Grace Along That Lost Highway

27 February 2006 —Pandarpur, Maharashtra, en route to Pune from Shegaon

"May your far-reaching eyes—which are only slightly open like a blue lotus just beginning to bloom—bathe even a worthless, far-removed one like me in your grace. Just as the cooling rays of the moon fall equally on the mansion and the wilderness, it will incur you no loss, O Shive, but this person will indeed become blessed." —Soundarya Lahari, 57

Amma left the lunch-stop in Pandarpur and continued on towards Pune. But after driving just a couple of kilometres, her car came upon a drunkard, stumbling along the middle of the road. Amma told the brahmachari driving to stop. The man did not even appear able to see. He walk passed by Amma’s car, swaying this way and that. And then, as he passed the Ashram vehicle stopped behind Amma’s, he bounced against it, giving it a good whack. He then continued on.

Amma allowed her driver to resume the journey, but after five metres or so, she again told him to stop. She then opened her door, stepped out onto the road and called to one of the brahmacharis riding in the car behind: "He is fully drunk. Go and get him off the road. Make sure he sits down somewhere. Find the villagers and entrust his care to them." Without haste, the brahmachari got back in the car, turned around and sped off to fulfil Amma’s wish.

To Amma, nothing and no one is insignificant. Her compassion is like an ocean, rushing forward to touch the feet of whoever is blessed enough to stand before her.

—Kannadi