Shri Rangnath Bhatawadekar

 

Shri Rangnath Bhatwadekar

(Appa Bhatwadekar)

I have chosen to write about Shri Rangnath “Appa” Bhatwadekar as one of the great devotees who lived under the boundless grace of Bhagavan Nityananda. Though Appa was also a devoted disciple of revered saints such as Shree Swami Samarth of Akkalkot, Shree Shankar Maharaj of Pune, and Shree Beedkar Maharaj, his spiritual journey illuminated a profound truth for me—the oneness of Guru Tattva. Despite the external differences in form, personality, and the mode of teachings among these Mahayogis, Appa came to realise, and helped me realise, that they are all manifestations of one indivisible Supreme Consciousness.

Through his personal experiences and inner revelations, Appa witnessed how these divine masters seamlessly entered his life, not as separate entities, but as coordinated expressions of the same eternal principle—the Sadguru. There was no contradiction or confusion in his heart, only an ever-deepening recognition that the true Guru is beyond name and form. Whether it was Bhagavan Nityananda’s silent, formless presence, Swami Samarth’s commanding wisdom, Shankar Maharaj’s mystical acts, or Beedkar Maharaj’s yogic depth, Appa saw through the appearances into their shared source.

Appa’s life became a living testimony to the unity of these Mahavatars. He did not merely believe in this truth; he lived it and transmitted it. Through his words, presence, and the quiet strength of his faith, he instilled in me the understanding that the Guru may assume countless forms to guide the seeker, but the essence of the Guru—the Guru Tattva—is eternally One. To sit at Appa’s feet was to be initiated into this sacred non-dual vision. It transformed the way I perceived the spiritual path—not as a series of allegiances to separate masters, but as a single journey guided by the One who wears many forms, yet remains unchanged.

In the Shivaji Park area of Mumbai lived Shri Rangnath Bhatwadekar, fondly known as Appa—a man who would later become a luminous example of devotion and spiritual realization. At the time of his first encounter with Bhagavan Nityananda, however, Appa was still early on his path, unacquainted with the ways of mystics. It was his neighbor, Mr. Hegde—a regular pilgrim to Ganeshpuri—who first invited him to accompany their family to visit Bhagavan at the Vaikuntha Ashram.

Appa’s idea of a saint was based on popular imagery—an emaciated ascetic, aloof and meditative. So when he first laid eyes on Bhagavan, stout and sitting silently in a loincloth, he couldn’t reconcile the form with his preconceived notion of sainthood. He thought to himself, almost irreverently, “This man? A saint? Can he even walk with all that weight?” But Bhagavan Nityananda, the knower of all minds and hearts, instantly responded—not with anger, but with divine humor and grace. He stood up without a word and began walking briskly across the hall, repeatedly, effortlessly, as if to dissolve Appa’s doubts by demonstrating his mastery over the physical form.

And then, in a moment pregnant with spiritual import, Bhagavan stopped before Appa, pointed directly at him, and thundered, “Shankar! Shankar!” The name echoed like a mantra, charged with Shakti. Appa was overwhelmed, as though struck by an electric current. His mind became blank, and he slipped into a semi-conscious state, dazed by the force of what he had just received—an unmistakable instance of Shaktipat, the direct transmission of spiritual energy from Guru to disciple.

Once Appa returned to outer awareness, Bhagavan looked at him with penetrating compassion and asked, “Do you play musical instruments—harmonium, tabla?” Appa replied honestly, “No.” Bhagavan smiled mysteriously and then uttered nine simple sentences in Hindi—casual in tone, but prophetic in meaning. These nine lines, spoken spontaneously, would later reveal themselves as the condensed blueprint of Appa’s entire life:

1. Padna – Study

2. Cinema jana – Go to the movies

3. Cinema dekhna – Watch movies

4. Cinema chodna – Leave the movies

5. Phirse padna – Study again

6. Naukri karna – Take a job

7. Bhagavan ko pana – Realize God

8. Sabko khilana – Feed everyone

9. Ayesh mein rehna – Live in joy

At the time, these words may have seemed cryptic, even playful. But over the years, each phrase would materialise with uncanny precision.

