Conversation with Shree Padiyar Swami of Kanhangad

The Early Journey of Shri Madhav Padiyar and the G.S.B. Youths in Mumbai

In the 1940s, Mumbai was a land of opportunity for many young men from the Gowda Saraswat Brahmin (G.S.B.) community of coastal Karnataka. Among them was Shri Madhav Padiyar, who migrated from Karnataka in search of a livelihood. He had a relative, Shri Ramanath Naik, residing in Parel, Mumbai, who ran a modest snuff (tobacco powder) shop. Like many others in his situation, Shri Padiyar found initial shelter and support through family and community networks.

At that time, Shri Sitaram Shenoy, a well-known and respected member of the G.S.B. community, had established a gymnasium and several business ventures in Dongri, Mumbai. This gymnasium was more than a place for physical fitness—it became a haven for unemployed or newly arrived youths from Karnataka, providing them shelter, community, and initial sustenance. Many of these young men, including Shri Padiyar, found comfort in spending time at Shri Shenoy’s business establishments while they sought stable employment. These humble beginnings served as stepping stones for several such individuals who later became deeply spiritual and influential figures.

My Time with Shree Sadanand Swamiji in Kanhangad

Years later, I was deeply blessed to spend time with Shree Sadanand Swamiji, the same Madhav Padiyar, now transformed by spiritual austerities and Guru Kripa into a revered Sadhu. During my visits to Kanhangad, after the morning Arti and breakfast, I would often walk down to Kushal Nagar, to the bungalow where he resided. Swamiji would receive me warmly, and we would sit for hours. At times, I would also visit him after lunch. Our conversations, intimate and profound, were full of spiritual nourishment. He would often reflect on his time with Bhagavan Nityananda at Ganeshpuri, sharing cryptic statements and powerful insights that the Master had conveyed.

Teachings of Bhagavan Nityananda as Shared by Shree Padiyar Swamiji

One of the central teachings that Swamiji often repeated was Bhagavan’s emphasis on “Vivek and Buddhi”. Bhagavan would often say:

“Use your Vivek and Buddhi.”

When asked what exactly Vivek was, Bhagavan Nityananda would reply in his typical, succinct yet penetrating style:

“‘Vivek’ (Sookshma Vichar) is greater than Buddhi.”

Vivek (Discrimination or Discernment)

Vivek is not mere intellectual cleverness or logic. It is the subtle, intuitive ability to distinguish between the real and the unreal, the eternal and the ephemeral. It is what enables a Sadhak to see through the illusions of Maya and remain anchored in Satya (Truth). This discrimination forms the very foundation of the Vedantic path and is the first qualification of a seeker (Sadhak) aspiring for liberation (Moksha).

Swamiji explained that Bhagavan placed Vivek above Buddhi because it is the inner compass that keeps one aligned with Dharma, not just social or moral duty, but one’s true path in accordance with the divine law. Bhagavan would say:

“Pray to God that your Dharma is never Adharma.”

This simple sentence holds a world of meaning. Often, what appears as one’s duty in life might unknowingly lead one away from the path of righteousness. Hence, one must continually invoke Vivek to discern whether one’s chosen course is aligned with divine truth.

Buddhi (Intellect)

Buddhi, the intellect, is the faculty responsible for reasoning, analysis, and judgment. It is one of the four components of the Antahkarana (inner instrument)—along with Manas (mind), Chitta (memory), and Ahamkara (ego-identity).

While Buddhi allows us to process information and make decisions, Vivek gives context and spiritual clarity to those decisions. Buddhi may be clever, but only Vivek is wise. One can have a sharp intellect and still be bound by Avidya (ignorance) if there is no Viveka to guide it.

Swamiji beautifully explained that Vivek is like the inner conscience—the still, guiding voice that discriminates truth from falsehood—while Buddhi is the mental instrument that carries out decisions.

Application in Sadhana (Spiritual Practice)

In our lives, especially on the spiritual path, both Vivek and Buddhi must work together:

  • Vivek sets the direction—“This is right, this is true, this is eternal.”

  • Buddhi figures out the method—“How do I move in this direction? What choices must I make?”

