The year was 1984. I had spent five years as a student at Prasanthi Nilayam. Even though I was selected as a singer in 1980, the opportunity to sing in the Mandir or in front of Swami had always eluded me. Maybe it was rightly so. When there were many singers, much more talented, how could I sing? However, I sang in the hostel and Institute and played harmonium when there was no one better to play. However, the yearning aflame in my heart to sing or play an instrument in the physical presence of Swami never subsided.

My prayer to the Lord has always been, “Swami, aren’t You the one who blesses everyone with talent? Why don’t You bless me with some skill and then bless me with the joy of singing or playing an instrument in front of You?”

For five years, I had put in a lot of effort as my part of the imagined deal with Swami. I had used any and every opportunity to practice music. Every day, I spent a few hours practicing singing or playing the harmonium, in the early morning hours. I had tagged along with talented singers to learn and practice, but none of these exertions had an impact on my singing or instrument playing. In any case, I tried to serve the music group in every way I could. I took it upon myself to clean the music room daily, light the lamp at the music room altar, help with minor repairs and tuning of music instruments, carry the instruments for programs, etc. Deriving joy from these efforts, I spent my time. But, the desire to sing or play in front of Swami, persisted unquenched.

In 1984, Pandit Ravishankar had come to Puttaparthi and Swami made him perform at the Institute auditorium. I happened to sit in one of the front rows and enjoyed the performance. It was the first time I saw anyone play Sitar live at such close quarters.

There were no Sitar players among the students at that time. A stray thought arose in my head as I watched the program. If only there was a way to learn the Sitar, I could be part of the music group. My rational mind put a stop to this unrealistic daydream. I didn’t have a clue about playing the Sitar. Also, I had no idea of Hindustani music. Buying the Sitar was something I could not afford. Where would I find a teacher to learn the alphabets of Hindustani music and the Sitar? Even if I started learning, how many months or years will be needed to gain some level of mastery? All these rational thoughts put an end to my daydream.

A couple of days later, while skimming through the books in the Institute library, the autobiography of Pandit Ravishankar jumped out at me. I borrowed the book and read it. Surprisingly, at the end of the book, Pandit Ravi Shankar had given ‘teach yourself’ instructions for a beginner. I was overjoyed to see this. But what was the use from that elation anyway? There were still many insurmountable barriers.

A few days later, when I opened the music room in the morning to clean the room and light the lamp, a surprise awaited me. Next to the altar, a Sitar sat resting against the wall. I just couldn’t believe my eyes. I enquired from others who frequented the music room about the arrival of the Sitar. No one knew how it had gotten there. While others paid scant attention to this miracle, my joy knew no bounds.

From the following day, my secret plan of learning the Sitar went into motion. I would wake up at 2:00AM and learn to play the instrument for a couple of hours.

Very soon, I ran into a hitch. The absence of any knowledge of Hindustani music meant that no music was being produced from the Sitar. Swami resolved this for me. Around that time, a music professor had moved to Prasanthi Nilayam and Swami had instructed him to teach music to the students. In a few months, I learnt the basics of a few Ragas, which provided a boost to my Sitar practice.

After six months of practice, one early morning I was ‘discovered’ by a senior member of the music group. I was inducted as a Sitar player among the stalwarts for the other instruments. For two years, Swami blessed me with the satisfaction of being a member of the music group. The most precious blessing was the opportunity to play during the 60th Birthday Jhoola programme.

This is the story of a musical runt being blessed by Swami, just the way He is described in the Shloka, “Mookam karoti vaachaalam” – He can make even the dumb speak.  Even when our desires are petty, He lets us savour the Divine Motherly Love.

Arun Uthayan,  B.Com, M.Com, 1979 – 1986, Prashanthi Nilayam. Currently Director, Enterprise Risk Management at CIBC, a leading global financial institution, based in Toronta, Canada. Actively involved in the SSSO,  currently Regional Devotional Wing coordinator in Ontario, Canada.