“That Pure Consciousness is Full; this Illusory or Maya Universe of matter; of names and forms is Full. This Fullness is a Manifestation of that Fullness. When this Fullness merges in that Fullness, all that remains is Fullness." -- Peace invocation-Isa Upanishad

As Swami Gauravananda peered at the world from his Ashram balcony, he got a sense that everything was indeed full. The mountains were full; the valleys were full; the crisp, clean breeze bouncing from tree to tree was full. It was a glorious day in Colorado, and the Rocky Mountains were overwhelmingly beautiful. There was still a pleasant chill to the air, and even though it formed icicles in his beard, Gauravananda relished the serenity of it all. A car was coming up the isolated Ashram driveway. Visitors!

It was only Aditya!

“Namaste Swamiji! Where is Suryanandaji? How is life treating all of you? Did you get a lot of snow during the blizzard?” Aditya bent down and touched Gaurav's feet.

“Oh, everything is fine, son. Why don't you wash up? Then we'll have some breakfast! You already missed the morning prayers. Perhaps you timed it that way!”

Aditya was such a bundle of energy. He already ran around, meeting the other Swamijis and then started setting the breakfast table.

“Swamiji, good news for you. I have just submitted a draft of my PhD thesis to my professor. Finally, the end is near! I am going to transcend from this eon to the next eon.”

“That is wonderful news, son.” Gaurav was truly pleased “Did you already tell this to Suryaji? Remember, you were going to teach me Quantum Chromodynamics and how the concept of Absolute gets embedded in the Experimental observations. I can understand a bit of these things myself. Remember, I used to be an engineer.”

“Swamiji, we will have plenty of time to discuss all this. You know I have already made up my mind about the next phase of my life. Like I always told you, I am going to become a sanyasi -- straight from Brahmacharya, skipping the other stages in life… I am going to join you all in the Ashram. Yes, Swamiji. The time is now.”

“Wait, wait,” Gaurav was totally taken aback. “I hope you didn't already pack your bags and left your college for good. We need to talk about things if you are indeed serious about becoming a sadhu.”

“But Swamiji, we always talked about it every time I came here…”

“No, no. That's not enough. You need to do a complete soul searching. It is one thing to visit the Ashram for a few days, charge your batteries and return to your everyday life. It is a whole another matter to take such a huge step. Every religious person need not become a sadhu.”

“I don't want to be just a Karma Yogi,” Aditya insisted.

“Did you talk about this to your parents? What did they say?”

Aditya had not. “But Swamiji, I am twenty-seven years old. There are certain decisions that I can take and they will have to go along.”

“You don't know, son. This is not like choosing a career. You don't make such decisions frivolously. These decisions, if appropriate, come to you at the right time.”

“But you guys have made that decision! What makes you think that you made it wisely and I am rushing into it? You know I have been thinking about this every single day.”

“Please, Aditya. Don't romanticize this sage life. You have to get up at four in the morning. Chop wood for two hours on many winter days, go through hours of prayers and meditations… You will be snowed in for weeks on end here and you will have to cook, clean, take care of the older Swamijis. Despite all this you keep on learning -- through all the mental confusions and physical fatigue. It is not a glamorous job, for heaven's sake. You are a mere child. Why don't you go out in the real world, do what you need to do? Make money; raise family; get hurt; discover the universe. And then if you still decide to come here, we will take you.”

“Swamiji, you always quote the Upanishad and say that 'This world has no Existence.' I want to be in that world -- only that world which exists…”

“Shut up, Aditya!” Gauravananda's scream surprised even Aditya. “You don't know what you are getting into. You simply want to escape reality. You don't want to face life. You don't want to take responsibilities. You think you will be the next Bhishma. You have done your PhD, my child. But you have not yet fully blossomed.”

Gaurav slipped into a chair to cool down a bit. The other Swamijis who were sitting on the floor of the dining hall suddenly stiffened up and looked at the two of them. There was an eerie silence for a few moments.

“Aditya, please! It is not that I am trying to prevent you from becoming a sanyasi,” Gaurav spoke in low tones. He slowly walked up to the prayer hall. Even Swami Suryananda had by now come to the dining hall as if to watch the proceedings.

