as a young boy, and He, in turn, conferred upon her the highest return—a mother’s prayer fulfilled through Divine assurance. It echoed the love and devotion of Baljabai as described in the Sai Satcharita, where simple acts of service are rewarded with eternal grace.

These divine exchanges between Bhagavan and His devotees reveal the profound depth of the Guru-disciple relationship—a bond that is not confined by the rules of time or space. It is a sacred thread that continues unbroken through lifetimes, sustained by Shraddha (faith) and Bhakti (devotion).

Raghunath Shenoy once asked Bhagavan Nityananda, “How will future generations come to know about You?” Bhagavan responded, “A child will be born in the future and will write the Charitra.”

Raghunath Shenoy once asked Bhagavan a question born of deep concern and foresight: “How will future generations come to know You, O Deva?” Bhagavan, who sees across the veils of time, smiled and said, “A child will be born in the future and will write the Charitra—My biography.” With these words, He planted yet another seed—this time in time itself—destined to sprout as a sacred narrative for future seekers.

Raghunath Shenoy with folded hands near Baba's head.

Raghunath Shenoy with folded hands near Baba’s head.

In the early days, Bhagavan was easily accessible. Devotees could walk into His presence freely, bring Him food, speak their minds, and offer prayers. He would partake in these offerings personally. But as His fame spread and His following grew, this intimacy began to fade. The once freely flowing river of access was now dammed by the sheer number of seekers.

On one such occasion, Ratnakar Shenoy, echoing the nostalgia many devotees felt, sighed and said, “It was once so easy to reach You, Deva. Whatever we offered, You accepted.” Bhagavan’s reply was both profound and instructive: “Does it truly matter whether you meet ‘This One’ or not? Whether ‘This One’ eats or doesn’t eat, it is all the Same.” In this response lay a hidden teaching—that the form is but a shadow of the formless, and that attachment to ritual must eventually evolve into surrender to the essence.

On yet another day, some devotees lamented, “It has become difficult to come to Ganeshpuri for Your darshan.” Bhagavan, ever still and all-pervading, replied calmly: “Is ‘This One’ not wherever you are?” These words shattered the illusion of distance. For the true devotee, Bhagavan is not in a faraway shrine or temple—He is within, ever-present, nearer than breath, closer than thought.

Indeed, we were blessed to receive His final physical blessings—Saguna Krupa—in the months leading to His Mahasamadhi. After April 1961, signs of Bhagavan’s withdrawal became clearer. Shaligram Swamiji had already entered Samadhi, and Bhagavan too began to retreat into Silence. During this period, Raghunath Shenoy, aware of the shift, often prayed not just for his own rebirth but for the liberation and welfare of his children.

Yet the compassion of a true Guru knows no lineage or limits. The grace Raghunath sought was not his alone—it was a prayer offered on behalf of all seekers, all children, all generations. For Bhagavan Nityananda’s grace is universal. Whether one has seen Him in the body or not, His love flows equally to all hearts that call upon Him with sincerity.

As my father often said with unwavering conviction, “He is the one God who comes at your beck and call. Simply call out to Him, and He will be there.” Bhagavan is Bhaktavatsala—the eternal lover of His devotees, Deendayalu—the savior of the helpless, and Krupalu—the ever-compassionate one. Like Lord Vitthal of Pandharpur, Bhagavan Nityananda stands waiting, patiently, lovingly, for His devotees to come to Him. And for those who take even two steps in His direction, He takes ten in return.

In the quiet spaces of our lives, in times of despair or longing, it is this assurance that sustains us: Bhagavan’s arms are always open, His presence ever near. Call to Him, even in silence, and He shall answer—not through thunder or vision always, but often in the soft unfolding of life itself, in the whisper of a dream, in the stillness of a moment, or in the simple peace of knowing, He is here.