“MOTHER is said to love all her children equally. Why then these differences in their natural abilities and their fortunes in life?” once someone asked Mother.
“Yes, Mother loves all her children equally. But certainly she will be more concerned about the disabled and the invalid child among them than about the child who is strong and healthy. Equal love for all does not mean extending uniform assistance to all; it constitutes dis pensing everything according to the need and the welfare of each of them individually, with due consideration to individual differences in their needs and tastes. To distribute food. for instance, equally to all would prove either fatal to the ailing among her children or insu fficient for the hale and healthy!” This is her characteristic reply- “Giving them everything in view of what is really in their interests to be given constitutes true love; and giving them what they in their ignorance ask for is indulgence and callousness about their welfare”.
The special care for the ailing and the giving of things according to one’s taste and welfare is what is amply borne out by the story of Pullaiah, one of the remarkable children of Mother.
Hailing from village near Narasaraopet, an intelligent stalwart youth, he was married at the age of eighteen. But unfortunately, in the third year after his marriage, a fever deprived him gradually of his legs, speech, sight and hearing. His body was finally paralysed in toto and he had to be carried by his parents in their hands. For, mere assistance proved useless for him. The parents took him to great doctors who proclaimed him a hopeless case. Many divines too had blessed him atleast to keep the the flame of hope in the father’s heart and the mother’s eye aglow. But he could hardly know where he was, whither he was taken; he could hardly communicate much less perceive or understand. His body was just an aggregate of useless limbs; he would urinate wherever he was. So little a knowledge or even control he had over his own bodily functions. Saliva would flow always from his month. He suffered from fits.
It was in that condition that he was first carried into the presence of Mother by his parents in April 1962. He did not know the place he was brought to; he could neither ask nor hear if he were told. In her usual manner, Mother told the parents that she does not know anything like curing him of his disease, and asked them not to believe the tales that such people would get all right if they were kept in her presence for some time. But they stayed all the same for one, two, three days. People at first expressed their disapproval of his stay there because he would urinate anywhere he is kept. But the family would not leave the village. They stayed in a seperate house a little away from Mother’s. Gradually, as days rolled by, he recovered some control over his body. Saliva ceased to overflow his mouth. He stopped urinating unconsciously. He could speak clearly enough to be understood, though his pronun cition was not perfect. He could crawl on his knees and hands. He could dimly see. The first thing he said to his parents was that he has been feeling extremely peaceful since a few days denoting there by his stay at Jillellamudi. We must remember that he had not consciously seen Mother so far, but found the place absolutely peaceful. Even the taint of regret with his life of a total invalid vanished and his mind developed a strong core of contentment. Soon he came to see Mother. His feelings are forever a treasure of inscrutable Time; for, today, he is but one of the shining stars that adore the annals of the spiritual ministrations of Jillellamudi, distant a star whose unceasing radiance is the only language which we have to decipher today. But of what he said to Mother, a few statements have stayed with us.
“Before I had seen you Mother”, he said, “I prefered to die than live that life of living death; but when I had your vision, I wanted to live, and I have no grudge against lite”.
“Please give me speech that I might sing of thee and if it were not for that, I prefer to be dumb.”
“Once I yearned that either I should recover my health or die, but now I want neither: I can rest contented if I have no need to be born again (as great people say that one would be born several times)”.
After several days his mother wanted that they should leave for their village, for he started recover ing already. But he asserted that recovery or no recovery, he never would leave the place. And several times, he used to pester his mother to get his wife married to another man rather than allow her life to be ruined by being wedded to an invalid.
One day, sitting in the presence of Mother, he recounted how, as a boy of thirteen, he accompanied several hay-carts to Jillellamudi and that he was fed by Mother. Incidentally, we must remark that any individual, if he had seen or met Mother once, whether he was aware of her divinity or not, is certain to be benefited by her grace, in some s.range manner. Most often this help was by inner transformation of the personality, a good turn way o to one’s nature. So is it with this lad, who partook of what Mother lovingly gave him without knowing who She was.
Soon his parents decided that they should leave for their native village. He was dependant on them for service and so he had to viel kis ground. So they had left after a stay of nearly twenty days.
Nearly a month passed. As one who had tasted the bliss of Her grace not through sight, hearing or touch but straight with the core of his inner persona lity, his parting after twenty days of basking in her grace, must have been a moving event in his life. The silent initiation struck deep roots and during the next month the yearning in his heart must have put on strong and wide- spreading branches and leaves.
On 27th of May 1962, Mother was taken by several devotees to Chirala and most fittingly Vedas were recited all the way, and a procession was led. After a few days of stay at Chirala, one day, Mother sent a car to his village and wanted him to be brought to her, for she wanted to see him. When a a devotee reached his village by car, it was found that he was raising a hue and cry to see Mother. His parents tried to quiet him by cursing him, making promises of a future visit to Mother and finally they even beat him. But he persisted. He went on saying “Mother, have you come?” and he would tell them Lo, there is Mother standing! She came and sat on my cot”; and when they could no longer put up with his demands, when they found that the only way out was to take him to Mother, the car arrived. Accompanied by his father he came to Chirala. Mother gave them good clothes, kept them with her for a week and later sent them back again.
Why this invidious and singular invitation to this man? What made her feel like seeing him strongly? His yearning? Yes, but certainly some thing more. Not long after, Pullaiah left his mortal frame into the infinitude of Mother’s lap. Mother gave him a last chance to see her- Perhaps She granted his one request he made to her – to liberate him from rebirth. Illiterate as he was, in the cavern of his heart, that was rendered more inaccessible by the break-down of all his senses, Mother set a light that not only illuminated his senses but illmined his soul as well, that had found its expression in the few of his statements quoted above. They sum up what had been the essence of all mysticism and much of the literature of mystic poets and singers of diverse races and lands surely an ample illustration of Mother’s special concern for the disabled child who is inwardly more complete that most of his brethren.
He: Mother we pray for your blessing.
M: It is always there. Your successes, failures, all are due to blessing.
Don’t grieve that you are stricken by poverty. That is also Myself.