LET US PLEASE OUR MASTER

LET US PLEASE OUR MASTER

Baba said, "I had a Guru. He was a great Saint and most merciful. I served him long, very long; I had a keen desire, never to leave him but to stay with and serve him" in Sri Sai Satcharitra, Ch. XVIII & XIX.

Ragged boy with a violin under his arm once roamed the streets of a great European city. Because he had no home or family, he wandered from place to place for food and shelter.

This urchin had a strange gift for music. He had somehow gotten hold of a violin, and he stands on the street corners and play for the passing crowed. They were entranced by what they heard and would gather around to listen. When he had finished playing, they would toss some coins at his feet. In this way he made an honest but meagre living.

In the same city was a famous musician. One day he happened to pass by the place where the ragged boy was playing. His attention was arrested by the unusual quality of the music. He lingered until the crowd had passed on and then said to the little violin player, "Son, to whom do you belong?"

"I don't belong to anybody," the boy answered.

"Well, where do you live?" was the next question.

"I don't have any place to live. I just sleep on the streets and wherever I can."

The man thought for a moment and then said, "How would you like to be my boy and come to live with me" I'll teach you all I know about how to play the violin."

The boy's eyes sparkled through the dirt and grime, and he said, "Mister, I'd love it!"

So the great musician took him to his own home. He had him cleaned up and dressed up, and he became like a father to him. For several years he poured into the eager young mind and heart all that he knew about playing the violin.

Finally the boy was ready for his first public recital, and the word went out that a great new musical prodigy was about to appear on the concert stage. On the night of the performance the house was filled to capacity; even the balcony was packed.

At last the boy came out, put the violin beneath his chin, and began his concert. He played such music as the crowd had never heard before. At every pause there was deafening applause.

For some reason, however the boy did not seem to pay any attention to the ovation. He kept his eyes turned upward and played on and on. The audience was mystified by his strange manner. Finally one of the persons present said, "I don't understand why he is so insensible to all this thunderous applause. He keeps looking up all the time. I'm going to find out what is attracting his attention!"

Moving about in the concert hall, the observer found the answer. There in the topmost balcony was the old music master, peering over the banister towards his young pupil. He was nodding his head and smiling, as if to say "You are doing well, my boy; play on!"

And the boy did play on, not seeming to care whether the audience laughed or applauded. He kept his gaze upward. He was playing to please the Master only.

TAMASO MA JYOTIRGAMAYA….

He was taking a walk when he heard a stone cutter saying "thanks" at each hammer stroke. "My good man" the poet asked, "Whom are you thanking?"

"God."

"Had you been wealthy, I would think it only natural for you to thank God, but God thought of you only once when He made you, He then gave you a hammer and has not thought of you any more."

"You claim that God thought of me at least once?"

"Of course."

"That's nothing to be sneered at. Just imagine God actually gave a lowly stonecutter a thought! Thanks, God, thanks!" and he kept on cutting stones