Guru’s Grace Sometime in 2014

Guru’s Grace Sometime in 2014 ‘Ravi, answer your phone, for heaven’s sake. It is disturbing everyone in the Ashram,’ said Sheela, dressed in her usual impeccable style. Though in an Ashram, the fact that she was in the public eye earlier was evident. Her sari was perfectly draped and the little jewellery she wore spoke of outstanding nobility. Sheela was after all, a Padma awardee before making a foray into the spiritual zone. Ravi wished to ignore all calls, especially from his family, in the Ashram but could just not do this now. He wondered whether to put it on silent mode but seeing his maternal uncle, Vasudev Rao’s number he felt it would be to prudent to take the call. His uncle seldom called unnecessarily. ‘This must be something important,’ thought Ravi. ‘Amma has passed away,’ Vasu said softly in his baritone voice. And then he hung up, his voice was choked and distraught with emotions. Ravi felt gutted. A part of his self collapsed, like the scaffolding of a building. He was remorseful, distraught and started to sob like a child. ‘I can understand your anguish, Ravi. Few in the family are aware that your grandmother too was devastated that January in 1948; she lost two towering personalities who fashioned her life, Mahatma Gandhi and her father,’ continued the danseuse. Ravi’s heart almost stopped beating. Most people do not take their relatives seriously, especially the older ones. In his case, Ravi took her very, very seriously. Not just because she was his grandmother but because of her incredible persona. ‘Very often, people’s names are misnomers. This is certainly not the case with my mother. Her name Ganga could not be more apt. After all, the River Ganga came to the earth to safeguard and liberate Bhoomi Devi. This is precisely what my mother has been attempting to do all the time,’ Vasu used to remark at each and every endeavour of hers. ‘Ravi is it not ironical that we met your grandmother in the hospital on Good Friday and she has passed away on Easter Sunday. Her soul has been resurrected today. She was truly catholic by nature, in spite of her orthodox Andhra-Brahmin upbringing. I remember her telling me a few years back, how she would accompany your family to Chandigarh to attend the Midnight Mass. Certainly it was the elasticity of her Brahmanical mind, her rigorous religiosity and spiritual training which enabled her to flit from a dargah to a church and then to a temple with effortless ease. She discovered spiritual sanctuary as easily at Kapaleeswara Temple as at Ajmer Sharif or Santhome Church in Madras. I reckon only an individual blessed with a robust mind bereft of any mental baggage could do so,’ added Sheela. ‘Barring one family and its members,’ Vasu would always add. This seemingly strange, cryptic comment perpetually cannonaded the dancer’s mind. ‘On one occasion when I had accompanied her, we were to attend mass. Unfortunately her official car broke down on the way and the driver was struggling to fix it. It was then that Ganga quite akin to a former popular Prime Minister clambered onto a rickshaw. Years ago a former Prime Minister who mentored Ganga in politics rode atop an elephant across paddy fields to her destination. Ganga was singularly inspired by this politician and her down to earth nature and copied her habits and mannerisms to an extent.’ Sheela continued reminiscing. ‘Though ensconced in power and definitely she was no longer petite and sylphlike she tumbled out from the rickety mode of transportation but maintained her calm. This was a testimony to her brawny mind (she was always on time) and the fact that she was not an egotist was vindicated by the fact that she was willing to trade her seat from a plush car to a dilapidated rickshaw.’ ‘You know Ravi, I am unexpectedly reminded of Jallababa, the mystic saint from Baramulla. From out of nowhere he would surface at 5 Ferozeshah Road. The very same house which was once occupied by her father-in-law Ram Kumar Sarma as a member of the Legislative Council and by her husband Anand Kumar Sarma when he was a member of the first LokSabha who went on to become a member of the Union Cabinet later as he matured in political life. The name plate of the house bore the nameplate of Ganga , when she was a parliamentarian and subsequently as a cabinet minister. The house became an integral part of the Pantulu family,” added the terpsichorean. . Hearing about the Ferozeshah Road house instantly reminded Ravi of two other houses that Ganga his grandmother had been particularly attached to. ‘There were three properties that Ammamma was particularly attached to. SatyaNilayam, her father’s house in Bapatla, the opulent Farhat Bagh in Madras, which was passed on to her husband and of course 5, Ferozeshah Road in Luyten’s Delhi, the political and social fortress of the Pantulu family. She guarded each of these alcazars zealously,’ Ravi was to add. These citadels were an integral part of her personality and she was certainly attached