Conversation with Shree Sadanand Swami Part -IV

Shri Madhav Padiyar: A Disciple Moulded by Destiny

Shri Madhav Padiyar was born on the auspicious day of Hanuman Jayanti, a subtle indication, perhaps, that his life would be deeply intertwined with the energy of devotion, service, strength, and above all, with Shree Rama—the very name Bhagavan Nityananda was known by in His childhood days. Whether by chance or divine design, Prarabdha (destiny) had set the course for him: he was to be not just a witness but an active participant in the divine play (Leela) of one of the greatest spiritual masters of the age.

Even from a young age, Shri Padiyar was noted for his sharp intellect, acute attentiveness, and deep contemplative nature. Life within the large and vibrant Shenoy family offered him an early exposure to diversity in thought and behaviour. Later, his years spent in Ganeshpuri, the sacred land sanctified by Bhagavan’s presence, further honed his awareness. There, he came in contact with devotees from all walks of life—ascetics, householders, intellectuals, seekers, and even sceptics—who flocked to Bhagavan Nityananda. This exposure made him not just worldly-wise, but also perceptive, observant, and analytical in the true Vedantic sense.

What truly set Shri Padiyar apart, however, was the remarkable spiritual privilege he enjoyed: he became a silent student in the virtual class of the Parabrahma, Bhagavan Nityananda. Unlike traditional Gurus who expounded scriptures, Bhagavan rarely spoke. His method was silence, His presence the teaching. Yet, on certain occasions, when coaxed by devotees, Bhagavan would speak—and when He did, His words flowed with the force of divine knowledge.

Once drawn into conversation, Bhagavan would become a fountain of insight, speaking on a vast array of subjects that would confound even the most erudite: from His travels across the subcontinent and foreign lands, to the customs and spiritual traditions of various Indian regions; from world events like the great wars to prophetic insights on the future of nations; from astrology, astronomy, and numerology to the inner meanings of spiritual sadhana and the lives of the great saints of India. These sessions often extended into the late hours of the night, and Shri Padiyar, who had the honour of massaging Bhagavan’s legs during these intimate moments, absorbed every word with the heart of a disciple and the mind of a seeker.

What makes Shri Padiyar’s life so compelling is that he not only received these rare transmissions directly from Bhagavan, but he also retained them with astonishing clarity. His memory was crystalline—he could recall, almost verbatim, the words, tone, and context of Bhagavan’s teachings. Over time, something even more remarkable occurred: his very being began to mirror Bhagavan’s presence. His speech, gestures, mannerisms, pauses, and expressions bore an uncanny resemblance to Bhagavan Himself. This was not imitation; it was absorption—the result of deep spiritual intimacy.

In all my years of encountering the devotees of Bhagavan Nityananda, I found he embodied an intense inner connection, reinforced by both intellect and devotion, recollection and realisation. Shri Padiyar was truly unique, a devotee whose life became a living echo of the Master.

The Holy Trinity of Ganeshpuri: The Three Leelas of the Lord

Ganeshpuri, the land sanctified by Bhagavan Nityananda’s footsteps, contains three sacred spots, each a gateway to a different divine aspect, reflecting the threefold manifestation of the Supreme—Brahma, Vishnu, and Mahesh—unified in Shree Dattatreya, the primal Guru of the Nath tradition.

At each of these three places, Bhagavan expressed a distinct mode of divine expression, as though the very Trinity had descended in Him:

1. Vaikuntha – The Abode of Vishnu

At the present-day Samadhi Shrine, known as Vaikuntha, Bhagavan Nityananda manifested the majestic and preserving aspect of Mahavishnu. His personality here was powerful, commanding, and filled with divine authority. Like Vishnu, the cosmic sustainer, Bhagavan was a disciplinarian-not—not in severity, but in divine firmness. He was like a divine mother and father in one form—immeasurably loving, yet unhesitant to chastise when necessary. His words were sharp and clear, not to wound but to awaken. He upheld Dharma within the community of devotees, ensuring purity and sincerity.

He loved children dearly, like Vishnu in His Krishna form, often watching over them with soft eyes and divine indulgence. But He also monitored the inner tendencies of adults. Devotees who erred or got carried away with pride or dishonesty would be corrected with pinpoint precision. His darbar (divine court) at Vaikuntha was a sanctum of divine order—a refuge for the humble and a forge for the ego.