Swamiji urged that we cultivate Vivek through regular Satsang, reflection, and surrender to the Guru. He would often stress that Bhagavan Nityananda didn’t give long lectures—His words were few, but when repeated and reflected upon, they revealed layers of truth.

What I received from Shree Sadanand Swamiji was not just memories, but living teachings—subtle, powerful instructions passed down from Bhagavan Nityananda through a heart refined by humility, service, and surrender. The words “Use your Vivek and Buddhi”, though seemingly simple, hold the key to navigating both the worldly and the spiritual life with grace, clarity, and righteousness.

In this age of noise and confusion, may we all pray for that rare gift—that our Dharma never be Adharma, and that our Buddhi be ruled by Vivek, not Ahamkara.

Upanishads – As Understood from Shree Padiyar Swamiji

Shree Padiyar Swamiji once recounted that in 1960, Bhagavan Nityananda instructed him to leave Mumbai and settle in Kanhangad. Having grown up in Karnataka and lived in Mumbai, Kerala was unfamiliar terrain. He neither knew Malayalam nor was he accustomed to the cultural nuances of that region. When he asked Bhagavan, “What should I do in Kanhangad?” Bhagavan promptly replied:


“Suvichar – Sit silently at one place and engage in Right Thinking.”

This cryptic yet profound instruction shaped the spiritual journey of Shree Padiyar Swamiji. After Bhagavan’s Mahasamadhi in August 1961, he moved to Kanhangad and initially stayed at the Ashram, assisting Shree Janananda Swamiji. He helped manage the Ashram’s affairs, including overseeing Balbhojan (children’s meals) and general administration. One day, Shree Janananda Swamiji called him, handed him the ochre robe, and initiated him into monkhood with the name “Sadananda”—the Ever-Joyful One.

I once asked Swamiji why he didn’t pursue formal scriptural studies. With a serene smile, he replied,


“If Bhagavan wanted me to study scriptures, He would have told me. Instead, He asked me to practice Suvichar—right thinking.”


He continued, sharing an incident where a young monk expressed the desire to study the Upanishads. Swamiji advised him:


“Don’t read the Upanishads to gain only knowledge. If you read them, you’ll become an expert in argument. But nobody wants fruitless arguments.”

Why Discourage Study of the Upanishads?

I probed further, and Swamiji explained something quite profound:


“Bhagavan was not against the study of scriptures, but He emphasized experience over erudition.”

Many read the scriptures and analyze them intellectually, but the deeper truths often remain unassimilated. The teachings never truly settle into the Antahkarana (inner instrument of perception comprising mind, intellect, ego, and memory). Before they reach the heart, the words escape through the mouth. The knowledge becomes something to speak about—not to live by.

Such individuals become excellent orators, capable of delivering mesmerising discourses on Vedanta, but they do not embody the wisdom. They become Acharyas, not Sadgurus. The words remain on the lips, never soaking into the being.

The Role of Upanishads – Pointers, Not Possessions

The Upanishads are the crown jewels of Hindu philosophy, illuminating concepts such as Brahman (the Absolute), Atman (the Self), Maya (illusion), and Moksha (liberation). But without deep contemplation (Atma Chintan) and experiential absorption, their message becomes reduced to parroting.

Swamiji said,


“Words are only pointers. They are not the truth. They point to something beyond themselves, to the state that must be realized, not memorized.”


When people cling to the words, they remain entangled in intellectual pride, rather than progressing toward inner silence and Self-realization.

Traditionally, the Upanishads were studied under the direct guidance of a Guru, where the nuances were passed not merely through discourse, but through transmission. Without this experiential transmission, knowledge remains superficial. It becomes Pustak Dnyan (book knowledge), but Bhagavan insisted on Mastak Dnyan—knowledge that has ripened through contemplation and settled into the being.

Bhagavan Nityananda’s Recommendations for Youth

When asked what youths should read, Bhagavan recommended:

  • The Bhagavad Gita – the eternal guide to dharma and spiritual balance,

  • The works of Swami Vivekananda, and

  • The teachings of Swami Ramteerth.

