That was the emphatic declaration of Bhagavan on the most auspicious Easwaramma Day, the 6th of May, 2001. In no uncertain terms Swami communicated how lofty, grand and glorious is the stature of Mother Easwaramma. The thronging crowd in Sai Ramesh Hall exploded into loud applause that evening as they heard these Divine words from Bhagavan.

Easwaramma - Mother Divine

Mother Easwaramma, truly, was a divine effulgence which graced mother Earth with a sacred mission and purpose by the inscrutable will of the Divine just like Kaushalya, (Mother of Sri Rama), Devaki (Mother of Sri Krishna) or Mary (Christ’s Mother). She underwent similar agonies and ecstasies, fears and dilemmas, trials and triumphs, and ultimately bliss and beatitude that the Divine Mothers of yore passed through.

Like Krishna, Swami was the eighth child of Mother Easwaramma and the turbulent times she went through before he took birth were akin to what Devaki experienced before Krishna graced her lap. None of Mother Devaki’s previous seven children could escape from the heinous designs of the demon Kamsa. Easwaramma too suffered at the hands of cruel fate. She had four miscarriages in a row before the Light of the World descended as her Son.

Many years later, a Pundit well versed in the Puranas asked Swami, “Was your Incarnation a Pravesa (an Entrance) or a Prasava (Enceinte)?”

Turning to Easwaramma seated in front, he said, “Tell what happened that day near the well after your mother-in-law had warned you.”

The Mother said:

She had dreamt of Sathyanarayana Deva and she cautioned me that I should not be frightened if something happens to me through the will of God. That morning when I was at the well drawing water, a big ball of blue light came rolling towards me and I fainted and fell. I felt it glide into me.

“There you have the answer!” Swami said, “I was not begotten. It was Pravesa, not Prasava.”

The First Miracle

So it was the Divine had decided to descend and had chosen the womb of Mother Easwaramma as his temporary abode. When the sacred moment arrived in the early hours of the morning on that holy Monday, the day dedicated to Lord Shiva, on the 23rd of November 1926, the Chosen Mother had just consumed prasad (consecrated food) given to her by her mother-in-law after the hour-long Sathyanarayana Puja.

She accepted and relished the sanctified food and before the sun had spread its morning light on the Rathnakaram home the house was bright with jubilation, joy and gaiety – the long awaited son was born. Those present were blessed to witness the first miracle of the Divine Personality, described by Prof. N. Kasturi, Baba’s biographer:

A mat covered with a thick bedspread had been placed in a corner of the room, when the labor had begun, and now the baby was placed on it by the grandmother. Suddenly they found the bedspread rising up and falling down on either side of the baby. She grasped the child and held it close. A serpent was coiled beneath! Of course, snakes there were in plenty at Puttaparthi, creeping through crevices, crawling along the walls, and hiding in holes. But a serpent in the lying-in room pretending to be a bed – it was the role of Adisesha for the Vishnu who rested on its coils. This was the Incarnation’s first miracle. When Easwaramma was asked about this epic event, she confessed she had been so filled with joy at the birth of a son she had never even noticed the agitation all around.

He [Sathya] never asked for any particular food or clothes. A bundle of clothes would be brought from Hindupur or Anantapur and one of the grownups, father or grandfather, would call the boys in the family asking each one to choose for himself. But Sathya always sat aloof until the others had made their choice and then he would take whatever was left behind, rejected by the others. He never seemed to have any desire or wish of his own, but his face would light up with a beam when he saw the other children happy. When we asked him what he wanted, a smile was the only reply. I would hug him close and try to get him to confide his wish to me.

‘Sathya, tell me what you want. I will give it to you,’ I would say. ‘I do not need anything’ was his only answer. ‘Whatever you give me, I will accept. That is enough for me. I will not choose.’

Those days I used to sleep all alone in a thatched hut. That night, as Easwaramma feared, some evil-minded people set the hut on fire from all four sides. There were raging flames all around. Seeing this, Subbamma and Easwaramma came running. When they reached the spot, they found to their utter amazement there was a heavy downpour on the hut. However, there was absolutely no rain in the surrounding area. When I came out of the hut, both of them were overjoyed to see Me safe and sound.