to them in no small measure. It so happened that both husband and wife were to represent the Bapatla constituency of Andhra Pradesh. ‘They nursed the constituency with great care and affection,’ remarked Sheela Natarajan as they walked in Ashram premises. Sheela recalled that the mystic Jallababa was blessed with a prepossessing personality and hypnotic eyes. He gyrated to the renditions of Sufi songs and went seamlessly into an ecstatic trance. He had a reasonable following among the Naqshabandi Sufis. Ganga’s first encounter with the Sufi mystic had been at Fatehpur Sikri when Ganga was part of an all-party delegation accompanying Pakistani and Bangladeshi delegates of law makers to Ajmer Sharif. At his beckoning the entire Pantulu family visited Barahmulla. The orphic Jallababa had set up a Naqshbandi establishment in Baramulla. ‘He blessed all of us and gave us talismans which we with all devotion adorned around our necks. Ganga despite her orthodox upbringing chose to wear the talisman around her neck. Her entire life was a mission to discover spirituality every faiths. Indisputably she was extremely broadminded,’ Ravi quietly mentioned. The danseuse stopped for a while remembering the last few moments again, ‘Your grandmother looked emaciated, forlorn and the spirit to survive seemed to be ebbing. Yet, I thought she would pull through. Look at the travesty of her life! There was no one from the family to attend to her as the angels hovered around the bed.’ ‘Absolutely! Must have been calamitous for the old lady as she lay crippled on the bed,’ agreed Ravi, with a hint of guilt straining his voice. Without doubt, Ganga Devi’s life was brimful of peaks and valleys. There were innumerable woebegone moments. She scaled the summits of power in the political, religious, social and spiritual fields.’ ‘She scored a century in life and I seriously reckoned that she would add some more to her tally. Remarkably the grand old lady belonged to an era which people of this age would be wonderstruck about her craze,’ added Sheela. ‘Your grandmother was so passionate about cricket! Cricket icons like Mansoor Ali Khan Pataudi, Sunil Gavaskar, Kapil Dev and Mohammed Azharuddin were favourites. And yes the little master Sachin. Not to forget, Vizzy was a family friend. Apparently your grandfather and grandmother were closely associated with the Madras Cricket Board and later the BCCI. ‘And when I referred her to as Darren Ganga, she would be so amused!’ Ravi mused. ‘Your grandmother remained an inquisitive child all her life.’ Ravi could merely nod in agreement as there was a lump in his throat and his eyes welled-up with tears. With whom would he share the nuances of cricket, the intricacies of politics and subtleties of religion and spirituality! Unlike a majority of women belonging to her era, these subjects fired her imagination. She secretly harboured to be in the league of Annie Beasant, Sarojini Naidu, Vijaya Lakshmi Pandit, Aruna Asif Ali or even Ba. These talismanic and towering personalities continued to be her inspirations all her life. His grandmother remained fervid and messianic about the game of cricket and the endgame of politics, religiosity and spiritualism. She was dismayed that religion and spirituality had become dogmatic and divided the hearts of people and nations. Her dalliance with cricket, politics, religion and spirituality continued unabated till she was bedridden with Alzheimer’s. With her mental and physical faculties caving in she could no longer communicate, becoming a veritable vegetable in the deep winter of her centurion's life. In hospital Ganga was afflicted with a host of health problems. The woman of substance, who had never been hospitalised in her life, was discommoded with cardiac problems, high blood pressure, Alzheimer’s and pneumonia. A perceptible drop in electrolytes made her psychotic and incoherent. ‘Do you recall S.K. Patil?’ she would ask, words slurring and eyes glazed as though she could see the events right there. ‘You know, he has developed hazardous connections with the student community of Sri Ram College.’ All of a sudden she would squint suspiciously at Sheela, ‘You are … Vasu’s sister are you not? When did you return from America?’ ‘I know all of you are eyeing at my wealth,…my political legacy. None of you deserve to inherit the political mantle. This will be determined by a committee consisting of Bapu, Rajagopalachary, Bhagirath, Pandit Bharadwaja, nannagaru, Dr Sarma garu and my father-in-law. I have made myself resoundingly clear.’ Ganga spoke in a high pitched-voice. Sheela was dismayed upon hearing all this from a lady known for her courage and conviction. Physical and mental fitness were deeply embedded in her grain alongside religiosity and spirituality, like Ardhaneeswara. As she was running downhill in the extreme winter of her life she abhorred in any manner to be resuscitated through a ventilator. She made Vasu, Prashant and Lavanya, the only ones who served her in the final moments of her life, make a solemn promise that they would allow her to cast her mortal self without the assistance of any artificial support. Such was her resolve and fortitude. ‘A test match is to be played for five days. Whether it produces a result or not, there ought not to be a sixth day,’ would be her refrain. She never quite appreciated the Duckworth Lewis system used in T20 or one-day matches. She believed this artificial technique robbed interest in the game and often winners end up losers and the reverse too.. The amphitheatre of the Parliament or the vicissitudes human life, dalliance with religiosity and spirituality are like a pristine test match. One could win, lose or life ends in a stalemate or it could be an intriguing tie. Ganga during her final moments vividly recalled that ages ago she earned the wrath of a Prime Minister as she had joined a cabal while opposing the extension of the Lower House and was compelled to quit the party, which of course she rejoined once again. She watched cricket matches with enormous delight and avid interest, be it at Chepauk, Ferozeshah Kotla or Mohali. She ensured that the PIE black and white TV set at eldest daughter Sudha’s house in Delhi was replaced by a colour TV acquired from an ostentatious store at Singapore. Ganga had accompanied Ravi’s mother Sudha and maternal uncle Vasu to Singapore, where they bought the much awaited colour television from a pretentious store. It was a prized purchase as she was keen to watch cricket in colour. Upon their return to Delhi unfortunately, the capital was rocked by anti-Sikh riots as a popular Prime Minister was felled by an assassin’s bullets. The television set was sealed by the customs department. The normally unruffled and tranquil Ganga flew into a rage and her pique knew no bounds as she perhaps would not be able to watch the India-Pakistan Test and ODI series in colour, something she had been looking forward to with much anticipation. She was seething with anger. Once the macabre situation calmed down, she dextrously pulled her old political strings to hasten the delivery of the television set. After all, once upon a time she had been a Member of Parliament, representing her place of birth, Bapatla and a Minister of State for Railways. As she ruminated over theses tantalising moments in life, Ganga Bhavani breathed her last. Even in those lucid moments her final words, like those of her father Valluri Kanta Rao were, ‘Om Namah Shivaya.’ Ganga left for her heavenly abode …her mouth wide open as she gasped for breath and prana finally deserted her mortal self. Her memories were cast now in stone. The message of her tragic demise was from one recovered alcoholic to another. Vasu recovered through the fellowship of Alcoholics Anonymous and Ravi, through the unique rhythmic breathing technique of Sudarshan Kriya as cognated by H. H. Sri Sri Ravi Shankar. Ravi’s eyes turned red and misty. By a strange quirk of fate, he received the message at a holy place and he gleaned that Ammama, as he referred to her must be knocking the doors of heaven! ‘Ravi I was very fond of my Granddad, were you close to Ganga?’ Sheela was to ask her benefactor. ‘Yes I was Sheela Sometime in 2006 “Courage is the ladder on which all the other virtues mount.” writes Clare Boothe Luce. These eponymous and iconic words always rang a bell in the alcoves of the mind of Sudha . The brawny and robust lady faced innumerable tumultuous situations in her life and weathered many a storm. The combative lady was a woman of substance and the pivot of the family. But this was a combative situation. Her son was hospitalised for alcoholism and a stroke suffered. Sudha and her daughter –in-law Lalitha kept vigil outside the ICCU and were pacing the floor tentatively and with apprehension. Suddha’s mother Ganga Devi was alternatively reading Sundara Kanda and Hanuman Chalisa beseeching the divine intercession of Pavan Putra Hanuman to ward off all malefic forces. Sudha had over the years developed immense courage and faith in the divinity and her Guru Sri Sri Ravi Shankar to overcome misadventures in life. Way back sometime in 1942 The year was 1942 when the world was going through tumultuous times caused by the disastrous and cataclysmic World War II. India too faced the brunt of the misgovernance of the tyrannical regime . Once the abortive Cripps Mission had failed Mahatma Gandhi gave a clarion call of a Do or Die call through the game changer Quit India movement . The movement began on 8th of August 1942 which transfigured the imagination of enslaved Indians. India and the countrymen were surcharged and electrified once again as the slogan of Karo or Maro/Do or Die rent the air and metamorphosed the lives of millions of the countrymen as they plunged into the non cooperation and civil disobedience movement as they could sense unshackling from foreign yoke. Meanwhile, the potentate too could feel the pulse of the subjects as at the subterranean level tectonic changes were taking place. Several