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Fourteen years ago, Steve Schmidt, a criminal defence attorney
in Santa Fe, New Mexico, received a call from a woman named
Kusuma.
She was trying to organise accommodations for Mata Amritanandamayi,
a spiritual instructor whose affectionate and healing embraces
had earned her both devotees and critics in India.
At the time, however, few Americans had heard of the guru,
known affectionately as Amma or Ammachi.
Schmidt readily made his home and spacious mountainside property
available to Amma and her congregation.
In the late 1960's, Schmidt had been a full-fledged hippie,
and over the years had become an ardent practitioner of meditation
and Eastern spirituality.
Word spread through the Santa Fe community that a female
saint with great powers would be visiting, and before he knew
it Schmidt had a house full of seekers.
During the gathering, Amma sipped from a glass of rice water
before passing it on to Schmidt and his wife. The two in turn
shared it with another couple, Steve Fleischer and his wife,
Marilyn Eto. Within moments, the four began to have a profound,
physical reaction to the rice water they had been given.
"It was one of the most powerful experiences I'd ever
had. I could barely function," said Schmidt, recalling
the moment vividly. He was enjoying a vegetarian lunch in
the foyer of Roone Arledge Hall, at Columbia University in
New York on Tuesday.
Inside the auditorium, Amma, who is visiting half a dozen
American cities, and her devotees continued a three-day series
of darshans and bhajans. His friend and long-time spiritual
companion Fleischer, sitting next to him, was quick to dispel
any misunderstandings.
"That was all that was in there, rice water," the
attorney said laughing.
"It was not a drug-like experience," Schmidt continued.
"My mind was totally clear. I was right in the present.
Otherwise, I would've been driven out of my mind, there were
so many people. There were no side effects."
The experience, they explained, was simply the effect some
get from coming into close contact with Amma, an experience
that few understand but most gladly accept.
Fleischer and Schmidt referred to the phenomenon as "the
honeymoon," a transformative process that sets the stage
for more serious spiritual engagement. "That's how your
faith develops," explained Fleischer of the after-drink
effect. "Faith is the linchpin."
However, Fleischer and other Americans realised faith alone
would not make Amma's plans viable. It was crucial to gain
non-profit status if the organisation were to have any serious
impact, particularly in the area of fund-raising.
That same year, Fleischer helped establish the Mata Amritanandamayi
Centre in Cantor Valley, California. The set-up would be a
dramatic change from the earlier method of living from day
to day, receiving cash donations then going out and buying
provisions.
"Amma was reluctant to do anything formal," noted
Fleischer. "It was totally hand-to-mouth because that's
what she was used to."
As Amma's reputation spread in the West, the venues grew
larger.
Nonetheless, Fleischer maintained that there were no specific
moments when Amma's appeal suddenly attained critical mass.
"It's amazingly organic. All of this just happened,"
he said, adding, "I know that sounds really glib."
While the organisation has done "a modest amount of
publicity," Fleischer noted that Amma tried to avoid
projecting an overly ambitious image of herself, as with some
earlier gurus who had tried to woo America into a psychedelic
state of bliss.
"Mother's very conscious of all of that," said
Fleischer. "She's very aware of bogus Indian teachers."
In recent years, members of the press have dubbed her "The
Hugging Saint," a cutesy label that is grudgingly tolerated
by followers.
Quite clearly, however, her appeal extends beyond the bear
hugs that have been splashed across American newspapers and
most recently, on NBC's Today show. "Meditation is good,
japa is good, but the key is seva," said Fleischer, echoing
Amma's lessons. "Through selfless service you can attain
the goal."
And it shows at her events. From the moment you step into
an Amma gathering, you can't help but notice the emphasis
on charity. On one TV screen, a video details the state-of-the-art
medical care patients receive at the Amrita Institute of Medical
Science, based in Kerala. The hospital, heavily subsidised
by donations from around the world, has managed to serve all
economic classes.
Nearby, a multimedia presentation explains relief efforts
for victims of the Gujarat earthquake, for which thousands
of homes are being built. In all-American style, followers
have also conducted garage sales - even combing the streets
for discarded furniture - in order to send funds to Gujarat.
Another service involves providing pension for widows and
destitute women.
Fortunately for the casual visitor, the attendants at each
of these desks refrain from being pushy. There is no effort
to proselyte or aggressively court funds.
"Mother doesn't come with her palm out," said Fleischer.
"If you give, it's great. But you have to give."
In spite of her growing appeal here, there is no comparing
the American crowds with those in India. On any given day,
Amma may embrace ten or twenty thousand devotees, many of
who are extremely poor or unwell. In America, the very idea
of a living Goddess who heals by touch seems unfathomable.
"I think more people in India have faith," noted
Schmidt. "In America, people are more materially advanced
and can hold on longer without worrying about their next meal.
I would say that most of the Americans who come to Amma have
been sceptical at some point in time. It's just sort of our
background. I wasn't sceptical, but my wife was."
As a former professor of comparative religion in Colorado,
the woman now known simply as Janani, was herself wary at
one time, but lost her doubts when exposed to the charitable
works of the organisation.
"I look at these works and I realise they're not the
works of a megalomaniac," said Janani, who now works
as Amma's official photographer and archivist, recording every
moment for posterity.
"She could've had a fleet of Rolls Royces. But she doesn't.
She lives in one small room."
Schmidt, focusing on the rigor of Amma's many embraces, saw
it another way: "If she has any ulterior motives she'd
have to be the world's greatest masochist."
Just then, a custodian for the building left the auditorium,
brandishing the Hershey's Kiss (a small milk chocolate) that
every devotee receives upon hugging Amma. As he went back
to work, it was clear he was satisfied with his darshan.
"I was thinking about something I want," said Hector,
a native of the Dominican Republic. "And I feel much
better. Stronger. It was beautiful."
The Rediff US Special/ by Arun Venugopal
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