He would say,


“Read Vivekananda to learn how to balance worldly duties and spiritual aspirations.”


This practical Vedanta, grounded in action, devotion, and contemplation, was dear to Bhagavan.

Experience Over Expression

Swamiji emphasized:


“The path to Truth is not through arguments but through direct inner knowing.”


Scriptures can become a trap if they are only studied and not lived. The ego quickly clings to spiritual knowledge, creating a false identity of being a ‘knower’ or a ‘preacher.’ True transformation happens only when Viveka (discrimination), Suvichar (right thinking), and Silence become one’s living reality.

In essence, Shree Padiyar Swamiji’s insights reflect a great spiritual truth:

“Do not carry the words of Vedanta in your mouth. Carry their fragrance in your being.”

Bhagavan Nityananda’s instruction to engage in Suvichar was not an avoidance of scripture, but a pointer to its true goal: the living wisdom of the Self.

* Bhagavn used to say Mastak Dnyan is greater than Pustak Dnyan. This has to be read in that context.

Train: A Parable of Readiness and Right Effort

One day, a couple brought their teenage son to Shree Padiyar Swami, seeking his blessings and guidance. The boy, though intelligent, had a disinterested and indifferent temperament. He lacked the initiative to begin anything meaningful, and his parents were deeply concerned that such apathy would leave him stranded in life—spiritually and otherwise. Swamiji spoke to the boy patiently, encouraging him with kind firmness, sowing the seeds of self-belief and purpose.

After the family departed, Swamiji became quiet. I asked him what stirred his silence. He softly replied, “In life, nothing comes for free. One must exert, strive, and move. God helps, but only after we take the first step. Life is full of trains—opportunities constantly pass by—but if you just stand and watch, none will wait. I remembered Bhagavan, and that made me silent. He taught us so simply.”

Swamiji then shared one of Bhagavan Nityananda’s cryptic yet powerful teachings:

“The train does not speak. It does not ask you to take your seat.
You must buy your ticket, get ready, and get in.”

Thus,

1. The Train as Life’s Opportunities

In Bhagavan’s metaphor, the train represents the countless chances life offers for growth, for action, for inner transformation. Trains arrive and depart on schedule, indifferent to the passengers’ readiness. Likewise, life’s opportunities do not come with fanfare or extended invitations. They emerge quietly, perhaps just once. Those who are attentive and alert perceive them. Those who are lazy or indifferent miss them, and often, they do not return.

Bhagavan’s teaching breaks the illusion of entitlement: life owes us nothing unless we engage with it consciously and courageously. No Guru, no God, no external force can make us move if we ourselves are unwilling.

2. Readiness and Initiative: The Ticket to Progress

Swamiji emphasised that just as one must buy a ticket, pack, and reach the platform on time, in life too, one must prepare, both inwardly and outwardly.
Preparation involves:

  • Mental clarity about what one seeks

  • Emotional maturity to withstand delays, discomfort, or hardship

  • Willpower to act without hesitation

  • Spiritual receptivity to Guru’s Grace

The teaching warns us against procrastination—waiting for perfect circumstances, someone to accompany us, or a divine sign. “Get ready and get in” is a call to act decisively with faith and responsibility.

3. No Formality, No Announcement: Do It Now

In Bhagavan’s words, “The train does not ask us to take our seat,” lies a deep truth—don’t expect personalized cues or ceremonial beginnings. Life seldom lays a red carpet for our spiritual or material journeys. Most people waste precious years waiting for signs, confirmations, or an ideal setup. But the train won’t stop longer, nor will it wait for your self-doubt to resolve. If you are not on board, it moves on.

The one who succeeds is the one who acts. Whether on the path of knowledge (jnana), devotion (bhakti), service (karma), or meditation (dhyana), what matters is that you begin—sincerely and steadily.

4. God Walks With the Striver

Swamiji’s words echo an ancient spiritual truth:

“Take one step towards God, and He takes ten steps toward you.”

Bhagavan Nityananda lived this truth. Though ever-silent, He responded to inner sincerity and resolve. The train, while unmoved by laziness, carries the one who boards it to their destination. So does Grace—waiting, ever available, but never intrusive.