Gaurav spoke again. “Actually, yes, Aditya, I am trying to prevent you from becoming a sanyasi.”

Having attained this, the Seers become contented with their Knowledge -- which is established in the Self, freed from attachment, and composed. Having realized the all-pervasive One everywhere, these discriminating people, ever merged in contemplation, entered into the All - 3.2.5 Mundaka Upanishad

Was he really a 'seer'? Gaurav asked himself, as he stepped into the balcony. It was pretty cold, and in the still of the night he could see none of the plentiful beauty of the mountains. He was unable to sleep and thought, perhaps, a little whiff of cool air might gently rock him to sleep.

His thoughts meandered through that summer when he had just finished college. His father had a sprawling mansion in South Kanara district of Karnataka and there was always noise, chatter, and yes, attachment! That day, a middle-aged couple and their teenage daughter were visiting them. He had not seen them before.

“Murthy has just finished college.” His mother was telling them. “We are not interested in marrying him off right now.” Swami Gauravananda was a mere 'Murthy' then.

“But, Mrs. Narayana, our daughter is the best you can find in all of this district. She cooks and cleans and keeps a good house. She has that finesse in cooking…”

“Let him enjoy at least a few years of bachelor life. Lord knows where he will get a job and which town he will be in…”

“No matter where he goes, my daughter will be happy to go with him. Our community is now really migrating everywhere. Delhi, Bombay, Calcutta… In fact, she will look after him even in the distant land…”

Murthy was amused by all this. One minute you were just in high school, in shorts. The next minute you were already being considered for marriage! He was pondering all this lying in bed when he heard a tapping sound on the window. At first he thought he was just imagining it. But it was real.

“Sir, please open the window. I need to talk to you. And don't wake up the others in the house, please…” the voice said.

“Who are you?” Murthy asked.

“I am that girl who came this evening with my parents. We had come down to discuss my possible marriage with you, Sir.”

“Go away! Didn't they tell you that we are not interested in marriage now?”

“Sir, please listen to me. Please marry me. I cannot take my stepmother's cruelty any more. Please liberate me. I will do anything for you. I will look after you and your family with every ounce of energy I have.”

“I am sorry to hear about your stepmother. But that cannot be the reason for me to rush into a marriage now. Please leave. If someone sees you at this hour at this place, you will be in a lot of trouble…”

“Sir, please! I can even work as your servant maid. Just take me away from them…”

Tears were streaming down her face. She actually looked pretty. The sadness and the tears moved him… But this was bizarre! This wasn't how people got married! He closed the window and tried to get back to sleep. He could still see her standing there for a long time. And the next time he looked through the window, she was gone. Where did she go?

“Dear Amma and Appa, This is Murthy writing to you from Haridwar. I hope you and my two younger brothers are all doing fine… I have an important thing to tell you. I have resigned my BHEL job and joined an Ashram here in Rishikesh… I know this may come as a shock. But this is the appropriate path for me. I am sorry if I disappointed you. Hopefully your other two sons will fulfill your dreams. Please don't worry about me. You take care of your health…”

He waited for their reply. It never came.

Murthy's transformation was swift. He closed out his bank account and wrote a check to the Ashram. His expensive coat and flashy ties were given away to friends. His other clothes were donated to rickshaw pullers. Gauravananda now wore a saffron dhoti and saffron towel and crudely crafted wooden sandals. He carried water in his kamandal.

Narada, the student, approached Sanatkumara, “Venerable Sir, Teach me!” Sanatkumara said to him. “Please tell me what you already know. Then I shall tell you what is beyond.” -- Chhandogya Upanishad.

After many years, he still did not get any letter from his parents.

“Dear Amma and Appa, This is Murthy writing. I hope all is well over there. I just want to inform you that the Big Swamiji has asked me to travel with him to the USA to assist him in establishing a new Ashram there. You always wanted me to go to the USA… perhaps not as a monk. Nonetheless, I shall endeavor to be your worthy son…”

The Ashram in Colorado grew in leaps and bounds. Now they even had two huge rooms, one for males and another one for female devotees, with dormitory style beds -- and most weekends in summer, they were always full, and they had to haul blankets and sleeping bags from the store room to accommodate the extra guests. The rich, the poor, Whites, Blacks and mostly Indians -- they came from everywhere. The prayers and chanting would echo through the brilliant Rocky Mountains, down into their many hills and valleys.

