Jnanis are mindless. To Jnanis, all are the same. They have no slumber, no dreams, nor sleep. They are always in sleep. The sun and the moon are the same to them. To them, it is always sunrise.

Bhagawan Nityananda, from His Chidakasha Gita


From the first time we met in 1997 at the Kanhangad Ashram, Professor Kamath welcomed me as a son and my wife, as a daughter. He was wearing a red and white check napkin on his head. The corners were tucked under the bows of his spectacles. I forget the rest of his dress but it was something like a striped shirt, checked topcloth over his shoulder and maybe a plaid lungi. "Dreadful," I thought to myself. At first glance I thought the man was a bit retarded, until we sat down and began visiting. He had a powerful mind. The Professor gave us water and fed us well.

He took us to see his old friend Swami Sadananda. Professor Kamath offered a room for us to stay, but my wife and I were staying in Calicut and planned for a daytrip only. He wanted to take us to Guruvan after seeing Swami Sadananda but our train was due in an hour. He insisted we would have time but we were nervous about missing the train and turned down the invitation (as it turned out, the train was about three hours late). About the time my wife and I boarded the train there was a procession going through Kanhangad. Then something went wrong and the procession turned ugly. A politician was beaten to death and that was followed by looting and burnings. Immediately after that there was a strike of auto rickshaws that spread to Calicut and, according to newspapers, went as far as Hyderabad. The next day in Calicut a man we had met at the Ashram came up to us. He had a car and offered to take us wherever we wanted to go. I hadn’t yet learned of the transportation strike so I said, “No thanks.” It seemed like chaos surrounded us but nothing touched my wife or me. It was as though we were living in a protective bubble.

When we stayed at the Swami Nithyananda Ashram together, I always made sure Professor Kamath had hot water for his bath. That was a real treat for him. He greatly enjoyed the warm bath. As he took ill, Professor Kamath’s well-being was constantly on my mind. He always mentioned to me when Acharya Kedar had called. It pleased him greatly and he was looking forward to the visit that was being planned. My wife and I visited Professor Kamath almost daily after he was taken by ambulance to the Trivandrum hospital. We were there for two and a half weeks before flying home. I regret not visiting him in November when we, instead, went North. I would call him on the phone and we would talk. We had good conversations.

Paramatman is in Jivatman. The real Mukti is to know the subtle in the gross.
Bhagawan Nityananda, from His Chidakasha Gita

I will be forever grateful for our last meeting with Professor Kamath on our last day in India. His eyes were narrow slits but they were alive for the first time in a week or more. He seemed to see, hear and understand. I peered at him over the head of the bed so he could see me. At this point he was unable to turn his head. He followed me with his eyes. They were bright and showed no fear. He moved his lips trying to talk and managed to make a sound. The words, our conversation, was from heart to heart. That will be in my memory always. I told Professor Kamath that I could hear him and there was no need for him to talk. Sara and I sang a bhajan and then left. We sang the bhajan daily. His wife and younger son were there also.

Rob Marvin
March 14, 2008