Those who approached with open hearts and surrendered minds experienced immense transformation. The power at Vaikuntha was palpable—devotees often describe the spiritual heat, the electric stillness, and the way Bhagavan’s gaze alone could pierce layers of delusion. In this abode, He was the Lord Vishnu of the Kali Yuga—protecting the path of Bhakti and lifting devotees from the mire of worldly suffering.

2. Kailash – The Seat of Shiva

From Vaikuntha, Bhagavan eventually moved to a place known to the devotees as Kailash. Here, His nature shifted dramatically, like the shift from daylight to moonlight. He embodied Lord Shiva—silent, detached, and absorbed in the Self (Atmarama). If Vaikuntha was a field of spiritual instruction and discipline, Kailash was a space of mystical stillness and compassionate allowance.

In this space, Bhagavan became more introverted, often lost in deep absorption. He sat in silence for hours, sometimes days, embodying the supreme ascetic. Here, He allowed devotees greater freedom. There was no outer show of power, no overt direction, just the silent current of presence that drew seekers into inner inquiry.

Notably, the devotees who frequented Kailash reflected regional and cultural differences. Those from Gujarat, full of devotional warmth and a child-like familiarity, would coax Bhagavan into conversation, ask questions about His life, request favours, and even joke with Him. Bhagavan allowed them this liberty—like Bhola Shankar, the ever-accessible one, He accepted all approaches with equanimity.

In contrast, devotees from South India and Maharashtra, perhaps due to their traditional reverence for Gurus, maintained more formality. They sat quietly, observed silence, and avoided casual familiarity. Yet Bhagavan, in His Shiva-swarupa, accepted all without judgment.

Kailash was not a place of words—it was a space where ego dissolved in the presence of the formless, where seekers could sit and absorb the subtle essence of Advaita without even realising it.

3. Brahmapuri – The Final Ascent

Fifteen days before His Mahasamadhi, Bhagavan shifted to a modest dwelling in the Bangalorewala Building, which He Himself referred to as Brahmapuri—the Abode of Brahman. It was here that Bhagavan entered the culmination of His divine journey, no longer as Guru, Deva, or Avadhoota, but as Parabrahman, the formless and eternal Truth.

His words in those days reflected His transcendence:

“The journey was from Sadhu to Swami, Swami to Deva, and from Deva to Bhagavan. Now—Sthir Samadhi, Sthir Samadhi, Sthir Samadhi.”

At Brahmapuri, Bhagavan was mostly withdrawn into His own eternal Self. The grandeur of Vishnu and the austerity of Shiva dissolved into the formless expanse of pure Consciousness. He neither engaged much with devotees nor showed any sign of worldly connection. This was the final Leela—the merging with the Infinite.

On 27th July 1961, the auspicious day of Guru Purnima, Bhagavan celebrated the occasion one last time. The date was also significant as it fell close to Ashadi Ekadashi (around 23rd July), a holy day for devotees of Panduranga and the saints of the Varkari tradition. It was as though He was tying all spiritual traditions into one final knot, before untying Himself from the body.

On 8th August 1961 at 10:43 a.m., in complete silence and stillness, He entered Sthir Samadhi, merging into the Supreme Brahman. It was not death, but a conscious and willed departure—the final act of the Mahavatar.

At Brahmapuri, He was not merely the Master—He was That which even the Gods meditate upon. The Nirguna, Nirakara, Eternal One.

  • Vaikuntha – Mahavishnu: Disciplinarian, protector, nurturing but firm. A divine king and mother rolled into one. Here, He upheld Dharma.

  • Kailash – Bholenath (Shiva): Introverted, silent, accepting all. Embodied renunciation and universal compassion.

  • Brahmapuri – Parabrahman: The Absolute. The final transcendence beyond all form and function, beyond even Leela.

These three divine expressions are not separate—they are facets of the One Eternal, revealed through Bhagavan Nityananda’s divine play. Those who were blessed to witness even a glimpse of these phases did not just see a saint—they saw the Trinity come alive in one body.

4. Panch Amba – The Vishranti Sthan (Place of Rest) of Bhagavan Nityananda

Amidst the divinely charged geography of Ganeshpuri, there lies a quiet and unassuming corner opposite Gandhi Pada, known as Panch Amba—meaning “Five Mango Trees.” Though lesser-known and often overlooked, this spot holds profound significance in the daily leela of Bhagavan Nityananda.

