Avadhi Baba
— by Li. Omguru
It must have been around 1995–96, during the peak of summer.
Vadodara was relatively new to me at the time. The city, rapidly modernizing, had enthusiastically adopted several Western influences. Wide roads lined with eucalyptus trees, grand government buildings complementing the temples in aesthetic appeal—everything around exuded a vibrant energy. As I observed the city from the car, its modernity fascinated me.
I was on my way to meet someone I had heard a lot about—Avadhi Baba. A man known to always relate every conversation to time. Time danced on the tip of his tongue, and he linked every topic to the thread of the clock’s needle.
Avadhi Baba.
He believed there’s a season for everything on this earth and a time for every purpose. Just as we carve out time to eat and sleep, shouldn’t we also make time for spiritual nourishment?
Perhaps this was why destiny had brought me to him.
Jesus once said in the Sermon on the Mount: “Blessed are those who recognize their spiritual need.”
Similarly, a “faithful and wise servant” constantly reminds us how essential it is to set aside time for reading and reflection.
Vadodara is the city of the Gaekwads, where the influence of Sayajirao Gaekwad was deeply evident. The royal lineage traced back to the Chandravanshi dynasty of Lord Krishna. From the Third Battle of Panipat to the present-day development, the city’s journey was written across its streets.
Eventually, I reached Avadhi Baba’s place. He welcomed me warmly. About ten others were seated around him, laughing heartily, joking about something. I was surprised—expecting a solemn and spiritual atmosphere—but found a light, cheerful vibe instead. I joined in.
Suddenly, Avadhi Baba turned to me and asked,
“Why have you come here?”
Like a nervous fresher in an interview, I promptly answered,
“To understand knowledge.”
It was like a young student blurting out an ideal answer in an interview—something vague yet earnest. I was essentially saying, “I want enlightenment.” But as soon as I said it, I sensed something was off. Maybe I had asked for too much at my young age. Or perhaps they were all wondering, “Why would such a young man be here seeking spiritual knowledge?”
I was about 20 or 21 years old. His question startled me. For a moment, I wondered if I had come to the wrong place. I nervously started fidgeting with my fingers, bit my lip, and looked around. Everyone else began to laugh in a rather odd, amused way.
But amidst that, one man—the only one—looked at me with a smile that wasn’t mocking.
He had a strong, athletic build—his body tempered by a life of renunciation and self-discipline. His health radiated pride. His nose was broad and slightly tilted, and like a child playing with their fingers in moments of idleness, he enjoyed interlocking and twiddling his own fingers.
His dark, radiant eyes had a blueish halo around them. His hair, parted in the middle, was silver near the temples and transitioned to golden-silver streaks, curling gently onto his shoulders. His beard and mustache were light, yet they gave his face a divine aura—both deep and playful at once, just like his personality.
Suddenly, he quieted the group and asked me,
“Why are you running?”
I replied earnestly, “To attain knowledge.”
He looked at me in silence for a moment. Then, from the depths of his being, he laughed joyously—his laughter was both thunderous and deeply affectionate. It shook his entire frame, his face and body moving with the rhythm of that joy.
His detachment from material comforts was evident from the dilapidated condition of his room. The walls of the long chamber were peeling from years of weathering.
On one wall hung a photo of his guru, adorned with an old, withered flower garland. The room was a curious blend of the ancient and the modern. A majestic chandelier, once bright with candles and glass beads, now lay unused and cobwebbed. On another wall hung a glossy, modern calendar. The entire room exuded a peaceful stillness. Coconut trees outside the ashram stood guard like sentinels.
Then he spoke, with glowing enthusiasm,
“Dear one, you are already a treasure of knowledge. You are noble, virtuous. Why are you wandering for glimpses of wisdom? Use the knowledge your Guru has already given you. I can see the power and the realization within you.”
He continued,
“People are waiting for you. Those in need are searching for you. If you set out to find a circle, you’ll never find one. You must sit still at one place, and in the radiance you emit, people will be drawn to you. That radiance will one day reach the highest spiritual frequency, and the world will bow to you. People will seek you out for solutions. They will run after your mantras, but for that, you must remain steady. Go deep into the power of mantras until even the world starts to understand their essence.”
“Rather than searching for knowledge outwardly, awaken what already lies dormant within you. Put it to work. Let it serve creation. Solve the worldly problems of people. Your task is to give direction to the light already glowing inside you.”
His words left me stunned. He had seen into my soul as though he wore my skin. It was as if he had caught a glimpse of my innermost being.
I understood the essence of that encounter fully.
Just like Hanuman needed Jambavan to awaken his strength, perhaps the Divine had arranged this meeting for me to recognize my own.
The ways of nature are mysterious and not always easy to understand. But every event has a reason. Sometimes we understand it immediately; sometimes it takes years.
In life, we meet many such people whose significance we don’t grasp instantly. Their words may seem simple at first, their presence unremarkable. But over time, their advice, guidance, and insight reveal themselves like hidden treasures.
For me, Avadhi Baba became such a radiant presence.
A luminous being etched in memory forever.