Similarly, on another occasion Swami shared:

One day, somebody invited Me to their house for food. Actually their intention was to poison Me. They were feeling jealous of My growing popularity and prosperity. In those days I used to relish vadas made of Alasanda grains. Hence, they mixed poison in vadas and offered them to Me. Before going there, I had told Easwaramma and Subbamma not to be afraid if any untoward incident was to happen. When I returned from there, My entire body turned blue and My mouth started frothing. I told Easwaramma to wave her hand in a circle. She did accordingly, and to her utter amazement there appeared vibhuti in her hand. She mixed it in water and gave it to Me. Instantly, I became normal. She wondered, ‘Swami can create vibhuti with a wave of his hand. But how is it that vibhuti appeared in My hand?’ In fact, I had given her that power for that moment.

During a visit to Puttaparthi from Uravakonda, Easwaramma gave Sathya an invigorating “oil bath” and observed on his left shoulder a broad length of blackened thickened skin. Sathya did not complain of pain when the patch was touched or pressed and laughed it off when she asked how he had acquired that mark. But when Easwaramma insisted, he told her that the skin was rendered so as the result of carrying water pots hung on both ends of a pole borne on his shoulder for the household where he stayed. There was only one well at Uravakonda for drinking water which was nearly a kilometer away, so he walked to and fro about six times daily, thrice in the morning and thrice in the evening.

Easwaramma was alarmed. “You must come away from there. They are exploiting your goodness and your desire to serve. Why should they depend on you for water?” But Sathya responded, “I felt it as my duty, Amma. How long can the children survive on the brackish poison? I carry the water of life from that distance gladly, Mother. I have come to do this service.” Mother was in tears and could hardly speak. Immediately, Sathya was back home in Puttaparthi.

Noon and night, lunchtime and dinnertime, whenever she thought about it Easwaramma was confronted by a conundrum. How could the Ananda of others be Ahara [food] for him? He ate so meagerly. He relished so little. He set aside so much. He had no obvious preference, no visible appetite, no taste to satisfy, no hunger to appease, and no time to spare. How could he derive sustenance from this Anandaless atmosphere? She prayed for him to eat but it was all in vain. Swami would take a mouthful just to satisfy her and then stand and walk away.

It took Easwaramma a long time to reconcile herself to this Avataric trait. Whenever she was around she personally supervised the preparation of the menu for Swami by going into the host’s kitchen. She believed that Swami would eat a few more spoonfuls if the cuisine was Telugu, or better still, if it was genuine Rayalaseema, the region to which Puttaparthi belonged. When Swami was at Jamnagar with the Rajmatha of Nawanagar (in Gujarat), Easwaramma feared that the Gujarati dishes might not be acceptable to her son. She smuggled herself into the palace kitchen and sought permission to prepare a little chaar – a soup based on boiled pulses – so Swami would have some food of familiar taste.

This mother’s concern never left her alone. Her eyes were on his plate to discover how much he tasted of what and how his health reacted to the restraints he imposed on himself. When Bhagavan was forty-four-years-old, Easwaramma was heard to say, “He does not like their cooking. He used to eat well as a boy when I cooked his food. But he does not care for my cooking now. He says I must have rest and quiet and not to worry about such things.”

Not much was known about Africa in those days, and the popular impression was that it was a dark continent full of wild animals, savages, and cannibals. Easwaramma had heard this folklore and feared Swami would be in danger if he went there. She resolved to have the trip cancelled and expressed her reservations to someone involved with the expedition. The person replied, “Mother, do not worry. Swami will be visiting only big cities where he will be absolutely safe – no threats from animals or savages there!”

Easwaramma was dissatisfied with the reply and felt hurt that the person was making light of a serious matter. She approached someone else and told him, “Listen, all of you are merrily planning a jaunt to Africa without being conscious of the risk to Swami. It is not too late yet, and you must do everything possible to dissuade him from undertaking this trip.” The person she spoke to gave a patient hearing and then replied, “Amma, have no fear. Swami will have very high security protection.”

Easwaramma felt frustrated that no one was taking her misgivings seriously. She sought out a senior devotee and conveyed her worst fears to him. This devotee said, “Mother, it is true that there are many dangers in Africa. But how can they affect Swami? He is God, is he not?” Hearing this Mother Easwaramma became furious and shouted back, “You fool! I know Swami is God and you know he is God. But do those savages and wild animals in Africa know he is God?”

