Shibendu Lahiri

Shibendu Lahiri
My First Shaktipat

photo from net

This tribute is more of a public confession of my then inability to value the presence of powerful and beautiful illuminated beings, simply because they did not fit my stereotype.

Take it as fiction or non-fiction, but if a story can be a legacy, then let it not die with me.

Finding ourselves in Banaras, the oldest inhabited city in India, my father and I decided to be on a search for Lahiri Mahasaya's ancestral home. He was the spiritual mentor of our mentor's mentor. It was around 2001.

A local guide turned into a lifetime friend, told us that his grandson is currently there. He lives in Germany and is home for only once a year for less than a week to perform a family vedic ceremony.

He does not meet people because he is only home for a private function. Before long, there was an empty chair in front of us as we sat waiting inside the ancestral home of his grandfather.

We waited and waited. I was expecting someone in an orange robe, with a long beard and hair like the ones we see at the ghat. Like a breeze, I faintly saw someone peek and walk behind the folded curtains somewhere at the back. The guy was in a sweatshirt and sweatpants. That can't be him, I quickly brushed the thought aside.

In a few minutes, my body started vibrating to the point that I could see my legs and hands shaking uncontrollably. "Darn, did I not eat enough breakfast?" I thought. I have never seen myself shake like this. A few more minutes later something was welling up at the same time pouring in. I could not tell where it was coming from nor what it was. I had to hold on tight on the armchair. I was afraid I'd topple over or be ejected off the chair.

Slowly that energy took over my whole body, and tears were pouring down my eyes though I felt no emotions whatsoever in my chest. A few more seconds later, and I was like under the sea, breathing in an ocean of a Love I have never known.

Quickly, I wiped my tears as someone was coming and I locked my feet on both sides of the chair and held on tighter to the arm chair, in case I embarrass myself in front of the incoming guy in a sweatshirt and pants by shaking. I never entertained the thought that he had something to do with it.

Then there was just him, myself and my father in the room. He started talking with passion,eloquence and power as if there was a crowd of a hundred graduating students in front of him.

To be continued..

photo from net

P. S. I have no photo of us, only of post visits since it did not end so well because I was an irreverent 21-year old prick, and I guess even if I had a camera I wouldn't have dared to ask for a photo after what I have done.