The Last Thorn

    The Last Thorn

Krishnan Swami’s ashram was located 10 kilometers away from Chidambaram. It was surrounded by fields and tall coconut trees. The ashram was beautiful, with a pleasant breeze and the sweet songs of birds.

I, a young man, met Krishnan Swami two months ago. I was 25 years old, and unlike other young men of my age, I had no dreams of studying, working, or getting married. A quest led me to this ashram.

I clearly remember the first day I met Krishnan Swami. It was around 6 a.m. He was sitting under a tree, with a calm expression that seemed as pure as a newborn’s. Around him were ten people, and each of them had a look of ecstasy on their face. With a charming smile, Krishnan Swami began speaking.

"Today, let's discuss something. Someone ask a question. We will begin from there."

A middle-aged woman asked, "What is true love?"

"What is love? If you understand what love is and what the absence of love is, then love will be clear. Any love centered on oneself is not love. Learn to see others without any preconceived judgment, as if you are seeing them for the first time. That is love. Loving someone without expecting anything in return is true love."

No one seemed to understand what he said. I asked him a follow-up question. "How can we interact with someone without any preconceived notions? Isn’t that impossible?"

"You come home from your office, and when your wife arrives, she is angry. You don’t know the reason for her anger, but the day ends like that. The next day, when you see her, can you look at her without remembering her behavior from the previous day? You can. Try it. It’s very easy."

I had read many philosophical and spiritual books and spoken to many monks, but Krishnan Swami seemed to exist on another level. He was neither a monk nor a philosopher. It felt like a great soul had descended and was sitting before me.

As the conversation continued, everyone else left, and I remained seated. Krishnan Swami turned towards me and said, "From today, you are my guru. I will stay with you."

"I am not a guru to anyone. No guru can show a person the way. You have to find your own path. You can be my companion. I have an idea to compile my talks into a book, and you can help me with that."

I happily agreed.

This gave me an opportunity to observe Krishnan Swami closely. He was a man who not only spoke but also lived what he preached. There was no mental disturbance from relationships in him. He never expressed anger or used love to control others. Even if someone wronged him, he would forget it the very next moment.

One day, an elderly man from Tiruvannamalai visited him. Krishnan Swami conversed with him for a long time. I took the opportunity to talk to this man alone, and he revealed that he had been Krishnan Swami’s teacher. I asked him about Krishnan Swami’s early life.

"He was always like this. He never understood the concept of punishment. He would give all his textbooks to poor children. I have beaten him many times in anger. When he was hit, he would tremble, but there was no fear in him, not even a trace of anger or hatred."

"Once, I fell severely ill with a disease. Since I was unmarried, no one was there to take care of me. I thought I would die. But Krishnan Swami came looking for me. He brought food from home and stayed by my side, taking care of me. I am alive today because of him. He is no ordinary human being, he is divine. No, even more than that."

I had many discussions with Krishnan Swami. The questions I asked seemed to spark something in him. One day, we discussed violence and war. I asked him, "Is it possible for humans to create a society without war?"

"Yes, it is possible. But before that, one must eliminate the violence within themselves."

"Sometimes, don’t we need violence for self-defense? If someone is trying to kill me, I have to defend myself, don’t I?"

"Think carefully. Is there no way other than violence?"

"Are you suggesting non-violence, like Gandhi? During World War II, Gandhi advised Jews to accept death rather than fight back against Hitler. Was that even possible?"

"It wasn’t possible. But still, without violence, you can protect yourself. The choice lies in the moment, depending on the situation you face. One of the choices will be non-violent self-defense. True wisdom is finding that option. All other choices are mere theoretical concepts that are not practically applicable."

"Have you ever resorted to violence yourself?"

"No. It’s hard to believe, but that is the truth."

Krishnan Swami’s divinity was becoming even more apparent to me. I began to wonder whether his lack of sexual desire was the key to his completeness. I even asked him, "Have you ever felt desire for any woman?"

