Following a Song, Finding a Guru

Sometimes, a journey begins without our realizing that we have already taken the first step.

For the past two weeks, I have been listening almost obsessively to the soundtrack of Hanuman Ansh, a film about Neem Karoli Baba, affectionately known to his devotees as Maharaj-ji.

I have this habit. When I discover a piece of music I like, I listen to it repeatedly. Then I share it with everyone and anyone willing to listen. Occasionally, even those who aren't particularly willing!

One song, Parvati, especially caught my attention. It introduced my ears to the beautiful sounds of Bundeli, a language I had rarely encountered through music. The melodies, the words, and the devotional quality of the soundtrack stayed with me.

Last evening, I finally watched the film.

As I watched Maharaj-ji's life unfold on the screen, I found myself reflecting on how a simple curiosity about a man in a blanket had gradually become a four-year journey of discovery.

A Man in a Blanket

My first encounter with Maharaj-ji was in 2023, when I attended a retreat led by Krishna Das in upstate New York.

On the first evening, as we entered the chanting hall, I noticed a large photograph of a man lying sideways, wrapped in a blanket.

I was intrigued.

I had seen photographs of many spiritual teachers and gurus, but this was different. There was no elaborate throne, no grand posture, no visible display of spiritual authority. Just an elderly man resting on his side, wrapped in a blanket.

Who was he?

I did not even know his name.

Before beginning his kirtan, Krishna Das paid tribute to Maharaj-ji, his guru. It was only then that I learned the identity of the man in the photograph.

As someone whose curiosity often leads me down unexpected paths, I began reading about Neem Karoli Baba, his life, his teachings, and the extraordinary devotion he inspired in people who encountered him.

What struck me was the simplicity of his message: love everyone, serve everyone, remember God.

There was something familiar about that philosophy. It resonated with my own understanding of sewa — service without expectation.

I had gone to the retreat to experience kirtan. I came away with a new curiosity about the man who had so profoundly shaped Krishna Das's life.

When Kirtan Became a Running Companion

After that retreat, Krishna Das's music gradually became part of my daily life.

For years, M. S. Subbulakshmi's devotional music had accompanied my morning runs. Now Krishna Das joined her.

There is something special about running to devotional music. The rhythm of the feet, the rhythm of the breath, and the repetition of the divine name begin to find a common cadence.

On some mornings, I would listen to the Hanuman Chalisa. On others, Krishna Das's kirtans would carry me through the miles.

Running has always been a form of meditation for me. With kirtan in my ears, it became something more — a space where movement and devotion could coexist.

I wrote about that experience in an earlier reflection, Devotion and Kirtan.

What began as curiosity about a photograph had now entered my everyday routine.

Maharaj-ji was no longer simply a name I had encountered at a retreat. Through Krishna Das's music, his presence had quietly become part of my mornings.

Guru Purnima in the High Desert

This year, our journey took us to the Neem Karoli Baba Ashram in Taos, New Mexico, where we had the good fortune of spending Guru Purnima.

I still remember walking up the path.

Lavender grew on both sides. Prayer flags fluttered in the desert wind. The New Mexico sun was intense, but the moment we stepped into the temple, the atmosphere changed.

We left our shoes at the entrance and entered the cool quiet of the shrine.

Just as we were walking in, a devotee picked up the harmonium and began singing the Hanuman Chalisa.

What timing!

I had listened to those familiar verses countless times during my morning runs. Now, here I was, hearing them in Maharaj-ji's ashram on Guru Purnima.

Some experiences do not need elaborate explanations. You simply receive them with gratitude.

And then I saw Hanuman ji.

The murti was extraordinary.

Hanuman ji was captured mid-leap, as though he were truly flying. The crown, the gada, and the intricate details were beautiful. There was movement in the stillness of the sculpture.

Nearby was that familiar photograph of Maharaj-ji, wrapped in his plaid blanket.

The same image that had first caught my attention in a chanting hall in upstate New York.

This time, I knew who he was.

Devotees sat quietly on the floor. Some were chanting. Others were simply sitting in silence.

On Guru Purnima, a day dedicated to honoring the teachers who illuminate our paths, I found myself reflecting on how this journey had unfolded.

I had not set out to become a student of Maharaj-ji's teachings. I had simply followed my curiosity.

One photograph led to a story. One story led to music. The music became a companion on my morning runs. And eventually, that path brought us to an ashram in the high desert of New Mexico.

Coming Full Circle Through a Film

And now, Hanuman Ansh.

For two weeks, I had been listening to its soundtrack without having seen the film. The song Parvati had opened my ears to Bundeli, and the music had stirred my curiosity once again.

Watching the film last evening brought many of these experiences together.

I thought about Krishna Das and that first evening in 2023. I thought about the photograph in the chanting hall. I thought about the countless miles I had run listening to kirtan. And I thought about the Hanuman Chalisa that greeted us at the Taos ashram.

It made me realize that our spiritual journeys do not always begin with a grand revelation or a deliberate search for a guru.

Sometimes, they begin with a photograph.

Sometimes, with a song.

And sometimes, simply with the question: Who is this person?

Curiosity opens the door. What happens afterward is often beyond our planning.

The Next Stop: Kainchi Dham

There is one place I have yet to visit.

Kainchi Dham, in the Kumaon hills of Uttarakhand, where Maharaj-ji established his ashram and where so many devotees continue to gather.

After the retreat in New York, the mornings with Krishna Das, the Guru Purnima visit to Taos, and now this film, a visit to Kainchi Dham feels like a natural next chapter.

I hope to make that journey soon.

Not because I expect a revelation or some extraordinary experience, but because I want to visit the place that has meant so much to the people whose devotion first awakened my curiosity.

Looking back over these four calendar years, I am reminded that learning rarely follows a straight line.

We encounter something unfamiliar. We become curious. We read, listen, travel, and experience. Along the way, what began as an intellectual interest sometimes finds a place in our daily lives.

For me, Maharaj-ji's journey began with a man in a blanket.

It continues with a song in my ears, a few miles beneath my feet, and the anticipation of a visit to Kainchi Dham.

Charaiveti, Charaiveti. Keep moving forward.
Ram Ram. 🙏