The One in Silence

Heavy rains! It had been pouring for days without pause, as if the skies themselves were intent on washing the world clean. Our visit to Ganeshpuri was meant to be brief, just for a few days—but Bhagavan showed no sign of letting us leave. So, we remained. The unrelenting downpour made it difficult for devotees from Mumbai to arrive, and soon it was just a small circle—Appana, Gopal Anna, Madhav Mama, my father, and I. Even the villagers chose to remain indoors, tucked away in their homes.

For a young boy, it felt like nothing was happening. No movement. No chatter. Just silence, thick and soft, like a warm blanket pulled over the world. The only sounds were the rush of water pouring off the tiled roofs, and the rhythmic plop of rainwater filling the pails set out to collect it. Even the birds, it seemed, had surrendered to the hush. Occasionally, the frogs would break the quiet, croaking in perfect, earthy rhythm—as if performing an unseen arti to the rain-drenched stillness.

One moment remains etched in my memory when a small frog hops in between us. Now there are three of us—Bhagavan, I, and a small frog. The frog, with a light brown band along its back, slowly hopped toward His chair, moving in delicate, hesitant strides. It caught my attention. And then, I noticed—He too was watching it. Intently. Silently.

Just the three of us… or perhaps, truly, only One.

Silence. Solitude. And the unmistakable presence of Grace