In the earlier days of Ganeshpuri, when the village was still cloaked in wilderness and simplicity, Bhagavan Himself supervised the construction of the village road. It is said that the concrete road He laid down with divine precision and foresight lasted over 75 years without needing repairs—a miraculous feat, not just of engineering, but of Yogic Sankalpa (willpower). Devotees who walked those roads felt they were not just stepping on cement and stone, but upon the very will of the Guru made manifest.

As part of His daily walks, Bhagavan would often pause at Panch Amba, beneath the shade of the five mango trees. It was here that He would rest for a while, in serene silence. For a few moments, the all-knowing, all-seeing Bhagavan—the guardian of the universe—allowed His physical body to repose, and in that stillness, the earth beneath absorbed His vibrations.

This simple act of resting under the mango trees transformed the spot into a Vishranti Sthan—a sacred space where Bhagavan’s divine energies of peace, quietude, and balance still linger. Though there was no discourse, no public darshan, no miracles performed, the very presence of Bhagavan resting here made this spot sacred beyond measure.

Today, a small Kutir (cottage) marks this blessed space. A photograph of Bhagavan is placed inside, and a lamp is lit daily, keeping alive the sacred memory of His visits. One can still feel a deep sense of tranquillity and timelessness while sitting there, as if Bhagavan is still silently watching over His devotees from beneath the unseen branches of the Panch Amba.

And yet, despite its spiritual importance, the Trustees have not given this spot the due reverence it deserves. While the grandeur of temples and Samadhis draws crowds, this humble resting place remains hidden in plain sight, waiting for the day when its sanctity will be formally acknowledged and honoured.

But perhaps that is in keeping with Bhagavan’s own nature—silent, hidden, yet all-pervading. For those with eyes to see and hearts to feel, Panch Amba is no less than a Tapovana, a grove where the invisible Guru still rests, watches, and blesses.

In the Map of the Sacred in Ganeshpuri:

  • Vaikuntha – Bhagavan as Vishnu, majestic and guiding.

  • Kailash – Bhagavan as Shiva, silent and accepting.

  • Brahmapuri – Bhagavan as Parabrahman, transcendent and eternal.

  • Panch Amba – Bhagavan as the Compassionate Sadguru, resting yet alert, grounded yet cosmic, pausing momentarily amid His ceaseless work for the upliftment of all beings.

Similarly, Bhagavan called Ramanatheswar Temple at Akroli is Mathura; Vajreshwari is Brindavan and Ganeshpuri is Gokul. (What Swami Nithyananda, looked upon by many as an incarnation of Sreekrishna, said years later).

Swami Nityananda’s statement draws a symbolic parallel between these sacred places and significant locations in the life of Lord Krishna:

  1. Ramanatheswar Temple at Akroli as Mathura:

“Mathura”—in the sacred lore of Krishna—is the place of divine birth, the gateway from the transcendent to the manifest world. It was here that Lord Krishna took birth in prison, symbolising the descent of the Divine into limitation, and then the beginning of a divine mission amidst darkness and oppression.

By referring to the Ramanatheswar Temple in Akroli as Mathura, Bhagavan Nityananda was revealing a spiritual parallel:

  • This temple, dedicated to Lord Shiva as Ramanatheswar, was a place frequented by Bhagavan in His early years at Ganeshpuri-Akroli.

  • It was a space charged with tapas (austerity), silence, and power—a symbolic womb of spiritual transformation.

  • Mathura, being the starting point of Lord Krishna’s Leela, represents the awakening of the Divine Consciousness within the limitations of body and place.

  • Similarly, Ramanatheswar Temple was the place where Bhagavan silently orchestrated the beginning of many inner journeys for seekers.

  • It is also where Bhagavan, the Parabrahma, in His subtle form as Nityakriya Shakti, blessed the space with the impulse of spiritual rebirth for many who came in contact with Him there.

In essence, Akroli’s Ramanatheswar Temple stands as the gateway where Bhagavan Nityananda’s divine mission in Ganeshpuri truly began, just as Krishna’s mission began in Mathura.

 

  

6th Spot: Vajreshwari – The Brindavan of Divine Play and Grace

Brindavan, where Krishna spent His childhood, is the land of Leela, love, joy, and the spontaneous play of the Divine. It is the symbol of Bhakti (devotion), Ras (divine nectar), and Ananda (bliss).

Vajreshwari, a few kilometres from Ganeshpuri, is:

  • The abode of Shree Vajreshwari Devi, a Shakti Peetha, and a sacred center of Devi worship.