• “Padna” referred to his initial academic pursuits and early intellectual inclinations. But due to financial conditions, his parents were not in position to pay his school fees. He could study up to S S C and thereafter drop out of theschool.

• “Cinema jana” and “Cinema dekhna”: Appa thus left his school, however much he wished to study. However, his neighbours heard him play the sitar and invited him to perform for them. By a stroke of luck, the renowned music director Shri Naushad was present at one of these gatherings and, impressed by Appa’s talent, offered him work in the film industry. Appa loved music and began playing in orchestras for famous directors like Naushad and Laxmikant-Pyarelal. He earned Rs. 10 per rehearsal and Rs. 75 for a song recording. In those days, this was a huge amount. In due course, he got addicted to watching movies.

• “Cinema chodna” Despite his passion for music, societal views on the film industry being immoral led his family to disapprove of his involvement.. Appa’s family was orthodox, and there was social stigma associated with those working in fields of glamour.  Every day, there was resistance to his association with the film industry and watching films from his parents and elders. Finally, disgusted, Appa gave up all the assignments that he was getting from the industry.

• “Phirse padna” After saving enough to pay for his education, he left the industry, returned to his studies, and eventually completed his education. Completing his graduation, he later joined a pharmaceutical company as a Quality Control Chemist.

• “Naukri karna” happened as predicted—he entered service and fulfilled his worldly responsibilities and finally retired from his job as an approved Quality Control Chemist for pharmaceuticals.

• “Bhagavan ko pana”—this was the crowning phase of his life. As his spiritual journey unfolded, Appa received Shaktipath Diksha and became deeply connected to the lineage of Shree Swami Samarth. He also received the blessings of Shree Shankar Maharaj of Pune in his astral form. Appa and his wife devoted their lives to feeding anyone who visited their home, and they lived a life of contentment. He, thus, came into deep spiritual communion with the lineage of saints like Shree Swami Samarth, Shankar Maharaj, and Beedkar Maharaj.  Through them, he experienced the formless essence of the Guru and attained a state of profound inner awakening. On a subsequent visit to Ganeshpuri, Appa went to the Vajreshwari Temple. As he stood in front of Shree Vajreshwari Devi, he experienced a powerful surge of Shakti that left him in a trance. He staggered out of the temple and sat beneath a large mango tree in front of the Garbhagriha (inner sanctum), where he remained in a meditative state for some time. This experience left a deep impression on him, and every time he visited Vajreshwari thereafter, he would sit beneath the same tree, immersed in those memories. Once I took him and his wife to Ganeshpuri and from there to Vajreshwari. There is showed me this mango tree. Both of us sat under the shade of this tree and enjoyed the bliss.Appa later came into contact with Shree Raosaheb Shasrabuddhe, a disciple of Shree Beedkar Maharaj, and his spiritual progress accelerated rapidly. Shankar Maharaj, who had already taken Mahasamadhi (left his body), gave Appa darshan (vision) in his astral form. Appa finally understood why Bhagavan Nityananda had called out “Shankar, Shankar” during their first meeting. The thunderbolt-like force he had felt was Bhagavan’s grace, awakening his Kundalini. At the time, Appa was too young to grasp its significance, but now he realised that it was the power of a Jagadguru, a Universal Guru.

• “Sabko khilana” Post retirement, Appa and his wife spent their time receiving devotees at their home in Shivaji Park. They held a yearly celebration dedicated to Shree Beedkar Maharaj. On such festival days, several devotees came to his home. He welcomed devotees and offered them food as Bhagavan had predicted.

• “Ayesh mein rehna”—he lived in joy, radiating peace and contentment, untouched by outer turbulence. His life was not one of renunciation from the world, but transcendence within it. Although tragedies struck him, he maintained his faith in his Sadguru and lived peacefully with love and care for those seeking his guidance.

Through this spontaneous prophecy, Bhagavan Nityananda mapped out Appa’s life not as a fixed fate, but as a graced unfolding, a divine play in which even worldly detours became sacred steps toward realisation. This meeting was no ordinary encounter—it was a Guru unlocking a soul’s journey with a few words, silently assuring that every turn in life would serve the ultimate purpose.

