Fond Memories of 'Malladihalli Swamiji'

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Life is a journey from the 'womb to the tomb' they say and in this journey we pass only once and that too one way. I have tried to make the most of life, in every step of its journey. Some missions did not even take off; many others took off, but crashed; a few have been a disaster and those I did manage to complete have given me immense satisfaction. This 'piece of writing' is about one such project in life, though completed

In October 1984, with the blessings of my parents, I set off to the then obscure village called Malladihalli in the taluk of Holalkere in Chitradurga District, approximately 300 kms north-east of Mangalore with a purpose - a purpose to learn the grand old Indian art of Yoga. By then, I had read and heard a lot about its benefits and now the time had come to experience it first hand by putting knowledge into practice.

Malladihalli Raghavendra Swamiji (1890-1996) in the Ashram's premises in October 1984 at the ripe age of 94

In this sleepy hamlet Malladihalli, resided a renowned person called Shri Raghavendra Swamiji, more popularly known as 'Malladihalli Swamiji.' My image of a Swami had always been that of a holy man, with long saffron robes as his attire, with thick beads hanging around his neck and a white long dwindling beard as his trademark, along with three-white-lines on his fore-head and seated in a meditational pose with his hands occupied. I had thought the more holy ones had their habitat in the jungle and would come out once in a way to do the pooja in the temple

This thinking was embedded by the epics of Mahabharata and Ramayana that I had to study indepth in preparation for the exams conducted by the Dakshin Bharath Hindi Prachar Sabha. In preparation for all their exams I had sat for - from 'Prathama to Dvitheeya,' from 'Madhyama to Visharadha' and finally 'Rashtrabasha' Will I be able to cope? Or will I be running away the very first day? These negative thoughts suddenly began to crop in my mind.

It was about half-past-two in the afternoon on the 3rd of October 1984, when the conductor of the KSRTC bus gave a shrill which pierced our ears, saying all those who were going to the Ashram should get down 'at this stop.' I thought I was the only one to tread, but was surprised when three-quarters of the bus emptied itself. That gave me the first signs of courage

We hardly had walked about 300 metres towards our left side of the road itself when my gaze fell on the entrance to the Ashram with Kannada alphabets 'Anatha Sevashrama Trust Regd.' on a huge semi-circle board above the massive gate. Where is the jungle I have been thinking about all this while, I pondered to myself as I made my way inside the premises. A little away I spotted the Registration Desk. I had to produce the receipt at the desk as a proof that I had enrolled for the 29th Yoga Camp which I promptly did. I was put in a Group and accompanied to the place of accommodation by one of the assistants that was a bit away at the pre-university College. The programme for the rest of the day was to relax, have tea, an introduction with the Swamiji in the evening and dinner.

I met many of my room-mates and felt very relaxed in my group and being fluent in different variations of Kannada made the difference as well. We had our evening tea Swamiji. An Instructor was assigned to us who told us to assemble in a room awaiting Swamiji's arrival.

Face to Face with Swamiji:

I did not anticipate his arrival would be marked with thunder and lightning but at least expected it would be preceded with some agarbatti fragrance coupled with some chiming of bells (shorter than the ones I was used to) and a white sandow banyan. As I wondered why everyone stood in reverence, the next thing I could recollect was I was still standing on my legs and had not fainted. Where is the holy man with the long saffron robes I was looking for? And where is his trademark beard? So many questions unanswered - I shook my head to face the reality

He first gave a short introduction of himself and the purpose we were all here, then moved to take our introductions. He was quite amused to know that I was from Mangalore and before I could realize he greeted me with a few words in Konkani and added that he knew Tulu too. That was another shock I think I pinched myself to make sure that I was not in Mangalore!

In the initial days when the Camp commenced, my first name went for a toss. Right from Swamiji, his assistants and the participants - they all spelt it the wrong way. Instead of pronouncing the 'ph' as 'v,' the single name was split into 'step' 'hen' - obviously someone while translating into Kannada divided my Greek name into two and that became official with everyone, everywhere. My surname took a pounding too. It was such an alien surname in that part of the world

The Camp Schedule:

Each day had its scheduled time-table that was followed to precision. With around 200 people attending the Camp, it was never an easy task to go about that way. Our day started at 5 a.m. with yogic exercises and those Swamiji's words still echo in my ears when he began - 'You have to sit cross-legged

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