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Finally, the day of His first close-up darshan-when I will be able to sit near His feet-at nargol has arrived. There are about five hundred people in the camp; it is a beautiful place on the seashore, surrounded by tall trees. I find my tree near the makeshift podium and make myself comfortable underneath it. My eyes are glued to the pathway from where He will be coming, and in few moments I see Him coming in all His beauty and grace, wearing a white lunghi and a shawl wrapped around the upper part of His body. I can literally see some kind of pure light surrounding Him. He has a magical presence, not of this world. He namastes the audience with folded hands and sits in the lotus posture on the little square table covered with a white cotton sheet.
He starts speaking,
but His words are slipping away above my head. There is utter silence all
around except for His voice and the sound of waves from the distance. I
don’t know how long He spoke: when I open my eyes he has already gone.
I am feeling something like a dying experience. He has tugged at my heart
like a magnet pulling a piece of metal, and I am unable to sleep the whole
night. Wandering on the seashore I look around with empty eyes. The sky
is full of stars and I have never experienced such silence and beauty before.
My heart wants to shout, “Where is He? I want to meet Him!”
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