Congressmen were imprisoned . Among them were Pantulu Rama Kumar Sarma and his son Anand for raising the banner of revolt in Cuddalore a bijou town of Madras Presidency. Sudha was barely entering her teens. But upon her fell the onerous responsibility to look after the Pantulu family who were in Madras. The Pantulu Sarma Family of Madras The Pantulu Sarma family originally hailed from the coastal districts of the Andhra region of Madras Presidency. Ramakumar was from Masulipatnam while his wife Kamaladevi had her roots in Bapatla. They bore a son in Anand Kumar. Sudha was the eldest of the siblings of the Sarma family of Madras. They were in all six sisters and one brother. Besides the sexaton had two foster siblings as well ; a brother and sister who were older than them. They happened to be the off springs of their father’s first wife who passed away before their father married Ganga Devi their mother. Sudha’s , father Anand Kumar Sarma was a preeminent lawyer in Madras quite like his illustrious father Ram Kumar Sarma . While the colours of the High Court remained the same even in 2006, the name of the sprawling coastal city had changed to Chennai while it retained the old world charm mused Sudha in the hospital where her son was battling for life. Several emotions and thoughts were flooding her mind as she occasionally peeped into the ICCU where a complicated on her son was being performed. But she prevented her mind being cannonaded by Sisyphean and antipathetic thoughts. Her daughter-in-law and grandmother kept praying to the God’s for salvation. Sudha rewinding back into the days of yore Ram Kumar Sarma bought a palatial house from the Nawab of Arcott in the Mylapore area of Madras. The house was the epicentre of major cultural and political activities. The opulent house was equidistant from the famous Santhome Church neatly perched on the banks of Marina beach and the powerful Kapaleeswara Temple whose presiding deity is Lord Shiva. Kutchery Road in Mylapore area reflected the quintessential Madras culture which was populated by the priestly class, the twice born, artistes , politicians , freedom fighters and lawyers. Ram Kumar Sarma the grandfather of Sudha a lawyer of eminence was an intrepid freedom fighter who was garrisoned on several occasions much to the chagrin of his wife Kamala Devi was a close associate of Mahatma Gandhi and C Rajagopalachari. Chakravarti Rajagopalachari was affectionately known as Rajaji and CR an eminent Congressman was the last Governor General of India and also the first Chief Minister of Madras State , who broke ranks with the grand old party to establish Swatantara Party . He mentored Ram Kumar Sarma and on his sagacious advice the Mahatma included him in the entourage for the second round table conference held in London . Once again and on the perspicacious counsel of CR Ram Kumar Sarma was made a member of the legislative council. Sudha was proud of her lineage and the estimable family she belonged to and played the role of a perfect host at Lutyens Delhi where her grandfather was allotted a massive bungalow. However life is not always hunky dory or assumes a linear shape perennially and is brimful of peaks and valleys. Sudha lost her grandparents to the empyrean soon after India attained Independence. The Congress Party in their wisdom decided the political baton to be passed on to Anand Kumar Sarma who contested the first Lok Sabha elections and won from the Bapatla constituency winning by a handsome margin. The political baton and the very same house occupied by Ram Kumar Sarma was passed on to his son Anand . The word dynastic politics entered the lexicon of Sudha’s vocabulary. And Sudha was once again the perfect hostess. She pursued her education in Delhi . While her siblings remained in the mansion at Farhat Bagh Madras. Her younger brother was a frequent visitor to Delhi while he pursued his education in Madras. The foster brother Ram Das and sister Suryakumari were married and settled in Vijayawada and Madras respectively. Astrologers blamed my problem and misfortune on planetary configurations and the stars, clairvoyants postulated theories that it was bad fate- Karma, science opines that alcoholism is perhaps genetic. Well some relatives had been alcoholics. An uncle fought back through the fellowship of Alcoholics Anonymous. The fact of the matter was that I had a severe drinking problem and like all alcoholics was in denial mode. Substance abuse, smoking and alcohol have a detrimental effect on human body, mind and soul. Repair is an arduous and painstaking task which necessarily requires Divine intervention. Science would vouch for professional help. But the addict is absolutely oblivious to any help and is cocooned in his world of self-denial and arrogance, refusing any form of help and closes all doors. I have seen it happening with myself and a few colleagues who sadly succumbed to the lethal disease. When the addict surrenders to Divine mercy, that professional help works