Chapter 6

Venkataraman, accompanied by Ramachandran in his Toyota Qualis, were racing towards Shirdi. It took them nearly a day and a half to get that far, that standing testament to the speed at which they were going. When they were around 20 km from Shirdi, they found someone asking for a lift. They gave him a lift. He was in a hurry apparently, and couldn’t wait till the next bus came around. He kept muttering the Sai nama to himself as the vehicle kept moving on. Venkataraman tried to strike up a conversation, “The Sai Baba is really popular in this part of the world, isn’t he?” The new guy said, “Yes huzoor, Baba lived and preached the life of love and humanity from here. He taught us how to live, and we are benefiting from the fruits of the seeds he sowed.”

Casually, Venkataraman enquired about the reason behind his hurry to get to work. He replied, “My customers would be waiting for me. I have kept them waiting for too long already. I generally am at my shop, around a couple of hours before this time, but today my son died in the morning. So, I was held up with getting his final rites done. That’s why I’m being late. Venkataraman and Ramachandran were aghast. They didn’t know if they had to feel sorry for this poor man, who had just lost his son, or if they should feel furious at someone who is rushing to work, hardly a couple of hours after his son has passed away.

They looked at each other, and then at the man. He smiled at them and said, “Friends, there is nothing to feel confused about. Lord Krishna says in the Bhagavad Gita, that duty is foremost of all duties. Karmanye vadikaraste, maa phaleshu kadhachana. Do your duties, do not let the thought of the fruit cloud your head. My job is my duty. My son’s death is not going to reverse, and nor is his life going to return to that lifeless corpse of a snake-bit child I had seen this morning. My duties towards my son are over, and now I must get on with my duties towards the rest of my family. Death is commonplace in this cycle of life. No one is born to live forever. “

The two again looked at each other, and this time decided to keep quiet till the place of the other man’s shop came about. As he was making his way to move into the shop, Venkataraman asked him if he knew of a Khalsapati in Shirdi, and that he was sent by Satyananda Thirtha of Rameshwaram. The guy asked them to get down from the car and took them straight into a butcher’s shop.

“You impudent fool , how dare you ask me to step into a butcher’s? I am a sanyasin, and this is the worst respect you could show one.”

“No sir, I didn’t mean to hurt you sir. But if it meant to, please forgive me. I brought you here not without reason. I am Khalsapati, the only Khalsapati of Shirdi, and Satyananda Thirtha must have sent you to me.”

“What do you mean?” asked a shocked Ramachandran.

“I mean, welcome to the humble abode of Khalsapati. But you must forgive me, I have customers to attend to. I will be back at the earliest.”