Appa was born on November 19, 1935, and left his mortal body on March 13, 2019

This incident also exemplifies the unique way in which Bhagavan Nityananda worked—effortlessly, silently, with few words and little explanation, yet transforming lives with immense power and grace. Through Appa, we are reminded that the true Guru sees beyond the present moment and offers not just guidance, but an inner roadmap to Self-realization..

It was through Shri Prasad Pense, a deeply devoted follower of Shree Swami Samarth of Akkalkot, that I first came into the orbit of Shri Rangnath “Appa” Bhatwadekar. What struck me from the very beginning was Appa’s warmth and simplicity—qualities that instantly made me feel at home. When he came to know that I was a devotee of Bhagavan Nityananda of Ganeshpuri, an immediate bond was formed between us, not based on religious doctrine or lineage, but rooted in the recognition of Guru Tattva as One. Our conversations at his home in Shivaji Park often revolved around the deeper meanings of devotion, Guru Kripa (Grace), and the inner unity behind the varied forms of saints.

During one such visit, Appa shared with me a deeply transformative dream—one that marked a subtle yet powerful shift in his spiritual practice. He saw Bhagavan Nityananda appear before him in the dreamscape, radiating a silent authority. Bhagavan gently instructed him, “From now on, chant My name at the end of all your prayers, especially before going to sleep.” Until that night, Appa had always concluded his prayers with Swami Samarth’s name, which was natural given the central role Swamiji had played in his life. Yet, such was the clarity and potency of Bhagavan’s appearance that Appa didn’t hesitate—from that day onward, he faithfully ended every prayer with Bhagavan Nityananda’s name.

This was not a rejection of Swami Samarth but a profound integration—a recognition that the same Light shines through all Mahatmas, and when the call comes from the One, regardless of the form it wears, the soul must respond. Appa’s shift demonstrated this maturity of spiritual vision.

A similar mystery unfolded during a bhajan recording with the renowned Hindustani classical singer Shri Ajit Kadkade, known for his powerful renditions of devotional songs dedicated to Lord Dattatreya and Swami Samarth. Despite repeated efforts, something about the session felt incomplete. The perfection that usually flowed through Kadkade’s voice eluded him that day. It was not a matter of musical precision but of spiritual rasa—the essence was missing.

That night, while meditating, Swami Nityananda appeared to Kadkade, just as He had appeared in Appa’s dream. The message was clear and simple: “Chant ‘Nityanandam, Brahmanandam’ during the recording.” It was not a suggestion but a divine instruction. The next day, with great reverence, Kadkade made a trip to Ganeshpuri, offering his prayers at Bhagavan’s Samadhi Shrine. After this visit, the recording proceeded effortlessly. The previously missing rasa had been invoked, not through technique, but through Bhagavan’s inner presence and name. This was a moment of spiritual alignment—a glimpse into how saints guide not just sadhaks, but even artists, to awaken divine vibrations in their offerings.

These events reveal how Bhagavan Nityananda’s influence moves silently across traditions, uniting seekers, musicians, and devotees under the silent banner of universal grace. His presence is not bound by formality, lineage, or even conscious belief—when the time is right, He makes Himself known.

Another striking testament to this silent power came from Captain M. U. Hatangdi, who once shared a remarkable incident involving Shri A. S. Rao, a sincere devotee of Bhagavan. While staying in Ganeshpuri, Shri Rao was struck with a severe bout of malaria, burning with fever and weakness. In the midst of this suffering, a long-buried memory surfaced: years ago, he had refused prasad offered by the Sufi saint Hazrat Babajan of Pune, due to hesitation or ignorance. This memory weighed heavily on him, as if it needed resolution.

Bhagavan Nityananda, in his characteristic directness, told Shri Rao to recount this incident out loud. Then, defying medical logic, Bhagavan instructed that a mixture of oily fried foods be given to the feverish Rao—an odd prescription by all rational standards. Yet, this was no ordinary medicine, but a channel of Grace. After consuming the prasad, Shri Rao fell into a deep, restful sleep and awoke the next morning completely cured, with no trace of fever or fatigue.

