16 January 2002, en route to Chennai
It is late in the evening, a roadside stop somewhere in Tamil Nadu, en route to Chennai. Amma has been giving satsang, discussing with Her tour group spiritual topics like devotion and prayer.
She has just told us that even a yogi living in a Himalayan cave must listen to satsang every day, even if he or she has thoroughly studied the scriptures. Otherwise, such a person can easily become deluded.
Even if only mentally, a question arises: “Suppose the yogi lives all alone, in true isolation, far from a Guru? How will such a spiritual aspirant listen to satsang?”
Suddenly Amma is not to be seen. What happened?
Ah, She has bent over. You see just the space where She was sitting, and a little white patch that is the back of Her sari. Other heads nearby bend forward too. What are they seeing?
Triumphant, Mother sits back up and, chuckling, lifts Her left hand high. In it, a reddish towel, and in the towel, something small and pulsating.
“Ohhh!” says someone, and “How sweet!” says another, and “What is it?” ask people near the back, and “A baby frog!” someone near Mother reports.
But Mother sees more than a frog. Turning Her prize to all sides so that everyone can see the two bulging eyes and the throbbing, inflated throat, She laughs, points, and speaks:
“Children, become like a frog. It can live both in the water and on land. But the tail of ego should disappear. Then only can it live both in the water and on the shore. When it has a tail, it can live only in water, but once the tail disappears, it can live both in water and on land.”
Satsang upon a frog.
Even yogis in isolated caves have frogs.