Swami was such an integral part of the preparations that it did not occur to any of the devotees that they would need His photograph for the stage until the day of the event – they had just assumed He would sit on His throne to receive their bhajans! The small group of devotees organised the altar and decorations, and pooled their rations of rice to make the prasadam that would mark the event’s completion. The enthusiastic reply came by return post – Swami was thrilled with the idea and stated immediately that not only would He bless the event, but would attend in person! Well, this was more than they had bargained for! Alarmed, Sri Seshagiri Rao’s daughter, my aunt Sunderamma, tried to walk the fine line between appreciating Swami’s enthusiasm and saying “no, don’t come!” to the Lord of the Universe! She wrote back to her father saying, “We will not be able to look after Swami properly, the place is small, there is no vehicle to transport Him here…” Soon after the postcard was mailed, they received a telegram from Sri Seshagiri Rao saying, “We’re on our way!”Īnd so, Swami arrived a couple of weeks prior to the planned 24-hour bhajan in February 1946, and enthusiastically participated in every aspect of the preparations. The idea quickly caught on, and they excitedly sent a postcard to Sri Seshagiri Rao in Puttaparthi, asking him to convey their plan to Swami and seek His permission and blessings. Towards the end of that year, someone had the idea of conducting a 24-hour bhajan to celebrate that milestone, with simple prasadam to be served after arathi.
Nonetheless, they held their Thursday bhajan sessions without fail for a whole year, often walking miles to each other’s houses in the dark. Those were the days of curfews and rationing, they had no phones with which to communicate, and lacked easy access to vehicles.
It was always difficult to leave their beloved Swami at the end of each visit, so in 1945, my parents, my aunt’s family and six other devotee families from Bangalore decided to hold their own bhajans on Thursday evenings, at each of their houses, in turn. Bhajans quickly became a part of the evening routine in the Patha Mandiram, and the devotees would lose themselves in the melodious namasmarana. Once there, all their activities revolved around Swami He would talk with them, play with the children, lead them all to the Chitravathi river bed for late afternoon satsangs, and constantly teach spiritual truths through everyday events. Padmanabhan and Kamalamma, and the extended family would make the difficult 3-day journey from Bangalore to Puttaparthi whenever they could, to enjoy the proximity of Divinity. Ever since my grand-uncle Sri Seshagiri Rao and his family had made their initial trip to see Him in 1944, the bonds of love between the young Avatar and these early devotees grew quickly, and He very soon became the centre of their lives. But in a small corner of the country - the village of Puttaparthi in Andhra Pradesh - the Divine light of Bhagawan Sri Sathya Sai Baba, the Lord of the Universe born in human form, shone increasingly effulgent. It was a dark time in the world - World War II raged, and the British still ruled India.
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