For the first time Easwaramma knew the hurry and scurry of cities, the noise of bazaars. She greeted lions and tigers, pythons and peacocks, and those most strange creatures, the giraffe and the kangaroo, at the Mysore Zoo.

She enjoyed the cool comfort of Bangalore and weathered the biting cold of Ootacamund on the Nilgiris and the Blue Mountains of Tamil Nadu. She visited the fabled temples and sacred rivers of India, while Swami showered his constant attention upon her. This was his special grace, she knew, for she had not yet completely severed her maternal attachments and soared into the blissful freedom of supreme trust and devotion.

Easwaramma would often be a part of the troupe accompanying Baba to remote spots in Andhra Pradesh and other parts of India and would ride in the car following Bhagavan’s.

During the summer months these excursions could become unbearably hot and Swami would ask her to relax in his car to be cooled in the air conditioning but she always politely declined the offer. Easwaramma never hankered for physical comfort and was satisfied with the way things were.

In 1956, a sanyasi and learned scholar, Swami Amrithananda, came from Thiruvanamallai for Swami’s Darshan. He had lived with the great master Ramana Maharshi for a long time and Swami invited him to stay for several months in Puttaparthi. As it was Dasara, Swami was blessing the devotees with discourses every day. During one such discourse, Easwaramma asked Swami Amrithananda in Telugu, “Ememo cheputhu unnade, sariga cheputhada?” meaning, “He is telling so many things. Are they all correct?” That was the motherly concern of Easwaramma for Swami. Though she had seen many instances of Swami doing the impossible, yet her heart was always anxious and her lips silently praying for her son’s welfare.

Then there were the village rumors: “This is not going to last long,” “Sai Baba’s powers will soon be drained away,” etc. Whenever such gossip assailed her ears she would pull out from the private treasure trove of her memory remembrances of the incredible events she had witnessed bearing testimony to the authenticity of the Avathar that was now before her. On that occasion when Swami Amrithananda replied, “Amma, he is Parabramha. He knows everything. He is my Guru and God,” it was yet further confirmation to her of Baba’s divinity.

When Swami made plans to visit the holy sites of the Himalayas, Easwaramma became alarmed that her son might fall victim to black magic motivated by religious rivalry from the yogis and monks of that area. She confided her reservations to Professor Kasturi and he calmed them by promising to recite the Gayatri mantra and invoke its protective powers.

“Maya!” exclaimed Easwaramma, and fell in a faint. When she came back to her senses she sat by Sathya’s side, tears coursing down her face, for her son was but a shadow of his former self though only three months had elapsed since she last saw him. “Sathya, speak to your mother!” she begged. A few minutes of silence ensued.

Then, “Who belongs to whom?” asked Sathya, remote and cold. It was not a question but a pronouncement. Baba continued with her lesson. “It is all Maya, it is all Maya.”

Her only consolation was when Sathya agreed to eat some lunch. She finished serving and nervously signaled that her offerings be accepted. With a swift movement Sathya swept all the food into one mass and rolled it into three balls. “Maya! Maya!” he kept repeating.

Someone told the stupefied mother that Sathya was bidding her come near and she moved a few feet forward. He put one of the balls of food in her right palm and kept his palm before her to receive it. As she gave it back, Sathya ate, whispering, “Maya is gone, Maya has left.”

This scene is unique in the annals of human experience, for who can fathom what Easwaramma must have felt in her heart – nothing could have prepared her for the jolt as her little Sathya became Sai Baba, Guru to the whole world. She alone bore the brunt of this metamorphosis of her dearest Sathya to a discreet and distant Sai Baba.

Stumped by this ringing pronouncement, Easwaramma fell back on her eldest son as her Court of Last Resort. Swami must be persuaded to contain himself within the Puttaparthi Mandir, she pleaded. Seshama Raju wrote to Swami voicing their protests, but the letter he received in reply rendered them even more breathless. Such immeasurable audacity from a mere sixteen-year-old! He was not to be considered a “son” any longer, Sathya wrote. It was the result of his own will that he had come as man among men in order to liberate all, both the good and the bad from misery. He went on to claim that millions from the four quarters of the world will come seeking him and soon those standing at the far edge of the crowd would consider themselves lucky if they could but get Darshan of an orange speck in the distance.