This event was not just a healing; it was a spiritual reconciliation. It revealed the subtle, transcendental connection between saints of different faiths—Bhagavan Nityananda and Babajan—working beyond the veils of religion, uniting seekers in ways the mind cannot fathom. Bhagavan’s command to recount the incident and accept the prasad represented not only forgiveness but a restoration of spiritual alignment.

Together, these episodes affirm a deeper truth: real saints do not belong to sects or dogmas. They are not Hindu, Muslim, or Christian. They are radiations of the Supreme, whose only aim is to uplift the soul and dissolve its veils. Whether through a dream, a name, a song, or a piece of fried food, Bhagavan Nityananda orchestrated healing, harmony, and revelation in the lives of those open to His mysterious grace.

Emergence of Tat Prasad – A Responsibility

Thursday, 26th September 2013

That day seemed ordinary enough. I had gone to visit a friend in Dombivli—a devotee who reverently keeps the sacred Padukas (sandals) of Shri Swami Samarth at his residence. Though Dombivli lies close to my workplace, it is quite distant from my home, making such visits rare. But, as it often happens in the lives of devotees, a simple act guided by Bhakti often becomes the backdrop for something profound.

While I was still in my friend’s home, my phone rang. It was a call from the United States. Appa Bhatwadekar—Shri Rangnath Bhatwadekar, a dear friend, mentor, and advanced spiritual aspirant—was on the line. He was visiting his daughter in the U.S. at the time, and his call came as an unexpected blessing.

He sounded urgent, yet composed, and after asking where I was, he told me he had something important to share. It had come to him in the early hours of that morning—around 4 a.m. U.S. time—in the form of a dream. But for us, it would become far more than just a dream. It would emerge as a turning point.

The Vision

In Appa’s dream, he saw a group of us—devotees of Swami Samarth—traveling to Ganeshpuri, the sacred abode of Bhagavan Nityananda. Upon reaching, Appa went ahead and entered a small room where Bhagavan was seated on a divan.

As soon as Bhagavan saw him, He asked, in His usual cryptic yet precise tone:
“Why have you come here?”

Appa responded humbly,
“I’ve come with Gopalkrishna to have Your darshan.”

Bhagavan continued,
“Where is Gopalkrishna?”
Appa replied that I was following closely behind.

Another figure in the room—a man in a simple lungi—was asked by Bhagavan to call someone named “T. P. Shenoy.” The man appeared confused, unfamiliar with that name. Appa too was puzzled. He asked Bhagavan,
“Who is T. P. Shenoy?”

Bhagavan smiled and clarified,
“That same person—Gopalkrishna. Call him. Tell him to fly and come.”

True to the divine command, Appa stepped out and waved me in. I began to fly toward the room. At that precise moment, Bhagavan issued a cryptic but urgent instruction:
“Tell him not to look down.”

But before the warning could reach me, I looked down—and instantly fell, crashing into the earth, landing upright but buried neck-deep in soil.

Bhagavan chuckled—not with mockery, but with the affectionate laughter of a Master who watches over the child-like follies of His disciple.
“See, this is what Maya does,” He said.

Then the miracle unfolded. His arm extended—longer than humanly possible—and from nearly 20 feet away, He reached me, grasped my head, and gently lifted me out. He placed me reverently at His own Lotus Feet. I bowed in surrender.

Bhagavan then instructed me to perform His Aarti. As I sang “Jai Jai Aarti Nityananda,” Appa observed silently. Then Bhagavan turned to Appa and, with a mysterious gaze, said:
“See who is performing whose aarti. He is performing his own aarti.”

This statement stunned Appa. He felt something immense was being revealed—not just a poetic statement, but a direct utterance from the Self, pointing to identity beyond the ego.

Bhagavan then called Appa close, blessed him, and declared:
“T. P. Shenoy is Tat Prasad Shenoy. Tat Prasad Shenoy. He is the Prasad of Him.”

He then clarified with characteristic simplicity and profundity:
“‘Tat’ stands for ‘That’—the Supreme, the Self, God.”

In one stroke, He named and unveiled the deeper identity of this seeker, not merely as an individual, but as a gift of That, born of Consciousness itself. It was not just a new name; it was a transmission—a responsibility.

