Swami Govinda Theertha

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Swami Govinda Theertha

"uggghhhh. Uhhhhh. Ohhhh ho ho ho. Ha. Ha.... Ha. Ahhhhhgh." These were the cycle of expressions I received from Swami Govinda Theertha.

In October, my family and I went to visit this guru. He was once an accomplished professor at a University, who has since secluded himself in the foothills of a small town half way between Bangalore and Puttaparthi. Puttaparthi is where his Satguru resided -- Sathya Sai Baba.

At Govinda's make-shift temple, his veranda is adorned with pictures and offerings to Sai Baba. Though Govinda is a master with his own devotees, he honors his recently deceased guru. The darshan (service) begins when Govinda enters and walks down the center of the hall (very slowly and he looks at no one). He looks like he is in a trance, though a somber one. He ascends to his small throne at the top of the veranda and places a finger to his third eye (center of lower forehead). We wait for a long time, sitting on thin straw mats aligned in rows on the cement floor.

Then Govinda stands and his alertness to us becomes unmistakably apparent. His devotee (Sri Krishna's brother - whom used to be a prominent banker and has renounced his possessions) stands at a microphone ready to translate his discourse into English for visitors like us. He spends about an hour talking about Krishna and Arjuna (the protagonists of the Bhagavad Gita); his message is Dharma (righteousness and duty).

After his talk, he sits on his throne again and places a familiar finger on his third eye ready to drink in the universal consciousness. It reminded me of Batman Forever when Jim Carrey (the Riddler) is sitting on his chair and the green brain waves of Gothom are feeding his intellect.

Sitting in silence, there was nothing all that impressive about Swami Govinda. He walked slowly, his discourse was too long, and he had a sour-stern face. All that changed when he stood from his chair the second time. Looking back, I realize he had been conserving energy for the task at hand as he spent more than an hour speaking with every devotee who came to darshan: counseling them, answering questions, blessing them, and giving them packs and packs of vibhuti (sacred ash you eat and place on chakras or injuries). Anyone who has experienced auras, spiritual counseling, or merely the effect of spending time with someone in mental or physical pain knows how draining it is to do this for one person let alone fifty.

His effort was impressive, as were the subtle changes to his demeanor. It was like the first two hours were spent in front of us but not with us. But as he circled the mandir (floor), was fully present, he had a huge smile, he even walked differently. When he came before me, I kissed his feet (as is custom) then rose, and he asked me where I was from? What my name meant? Did I speak Hindi? Did I like music? This doesn't seem like much but it was powerful the way he said it. When a charming person talks, you feel a cheap high from being around them... but when a master smiles and brings their piercing gaze upon you, you feel a surge. There is a sensation not unlike those big glass containers at Spencer's Gift shops that shoot out static electrical currents as you run your fingers up and down to manipulate the subtle beams of electricity. Imagine that buzz on your fingertips permeating your whole body. That's kinda what it feels like.

Plus, you can't help but smile back at him.

I had contemplated earlier that week if I should start learning the keyboard and taking Hindi lessons. So it seemed pretty cool that Govinda asked me questions about each of these topics.

Before he moved on to the next devotee, he asked if I had any questions for him. I said no. A small part of me regretted it, but really the only things I could ask him had already been addressed by Sai Baba previously. Why ruin the mystery of the future... it's more fun to take it head on.

At the end of darshan they sang bhajans (spiritual hymns). Man this was the worst singing and music I've ever heard. Ten drums being 'banged' out of sync with no rhythm - it was just noise. The singing was not much better, but at least it was drowned out by the stampede of fists on taught animal skin. Yet, somehow, it was sweet -- kinda like eight-year olds performing at a school concert. These were not practiced or professional performers like I was accustomed to at larger ashrams. At least you could tell they were trying.

Afterwards, my family and I got called up the side of the large foot hill to Govinda's residence where we were blessed with a private interview. I will leave the details of this session private out of respect of the inner-connection with the Atma (soul) that we should all develop irrespective of others. What I will say is that we were each personally given guidelines on proper meditation techniques. That, and Govinda must have slapped me at least 15 times.... they were loving slaps, really soft, the kind you do to a dog at the end of petting them. Receiving spiritual guidance from Govinda centered and calmed me. It was very special.

I never received a personal interview from Sai Baba, except in dreams, and I can only imagine how wonderful that must have been for those with the experience.

I plan on going to see Swami Govinda again.... in the meantime he will be with me when I meditate and learn to make myself "powerful" as he put it while slapping my hands. Hmmmm, maybe I'll be a surgeon?

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Comments

[Catherine Rakoff]

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This was lovely Dave. I've only seen your experience depicted in movies. You described it very well so I could envision it. Thanks. India has been developing spirituality for 25 thousand years......what a fabulous experience it must be for you to be part of that. wow.