“Millions will come? Here? Where would they stay or stand?”

Easwaramma wondered as she sent up frantic supplications to the gods to solve this conundrum of strange events that threatened to overwhelm them all.

Still, Easwaramma was apprehensive of the growing number of devotees and losing her Sathya. On the eve of His ceremonial move to the new Prashanthi Mandir in 1950, she seized the opportunity and secured a boon from Swami that he would have his dining room on the east side of the upper floor even though he had chosen the rooms at the other end in which to live.

Swami was very strict in enforcing the rule that men and women must keep apart, so while the men used the staircase at the west end, Easwaramma and her daughters climbed up the one at the east side and spoke to him there. They were no longer allowed free entry into his apartment.

They would be waiting and waiting anxiously in the dining room and only when they were almost desperate would he come, sauntering along the veranda. He came to give Darshan and not really to eat. Sitting at the small table he would finger one or two of the carefully prepared and nervously offered items, utter a few replies to their questions and rise, humming a tune, to return to the quarters now inaccessible to them. Swami, like Shirdi Baba, allowed devotees to place offerings on the table, but the hope that he would eat something from these was a vain one on most days.

The easy familiar days at the old Mandir were gone forever. But Swami, in his compassion, granted Easwaramma a few minutes of access to him whenever she needed the healing touch of his vibhuthi or relief from routine.

The Lord Resides In Puttaparthi…Thanks To The Mother

There was another boon the Mother secured from Lord Sai that literally shaped the mission of Sai and made Puttaparthi what it is today. Four years ago Swami recounted this incident during the Dasara celebrations. He said:

Maharani of Mysore, coffee planter Sakamma, and Desaraj Arasu, the maternal uncle of Mysore Maharaja, were among those who used to come here [in the 1940s]. One day they prayed, "It is difficult for us to come here often. Hence, please come and settle in Mysore. We shall build a big mansion for You."I told, "I don’t want palatial buildings. I want to be here."

That night, Mother Easwaramma came to Me with tears in her eyes and said, "Swami, people want to take You here and there for their selfish purposes. If you leave Puttaparthi I will give up my life. Please promise me that You will remain in Puttaparthi forever." I gave her My word that I would never leave Puttaparthi. This is why I have constructed many buildings in the Ashram for the comfort and convenience of devotees.

The love with which she treated these women blossomed as she watched Swami healing the stricken. He showered compassion on them and applied vibhuthi on their brows. When they were restored to normalcy and returned home, Swami used to narrate the reasons why their thoughts went awry and their words were soaked in spite. Listening to Him, Easwaramma decided that she would not condemn or ridicule any woman on the basis of her apparent faults or failings for they were only, she knew, the results of persecution and poverty. The Mother thus became more than their own mother to a growing number of sisters in distress.

Mother possessed a rich spring of native wisdom (medha) with which she quenched the thirst of the desolate and deprived. She not only knew the simple folk remedies for physical illnesses but also many “psychotherapeutic strategies” (to use an aristocratic word) that could demolish depression and remove fear from the minds of those who came to her. They often confided to her what they would not tell their own mothers. Her sympathy in listening unlocked the chambers of their hearts wherein their agony was interned. She tolerated the long narrations, never evincing impatience, boredom, or judgment, and the teardrops that shone in her eyes were sufficient to drown their distress.

She was happy beyond words that Swami accorded such an honored status to motherhood. During the Nine Days of Dasara celebrations in Puttaparthi women gathered in the Prayer Hall every morning and evening to worship the Cosmic Feminine as Goddesses Durga, Lakshmi, and Saraswathi. Mother was also pleased that women were permitted and encouraged to recite the mystic syllable OM.

“Easwaramma – An Embodiment Of Sacrifice” – Baba

Recalling her virtues as an ideal for our modern society, during his discourse on Eswaraamma Day 2000, Swami remarked:

Easwaramma was born in such a poor family that she did not even have proper food to eat. All that she had to eat was ragi sankati (gruel prepared from a coarse grain). Easwaramma was illiterate. When I see the egoistic attitude, perverted mentality and ostentatious behavior of the present day educated people, I feel it was better that Easwaramma did not have any schooling.