as a miracle. Those struggling to cope with addictions and really desirous of a 360 degree change in their lives should invariably and without any hesitation clutch the hand of the Divine, whose manifestation is a Guru, in order to survive and help themselves and their loved ones. Today, I recall those wintry weekends of Bikaner, when I hit the bottle after performing a part of my official duties where I was in charge of passenger and freight operations. Infact, railway operations involve a 24×7, 365 days effort. All those involved have to be extremely sharp and alert and here I was mixing my work with alcohol. A typical weekend meant speaking to my bosses at Delhi with a mixture of false bravado but primarily trepidation, over several packets of cigarettes, taking a quick shower, a light breakfast and then settling down with my precious bottle of gin. Later in the afternoon, I would settle down with yet another bottle of gin. All through, spar with supposedly non performing staff, quibble with my wife and shout at my children and literally sleep over lunch, while the telephone from the railway control office would be ringing incessantly. The pattern continued. It was a strange fixation with the drink. I vomited only to drink more. One could call it drinking bulimia. As the sun sank in the deserts of Rajasthan, shadows lengthened in our railway bungalow; the prestigious Palace on Wheels chugged along, coal rakes were being supplied to powerhouses, gypsum and food grain was getting loaded and I was trying to handle the second bottle of gin. As a routine it became one a half bottles of gin on weekdays and over the weekends there were two bottles. Nothing to trumpet about. It was a wretched life to lead, no friends, no social gatherings it was only alcohol. Whenever we were invited for lunches or dinners, my family was absolutely petrified as a drunk and violent person accompanied them for the outing. This was the scenario every weekend and holiday. My mind was always desperately pining for that bottle of gin. Why Blue Riband Gin? The fact was that I thought gin did not stink. Gin is euphemistically referred to as a lady’s drink, but the stuff has almost 40% alcohol in it. It is indeed a matter of surprise to me as to how the official establishment accepted and tolerated me. I reckon it was the deep prayers of my mother, grandmother and those of my wife-though she was losing faith in the Divine and lamenting her fate. Year after year, starting somewhere in 1995 to end 2006, I was drinking like a fish and smoking like a chimney. And this was across all my postings on various railway systems and different places. The consumption was 2 bottles of gin; around 3 to 4 packets of Wills Navy Cut and several packets of Pan Parag (I hoped that it would camouflage the odour). Essentially, I was revolting inside. My body, mind and soul were all tormented and I was looking for an elusive succour. Perhaps I was enjoying the pain. However the guardian angels and almighty God were protecting me. Sometime in November 2003, my wife registered my name for the Part 1 course of the Art of Living at Jaipur, which I attended. Upon completion of the course that Sunday, I rang up my mother and could discern palpable happiness and gratitude in her voice. After years, her son had spoken in a sober condition over a weekend. Tears of gratitude flowed for the Master (HH Sri Sri Ravi Shankar), who cognated the unique breathing technique called Sudarshan Kriya. She had by then seen Gurudev at a Satsang in Hyderabad, apart from watching his discourses on television. However, I was still to give up drinking. A few years later, in 2010 when my mother met Guruji, the only questioned he asked her was, “Amma, are you happy?” I had quit drinking by then. This was an Aha moment for my mother , a verily Teacher's Day for her. It is essential that a participant who undergoes the Part 1 course (now called the Happiness Programme) should attend the weekly follow up of Long Sudarshan Kriya apart from practising the short Sudarshan Kriya every day without fail to receive full benefits of the programme. And also attend various programmes from the bouquet of courses designed by Guruji and imparted by the Art of Living Foundation. Unfortunately, I did not attend the weekly follow up schedule, nor did I attend the Advanced Meditation Course. The organisers of the course were quite considerate in accommodating me as a non-residential participant in a residential programme, so that my dependency on Bacchus would reduce. But my mind was transfixed as to how I would be able to survive the evenings without alcohol and the desperation for cigarettes during the day. Primarily these were all self made barriers which I had yet to overcome. Though I did not attend the weekly follow ups nor participate in any other course of the Art of Living, by the grace of the Gurudev continued to practice the Short Sudarshan Kriya at home daily. Why that happened is a mystery! My wife and father took me to a liver