The Big Swamiji surprised Gaurav by thrusting him an airplane ticket to Los Angeles. One of the devotees, Dr. Rao wanted a Swamiji to lead a one-week session on Gita. It was an odyssey to hike down to Denver, go through the curious stares of the airport crowd, confuse the security guards and finally reach the bustling Californian metropolis. Dr. Rao and his family prostrated in front of him. Initially, it upset and even embarrassed him that people fell at his feet. But these days, he merely saw himself as an icon and determined that the niceties were indeed meant for Him and not for him.

“You have a very big house, Dr. Rao,” Gaurav managed to say. “It's almost as big as the Ashram. How many people are you expecting for the Gita sessions?”

“Oh, I don't know, Swamiji. But, that is not the main reason why I invited you here.”

“What do you mean?” Gaurav was a bit puzzled.

“Swamiji, you may think that this is a beautiful house. But ever since I moved in here two years ago, I have had nothing but bad luck. I am involved in one of the biggest malpractice suits that is threatening my career. My wife has been talking divorce, and all my money is gone in the dot-com bust. I need to do propitiation, Swamiji, I need to turn everything around…”

“So, what do you think I can do, Dr. Rao?”

“You are the holy man. You can drive away these evil spirits, Swamiji. You have to save me and my life. Surely there is a pooja or something we can do. I am willing to go any length.”

“Dr. Rao, you have a wrong opinion of our Mission. We are not black magicians, and we don't produce miracles. I hardly know some of the most basic poojas and rituals. Our objectives are spiritual, not spirits…”

“Swamiji, I am sure you can make an exception just for one main disciple of yours… You know, I give thousands of dollars to the Ashram every year.”

“Maybe I will talk to the Big Swamiji and have your money refunded to you…”

“Swamiji, ours is the only religion in the world that does not reach out to a fallen member… No matter how low you sink, you are still expected to have the strength to look for the next step and seek counsel. I should have been more careful. Do what you can do and get out.”

What was he doing there listening to all this? Why was he inside the Other World, inside an opulent house and away from the hermitage that he had so carefully built? Why was he foraying into a social order that was so far removed from his own circle? What pressures are on him and what should he do? Was this some kind of a test?

The great God is the Lord of Maya. The whole world is filled with beings who form His parts -- Svetasvataropanishad Ch.4, verse 10

The Other World extended him one more invitation to flirt with it. Gaurav's father had passed away in India. That was the first time he even heard from his family. He didn't want to go. He even had difficulty remembering how his father looked. It was at the Big Swamiji's insistence that he even made the trip to India. Now his family had moved to Yelehanka, outside Bangalore. As he wandered through India, as he recognized his various family members, the surreal mapped into reality; the Maya permeated through the Observed.

His Mother! She looked a thousand years old. The vigorous, active lady had become a withered, tired skeleton. He touched her feet. But she looked away. That minor moment she made eye contact with Gaurav, there was hatred in her eyes. Should he make the first move and talk to her? And then disappear forever into his own world a few days later?

“Father was quite sick, Murthy Anna. He was in the hospital for six months. The chemotherapy and radiation really caused him a lot of pain,” his younger brother, Natraj was telling him. Even Natraj looked very old, with wrinkles and cracks in his face…

“Anna, I think Appa even mentioned your name a few times,” the other brother said. “When we showed him the India Today article where they had mentioned your name, he seemed even proud of you. Of course, he never understood how your name changed from Murthy to Gauravananda.”

Gaurav still could not register that his father was no more. In fact, did he even have a family any more? Even though sorrow enveloped that little house, children were running around merrily… Why would a sad place allow such cheerfulness?

“Look at that little chimpanzee running around, Anna. That is my six-year-old daughter, Lavanya. The boy must be somewhere around. He is going to be two this March.”

“Poojariji, actually, I am only the deceased's younger son. Fortunately for us, our elder brother, Murthy, has managed to come from the USA,” Natraj spoke. “In fact, he is now a man of god himself. It will be only fitting that he does the final samskaras for our departed father.”

