In publicly announcing this decision on Guru Purnima day, Sunday, July 25, 2010, Guruji offered one of the most eloquent, candid and definitive public statements he had ever shared with his growing family of followers. “I have always done what I felt was the right thing to do in my life,” he began, “whether resigning from a plush job in Bombay without consulting anyone, or building a temple in the middle of nowhere, or sharing my experiences of the erotic nature of the Goddess through her lovable nude forms in the Khadgamala, or ignoring the public anger this generated, or taking care of thousands of devotees by giving them mantras and taking on their karmas.”
With the passage of time, however, the radical freedom and generosity that guided him throughout his life had become compromised. Rather than “doing as he willed”—as his father, Gurugaru and most of his life experiences had taught him—he too often found himself being used as a mere diksha resource, “giving mantras to devotees on demand rather than giving only what I felt was good for them.”
This particular departure from tradition had, he now felt, been an error. “It is not the tradition that the disciple asks the guru to give this or that mantra,” he explained. “The guru decides which he thinks is the best for the disciple. Yet, so many devotees requested me to give Maha Shodashi, Mahavakyas, purnadiksha; to make them peetadhipatis and so on—and I accommodated most such requests.”
Guruji’s motivation in doing so, he said, was never personal gain. “I went out of my way to do this out of pure compassion,” he said, “without expecting any return for shaktipat or initiation. If anyone gave me anything for my personal use, I spent it for Devi. God has given me enough to survive on; I have no need to appropriate what is given to God as mine.”
Nonetheless, the situation had depleted him physically, and his health was steadily deteriorating. For too long, he said, he had disregarded the growing chorus of warnings from his family and other well-wishers—but now the stark reality of his situation had finally come home to roost. “Having grown old and suffered three heart attacks—and having been operated upon thrice for those—I now feel I have a right to spend the rest of my life peacefully with my family, without taking on any further tensions,” he said. “I request all people to show some respect for my age and health, and understand my need to rest and spend time with my family, whom I have too often ignored for all these 30 years.” Guruji hastened to add that he had no intention of abandoning his work; quite the contrary, he wanted to spread it even further, specifically by “producing media for a course on teaching Sri Vidya, so as to make it available for all people instead of a selected few.” His personal availability, however, would be limited. “Henceforth, it will not be not possible for people to do puja to me personally,” he said. “If I am unable to accommodate anyone for this, they should not feel that I have disowned them, or get hurt by this decision. I am still their guru, except that personal pujas are not possible any more. If anyone is still hurt, I will apologize to them personally if given a chance.”
As if to underscore his resolution, he began for a time discouraging use of the name “Guruji,” instead introducing himself and signing his correspondence simply as “Amrita,” presenting himself as a friend and advisor rather than any kind of leader or authority figure.
Source: The Goddess and the Guru
