The Silent Ache for a Guru!

I always wanted a guru. A living guru. Someone who could talk to me. Guide me. Show me the real me, my strengths, my shadows, and the things I need to work on. Someone who could chisel my rough edges. Someone who could tell me my purpose. Initiate me into a sutra for proper sadhana. Deeksha was always something I longed for. I did not even know its true meaning. Barely knew what it really entailed. It felt holy. Ancient. Magnetic. And I wanted it, without knowing why. So, relentlessly, almost ravenously, I kept searching.

 

I was always very intuitive. Always full of questions. Curious like a child about navigating and understanding the reality of life itself. And it was for this sole reason, I think, that there was an inexplicable pull toward a guru. And perhaps the yearning seeker within me was so desperate to see him in person, to hold onto certainty.

 

At every stage of my life, I met spiritual folks. I was elated. “Oh… I found my guru.” A spark of recognition.  

A ray of golden light. “Oh, perhaps this is the one,” but no. It never lasted. Something always fell off.

The connection faded. The path shifted.

 

As I grew older, a certain awareness began to kindle. In 2012, during a deeply personal phase, I met a few evolved people. I felt guided and held, but it was short-lived. Then, in 2019, after my accident, a similar pattern unfolded. I met souls who felt like answers to my ponderings, only to wane away again. The search continued. I was back to square one.

 

Looking back now, I realize I was being drawn toward the physical form of a guru, someone I could see, feel, and connect with. But perhaps I wasn’t aligned, not in sync. Time moved on. More experiences. More losses. More lessons. More chapters waiting to unfold. More inner churning. Maybe I was not destined. Maybe this lifetime itself was meant to be my solo classroom, where I had to walk my path alone. A resigned part of me accepted that maybe a guru wasn’t meant for me in this birth.

 

And slowly, I stopped forcing the search. Because somewhere along the way, even spirituality had become an ego trip. The need to say, “I have a guru,” the comfort of belonging somewhere, the marathon to find “the one” who would untangle all the knots. That, too, was my big teaching. Ego dissolution had to happen.

 

Maybe my guru had been silently watching me all along, guiding me through more moments, through heartbreaks, through people, through situations I did not fully comprehend at the time. Maybe he was always there beside me, hidden behind a veil I was not yet ready to lift.

I left it to a higher power. My Isht. Folded my hands and said, “Shiva, Aap Sambhalo Ab.” And, something, imperceptibly, began to rearrange. I could feel my life changing. Material desires were fizzling. People were disconnecting. Energies were no longer matching. Something was transforming. What was it?

 

The moment I stopped chasing, stopped trying to find a guru, stopped carrying spirituality like an achievement or a badge, life took a spin. Something mellowed within me. And perhaps that yielding is what opened the door all along.

 

Then came 2022. After 22 long years, I went back to India. India is my weakness. She sits in my bones. And ever since then, I have been going back again and again, almost every six months, as if something is calling me. I found myself drawn to spiritual spaces wherever the divine led me. Shiva, Sai, Maa, each presence stirring something within me.

 

And then came this trip that changed the course of my life forever. Baglamukhi Temple (Kangra) was initially Yogi’s (my husband’s) wish. But somewhere deep inside, I felt my inner nucleus calling me elsewhere. I wanted to go to Dharamshala. He resisted at first, but something within me was unwavering. We even had two appointments lined up to meet the Dalai Lama, but somehow it never happened. At that time, it felt disappointing, like something had fallen through. But now I see something else was meant to unravel.

 

How Yogi got connected to Ma Meera is a huge, beautiful story in itself. They were trying to coordinate over calls, and nothing was working out. On our way back from Dharamshala, it was pouring. Something about the weather felt symbolic, as though the universe was murmuring signals I could not ignore. I asked him to call her one last time. And that’s when the miracle happened.

 

Saadho Ashram, Déjà Vu, intense, thick, and unmistakable. A space that felt divinely familiar, fragrant with love and an essence of Mahadev’s presence in every corner. I had not known this ashram existed. Something within me recognized it as if I had been walking toward this heavenly door for years.

 

Spent an hour with Gurudev; one of the most unforgettable times of my life. Gurudev and his aura transcended language itself, which needed no words. At Swayambhu Shiva Dhyan Mandir, where I sat in silence with Mahadev, I felt goosebumps ripple through me. The mandir felt alive, pulsating with the presence of all five Panchatattvas. The energy was beyond explanation. Surreal, almost otherworldly. My emotional landscape was at its peak. I didn’t ask for anything, but the divine already knew my inner turbulence.

 

There were no answers then, but now, looking back, I see everything differently. Every visit. Every delay. Every missed meeting. Every unexpected turn. It was all preparing me. These past four years of returning to India again and again were never random. Shiva was preparing me to meet Gurudev; it was cosmically orchestrated and beyond my understanding at the time. Looking back, I know my guru was preparing me from afar all along, patiently watching, waiting for the right moment. I had to slow down and shed the “I” in me. That’s when the search stopped.

 

I don’t know where this path will lead me. All I know is this: maybe, just maybe, Gurudev is what my heart had been craving for all along, the calm, the wisdom, the presence. The silent ache. Something within me finally feels at ease. I know I still have a long way to go, so much to learn and so much to unlearn, but perhaps this is not the end of the search. Maybe this is the beginning.

 

Something within me is settling now.

 

Now I understand, a guru is not always found through seeking. Sometimes, the dismantling of who you thought you had to be must happen first. The guru appears only when the soul is finally ready to absorb the teachings. Perhaps a guru, too, waits without force for the right student. Not just an aspiring one, but a ready one. That is the mystery of a guru.

 

And now, Saturday evenings hold an altogether different meaning for me. I wait for Gurudev’s darshan, for the satsang, for the nourishment that my inner self seems to have embraced, like a pure, timeless tapestry.

 

And strangely, beautifully, the one thing I find myself speaking about with almost everyone I meet is this beautiful Saadho Sangha.

 

I thank you for walking with me when I didn’t even know how to ask. You were always there, steadfast and unseen.

 

Maybe, just maybe, the endless wait is over.

 

~with heart,

monika