specialist in Hyderabad a few years later. The doctor exclaimed and wondered as to how I was moving around given my history of drinking, my answer was that I practice Short Sudarshan Kriya every day( despite consuming alcohol), drink plenty of buttermilk and consume Liv.52. She acknowledged that Sudarshan Kriya did have immense therapeutic value and benefits. Several medical practitioners agree that this unique breathing technique increases the level of prana (chi), helping it to virtually permeate into each cell of the body. And the weekly long Kriya session imparts a tremendous boost to the immune system and totally detoxifies the human body. There have been studies conducted in AIIMS, NIMHANS and several other hospitals which corroborate this point of view. During my stint at Guntakal Division on South Central Railway, I happened to visit the mutt of Raghavendra Swami at Mantralayam. The alcoholic mind smuggled a bottle of gin and a few cigarettes into the precincts of the holy shrine. After paying obeisance at the shrine, I was desperate to consume liquor in my room at the mutt. I was shocked to see the bottle absolutely empty. There was no crack in the bottle nor was the seal tampered with or broken, yet the entire alcohol was spilt outside on the carpet and my clothes. Only my Puja material and the notes of Part 1 course of Art of Living which I had jotted down at Jaipur were spared. To me this was a strong signal. This was no hallucination, but a clear message sent to me by Raghavendra Swami and Guruji that enough was enough! I had to quit drinking. The seeds of change were being slowly implanted. Some months later, as the winter chill was setting in, November 2006 to be exact, I started having apparitions of HH Sri Sri Ravi Shankar and Satya Sai Baba virtually every day, exhorting me to give up alcohol. Now these are things which science would turn down out right. But those nights were quite miserable. I was drunk and kept dreaming of Gurudev and Baba. Through all of this every morning even though I was literally a zombie I practised Sudarshan Kriya. And then quite suddenly, by the grace of the Master, I stopped drinking in early December 2006. And it is once again purely his grace that I have not touched alcohol despite all provocations. It is now nearly ten years of sobriety. Thereafter I did various Art of Living courses including the Teacher’s Training Course and have become a part of the faculty. I recall during one mega Advanced Meditation Course, Guruji met all the participants. I broke down and thanked Gurudev for pulling me out of the morass, the quagmire I was in. So did another youngster sitting next to me, from the IT field. We did not know each other, yet happened to sit together at Vishalakshi Mantapam (at the Art of Living Centre Bangalore). Interestingly we both had given up substance addiction and were at the feet of the Master. I think that is what Gurudev does when a person surrenders unflinchingly. One has to surrender, bow down and leave all the impressions gathered over a period of time, and then the magic works! Guruji asked me to share my story with the whole world in order to motivate them to take to this path of Happiness. By his grace several railwaymen have done the course across the length and breadth of this country with startling benefits. We have testimonials of drivers giving up smoking, drugs and alcohol. Similarly, loco pilots who could barely sleep and only saw signals in their dreams, now enjoy a sound night’s sleep. This has been video graphed by a former Divisional Railway Manager of Trichy. Similarly office staff of Divisional Railway Manager, Bangalore had to undergo lung function test. Smokers, who had undergone the part 1 course of Art of Living, were surprised to observe there was no trace of tobacco in their system unlike smokers who did not participate in the programme. Such is the power of the Sudarshan Kriya. If the Indian Railways is the life line of the nation, Sudarshan Kriya is the life force. Regular practice of Sudarshan Kriya and surrender to Gurudev has transformed the lives of millions across the globe. Let everyone experience his grace. In February 2014, I travelled with Guruji by a special train– SRI SRI Express. Anugraha Yatra travelled across the then undivided Andhra Pradesh. The moment we crossed Kurnool, Guruji gave me Prasadam from Mantralayam. I was taken aback and reminded of the incident at Rayar’s Mutt (Raghavendra Swami’s Mutt), where I had carried liquor into the holy precincts. I thought to myself if Rayar taught the theoretical aspects of the science of breath, Guruji provides the practical explanation. It is only divinity which transcends body, mind and spirit. Guruji spreads waves of happiness and transforms lives of millions through the unique breathing technique called Sudarshan Kriya.The grace should keep flowing across the globe. I am indeed indebted to my Guru H. H. Sri Sri Ravi Shnakar . Thank You Teacher . Jai Guru Dev - That is Victory to the Big Mind.