I knew that sooner or later (or maybe never) I would write an article pertaining to this topic. But since it revolved around an implausible and knotty word called ‘Swami’, the ‘never’ factor always seemed the strongest. I have always been wary of Swamijis. Although it merely denotes a title of respect, I grew up with the idea that these saffron clad individuals can only be categorized into two kinds- the idiosyncratic and self-centred kind that forego all worldly pleasures and responsibilities and flee into the jungle to seek nirvana or those- that apart from being astute and materialistic, are also blessed with a gift of the gab and a bag of tricks. But if memories are to be banked upon, I distinctly remember having had a close encounter even with the third kind.
A long time ago, an eighteen- year old lad dressed in saffron rags, came begging for alms, at our house in Berhampur. He was welcomed with warmth and directed to the kitchen to consume the leftovers. This was the usual routine in our household but for that fatigued and undernourished boy it was an unusual gesture. Thereafter it became a frequent habit. During one of his visits, he told my auntie (whose wedding was fixed) that she would get married on the prefixed date but not to the boy she was engaged to. Believe it or not, however Ripley it sounded then, this preposterous prediction came true. In the eleventh hour of the wedding, on a sudden demand of dowry, the baraat left and in a bizarre replay of a Bollywood film, a cousin of my aunt gallantly stepped into the shoes of the bridegroom.
After this, every time the lad visited our house, the ladies would flock around him like bees. Somewhere along the line he was even christened as ‘Maharaj’. What was more unbelievable was the Maharaj’s total acceptance in a Muslim household. I remember the first time he laid eyes on me he uttered a simple statement. ‘This girl doesn’t believe in me.’ I was angry and shaken- probably with the truth and the guilt. I always felt that it was not the things he said but the things people wanted him to say that made him so popular. In my opinion anybody could predict anything. Any accomplishment, any discontentment, any achievement, any disappointment, - these were all safe prophecies that could never be misinterpreted.
But soon friends started visiting our house to make their appointments with Maharaj and he went on to become one of the most famous astrologers of Berhampur. Often enough though, the Maharaj’s predictions were precise and factual. Some of them, I now recall, were shrouded with dual meanings, almost amusingly Nostradamical in nature. Like the time he told me I would get married to a person ‘jo hamesha tumko gaadi mein ghumaeyga’. Little did I interpret the ‘gaadi’ as the public ‘railgaadi’ and not the private and flashy limousine that I had envisaged all along.
Anyway, Maharaj belonged to the ‘third’ kind of Swamis and even without wanting to, I still possess a subtle sense of respect for him (even now he is a faithful visitor to our house in Berhampur). But although I grew up in a country where there was no dearth of miracles and debacles of the so- called Swamijis, it was only recently that I had a not so close TV encounter with the fourth kind. And this was the kind that finally influenced a hardcore skeptic like me to do something I had never done before in my life. To stop living and start breathing!
Known to millions as Swami Ramdev, this holy soul harbours true Gandhian ideals. He is perhaps the only patriotic Swamiji with no foreign returned labels tagged onto his fame. The only simple saint who takes ‘yoga’ not to the heights of dollars, pounds or glory but to the pinnacle of welfare and well-being. The only preaching priest that diligently and daily performs with the public!
His aim- to heal every inch of his poor and diseased country through ancient Ayurvedic medicines, coupled with the life- enhancing breather called Pranayam.
His duty- to daily practice with the general public, what he preaches- either through the medium of television or through his various meets with the civic community.
His responsibility- to rekindle our faith in the simple but age- old adage that ‘Health is Wealth’.
His philosophy- Our body is the only place of worship. This is where God resides- in every ailing muscle, every brittle bone, every dying cell. It therefore becomes our prime duty to keep it glowing, growing and healthy.
His mission- to totally flush out the ailments of the world with the immunity called Pranayam. Sounds impossible but not improbable!
It is a known fact that every journey in life starts with a single step- it could either be with your right or even with your left foot. It doesn’t matter. But few realize that proper living starts only with the right breath. Take the wrong one and you could end up on a painfully shortcut route to your ultimate destination. Therefore it is never too late to take the first correct breath and step into a whole new healthy world. It’s about time we all stopped living and started breathing!
P.S. For more information on Swami Ramdev and his healing methods, visit www.divyayoga.com. or watch ‘Aastha’ channel every morning from 5 to 7 and every evening from 8.30 to 9.30. For details on Pranayam, Mr. Prakash Tendulkar’s article on the IRAS Times entitled ‘Breathing- the indicator of God’ could prove informative.
Nargis Natarajan.