  • This spot has natural hot water springs, long believed to have healing powers.

  • Bhagavan Nityananda would often walk from Ganeshpuri to Vajreshwari, barefoot, radiating divine energy and bestowing grace on all.

By calling Vajreshwari as Brindavan, Bhagavan was pointing to:

  • The field of Divine Play, where Shakti dances in devotion and grace.

  • Brindavan is the heart of Bhakti; Vajreshwari, with its Shakti presence and association with natural healing, represents the healing power of divine love and the blessings of the Goddess.

  • Just as Krishna danced with the Gopis, spreading joy, Bhagavan’s presence in Vajreshwari invoked spontaneous devotion, tears, laughter, and transformation in devotees.

Thus, Vajreshwari is not just a place to visit, but a sacred garden of Bhakti, where the heart of the seeker is drawn into the rasa of devotion and surrender, akin to the Brindavan of Krishna.

7th Spot: Ganeshpuri – The Gokul of Nurturing the Divine Child

Gokul was where Yashoda and Nanda raised Krishna, away from the dangers of Mathura. It is the abode of innocence, sweetness, divine mischief, and early miracles. It is where the Divine Child begins to express His nature to the world.

In Ganeshpuri, Bhagavan Nityananda established Shree Krishna Temple and Shree Bhadra Kali Temple. Shree Krishna installed behind the Samadhi Shrine is just at the same level as Bhagavan’s body is placed in the Samadhi. Bhagavan, Krishna and Kali have a deep relationship. Captain Hatangdi said, Bhagavan Nityananda is Mahakal and Bhadrakali followed Him to Ganeshpuri

In Ganeshpuri, Bhagavan Nityananda:

  • Was deeply involved with the daily lives of the villagers, blessing them in silence and giving glimpses of His divine nature.

  • Played with children, gave food, solved worldly problems, yet never identified Himself as anyone particular.

  • This is the place where His divine leela unfolded in full, from silence to speech, from invisibility to divine recognition.

  • Like Bala Krishna, Bhagavan would playfully appear, disappear, give miracles without acknowledgement, admonish with love, and guide with a glance.

Calling Ganeshpuri as Gokul reveals:

  • The nurturing of the Divine Child within each devotee—Ganeshpuri is a place where one’s spiritual infancy is held, nourished, and matured.

  • It is where seekers first taste the unconditional love of the Sadguru, where fear dissolves in the embrace of divine innocence.

  • Here, Bhagavan was the accessible Krishna, living among the people, full of compassion, sometimes humorous, sometimes commanding, always divine.

Kailash Bhavan - GaneshpuriKailash Bhavan – Ganeshpuri

Bhagavan’s choice to correlate His own divine leelas with the geography of Krishna’s life speaks not merely of symbolism, but of His inner identity as the Purna Avatara, who, like Krishna, transcended human form to become the Eternal Nurturer of Dharma, Bhakti, and Jnana.

Happiness and Contentment – The True Boon to Seek

Once, in the quiet, grace-filled presence of Shree Padiyar Swami, we posed a simple question that carries deep spiritual implications:
“What should one ask from God?”

Without hesitation, Padiyar Swami recalled the timeless guidance of Bhagavan Nityananda, who would respond to such inquiries with a word that encapsulates the essence of spiritual maturity:
“Ask for Samādhān — contentment.”

The Inner Wealth of Samādhān

In a world where people chase after success, pleasure, wealth, power, and even mystical experiences, Bhagavan pointed toward something far more subtle yet infinitely more valuable — Samādhān. This Sanskrit term goes beyond mere satisfaction. It means:

  • Inner resolve

  • Equanimity

  • Mental peace born from spiritual clarity

  • A heart that has accepted life as it is, without resistance

Bhagavan would often say:

“Without Thripthi (inner satisfaction), there can be no true Sukha (happiness). Contentment is the very root of peace.”

In contrast to the fleeting pleasures of the senses or accomplishments of the ego, contentment is not dependent on external circumstances. It is an inner alignment with the Divine will, where one ceases to demand and begins to surrender.

The Pendulum of Pleasure and Pain

Bhagavan’s insight pierces through the fundamental illusion that sustains human suffering: the belief that happiness is permanent and sorrow is avoidable.

He taught that:

  • Pleasure and pain are like two sides of the same coin.

  • Every joy we experience eventually gives way to some form of loss, and every sorrow, too, passes into new joy.