“No! Stop it! Don't allow this scoundrel anywhere near the rituals!” It was the mother screaming! She was talking to Murthy for the first time. “That no-good person does not even belong in this family. I don't know why he is here. Someone, please throw him out.”

He, Amrita Narayana, the son of Arthanareeswara and Mahalakshmi, and grandson of Venkatesa and Dhanamma, has reached the Lotus Feet of Govinda and I, his eldest son, Natraj…

Dear Mother, I know I caused you so much anguish when I came over to Bangalore… especially at a time when your heart was already heavy with the sorrow of father's death. Sometimes, mother, when your calling comes from a higher source, you will have to heed that voice… and break those surly bonds… Mother, someday you will forgive me. I know you will…

When the Big Swamiji died a few years later, it did not paralyze the Ashram. The details were already spelt out on how to run the place after His death. There would be no hierarchy. All the eight chief disciples would form a panel, which would look after the day-to-day operations. Six months later, this arrangement collapsed, and half of them left the Ashram and permanently moved back to India.

“This is not what Big Swamiji would have wanted,” they said. “We are heading in the wrong direction. We are being drawn toward greed and money. Maybe you Americans always have that MBA mentality even in running an Ashram…”

“I disagree with you,” Suryananda, the White, America-born Swamiji would say. “There is such a yearning for spirituality out there. We need to help them. We are not putting out loud advertisements. But what is wrong in organizing summer camps, hosting visitors and making this place more comfortable in terms of amenities? There is no point keeping the scriptures within just a small coterie of us guys. The message of Hinduism should be spread.”

And now, you want to join this august body, young Aditya?! You want to learn Chapter 11 of Bhagvad Gita, right? Go organize the Hindu Dharma camp! Set up colorful web pages! Go to Costco every month and buy bags and bags of rice and potatoes.

I should run away from here. I should obtain a higher-level sanyasa from this mockery of a sanyasa. I carry a cell phone, send emails and file Income Tax returns. What kind of a sanyasi am I?

Yes, I will leave by the next flight. I will go back to the Himalayas. Or perhaps to South Kanara. Live by myself. I will study more Vedantas and more Upanishads. No, no I don't have to go to South Kanara. I can settle down in Yelehanka. Mother will always forgive me. I will build a small little house with just one room. There will be a little window facing East. Outside the window I can see that little teenage girl's face.

“My parents are still torturing me, Swami. Please take me away from them. I will do anything in your little Ashram.”

Aditya, can you find some work for this woman? Why would Dr. Rao build a huge house right next to my little hut? Why? Why? Where is mother? Mother?!

This space between the earth and the heaven and all the quarters are filled by Thee alone; having seen this, Thy wonderful and terrible form, the three worlds are trembling with fear, O great-souled Being. -- Gita

The morning prayers were over. Freshly baked wheat bread was the prasad. And now they all gathered around, preparing for Big Swamiji's eighty-fifth birthday celebrations. There was so much mailing to do, phone calls to make, motel rooms to book in nearby towns. Aditya was really a big help and was doing almost two people's work. The energy of a youth!

“Did you sleep well, Aditya? Most people complain that this place is too quiet for them to sleep.”

“Sleep? I was in an altered state! Now, here is a good one for you, Gauravanandaji -- Where is it said:

What if you sleep, and what if in your sleep you dreamed, and what if in your dream you went to heaven and there plucked a strange and beautiful flower, and what if when you awoke you had the flower in your hand? Ah, what then?"

“That was beautiful, Aditya. Was it from some post-Buddhist writing on Maya?”

“Yes, you are partially right. But it is not from our scriptures. It is actually attributed to Coleridge.” Aditya laughed, “By the way, Swamiji. I thought about what you said yesterday -- about my wanting to be a sanyasi. I am going to follow your suggestion and try life for a few years. If I come back after that to your Order, you'd better take me in, Sir…”

There was such earnestness in Aditya's voice that Gaurav just kept staring at him. And then, right beside Aditya, Gauravananda saw a beautiful little hut with a single East-facing window flash by.