Even in spiritual life, Bhagavan never encouraged escapism or fatalism. His cryptic words were laced with profound Upadesh (teaching). He wanted us to live awake, to act, and to realise—not to float lazily on borrowed ideas or empty prayers.

5. A Sense of Urgency: Time Does Not Wait

Swamiji said with quiet force, “Life is like that. One must act with urgency. No ‘one day… someday…’ approach will do.”

The train is time. Time is motion. Delay is often loss. The opportunity of this birth, this moment, this inner prompting, may not return. When the call comes—whether to change our ways, to begin our sadhana, to leave a toxic path, or to follow the Guru—we must act. To hesitate is to risk never arriving.

Thus, the Grace Awaits the Prepared

Bhagavan Nityananda’s analogy of the train is deceptively simple but spiritually potent. It teaches us that effort and initiative are essential, even on the path of Grace. The Guru may point the way, open the doors, or wait on the other side—but the disciple must be the one to walk.

Swamiji concluded, “Bhagavan taught us without speaking much. His life was teaching. He left us no doctrine, no sect—only the force of his presence and the clarity of his vision. And he gave us simple truths like this… if only we understand them fully, we will never be stranded in life.”

Tortoise: The Silent Gaze of the Guru

When Bhagavan Nityananda instructed Shri Madhav Padiyar to leave Mumbai and settle in Kanhangad, the command came without explanation or assurance. At that time, Madhav was still a young seeker, unfamiliar with the path ahead. Naturally, questions arose in his mind: What would I do in an unfamiliar place? Who would take care of me? How would I even begin? Yet, such was the power of the Guru’s word that Madhav obeyed without protest. With unwavering faith and surrender, he left behind the familiar and stepped into the unknown, arriving in Kanhangad shortly after Bhagavan’s Mahasamadhi in 1961.

This complete obedience, free from inner resistance or demand for reassurance, marked the transformation of Madhav Padiyar into Shree Sadanand Swami. His life became a testament to the truth that the Guru’s presence is not limited to form, proximity, or speech. When I once asked Swamiji how he managed to live in a remote place, detached from all that was once familiar, he recalled what Bhagavan Nityananda used to tell young seekers in need of reassurance:

“The tortoise has ‘Koorma Drishti.’ It watches over its young ones from afar. Similarly, the Sadguru watches over the disciple—even from a great distance.”

Koorma Drishti – The Watchful Grace of the Sadguru

The analogy of the tortoise, with its mysterious and far-reaching gaze, is not merely zoological—it is deeply spiritual. In many Indic traditions, the tortoise (koorma) symbolises steadfastness, withdrawal of the senses (as seen in the Gita), and protective wisdom. But more than that, “Koorma Drishti” refers to a silent, all-encompassing awareness—a protective and guiding gaze that transcends physical nearness.

In the spiritual realm, a Sadguru does not merely teach through spoken words or rituals. The real transmission is subtle, energetic, and ever-active—even when the Guru appears to be absent. The Guru’s grace functions like the Koorma Drishti—quiet, unannounced, yet ever alert and attentive to the disciple’s inner journey.

Just as a tortoise, from beneath the surface, instinctively remains aware of its offspring’s safety, the Guru maintains a ceaseless vigil over the disciple’s spiritual growth. Not through control or interference, but through a higher field of awareness that responds whenever the disciple is inwardly attuned.

The Invisible Thread of Grace

This invisible connection between Guru and disciple is not one of mere sentiment—it is an unbreakable spiritual thread woven through trust, surrender, and divine will. Even if the disciple is thousands of miles away, even if the Guru is no longer in the body, the force of this connection endures. Bhagavan Nityananda’s life was full of such silent interventions—saving lives, answering prayers, and guiding souls—not through words, but through an unseen force that worked from within.

What the disciple must cultivate is Shraddha (faith) and Smarana (remembrance). Just as the young of the tortoise do not cry out for attention but thrive in their mother’s unseen care, so too the sincere disciple must trust in the Guru’s ever-present guidance and not waver in times of silence or solitude.