"Is lust such a repulsive thing? Lust is also an expression of love. I lost my virginity to a British woman named Maggie five years ago. She came to meet me, and she stayed with me. We were physically attracted to each other, and we had a sexual relationship. I wanted to marry her and make our relationship public, but she had some complications. She left for London after a few days and later married someone else. She visits me once a year with her husband, and we are still good friends."

I had always thought of Krishnan Swami as an open book, with no secrets. But I was wrong. There was a room in the ashram that was always locked. No one was allowed to enter. Once a week, Krishnan Swami would go into this room and remain there for an hour. No one knew what was inside, and it remained a mystery.

One day, when Krishnan Swami was away, I found the key to that room. I opened the door and looked inside. There was only one box. I opened it and found a single photograph. The photo was likely taken 40 years ago, showing a five-year-old boy with a one-year-old boy in his lap. One of them was probably Krishnan Swami. I left the photo where it was and locked the door again.

The image of that room and the photograph kept occupying my mind. I made a duplicate key to the room and returned the original to its place.

One day, I noticed Krishnan Swami going into the room and locking it. I opened the door quietly and saw him holding the photograph, crying. This was the most emotional I had ever seen him. I closed the door again and slowly moved away. Later that night, I secretly went into the room, took the photograph, and hid it.

The next day, I went to meet Krishnan Swami’s teacher in Tiruvannamalai. I showed him the photograph.

"The older boy is Krishnan Swami. The younger one is his brother. There is a four-year age difference between them. Krishnan Swami took care of his brother as a mother would. But when his brother was two years old, he fell ill and died. After his brother’s death, Krishnan Swami became like a shadow of himself. For a year, he did not speak to anyone, didn’t eat properly, and stopped attending school. We were all afraid that he might not survive. Then, suddenly, one day he returned to his normal self. We never understood what caused this change."

I was on the bus back to Chidambaram, looking at the photograph of the two innocent boys. I tore it up and threw it out of the window.

I continued to live my life normally, as if nothing had happened. One day, I noticed that Krishnan Swami had stopped interacting with anyone, eating properly, or meeting people. He remained in his room, lying still without sleeping.

I went to his room. "Your weakness is known only to me," I said.

He shuddered.

"That photograph... with your brother..."

"What did you do with it? Give it to me."

Krishnan Swami grabbed my hands and pleaded.

"I tore it up," I replied.

"You tore it?" he asked, shocked.

To my surprise, Krishnan Swami suddenly lashed out and slapped me hard. I looked at him in astonishment. The act of going beyond his limits had shaken him deeply. He buried his face in his hands and cried.

I walked away with a sense of triumph, feeling that I had won.

The next day, Krishnan Swami disappeared from the ashram. No one knew where he went. There were rumors that he was meditating in the mountains or in caves.

I transformed the ashram into a school and began educating poor children. Ten years passed, and I had forgotten about Krishnan Swami.

One day, a servant told me that Krishnan Swami was in Puduvai and was meeting people again. I inquired and eventually found him in a small house, with a garden in front filled with various types of rose plants. I stood there mesmerized by the beauty of the flowers.

"Bala, how are you? It’s been so long," Krishnan Swami said, while removing thorns from a rose bush. He called me to come closer.

There was a slight tension in my body.

"Come here and sit. I’ve thought of coming to Chidambaram many times."

I found it hard to speak to him.

"Such a beautiful flower, but surrounded by thorns. Children play around here and pick the flowers. They must not hurt themselves. So, I remove the thorns every morning," he said.

He had removed all the thorns, except for the last one. When he tried to remove it, the thorn pricked his finger. I took the knife from him and removed the last thorn.

"Do you feel any anger towards me?" I asked.

"Bala, how could I be angry with you? I feel nothing but immense gratitude towards you. You are the one who removed the last thorn from this rose bush," he replied.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I gazed at Krishnan Swami’s feet. He held me in his arms, accepting everything.

That day, I made a vow that I would never leave Krishnan Swami for the rest of my life.