Volume 6 - Issue 05
MAY - 2008
MOTHER EASWARAMMA – THE EPITOME OF COMPASSION
By Mrs. K. Vasumathi Devi
I wish to share what I personally experienced with the Divine Mother, Easwaramma.
It is not an exaggeration to say that, all the devotees who knew Mother Easwaramma, felt she was more their mother than the Divine Mother of the Avatar. It was because she treated everyone as a member of her family. Very supportive and kind, she empathised with the agony of all. Her heart was so full of compassion that she would gel with everybody without any reservations and distinctions, and would reach out to help anyone who was in need, without any difference of mine and thine.
Here is my favourite account of her love which touched me a lot. This happened many years ago, during the sixties. One of my relatives, who was in Prashanti Nilayam, wrote to me informing that Swami was going to create Amrutham (nectar) on the “Mukkoti Ekadashi” festival day. (Also known as Vaikunta Ekadashi, an auspicious day according to Hindu Mythology which falls generally in late December – January every year). Not only that, I learnt that He would put the divine nectar on to every devotee’s tongue with His own Divine Hands. By the time I received the letter, there was hardly any time left; the festival was just a couple of days away. In those days, there were no telephone lines to help me organize the trip, and travel facilities were minimal.
To reach Puttaparthi, one had to change an array of buses and trains. Because of such trying circumstances, we always had to think twice before making the journey to Prashanti Nilayam, and since I wanted to start immediately, there was no one ready to accompany me on this journey either.
Reposing faith in Bhagavan and picking up courage, I traveled for two days changing seven buses, and finally reached Puttaparthi at 8.45 pm on “Mukkoti Ekadashi” day. When I entered the ashram, the residents of Prashanti Nilayam showered sympathy on me saying, “Oh! You have come only now…Swami has just finished distributing the amrutham and has retired upstairs.” I was crestfallen, but immediately the thought of the compassionate Mother, Easwaramma, came to my mind.
It was my good fortune that she was residing in a room next door. She used to call me “Eluru papa’ meaning ‘the girl from Eluru’. (Eluru is the headquarters of the West Godavari District of Andhra Pradesh, more than 400 kms from Puttaparthi). So, I dropped my luggage in front of my room and went to Mother. Even now, when I recollect that scene, my eyes well up with tears.
Mother Easwaramma’s anguish on noticing me was severe. When she asked,”My child, why have you come so late?” my grief melted; I was so happy that she spoke to me. I related to her my difficult journey, and then she sadly replied, “What a pity, Swami has just gone upstairs.” The next moment, she held my hand and hurriedly led me to the first floor of the Mandir!
Swami was sitting at the dining table and was about to take His meals. Mother asked me to wait at the door, and went inside. With great concern in her voice, she said to Swami, “Eluru Papa arrived just now after changing seven buses.” I could hear the conversation standing at the doorstep. I was gripped with pain as I felt I had disturbed Mother in that odd hour, and was also apprehensive about Swami’s reaction.
Swami then mischievously smiled and said, “Did the girl ask you to recommend her situation to Me?” Mother relied, “No, Swami. Papa never asked me to do this. I myself took pity and brought her here.” Then, with a bewitching twinkle in His eyes, Swami said, “If that is the case…poor girl, take this bottle and give her Amrutham.” With motherly intimacy and a gentle frown, Mother said, “What! I have to give her, Swami? Did Papa come all the way to Parthi, changing seven buses to have Amrutham from me? No, I will not give it to her. Swami, You have to give it to her.” Bhagavan smiled at this compassionate outpouring of the Mother.
After finishing His meals, Swami was full of smiles and charm, and told Mother: “I, Myself, will give it to her.” Then, Swami came to me and asked me to come forward. “Please open your mouth. Just because I asked you to open your mouth does not mean you should swallow the bottle! I will put the Amrutham. Swallow it.” So saying, Swami joyfully put Amrutham in my mouth. My bliss was beyond description.
When I recollect the trouble Mother had taken to get me the Amrutham, I understood there are no boundaries for her love and concern. It was my great fortune to enjoy the generosity and zeal with which Mother helped us in all ways possible.
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Vol 6 Issue 05 - MAY 2008
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