In The Master's Eyes

Lakshmi the cow lived at the Ramana Maharshi ashram at the base of the holy mountain Arunachala. Believed to be the reincarnation of one of Sri Bhagavan’s most devoted disciples, Lakshmi was noted for her human-like attachment to the sage who held a special affection for her in return. It is said that at the moment of Lakshmi’s death, Ramana Maharshi helped her to attain her final “Samadhi” so that she realized the truth of the one Self. This story, told from Lakshmi’s point of view, In the Master’s Eyes is the author’s heartfelt tribute to this most poignant relationship in human existence – that of spiritual aspirant to his or her guru.

Excerpt:

Master knows that I am nearing the end of my life. He sees it when he looks into my eyes. He says nothing, but I can see that he knows, and I cannot bear to think of how much I will miss him.

The first time he ever looked into my eyes, I had just barely slipped from my mother’s womb, a newborn, struggling to unfold my long spindly legs so that I could stand to grope clumsily for my mother’s milk. I saw him coming toward me, his walking stick in his hand, his bare brown feet in deliberate, steady steps on the dry pebbly dust of the mountain soil. He reached out a thin arm to put a gentle hand under my jaw.

When he did this, I was afraid, for when I looked back at him, into his eyes, all I saw was that I was completely alone with him. My mother, the mountain on which we lived, the people surrounding the Master on his walk, all disappeared. Even the sky was no longer the sky, but a vast wash of love. What could Master possibly have seen in my gigantic animal eyes that he found worthy of the beautiful smile that spread across his face when he looked into them?

He looked for what seemed a long time, but I held still, not even pawing the dusty ground with a front hoof as I have often done when standing in one place for long.

“Lakshmi.” He then said (for that was my name), “it is a blessing to have eyes as large as yours, for so much more of God’s love pours from them.” Then he smiled again and I was no longer frightened. His face blurred as a strange watery substance poured from my eyes and ran down my cheeks, dropping to the dusty earth which absorbed it greedily. I then nuzzled the dry flesh of his hand with my large nose.

Since that moment, I became his shadow, leaving him only to go to my mother to nurse. When I grew older, he would come often to sit with me on the ground under a tree or at the milking station while I was being milked. I was always grateful for this because being milked was boring and I did not feel the urge to kick the pail when he was there. Instead, I would ask him questions about his life, finding that he could hear me though I do not speak like a human, and he would answer them all. I too, could understand what he said simply through his touch.