  • This endless shuttling — between sukha (joy) and duḥkha (sorrow) — is the restless rhythm of samsara, the worldly cycle.

But what can rise above this oscillation? What can bring stability in a world of shifting dualities?

Samādhān — contentment.
It is not the denial of sorrow nor the clinging to pleasure, but a transcendence of both.

The Sādhaka’s Compass: Equanimity

For a sādhaka (spiritual aspirant), this teaching is vital.

  • Without contentment, one is forever reacting — elated in success, dejected in failure, hopeful in gain, anxious in loss.

  • But with contentment, one remains centred in all circumstances.

  • The mind is no longer tossed about by the waves of praise or blame, gain or loss.

  • True sadhana begins when the heart is content. Only then can one focus inward, beyond the drama of the outer world.

Shree Padiyar Swami would often say:

“Bhagavan never asked people to give up life or responsibilities. But He asked them to become still within, to accept and to abide in that acceptance. Bhagavan laid emphasis on doing one’s duty and insisted, “Duty First””

This inner stillness is the field in which the Divine reveals itself.

When God Appears… What Should We Ask?

If one were to stand before the Divine and be offered any boon, Bhagavan Nityananda said:

“Ask for Samādhān.”

Not powers, not visions, not long life, not even liberation. For true liberation lies in contentment itself. A content heart is already free—free from craving, from agitation, from the tyranny of desire.

In that freedom, peace becomes one’s natural state, and joy arises not from the world, but from within.

 The Peace Beyond Circumstance

Bhagavan Nityananda’s guidance is thus not a moral prescription but a spiritual compass. In a world that constantly pulls the mind outward — toward comparison, ambition, restlessness — He points us inward, toward the still flame of contentment.

This is not resignation, but transcendent acceptance—a divine affirmation of what is.

In Samādhān, the sādhaka discovers that happiness is not something to be acquired, but something to be uncovered — within the heart that no longer seeks, but simply abides.

Guruvanam — The Hidden Flame of Tapoloka

When we spoke to Shree Padiyar Swami about the sacred grove of Guruvanam near Kanhangad, he gently revealed glimpses of its mystery, sanctity, and divine purpose. He said:

“Guruvanam was given by Nileshwar Thamburan. Vishnu did penance there. It is Hari Vas — the abode of the Divine.”

Though today it is known to many as a place touched by the spiritual vibrations of Bhagavan Nityananda, few truly understand the depth of its sanctity. It is not merely a physical location. It is Tapoloka — a place where divine energies reside silently, unseen, unmoved by the noise of the world.

Bhagavan in Guruvanam – The Silent Presence

Shree Padiyar Swami confirmed that Bhagavan Nityananda spent some time in Guruvanam, in deep absorption. But unlike ordinary seekers who undertake penance to reach higher states, Bhagavan was already in that state — effortlessly, eternally.

“People say Bhagavan did Tapasya in Guruvanam. But those who truly knew Him would never say so,” Swamiji clarified.
“Bhagavan was a Janmasiddha — a born Siddha. He had no need to perform Tapasya. He was the embodiment of Swayamsiddha, self-illumined, complete in Himself.”

While others wandered the path of sadhana seeking glimpses of Truth, Bhagavan was that Truth walking among us, cloaked in simplicity, speaking little, observing all.

The Guruvanam, of which people speak with reverence, was not the cause of Bhagavan’s spiritual attainment — it was merely graced by His presence, just as the Ganga is sanctified by the touch of Lord Vishnu’s feet.

The Young Seekers and the Lost Paths

In those early days, Guruvanam was a thick, untamed jungle, sparsely populated by Adivasi families. There were no clear paths. Devotees who heard whispers of Bhagavan’s presence would venture into the forest, often losing their way.

When such seekers were disoriented and frightened, Bhagavan would calmly say:

“Call out to Rama. He will guide you.”

In that moment, Rama was not only the name of Lord Vishnu — it was His own name as a child. Locals lovingly called young Nityananda “Rama” or “Raman.” The simplicity of this advice concealed a profound truth: the One we seek externally is none other than the Self within — Rama — the inner guide.

Beyond Distinctions — The Nature of Nityananda

In his elevated state, Shree Padiyar Swami spoke passionately, even protectively, about Bhagavan’s stature:

“People do not understand the true nature of Bhagavan Nityananda. He was not just a Siddha, but an Avatarapurusha, a Mahaavatara, beyond the framework of traditional yogis or saints.”

