Is my mom really Narmada?
What makes you say so, dear?
No. Sadhubaba told this to me.
The kid had just returned from a nice trip to Madhyapradesh. It was for him a dream travel with only his mother accompanying. It was to happen for them, so fast, so soon that neither his brother nor his father could take part in according to their own preoccupations. Yes, it was to happen inevitably as I feel the most now on retrospection!
Interesting! What did the sage say about it?
He was a gentle wise man whom we met at Maheswar temple. Long 107 years had travelled with him to deliver signs of age and to bless with a sacred smile and profound wisdom.
None told us about him. We walked into the temple and we met. The sage looked up, stared for long at mom’s face and then smiled. He kept on smiling as gently as moonshine falling upon a vast field of ripened wheat. He spoke not, yet his lips quivered under caressing white beards upon his face.
Al last, the wise man struggled to stand with his frail stature and could finally settle in holding mom’s hand. He drew me near and I could then hear him saying, “Here is my Narmada. I have come here from Haridwar and have waited for months to meet you only. Now I will have my deliverance. Mother, you bless my seat, my god and let me feel ecstasy of eternal happiness!”
Mom could say nothing. The wise man took her to seat on his sacred seat. The glow of a morning sunshine flourished all over his face. Slowly he lifted the veil upon his own sacred possession, his god. He offered it before my mom. She touched HIM, embraced HIM, wept profusely to bathe HIM and remained speechless for hours.
Before we took leave, he had wished no more to meet again. He only whispered in my ears, “Let your precious life remain as worthy and sacred as the place it had had its birth.”
I never doubted of what the little boy was telling me about. I knew his worst enemy had ever been the falsehood.
I went on dreaming—a reverie that took me to a world which for so long I had never even perceived. Sins in me had held my vision blurred; I wished to smell the fragrance of holiness, but could never do; I longed to sing the sacred hymn, yet failed to grasp its tune. My world seemed to soar high with an innocent revelation of amazement upon the fairy’s innocuous eyes.
I came to consciousness when those pinks lips again sweetly expressed, “If she is Narmada, who am I?”
I could only utter, “You are a temple on her bank.”