The Journey to Divinity

In the serene hills of the Gomati, a small Ashram was established.

The man who founded it, and served as its head, was known by many names - all of them synonymous with kindness and benevolence.

He was the Mahatma Girish Sharma - Manavatmaj, the great soul; Mahabali, the king of mountains; Parvatgiridhar, the mountain-supporting sage; Vyasa, the great sage, who is said to have authored the Bhagvad Gita.

In his Ashram there lived two disciples: a young man called Lakshman, and an old woman called Suvasini.

The Mahatma once told them that he had foreseen their birth in a vessel on the banks of the river Gomati; this had happened way back before Lakshman's birth.

They both were devoted disciples of their Guru - they lived their lives according to his teachings and wishes.

The time came when their Guru fell ill. He lay still in his bed as Suvasini sat at his feet and fanned him with a yaksha-tail fan.

"Lakshman," he said weakly, "bring me that pot which my disciple Rama brought from Ayodhya."

Lakshman rushed out and returned with the pot. The Mahatma took it in his hands and placed it on his heart. "I have been living for an eternity," he said suddenly, "but I have never seen this pot before." Then he closed his eyes and entered into meditation. Suvasini continued to fan him while Lakshman stood close by watching him quietly. After some time, there was a look of ecstasy on his face - as if he was communing with someone or with something beyond himself. Then his breathing slowed down until it stopped altogether! They both remained at his side for some time after that - not daring to move or even think about moving away from him! Finally they collected themselves and prepared to perform his last rites. When they opened up his chest to place within it an image of Vishnu or Shiva, they were surprised to find pure sand inside it! It seemed that he had left no instructions for any last rites! Then they also noticed that Vishnu's idol appeared broken at one end as if someone had struck it with a sword! Lakshman then remembered that when he brought the pot from Ayodhya, there was a small statue of Vishnu in it - so he broke off one end of that statue and kept it aside so that they could use it for those rites! But now it was nowhere to be seen! This whole incident threw them into confusion and despair! They decided to take leave from their duties at the Ashram and go away from there for a while - leaving behind only a few sentences addressed to anyone who cared enough to read them:

[You wonder how we could ever leave our Guru? Don't you remember what happened when Rama left Ayodhya? The same thing will happen here too! Only those who truly want peace can care enough about this place to guard it!]

[This letter is addressed to Lakshman alone:]

[Dear Lakshman!] [It's been three months since I saw you last - ever since our Guru fell ill! So here I am writing you this letter rather than talking to you directly!] [Do you remember the day we found out our Guru was no more? Do you remember all those questions we asked ourselves?] [We saw him breathe his last breath! We knew then that we would never see him again!] [But since then we have been going through many changes as well!] [One day we will understand what has happened and why!] [As long as you can remember me, I will always remain with you!] [I know I'm being sentimental but I feel like crying!] [I hope you are doing well too!] [Take care of yourself!] [Sending my love along with this letter:] Goodbye! Suvasini]

[This letter is addressed to Lakshman alone:]

[Dear Lakshman!] [I should've written this long ago but somehow I've been unable [to get around] writing this letter all these months!] [All these days without your company have felt like years without friends!] [How are you faring without me?] Are you missing me as much as I am missing you?] Have you forgotten me already? Have you forgotten our Guru already? Have you started thinking about someone else already?] Do your thoughts wander off elsewhere?] If yes then don't worry about me because I'll be fine whatever happens] If no then don't worry about anything else either because everything else will be settled soon] And if not then please do not write back because all your letters tend to remind me of my past life!] So goodbye dear friend! All my love goes with this letter:] Suvasini]

While Lakshman and Suvasini left the ashram, their hearts were heavy with grief and uncertainty. They wandered through the hills, seeking solace amidst the quietude of nature. The once familiar surroundings seemed unfamiliar, echoing the absence of their beloved Guru.

Days blurred into weeks, and Suvasini's longing grew unbearable. She yearned for the guidance and wisdom that their Guru had imparted, the steady presence that had anchored her soul. One evening, as the sun painted the sky with hues of gold and crimson, she made a decision.

"Lakshman," she said, her voice quivering with determination, "I cannot bear this yearning any longer. I must return to the ashram."

Startled, Lakshman looked at her, his eyes filled with concern. "But Suvasini, what about the emptiness that awaits us there? Our Guru is no more."

A bittersweet smile flickered on her lips. "No, dear Lakshman. The emptiness we feel is merely a reflection of our own longing. Our Guru's power resides within us, in the teachings he bestowed upon us."

With renewed hope, Suvasini made her way back to the ashram. The feeling of being back in the place where joy and sorrow had intertwined was both comforting and unsettling. She sat at their Guru's empty seat, a silent prayer on her lips, and a deep breath filling her lungs.

In the silence, she began to hear the faint echoes of his teachings, gentle whispers that caressed her soul. She discovered that every corner of the ashram had retained a fragment of his essence, and as she immersed herself in the familiar rituals, the teachings bloomed within her like a lotus in full bloom.

Lakshman, who had followed her return reluctantly at first, witnessed the transformation unfolding within Suvasini. He observed the peace that radiated from her, as if she had become a vessel carrying the eternal wisdom of their Guru.

In the days that followed, people began to arrive at the ashram, drawn by an invisible force that pervaded the air. They came seeking solace, guidance, and a glimmer of the light that had illuminated their Guru's presence.

Suvasini welcomed them with open arms, realizing that the emptiness she had felt was never an absence but an opportunity. The ashram became a refuge, a sanctuary where seekers from far and wide could partake in the legacy of their beloved Guru's teachings.

As Lakshman observed the transformation of the ashram, he knew that a new chapter was unfolding. He became its guardian, ensuring that the Mahatma Girish Sharma's teachings were preserved and shared with those who sought enlightenment.

Over the years, the ashram thrived under their care. The once desolate rooms echoed with laughter, discussions on philosophy, and meditative chants that resonated with the harmony of souls seeking truth.

Though the years passed, Suvasini and Lakshman never forgot their Guru. The memories of his serene presence and his parting words remained etched in their hearts. And in their daily rituals and conversations, they paid homage to the profound impact he had on their lives.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the hills, Suvasini and Lakshman sat by the river Gomati, reminiscing about their journey. The water shimmered, reflecting the fading light, as Lakshman broke the silence.

"Suvasini," he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of nostalgia and gratitude, "do you remember when our Guru asked me to bring that pot from Ayodhya?"

She nodded, a smile lighting up her face.

"Well, I found it," he continued, reaching into his bag and pulling out the small pot, its intricate design gleaming in the dying light.

Suvasini's eyes widened in amazement. "How did you find it, Lakshman?"

He chuckled, his eyes sparkling with a familiar mischievousness. "On the day we left the ashram, I carried it with me, hoping to find some answers. And one day, as I wandered through a bustling marketplace, something drew me to a small antique shop. There it was, hidden among dusty relics, waiting for me to reclaim it."

Tears cascaded down Suvasini's cheeks as she reached out and took the cherished pot in her hands.

"Our Guru, he always had a plan," she whispered, her voice filled with wonder. "He knew that even in his absence, he would guide us back to the path we were meant to walk."

And so, as the twilight caressed the hills of the Gomati, Suvasini and Lakshman sat by the river, their souls entwined with the legacy of their beloved Guru. Together, they continued to illuminate the world with the wisdom and love that had blossomed within them, forever carrying the Ashram's tranquil spirit in their hearts.