“He had no Guru, no disciple. He was formless Consciousness in human appearance, not bound by caste, creed, gender, or religion.”

To apply human classifications like “liberal,” “orthodox,” or even “teacher” to Him is to miss the point. Bhagavan was like the sky — ungraspable, indivisible, infinite.

Swamiji added with humility:

“Even I do not call myself His disciple. I am just a devotee, drawn to His Light.”

The Mystery of the Caves and the Energy of the Land

Guruvanam, Bhagavan revealed, was no ordinary forest. According to Him:

  • The Pandavas had lived here during their exile.

  • There is a hidden palace beneath the ground — a subterranean echo of ancient dharma.

  • One cave leads deep into the earth toward Kashi Vishwanath, a symbolic link between southern Tapasya and northern Moksha.

  • The lower cave once held a skeleton of a Sadhu in Padmasana, a silent witness to long-forgotten penance.

When Bhagavan excavated this cave, He ordered the skeleton respectfully removed and commanded the mouth of the cave to be closed with a brick wall. The lower cave, He said, is not to be entered or used for meditation. The energies there are not suited for the unprepared, and unwise trespass into such sacred ground could lead to disturbances, both mental and spiritual.

The Future Vision — A University of Inner Light

While speaking of the Kanhangad Ashram, Shree Padiyar Swami said something remarkable:

“In future times, this place will become a University for young Sadhaks. Each cave will host a seeker, immersed in silence, deepening in their inner journey.”

Association of Caves with Chakras in Kanhangad Ashram

Of late, some individuals have begun to associate the sacred caves at the Kanhangad Ashram with the concept of Chakras—the subtle energy centres within the human body as described in yogic and tantric traditions. According to these interpretations, each cave is linked to a specific Chakra, and it is suggested that a devotee should choose to meditate in a cave corresponding to the Chakra that requires purification or activation. They propose that such alignment could aid in one’s spiritual or energetic progress.

While such theories may emerge from personal experiences or well-intentioned efforts to draw symbolic correlations, it is important to approach these ideas with discernment. To the best of our knowledge, neither Bhagavan Nityananda nor Swami Janananda ever explicitly spoke of any such connection between the caves and the Chakra system. The idea of “Chakra-specific caves” does not appear in any recorded teachings, sayings, or gestures of Bhagavan. In my own numerous visits to Shree Padiyar Swamiji, a close disciple of Bhagavan and an enlightened master in his own right, there was never any mention of this idea either. Had this association been a part of the intended spiritual methodology of the ashram, one of these realised beings would likely have spoken of it.

Bhagavan Nityananda created the caves not to represent esoteric energy centres but as spaces of intense spiritual energy, sanctified through His presence, His austerities, and His silence. These were not symbolic representations, but living expressions of His tapasya (penance) and the spiritual stillness (mauna) He embodied. The simplicity and austerity of the caves mirror the directness and purity of His teachings.

We must remember: the actions of the great Masters are not always meant to be interpreted through our own limited frameworks. While the spiritual path certainly encourages inner exploration, it also demands humility and reverence. Superimposing modern or speculative interpretations onto the work of the Masters risks diluting the original intent and can lead seekers away from the essence of their guidance.

Therefore, while it is not necessary to outright reject what others may experience or believe, it is crucial that we refrain from projecting our own symbolic meanings onto the legacy of the Master. The spiritual path is not one of mental constructs, but of inner stillness, direct experience, and surrender. Let us honour the sanctity of the caves by approaching them with the same spirit of silence, surrender, and self-effacement that Bhagavan Himself lived and encouraged in others.

Shree Padiyar Swami emphasised: Guruvanam is not for everyone. It is a field of intense energy, meant only for advanced Sadhaks who have undergone inner purification and training.

“It is not a place for adventurers or spiritual tourists. Guruvanam will open its truth only to those who approach with reverence, maturity, and surrender.”

 The Silent Ashram of the Eternal One

Guruvanam stands today — silent, sacred, mysterious. To the casual eye, it is a forested area. To the reverent, it is a shrine of Bhagavan’s Presence. The winds carry His Bhava. The stones hum with His stillness. And the caves conceal layers of ancient penance and the living vibration of Chitshakti.

Bhagavan Nityananda never claimed Guruvanam as His tapobhoomi — because He had no beginning to His tapas. He was always That — eternal, infinite, and untouched by effort or evolution.

