"I can see even if one is an another place; no boundaries can limit my knowledge. You must come here to see me, but I am always looking at you"

* In Jillellamudi village, South India, there lives a Mother. She feeds her children, nurses them in illness, chides them, cajoles them affectionately, comforts them in distress, and dries their tears of joy and sorrow. She is very much like other mothers, quite ordinary really in appearance and manner, with no peculiarities or quirks of character to set her apart from the crowd. If it were not for one distinctive quality, she never would have been noticed, much less worshipped as she is today by tens of thousands of people. What is it that distinguishes this Mother from all other mothers? Simply this- whereas usually we limit our affection and consider some few biological progeny alone to be our children, the Mother at Jillellamudi feels that all are her children -- all men, all animals, all objects, all thoughts, feelings, qualities -- everything, everywhere she treats with the deep affection, consideration, and loving respect that only a mother has for her own child. In the whole Universe this Mother sees nothing inert, nothing lifeless; and in all the vast multiplicity of life, she sees only her own children appearing endlessly in a myriad of names, conditions, and forms.

The perfection of love and vision of Oneness, which Mother embodies are the crowning accomplishments of human life, rarely approached, and still more rarely attained. But in Mother's case, there was never any question of approaching or attaining. She has been the same since the very beginning, and even as a child some fortunate few were vouchsafed glimpses of her exalted state. Miraculous phenomena manifested frequently during the early years, and several people had visions of her in a variety of Divine Forms, appearing as Lord Krishna, Goddess Rajarajeswari, and Lord Jesus Christ, among others. Still more common were the many who recognized in the young child a supreme otherly quality and great purity of character. What spontaneously attracted many to the child, Anasuya Devi, a half century ago is the same thing that draws large numbers of pilgrims to Jillellamudi today.

The 'House of All,' the community which has grown Mother in Jillellamudi village, is today a major spiritual center. Visitors come in large numbers from all parts of Andhra Pradesh, and increasingly from the other and abroad. The reasons for coming are as diverse as the pilgrims themselves. Some, lured by reports of miraculous powers, seek to be cured of illness, granted progeny, or success in business. Others, the spiritual seekers, come to gain the blessings and a great saint. The philosophically minded wish to test Mother's knowledge and to clarify their own doubts. The traditional Hindus come to perform formal worship of one they regard as an incarnation of the Divine Mother. But whatever our motivation in coming to see her at first, the reason we return time and again is generally the same: in Mother we have found an unfailing source of the highest love and support -- a mother in the truest and highest sense of the term.

Mother appraises us when we come into her presence for the first time with a look of surprising familiarity, as if she knows us already and when we are not newcomers at all. There is an absolute calm in her countenance and a radiant, ethereal quality which is almost otherworldly, and yet, as she glances around at those seated in her presence, there is no hint of aloofness in her manner, but rather we see an active maternal concern reflected in her expressions and gestures. We are especially drawn to Mother’s eyes, which are made all the more prominent by an unusually large kum-kum mark placed between them. They are compelling, full of a subtle power and unfathomable, like tranquil pools without the least ripple of anxiety or self-consciousness. When she looks at us, her glance penetrates to the depths, but we do not feel uneasy, for it is supremely tender, soothing, intimate. Something unknown awakens and stirs within. Many react with tears, overwhelmed by great waves of emotion, others feel a growing stillness gently descending. But nearly all find in Mother’s peaceful gaze something lost and now stumbled upon afresh, as if long forgotten secret were suddenly laid bare before us.

Instinctively we sense, ‘She knows all... she accepts all.' and along with this realization comes an exquisite feeling of release, as if a stifling weight is lifted for the first time from a mind long-accustomed to carrying a heavy burden of guilt and fear. Our spirit soars upward in a voiceless prayer of gratitude. Only the single word "Mother” echoes now and again softly in the depths of a vast inner silence. And. in a sense that we do not yet fully understand, we are aware of having returned home.

