In the year 1998, my husband and I went for a holiday to the United States to spend time with our children and grand- children. We came to know that there was a Sai Center nearby where devotees gathered and conducted bhajan sessions. My husband and I were delighted to attend a few gatherings on Thursday evenings. The Sai Center was just a few minutes’ walk, set in the green belt area with rolling downs and lush shrubbery. Everything here exuded peace and beauty.
There was quite a crowd of people and the hall was full- a mix of white Americans, Japanese and Indians. There stood a huge picture of Baba on a low table nicely decorated with lots of red, yellow and white roses and lighted candles.
The session began. Newcomers had to introduce themselves and so when the mic was handed over to me I introduced myself and my husband saying we were from India for a short holiday. The bhajans started. People sang beautifully and with great feeling. I was very impressed. Suddenly, I was startled to find the mic thrust into my hands and people asking me to sing! I was taken aback. I had never sung a bhajan in front of a crowd. I told them that I could join the chorus but had never attempted to lead a bhajan.
When the programme was over the American ladies surrounded me. They said, “Look we don’t know your language yet we try and sing all your bhajans. We have learnt to wear saris and bindis all for Baba! You are an Indian so you must sing something.”
I promised to sing at the next session and managed to escape for the time being. I told them that I admired them for wearing saris and bindis for Baba! What devotion! I felt awful and so when I went to bed that night I prayed to Baba to help me out of the dilemma. I really was not that good at singing! And Lo! That night Baba gave me this poem ‘The Colours of Glory.’
Came Thursday, we went to the Sai Center and when I was given the mic again, I told the devotees that since I could not sing, I would recite a poem Baba had given me for the occasion. The poem caused quite a flutter. The following Thursday I had another poem up my sleeve-this one given by Baba on Ganesh Chaturti day in the year 1995. It is titled. ‘My Father’s House.’ This also won many compliments. The devotees thought I was very special to Baba and hugged me and were effusive in their praise. Many Indians that evening came and told me that they were very happy that an Indian was receiving so many compliments!
It was all Baba’s doing. He can spread happiness and knit the world with His love and kindness. That was what I learnt that evening. Later, more poems followed between the years 1999 to 2002. I also had an urge to make it into poem book with Baba pictures, I painted flowers all around the pictures to match Baba’s robes!
The book contained 9 poems ( 9 being an auspicious number). When the book was almost done one night Baba asked me. “What about me in a maroon robe?” so the next morning I added that but I had space only for his torso with this robe! That book with poems and pictures of Baba I called ‘The Colours of glory and other Poems.
Prema Ramakrishnan.
1. The Colours of Glory.
Green is the colour of tender leaves,
Green the grass on which we lie,
The green earth is your gift to man,
O Evergreen Sathya Sai!
Gold is the colour of the radiant sunshine
Gold, the dazzling twilight sky
Gold, the gentle, star-lit night,
O Golden Sathya Sai!
Blue is the colour of the shimmering sea,
Blue the limitless sky,
Blue, the colour of the Divine Cowherd,
O beautiful Sathya Sai!
You are in every hue and colour,
Like the rainbow you span all earth and sky,
You are the heart and core of the universe,
O Glorious Sathya Sai!
2. Help us, Baba.
So small, so slender,
So graceful so slight,
In your flame-coloured gown
You glide like light.
Like a sunbeam, you emerge,
And as quickly, you go,
What you will say or do,
Nobody will know.
But, you are aware,
Of each one of us,
Having assigned us tasks
To carry on, thus.
Baba, help us,
Life’s rigours to face,
Keep us always in the shadow,
Of your Grace!
3. My Golden Rose.
Baba, you are the golden rose,
On my life’s fragile bough,
Poised to such perfection,
Embodiment of Love!
I gaze and gaze at you
Until my eyes run over,
Melting my heart’s chalice
With your divine power.
Lord of Light, Baba,
With your golden face,
You simply dazzle my vision,
With a hundred rays!
4. Lord of Puttaparthi
Thou Lord of Puttaparthi,
Who art in every shrine,
Your glory is sung the world over,
Sathya Sai, Lord of mine!
The Vedas extol your virtues,
Our scriptures sing your glory.
The Puranas paint charming pictures,
Of your many-splendoured story!
We shall never tire of hearing
All you say or do or write,
For these contain the Truth,
That you are our Guiding Light!
5. The Miracle.
In the tulsi leaf, I saw your face,
Was it a blessing, an act of Grace?
You appear in my dreams, too,
This is the way I commune with you!
Baba, you pervade my life and all the hours,
Make them sacred like puja flowers.
Make the miracle of my life complete,
By taking me to your Lotus Feet.
6. On Your Birthday.
So beautiful and so pure,
In your robe of white,
You come floating like a lily,
On a pool of Light!
So gracious is your form, Baba,
So unique your cloud of hair,
You are the very moon,
Transforming the air!
You ride a chariot, Baba,
You are King of kings,
Come to help mankind,
With a million things!
Miracles surround you, Baba,
You are the greatest of all,
Come to raise our consciousness,
So we hasten to your Call!
Pilgrims bow to you, Baba,
World leaders you meet,
They come to offer homage,
And touch your sacred Feet!
You have come to us, Baba,
To bind mankind as one,
To dispel the darkness of the times,
And dazzle like the sun!
You will bring peace and love, Baba,
Glory to you for your Birth,
You will light the lamp of Truth, Baba,
And usher paradise on earth!
7. The Name.
Sweeten your tongue, call out His Name!
Envelop yourself in the light of His flame,
Hear His praises and gladden your ears,
Doubts will dissolve, so will your fears.
In this Kali Yuga, hearken to His call,
The Name is All-Powerful,
Sai Ram is All!
8. We, Pilgrims at Puttarparthi
We have been gathering,
From the time of dawn,
Now seated in rows,
Awaiting the morn,
Time has no meaning here,
Baba, you are all,
You have summoned us to you,
So we await your call!
You cast a spell on us
In your flaming robe of red,
You break upon us like sunshine,
That has come and fled!
So we sit, dazed, Baba,
After you have left,
Feeling an emptiness,
Like orphans bereft!
We gather ourselves, soon
For we know,
Like the sunrise,
You’ve left behind a glow!
We continue to linger,
Not wanting to move
Absorbing the air,
Radiant with Love!
Are we luckier than gods?
To have been in your presence?
You bide in our midst,
In your Parthi residence.
You summon us to you
From far and near,
Our pilgrimage is at end
When we arrive, here!
9. A Bouquet of Flowers for my Baba.
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| A Lotus for the Lotus Feet |
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| Green is the colour of the tender leaves. |
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| YOU are in every hue and colour! |