When I was seven and a half years old, I used to teach Pandhari bhajans to small children in our village. Easwaramma and Subbamma used to feel ecstatic watching Me sing Pandhari bhajans and dance to their rhythm. Sometimes her husband Pedda Venkama Raju would give Easwaramma some money for the household expenditure. Once two annas were remaining with her out of this money. One could buy two bags of puffed rice for two annas in those days. So Easwaramma bought two bags of puffed rice with the two annas and distributed it to the children. She always used to give away whatever she had with her. She was the embodiment of sacrifice. She would talk lovingly to all those who came to her. When devotees would feel sad that Swami was ignoring them, she would console them saying, "Whatever Swami does is for your own good."

Once it happened that the Mother was on her daily rounds, checking from house to house as to whether everything was fine, when she tripped over a pile of bricks and sprained her leg. She was in acute pain and unable to even stand. Immediately some devotees took her to the nearest house and the message was relayed to Swami, who rushed to her and jovially asked, “Why do you have to move like this to every house unnecessarily?” She replied, “Swami, nothing is impossible for you. You can get all the work done without going anywhere. But such a thing is not possible for me.” Swami merely smiled, created vibhuti and said the pain would soon stop. The next day she was fine.

The genuine love that Mother Easwaramma had for devotees was something very laudable.She spoke sweetly at all times, her speech emanating patience and forbearance and fully free from pretense with no sharp edges to hurt the hearer. During the time Swami was still at the village Mandir, there were many women apparently “possessed” by spirits who were brought to his presence by distraught relatives.

The unfortunates screamed, sulked, moaned, and ran helter-skelter. Sometimes their condition had been aggravated by quacks who had treated them with the rod. Easwaramma offered the soothing balm of sympathy to the victims and a few minutes with her was an effective tranquillizer which calmed their explosive emotions. Whenever people called her Mother, it was with quivering lips and tears glistening in their eyes.

Pedda Bottu, who knew her well, was warm in her admiration.

“She had no trace of envy and she never relished scandal. Her speech was sweet with affection and compassion. Her complexion of gold-brown, the eyes collyrium bordered, the magnum dot of kumkum shimmering on her broad brow, they all reminded us of the popular image of the Goddess Lakshmi.”

Devotees prostrated whenever they chanced to meet her and sought to earn her maternal blessings. Her wide eyes gleamed and her toothless mouth was half-open as she smiled in recognition, satisfaction or appreciation. They spoke to her in various languages and received her reply in the one tongue available to all on such occasions – the language of the heart.

The devotees discovered in the Mother a never failing source of strength and wisdom. They sought her out more and more often and honored her as the Mother, assigning her distinct roles during festivals and holy days. Easwaramma did not yield as soon as the women surrounded her and pleaded that she should guide them or bless them, but how long could she keep them at bay?

During these days Swami directed the women devotees to assemble at the Prayer Hall of the Nilayam every morning and evening to worship the Mother Goddess reciting the 1008 Names which attempt to capture a glimpse of her Glory. Easwaramma vehemently declined to be installed on this occasion as the visible symbol of the Divine Mother.

She even wriggled out of participation since the women insisted that she must at least be seated at the head of the row. She preferred to enter unannounced, sit through the ritual unnoticed, and slip away quietly. Such was her humility.

But on the Jhoola evening she had to yield to their wishes. Swami's darshan while on a floral swing was the valedictory event in Navarathri. Women devotees offered fruits, flowers, and sweets and arranged lamps in attractive patterns before him. Arati would be offered when he came off the swing, so when Swami indicated he intended to leave and the camphor flame should be readied, a series of lamps were waved before him by women singing traditional lilts.

Easwaramma was then sought out and brought to the Nilayam to wave the first Arati lamp, despite her protestations that the privilege must be granted to someone else who was more devoted and deserving than she was.

The new Prashanthi Nilayam, however, challenged the devotees to inaugurate a more impressive though still intimate celebration of the birth of their Lord Sai. Elderly women gathered at the Nilayam in the early hours of the 23rd of November. Each one had a plate with piles of flowers, fruits, sweets, coconuts, turmeric, kumkum, rice grains, betel leaves and areca, sandal paste, blocks of jaggery, glass bangles, and other auspicious materials.