For most of us, this initial exaltation soon fades and gives way to our more familiar moods and reactions. But, even so, we can never forget the wonderful darshan (glimpse of divinity), which has been bestowed upon us, and like a seed once planted, it is bound to mature, unseen within the heart, into a strong yearning for the higher life.

You need only to sit with her for a short time to see why so many are irresistibly drawn, time and again, to Jillellamudi. Every day an unending stream of visitors passes through Mother's small room. Most stay for a short while and chat, or watch on in silence. It seems as if the full burden of the world's joys and sorrows is poured out daily at Mother's feet, and always she listens patiently, with a singular attention and concern that apparently never wanes. For each and everyone she has some affectionate words, a smile, or maternal caress—no one is rejected or overlooked. She inquires about personal matters, asks about our journey to Jillellamudi and whether we have taken food yet. Her manner is disarming and we are immediately put at ease.

Mother's facial expressions are remarkably fluid and live, her gestures graceful, her words soothing, soft, and yet full of a quiet authority. Like an accomplished artist, she imperceptibly weaves an atmosphere of profound harmony and joy in which the knottiest problems easily dissolve, and long faces full of anxiety melt into relaxed smiles. Almost without exception, we leave feeling refreshed and cleansed in that great purifying stream of love.

We have perhaps come to Jillellamudi expecting to find an imposing figure, a powerful yogi, aloof, detached from all that goes on around her, in a state of Self absorption far above the small concerns of day to day life. We discover instead a motherly figure with an animated and alert air about her. Where we had expected to find aloofness, there is a total involvement in practical affairs, an impeccable attention o detail. Instead of raw yogic power, we experience in Mother an overwhelming tenderness born of humility. This humility is not the self-deprecating tendency which usually goes by that name, but rather an absolute refusal to look down on anyone or anything, a respect for all life which looks equally on the madman, the child, a minister of state, and a stray dog. Mother treats all with the same love and respect, because she sees herself in all.

It is noteworthy that, despite the large number of visitors to Jillellamudi, each individual gets the distinct impression that Mother keeps a special place in her heart just for him. We fancy ourselves uniquely blessed and are always surprised when we discover that everyone else feels the same way! But in a sense we are not wrong when we think ourselves special in Mother's eyes. The truth is that each one of us is irredeemably precious to her, each one is special, for all are her beloved children.

It soon becomes apparent to us, however, that Mother's love is not at all of the narrow personal variety, the marketplace sort which is always flattering, bribing, seeking to possess, and forever demanding a return on investment. On the contrary, there is not the least hint of compulsion or attachment in it. It is profoundly free, and leaves the recipient free as well.

Just as the sun does not insist that all green plants must unfurl themselves and face its life-giving rays, so too Mother's love leaves us free to accept or reject it as we wish. The solar rays do not discriminate; they shine down on the mighty banyan tree and the blade of grass alike. But each plant will take energy according to its own capacity, and use that energy to grow along the lines set out for it by its individual nature. Love also is accepted and assimilated according to the needs of the recipient.

Mother's love has no aim, no plans of its own; it gives for the simple joy of it, because it cannot help but give, and cares not in the least about results and achievements. It is a million miles away from all of the world's restless bookkeeping of debits and credits, successes and failures, virtues and vices. There is no impatience to change things, for it recognizes that things are eternally perfect. But strangely, nothing has love's power to transform. There is nothing it cannot transform through its sovereign will. Although apparently inactive to the external vision, love's least gesture sets worlds spinning on end.

Mother sits quietly on her cot. She seems to do very little. She rarely steps out of her aprtment compound, almost never leaves Jillellamudi, does not give speeches or writes books. She spends hours at a time on her cot in silence, or in light talk as people file by to offer their respects and worship. Yet steadily, through a silent influence, the lives of countless of her spiritual children are being transformed, and a small flame is being lit in thousands of hearts which will some day help to light the world.