“He is Amar (Eternal), Anant (Endless), Chiranjeeva (Immortal), Swayamsiddha (Self-realized).”

May seekers approach this sacred land not with curiosity, but with humility. Not to explore, but to empty themselves — so that, perhaps, like a whisper through the leaves, His Grace may be heard.

Think of Only the Good in Others

Shree Padiyar Swami once spoke with deep emotion and earnestness on a principle that formed the very heart of Bhagavan Nityananda’s way of being: “Think only of the good in others.” This was not merely moral advice—it was a revelation into the consciousness of a perfected being. He said, “Bhagavan never saw avaguna (faults or bad qualities) in anyone. He only recognised shuddha-guna (pure, noble qualities).”

Swamiji was responding to a heartfelt question: “Why is there so much negativity even around holy places?” His answer revealed a subtle truth—light and shadow coexist, even in places of sanctity. Just as fire attracts both the seeker and the moth, so too do spiritual spaces draw the sincere aspirant as well as the opportunist. But to dwell on the presence of flaws is to miss the deeper opportunity—to transform, uplift, and align oneself with higher principles.

Swamiji emphasised that Bhagavan Nityananda did not judge. Though He had the vision to see one’s Purvasanchit karma (accumulated karmas from past births) and Samskaras (deep-seated tendencies), He responded only with compassion and transformative intent. He offered a path, a possibility—but never imposed. The choice remained with the individual. And with that opportunity came responsibility.

“The Guru gives only one chance. If you miss it, no second chance will come,” Bhagavan would sometimes say. But this wasn’t a threat. It was a spiritual law. The Sadguru, seeing beyond time, offers the exact moment of alignment needed for growth. If the disciple responds with ego or indifference, the opportunity passes—perhaps never to return in this lifetime.

Swamiji was clear: living in a sacred place, meeting a Master, or even outwardly following a Guru does not guarantee transformation. Without discipline, without deep self-reflection (Atmachintan), and without sincere inner practice, proximity to greatness can ironically feed the very ego that spiritual life seeks to dissolve. This is why even holy places seem to have tensions, conflicts, and deception—because the inner readiness of individuals varies.

Bhagavan Nityananda saw all beings as manifestations of the One Consciousness. He made no distinction based on caste, creed, gender, wealth, or virtue. Everyone was seen in their essential purity, regardless of their outer conduct. He chose to focus on the possibility of transformation in each soul. This divine vision is not about ignoring the truth of someone’s current behaviour, but about holding a deeper truth—that each being carries a spark of the Divine and can awaken.

Thus, thinking only of the good in others is not naivety—it is a practice in divine vision. It requires a shift in one’s Bhavana (inner attitude). It is about replacing judgment with curiosity, criticism with compassion, and opinion with patience. It’s about seeing not what is visible, but what is possible.

Swamiji would remind us that even our brief interactions with others can become a gateway for their upliftment. Rather than reacting to what is negative or unrefined, one can ask:

  • Can I inspire this person emotionally?

  • Can I assist them financially, if needed?

  • Can I offer them spiritual direction, even subtly?

To do this, we must train our minds to notice good qualities, even in those who seem difficult. This not only benefits them—it transforms us. Our own mind becomes peaceful, soft, and open. Our relationships heal. Our judgments begin to fade. We stop reacting and start responding. And the world around us begins to mirror that love back to us.

Importantly, Swamiji clarified that this does not mean tolerating injustice or becoming blind to harm. If someone’s behaviour is truly harmful, one must take wise action. But even then, the action must come from discernment, not judgment—from compassion, not condemnation.

In spiritual life, we often seek miracles and signs of grace. But what greater miracle can there be than developing a mind that sees only goodness, a heart that responds only with kindness, and a life that uplifts others silently, constantly, without expectation? That was Bhagavan Nityananda’s teaching in essence.

As Swamiji said, “He is Amar – Eternal, Anant – Endless, Chiranjeeva – Immortal, Swayamsiddha – Standalone.”
Such a being does not see the world in fragments of good and bad. He sees the indivisible Consciousness behind all. And to follow in His footsteps is to begin doing the same—step by step, day by day.

God: Beyond the Curtain of Illusion

During one of my treasured visits to Shree Padiyar Swamiji, he recounted a deeply significant incident from our own family’s history—an episode that was both humbling and illuminating. Our joint family had settled in Vajreshwari after migrating from Karnataka, and our home there had been sanctified by none other than Bhagavan Nityananda Himself. It was a place filled with reverence, devotion, and a spirit of seva, where generations lived together under the same roof, nurturing shared values and a deep spiritual atmosphere.