Shining pots filled with consecrated water were carried on their hips. One of the group bore a silver plate with a silk sari upon it. A few elderly men joined them with a silk dhoti for the Father and they proceeded to Puttaparthi village preceded by pipers and drummers. When they reached the Ratnakaram home, they announced to the parents that it was the Birthday of Bhagavan and invited them to Prashanthi Nilayam. One could sense their awkwardness for both of them would rather be left alone than placed before the floodlights on the center of the stage.

Nevertheless, the Mother and Pedda Venkama Raju satisfied the wishes of the thousands present and were themselves filled with gratitude for the opportunity given to them by Swami. As soon as they stood before him they lost all sense of time and space. Easwaramma placed flowers on Swami’s feet and stood up to dip a rose in oil.

Fate brought women from all the corners of the world, speaking a hundred languages, as well as from all castes, classes, and creeds to her door. She let them come and speak what they wished but seldom sought to know what their words meant, for as she confessed, “Why bother yourself with wishes you cannot fulfill and problems you cannot solve?” She had no desire to mislead visitors that she had special access to Sathya Sai and could extract his grace for them. She was aware that there were millions who deserved his grace and that she was only another candidate seeking to qualify.

Easwaramma possessed the age-old reverence for the husband which prescribed mutual distance and silence and proscribed joint appearances on the same seat or even the same room. She retreated into the inner apartments whenever Pedda Venkama Raju was around and avoided all chances of a dialogue. But as an obligatory duty, on Swami’s Birthday they submitted to the demands of the devotees and allowed themselves to be honored as the Parents and to be taken in procession to the Nilayam. When she traveled to Badrinath and Benares with Swami, in accordance with the ancient injunctions, the sacred idols had to be offered worship by the husband and wife together. In fact, the absence of the wife might even annul the fruits of the worship. Every gift made by the man has to be endorsed by the woman. He holds the coins in his hand and waits for the wife to pour some water on them before they are handed over. On these and all other occasions, Easwaramma was the model Hindu wife.

The piousness and politeness of Easwaramma apart from her devotion to the Lord won the love and respect from the women of the village and those who cultivated the lands of the Rathnakaram family. Every Saturday, she visited the Hanuman temple along with the other women of her age. The idol of Hanuman had been installed centuries ago as the guardian of the fort that enclosed the village. On Mondays, the day dedicated to Shiva, she offered worship at the Shiva temple and whenever possible, visited the Venugopalaswamy temple too.

But one of her greatest blessings was a vision she had a few days prior to passing away which she confided to another elderly lady. We know of this directly from Pedda Bottu:

‘Pedda Bottu,’ Easwaramma said to me, ‘I want to tell you something that happened to me. But tell no one else.’ I sat closer and said, ‘What is it, tell me.’ ‘Our Swami is God!’ she whispered. I laughed. ‘Why do you laugh?’ she asked. ‘No, no, I was not laughing at you. I am only happy you have realized it now. Well, tell me, how did you come to know?’ I asked. ‘You know I have been having high fever for four days. Swami came to me then.’

‘In a dream?’ I asked, ‘No,’ she said, ‘He really did come to me when I was rolling restlessly in bed. 'Ammayi, how do you feel?’ He asked. ‘My whole body is aching,’ I replied, looking up at him. Then what can I tell you? It was not he that you and I know. It was Ramachandra with Kireetam and Kodandam (Crown and Bow)! I raised my folded hands and struggled to sit up and get out of bed. But in a few moments he became Swami again, gave me Vibhuthi Prasadam and said, ‘The fever will go,’ and went.”

‘You are indeed blessed. What a rare piece of luck!’ I exclaimed. ‘No one of us has had a vision of Sai Rama as Ramachandramurthy while fully awake and alert.’

This day is Easwaramma Day. The significance of the day is that it is celebrated as Children’s Day, a day when little children are to be reminded of the ideal, a day when she presented an ideal. No one can escape death, but the aim of everyone should be to remind oneself at the time of death of the divine or have some holy or sacred thoughts. The importance of this day is known to many. There is a saying in Telugu: "The proof of the good is the way they die." Genuine devotion is evidenced during the last moments. I shall point out a small incident concerning the goodness of Easwaramma.

