The Mahasamadhi metaphor

I don’t know the karmic computation that led us to be among the first to behold the marbled edifice that will hold the elements of the Avatar, but the symbolism became quite apparent in a while. As we sat there, half awake, half pretending to be awake, it somehow felt as if this would be yet another day in Puttaparthi, when one would go through the exercise of stretch, strain and ache to catch a partially self-conjured glimpse of the Avatar separated by the rolled-up window of His car, and the waists, hands, arms and letters of a hundred devotees in front of you.

While I kept reminding myself to be fully awake by 8.30 AM when the Mahasamadhi would be unveiled to the devotees, I threw occasional glances at the VVIPs streaming in and students loitering about as if it was last year. And just when I began to wander again inside, the gong rang out in deep bass, and with a mode of surrealism that the Avatar Himself was so good at, the red curtains were drawn apart. It seemed unreal for a second, just like a gentle nudge that shakes you out of a slumber to a sobering awakening, an awakening that, as always with the Avatar, is more felt and experienced than heard and observed.

The podium has been reworked, the Ganesha idol removed, pillars added, and the recessed area walled from three sides. The backdrop is a round beautiful picture of the Avatar flanked on both sides by soft, long, vertical lights in yellow. Everything seemed to there, simplicity, ostentation, poignancy and insentience. But then again, everything about Parthi is like that. All looked normal, as if there is nothing different. After the unveiling, it was spiritual business as usual,- chants, talks, songs and bhajans.

What struck me was what one of the speakers noted. He stressed that this Mahasamadhi is unlike any other, in that, this breathes and thrives through the devotion of all who come here. The symbolism is not to be missed. Till date, we would wait for the physical form to glide in; now He will wait for our physical forms to gather. This seems to be the first dawn of a day in the life of every devotee which will never be like the past days of his life, and where, he will have to fight with a higher level of consciousness, just to get to that level.

It is like coming home to your mother, only to discover that though she is still there, your house has changed from the inside out, and her form has changed, and when you have barely managed to regain your spiritual wits, it becomes time to leave. Of course, you also realize that the only thing that is still the same is the outside world, and this tragicomically will remain what it always was: till you realize that you are, but to walk the invisible, but verily perceptible gossamer line between the tragic and comedic.