It was on 20 March that Lim called me from Bangalore. His voice carried a quiet excitement.
“We are celebrating Ma and Baba’s fiftieth wedding anniversary on 28 March at the Ashram. Will you come?”
The call took me by surprise. The actual anniversary had been on 3 March, but it had passed without celebration. My brother had not been well, and the day had also been Holi. So, the family had decided to wait.
“28 March?” I asked again, as if to be sure.
“Yes,” he said, and then added, almost with a sense of pride, “It will be at the Ashram. Guru ji will also be there.”
I knew what that meant to him. Lim has long been a devoted follower of Sri Sri Ravi Shankar and visits the Ashram often. His tone made it clear that this was no ordinary family gathering.
I was on my way back from work when he called, so I told him I would confirm in the evening.
At home, I mentioned it to Mini. She did not hesitate for a moment.
“Of course we will go,” she said, and then looked at me, slightly puzzled. “Have you not told Lim yet?”
I did not answer her directly. Instead, I picked up the phone and called him back.
“Yes, we will come on the 27th,” I said. “But do not tell Dadabhai and Boudi. Let it be a surprise.”
He agreed at once.
Top Secret
We reached Bangalore on the evening of 27 March. Another nephew, Kim, was at the airport to receive us. As we settled into the car, he turned to us with a grin.
“No one knows you are coming. It is a top secret.”
By the time we reached home, it was around six in the evening. Boudi opened the door. For a few seconds she simply stared at us, as if trying to make sense of what she was seeing. Then she cried out, almost shouting in disbelief.
“You! Look, Billoo and Mini have come!”
Her voice carried through the house. My brother came out into the drawing room. He looked at us, still unsure.
“I cannot believe you people have come,” he said.
Even after we sat down and the first greetings were over, he kept looking at me, as if I might disappear if he looked away.
“I still cannot believe you have come,” he repeated.
He told us about the puja planned at the Ashram the next day, and each time he spoke, there was a quiet happiness in his voice.
Out for Ashram
The next morning we set out for the Ashram. We travelled in two cars. Lim drove one, with Dadabhai, Boudi and Mini. I went with Kim in the other car. The Ashram lay more than forty kilometres away, and the journey took over an hour and a half.
Lim, being familiar with the route, reached early. Kim, however, was going there for the first time. We depended on the GPS. I tried to help, but managed to misread the directions twice, and we had to take a detour.
Near the Ashram gate, we spotted a small Udupi restaurant. Kim slowed down and said, almost like a child spotting something delightful, “Udupi.”
“Yes,” I replied.
He smiled, and before I could say anything more, he had parked the car. We stepped in for coffee and vada. While we were there, Lim called.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“We are stuck in traffic,” I replied.
In Bangalore, that excuse needs no explanation.
Shyness, Well Almost
We eventually reached the Ashram a little late. But the moment we entered, the delay seemed unimportant. The place had a quiet stillness that settled gently on the mind. Wide green lawns stretched out on either side, with neat pathways crossing them. There was a sense of order, yet nothing felt rigid. The air itself seemed lighter, as if it carried a calm of its own.
The ceremony was being held at Pathshala, a part of the Ashram complex. The puja was already underway. My brother and Boudi sat side by side, the priest guiding them through the rituals. There was something touching about seeing them like that, after fifty years together, still slightly self-conscious, yet completely at ease with each other.
The puja was followed by a havan. Then came the exchange of garlands. In our language we call it mala bodol. There was a hint of shyness in both of them, almost like a young couple at their wedding. It made everyone smile.
As family members and friends gathered around to offer their wishes, there was a small stir among the people.
Gentle Smile
As family members and friends gathered around to offer their wishes, there was a small stir among the people.
“Guru ji is coming,” someone said.
All eyes turned towards the entrance. And then we saw him.
Sri Sri Ravi Shankar walked slowly along the pathway towards the mandap. There was a gentle smile on his face, one that seemed to reach everyone present. It was not a grand entrance, yet it held a quiet grace that drew all attention.
He came up to the couple and blessed them, wishing them many more years of togetherness. He placed garlands around them, first on my brother, then on Boudi. They bowed and touched his feet.
He smiled again. There was a softness in that smile, something that cannot quite be described, only felt.
At that moment, someone brought forward a box.
“What is this?” he asked, with a hint of curiosity.
“Please bless this paduka,” Lim said.
He looked at him, placed his hands gently upon it, and said simply, “Blessed.”
He stayed for no more than five minutes. Yet those few minutes felt longer, fuller. The entire mandap seemed to glow with a quiet energy.
As he turned and walked towards the exit, I bowed my head. There was nothing more to say, nothing more to do. Just a sense of having witnessed something rare and deeply peaceful.
Post Script
Lim’s friends took it upon themselves to show us around the Ashram. They led us through different temples, each with its own quiet charm and stillness. There was no rush anywhere, only a sense of calm that stayed with us as we moved from one place to another.
Sahil, a glib talker with an easy manner, insisted on taking us to a café within the campus. He ordered buttermilk for us. It turned out to be one of the best we have ever had, simple and refreshing, just right for the afternoon.
Later, we had lunch at Panchamrut, a small restaurant inside the Ashram compound. The food was modest but satisfying, and it felt in keeping with the place.
The silver lining of the visit, however, was something else. In the course of these conversations and outings, I managed to extract an invitation for a wedding in Mangalore on November 12 and 13. A pleasant promise of another journey, and another gathering of family.