The summer classes were on at Bangalore. In the morning at 7:00 breakfast had to be served to the students. They went round with Nagara Sankeertan and returned at 6:00. I gave them Darshan at its close. Then I went for my bath. Meanwhile, Easwaramma had finished her bath. She drank her coffee as usual quite happily and took her seat on the inner veranda. All of a sudden proceeding to the bathroom, she cried out, "Swami, Swami, Swami!" At this, I responded, "Coming, coming." Within that period she breathed her last. What greater sign of goodness is needed? She had no need to be served and nursed. Swami will come to the memory at that time only for a very few. The mind will usually seek and stay on some object or the other, some jewelry or valuables.

She could be easily inveigled into the narration of hair-raising or heart-warming tales in order to keep the children wrapped in excitement. Her pleasing pliant voice reproduced the screams of the kidnapped heroine, the wail of the wounded demon, the plaint of the frightened son, the roar of the victorious warrior, and the crooning of the child cast on the jungle track. In fact she was quick in adding to her repertory stories about Sai Baba of Shirdi and Swami.

The children watched the pictures she so realistically designed and described – the white umbrella with tassels of gold held over a pair of sandals, the emergence of the lion-faced God from the marble pillar of the royal audience hall, the dance of the child on the hood of an angry serpent. Easwaramma forgot her physical ailments, the deeper deprivations, and the assaults on her inner peace when engaged in storytelling. Invariably she rounded up the tales with emphatic words on humility and honesty, love and loyalty. These lessons were lapped up by the children for they were soaked in the syrup of her affection.

She appreciated the earnestness and enthusiasm of the young. Her grandsons were a bright lot and she insisted that they join higher classes and educate themselves to the utmost. She loved to encourage the sons and grandsons of others, too. She prevailed upon Swami to agree with her choice and send money to them to meet their tuition fees and the cost of books and boarding. She felt pained whenever she discovered that the dispatch had suffered delay. “The boys cannot study well now,” she used to say, “they will be too worried to read in peace.” When she found that a name had been dropped because the boy had left school, she tried to persuade the parents to keep him enrolled. To immortalize this warm love and moving concern she had for children, Swami established the Easwaramma High School within two months of her passing away in Puttaparthi. Every year hundreds of village children graduate from this school confident and conscientious to pursue higher studies and make their parents proud.

Once, on Shivaratri day, after I had completed My discourse and the Lingas were ready to emerge from My mouth, I sat on the chair and was in severe pain. Seeing Me suffering, Easwaramma got up from the gathering, came up to Me and said, "Swami, why do You suffer like this? Come inside, come inside." I said I would not come inside and rather than watch My suffering, she went inside. As soon as she left, Hiranyagarbha Linga emerged. All the devotees burst into thunderous applause. Hearing this, she came back, but by then the Linga had already emerged and I was showing it to the devotees. All the people got up to have a glimpse of the Linga. As a result, Easwaramma could not see it.

Once she cautioned Me not to accept a handkerchief from everybody. I told her that I had to accept when people offered it with devotion. She said, "Swami, no doubt there are crores of such noble persons. But there are also a few evil-minded persons who may smear poison on the handkerchief and offer it to You. This can prove dangerous when You use it to wipe your lips." I promised her that I would follow her advice.

Even to this day she makes her appearance in My room. The boys who sleep in My room have witnessed this. Whenever she comes and talks to Me, they sit up on their beds and listen. One day I asked the boys for a belt to keep the silk dhoti tight around My waist. The belt they gave Me had a shiny buckle and could be seen through the robe I wear. I did not want to use it lest people should think that Sai Baba wears a gold belt. After this, one day Easwaramma came to My room early in the morning and started talking to Me. Then Sathyajith, Sainath and Srinivas woke up and wanted to know with whom I was conversing. They wondered how anyone could enter My room since the lift was locked and the key was with them. Then I told that Griham Ammayi [Mother Easwaramma] had come. I showed them the belt that she gave me. It had no buckle. There are many such noble mothers in this world but Easwaramma was the chosen one. I chose her to be My mother [cheers]. That is the intimate relationship between Mother Easwaramma and Myself.