Before the vision dissolved, Bhagavan repeated twice:
“Remain in Nityananda. Remain in Nityananda.”

Appa awoke from the dream, deeply moved. He felt its weight—not as a burden, but as a sacred obligation. And it was at that exact moment, amidst the subtle vibrations of the experience, that he dialled my number. Neither of us knew I would be in the company of Swami Samarth’s Padukas at that time—but somehow, Grace aligned it all.

A Responsibility, Not a Title

The emergence of the name Tat Prasad was not to be worn like a badge. It was not a designation of spiritual attainment. It was a calling, an indication that one must live as a gift of the Self, from the Self, for the sake of the Self in all.

What came through Appa was not simply a dream. It was Upadesh—instruction from the Guru Tattva Itself. From that moment on, I felt a quiet but steady fire within—a need to inwardly live up to the sanctity of that name, not through achievement, but through surrender.

To “Remain in Nityananda” is not a geographical instruction—it is a command to anchor oneself in Stillness, in the Bliss of Being, in That which is Eternal.

This was the beginning of Tat Prasad—not as a name, but as a Sadhana.

A New Commitment

The dream shared by Appa Bhatwadekar on that autumn day in 2013 was not just an account of divine play—it was a turning point. In the vision, Bhagavan Nityananda referred to me not simply as Gopalkrishna, but as “Tat Prasad Shenoy”—a name that echoed with the resonance of the Upanishadic truth: Tat Tvam Asi—”That Thou Art”.

The name “Tat Prasad” came not as a mere label, but as an instruction, a transmission, and a responsibility. Tat—That Supreme Reality, the formless Absolute. Prasad—the sacred offering, freely given with love. To be Tat Prasad is to live as an expression of That, to walk this earth not in self-importance, but in surrendered gratitude—as something offered by the Self, for the sake of the Self, to awaken the Self in others.

It was also a directive: Remain in Nityananda. Not as a state of passive adoration, but as an active inner anchoring—a call to live in the stillness, the fullness, and the compassion that radiated from Bhagavan.

From that day onward, I began using the name “Tat Prasad” in my writings and Seva. It was not to mark a change of identity but to accept a sacred trust—a commitment to walk in alignment with the Guru’s Will, to be transparent to His Light, and to serve without self-claim.

This commitment brings with it both grace and gravity.

The grace is Bhagavan’s presence itself—steady and unfailing, even when I falter. Yes, the world—Samsara Sagara—continues to toss its waves of distraction, desire, and doubt. Yes, there are times I “look down” and get momentarily entangled in Maya’s grasp. But each time, I am reminded of that hand—Bhagavan’s hand—stretching from afar, lifting me out, dusting me off, and placing me once again at His Feet. That single image from the dream sustains me through all turbulence.

The gravity lies in the responsibility to preserve and pass on what is authentic—not just about my own experiences but about the Leelas and teachings of Bhagavan that I have been fortunate to witness or receive.

I have always shared my Seva—through books, writings, and posts—without restriction or expectation. The Grace I write about is not mine to own. Yet, I have noticed instances where others have taken these experiences, sometimes altering or adapting them without attribution. While I do not seek personal recognition, I believe that clarity and honesty are important. If my name is used in reference, it should be with fidelity to the source. Not to glorify the storyteller, but to ensure that the truth of the Leela, the sanctity of the event, remains preserved.

This path is not about ownership but stewardship.

The real Seva is not to simply recount miracles or elevate Bhagavan to such heights that He becomes unreachable. It is to bring Him closer into the kitchens, courtyards, and quiet moments of everyday life. Into the hearts of those who suffer, seek, or simply need the comfort of knowing someone is watching over them, full of Love and Care, with eyes like the Kurma Drishti—unblinking, ever aware. Like mother turtle (Kurna) keeping watch on the eggs on the shore and her gaze (Dristhi) full of love, not only helps the eggs to hatch, but also carefully guides them safely into the sea.

It is to live so that every word, every offering, and every silence becomes a bridge to Him.

When I look back, I say to Him, “You gave the name Gopalkrishna. It is you who now qualify me as Tat Prasad. I remain in You! A Child held by You!