Living Under the Gaze

Shree Sadanand Swami’s life in Kanhangad was not marked by grand miracles or comforts—it was marked by quiet obedience, tapasya, and service. But what made it extraordinary was the abiding certainty that Bhagavan was watching, guiding, and shaping his journey—even from beyond the visible.

The Koorma Drishti is not just a metaphor—it is a living assurance that a true Sadguru does not abandon their disciples. They may withdraw their physical presence, but their gaze—rooted in omnipresence—remains ever upon the disciple, like a lighthouse in the distance that never ceases to shine.

Thus,

The tortoise does not speak, does not signal. But it watches, protects, and guides in silence. The Sadguru, too, does not always answer questions or provide clear signs. Yet, the disciple who walks with trust and surrender will come to know that they are never alone.

“The Koorma Drishti of the Guru is not seen with the eyes—it is felt with the soul.”

Let this truth give strength to all aspirants: that the path, though silent and often lonely, is illumined by the gaze of One who sees beyond time, beyond place, and beyond all separation.

Sthana – The Call to Return

When Shree Padiyar Swami recounted Bhagavan Nityananda’s teaching—“One may wander from place to place and make money, but ultimately, one must return to one’s own Sthana, one’s Moola Sthala”—he was pointing to a truth far greater than geography. His own journey from family life into Ashram life, from the bustle of Mumbai to the quietude of Ganeshpuri, was not just a change of place; it was a return to the origin within himself—a settling into his spiritual centre.

The Human Tendency to Wander

It is natural for human beings to explore, to seek meaning or stability in outer achievements. The world seduces the Jiva with its glittering promises—wealth, recognition, relationships, experiences. In this wandering, people often drift far from their Sthana, both outwardly and inwardly. Outwardly, they move across cities, roles, or ambitions. Inwardly, they become fragmented—separated from the still, silent root of their own being.

Yet, life itself—through its struggles, its hollow victories, and repeated disappointments—gently or abruptly redirects the seeker inward. This is the pull of the Moola Sthala. What begins as an escape or a search outward becomes a sacred summons inward—to find one’s place in the lap of the Guru, in the lap of the Self.

Moola Sthala – The Root Beyond Space

While Sthana may mean one’s geographical origin, Moola Sthala transcends time and place. It is the spiritual root—the source of one’s being. Bhagavan Nityananda did not bind people to a single physical location; rather, he transmitted a state. To return to one’s Moola Sthala means to awaken to one’s true identity beyond the mind, ego, or wandering desires.

Shree Sadanand Swami’s moment of inner clarity—when he dropped his bag after hearing Bhagavan’s simple question, “Where to? What for?”—is a moment every seeker must encounter. That was not just a question; it was a shakti-laden awakening. He saw that what he was seeking outwardly, the restlessness that made him consider leaving, was rooted in a false belief—that grace or transformation lay somewhere else. But in that moment, he returned—not just to Ganeshpuri, but to his own Sthana within.

Sthana as Spiritual Stability

Sthana also means inner stability. The Bhagavad Gita refers to Sthita-Prajna—a person of steady wisdom, one whose mind is no longer tossed by dualities. Such a person has returned to their spiritual home, no longer roaming restlessly in the wilderness of desires and doubts.

Shree Padiyar Swami’s realisation that nothing “special” was happening—no kriyas, no mystical visions, no initiations—was a powerful purification. It revealed that true transformation is not always dramatic. Sometimes, it is in the stillness, in the mundane repetition of seva and surrender, that one is slowly absorbed into the Guru’s being.

In that ordinariness lies the extraordinary alchemy of the Guru’s grace.

Homecoming – Not a Place, but a Realisation

To return to one’s Sthana is to realise: “I am already That which I seek.”
The Guru does not give anything new; he reveals what has always been. The outer wandering ends when the inner seeing begins.

This is the final journey of the soul—not across lifetimes or continents—but across the veils of ignorance, back to the source of Being. In this sense, Sthana is not only the place where one belongs, but also the state where the ego dissolves and only the Self remains.

As Shree Sadanand Swami saw through experience, the feet of the Guru are not a station to visit—they are the eternal Sthana, the unshakable Root, where all wandering ends.

To be continued ……………………………………..