One day, a woman from the Konkani-speaking community arrived at our home. She possessed a magnetic aura—a large vermilion tilak adorned her forehead, and her manner radiated what seemed like divine confidence. In those times, especially among the Gaud Saraswat Brahmin (GSB) families, visitors were received with open hearts and homes. There was a cultural and spiritual generosity that prompted us to treat every guest as God. This lady, with her commanding yet graceful presence, captivated the women of the household. Her speech, filled with religious overtones and apparent wisdom, easily won their trust.

That evening, she charmed them into believing she had the ability to multiply wealth miraculously. Convinced by her serene appearance and persuasive talk, the women of the house handed over their gold ornaments, confident that they were in the presence of someone touched by divinity. By morning, she was gone—vanished without a trace, along with all the jewellery.

The family was devastated—not merely by the material loss, but by the deeper shock of having been deceived in the name of spirituality. They were hesitant to go to Bhagavan Nityananda with this story. But ultimately, the truth had to be spoken.

When the men of the family finally recounted the incident to Bhagavan, He did not console them with soft words. Instead, He offered them a sharp but necessary truth. He said:

“Never be swayed by someone simply because they appear divine. If someone claims to be God, ask them: ‘Can you show me Lord Vishnu as described in the Shastras, with Shankha (conch), Chakra (discus), Padma (lotus), and Gada (mace)?’ If they cannot grant such a darshan, then know that they are deceiving you. Divinity does not need to convince or impress—it simply is.”

Shree Padiyar Swamiji then turned to me and offered a deeper reflection on what God truly means. He said:

“God is not a personality with Shanku and Chakra. God is one who helps you in your time of distress. There is a curtain drawn before your eyes. Remove that curtain, and you will see God.”

This was not a rejection of traditional forms of worship or murti-puja. Rather, it was a call to mature spiritually. The Shanku and Chakra are not denied, but understood as symbols of divine qualities: the conch (Shankha) as the vibration of Om, the chakra (discus) as the wheel of time and dharma, the lotus as purity, and the mace as strength and protection. But clinging to the outer forms alone, without inner understanding, keeps the seeker caught in illusion.

Swamiji’s point was clear: God is not a figure to be merely seen but an experience to be realised. He is the helping hand in moments of despair, the silent support in times of chaos, the presence that lifts the soul when it has lost its way. That is God—not a costume or a display of external mysticism.

He then lovingly described how, when the number of devotees visiting Ganeshpuri was large, Bhagavan Nityananda would offer public darshan in Kailash Hall. This hall, now remembered through a bust placed at the site, was once alive with divine energy. Bhagavan would sit on a simple table, while devotees gathered humbly on the floor. Musicians would sometimes perform there, but the centre of attention was always the silent, radiant presence of Bhagavan.

There was a small curtain in the hall. Every so often, the curtain would be drawn—granting darshan to the crowd. And when Bhagavan needed rest, the curtain would again be closed. Swamiji paused, and his voice softened:

“Only when the curtain is drawn aside can you get darshan.”

The message was unmistakable. There is a curtain over our inner sight—the veil of ego, attachment, pride, and delusion. Until that curtain is drawn aside, the Divine remains hidden, even if It stands right before us. Real darshan is not a matter of physical sight, but of inner vision. One may stand before a Sadguru, but if the mind is clouded by doubt or desire, no amount of physical proximity will bring realisation.

A Deeper Vision of God

In Vedantic terms, this teaching aligns with the Upanishadic notion of neti-neti—God is not this, not that. The Supreme is beyond attributes, beyond forms, and yet immanent in every act of kindness, every moment of grace, every impulse of compassion.

To experience God, we must first see clearly. This involves drawing back the curtain through:

  • Atma-chintan (self-reflection)

  • Nitya-smaran (constant remembrance)

  • Guru Kripa (grace of the Master)

  • Viveka and Vairagya (discrimination and dispassion)

In our family’s moment of loss, we were gifted a lesson far greater than any material wealth: a direct understanding from the Guru Himself on what not to consider divine, and more importantly, what is divine.

God is the one who uplifts, purifies, and liberates. And to find Him, we must be willing to go beyond appearances, surrender our ego, and remove the inner veil that prevents us from recognising His ever-present grace.

To be continued ………………………………