When a Goddess Dies

WHEN A GODDESS DIES

Worshipping Mā Ānandamayī after
Her Death

z
ORIANNE AYMARD

1
 3
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Aymard, Orianne.
When a goddess dies : worshipping Ma Anandamayi after her death / Orianne Aymard.
pages cm
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 978–0–19–936862–4 (pbk. : alk. paper)—ISBN 978–0–19–936861–7
(cloth : alk. paper) 1. Anandamayi, 1896–1982—Cult. I. Title.
BL1175.A49A86 2014
294.5′61—dc23
2013037639

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on acid-free paper
 A God Died Yesterday

With the passing of Ma Anandamayee an era in the annals of Indian culture

has come to a close.
Ma, as she was known to Her innumerable devotees in this country and
abroad, was a saint in the tradition of the greatest Indian mystics. She had,
in her own particular way, stood as a formidable bulwark against the erosion
of traditional Indian values and culture at a time when these had come under
heavy onslaught from within the nation itself.. .
For millions of men and women who made the journey to her door Ma
had come to crystallize the peace and universality which is so peculiar [par-
ticular] to the Indian culture. The Indians, the westerners from wherever they
came—the very best minds of nearly four generations—some of them leading
writers, philosophers, spiritualists, scientists and politicians—all who flocked to
her luminous door were found returning to their respective niches enriched with
humanity’s rarest and best achievement—love.
That was Ma Anandamayee . . . Her spirit is as eternal, as everlasting as
India herself. She was amongst the finest of Mother’s India offspring.

The Himachal Times, August 29, 1982

 Contents

Acknowledgments ix

Introduction 1

1. Aspects of the Postmortem Cult of the Guru 38

2. The Cult of Relics in Hinduism 67
3. Death of the Guru 110
4. Presence of the Guru 152
5. Sustainability of the Postmortem Cult 197

Conclusion 247

Notes 261
Glossary 303
Bibliography 307
Index 329
 Acknowledgments

As I find myself writing my acknowledgments, I think this is probably the

most difficult part of my book. How to thank all those who helped me to
make this book a reality? Many people have contributed to it in their own
ways, and it is not an easy task to express how grateful I am to all of them.
The list is long and varied, ranging from academics to neurosurgeons in
India and France.
If this book is a great intellectual adventure, it is also much more. Its
birth took place on a hospital bed in Dehra Dun, in Northern India. While
in a critical medical state, I promised myself to write on Mā Ānandamayī
(Mā), if I came through the crisis. Having made this promise, I had no
other choice but persevere until I published. This book, then, is a real
liberation and represents a true victory of life over death.
My thanks are especially directed to:
Marie-Andrée Roy, also nicknamed Ma, for guiding me on this “pil-
grimage on the path of knowledge,” to refer to her own words. To me she
is a model scholar, an advisor and a friend. I am deeply indebted to her for
her enlightened guidance.
Mathieu Boisvert for his great insight and his continuous optimism.
Having traveled in India with Mathieu, either at the feet of the Shivling
Mountain, the Ardhakumbhamelā in Allahabad, or to the sacred place of
Hardwar, I thank Mathieu for deepening my understanding of India.
Leslie Orr for having truly enriched my academic reflections and
helped me reconnect with the academic sphere after intense humanitar-
ian missions.
John Stratton Hawley for his encouragements and inspiring advice for
the publication and beyond. I am deeply impressed at how such a great
scholar can be so humble and humane at the same time. This publication
could hardly have taken place without his help.
x Acknowledgments

Lisa Hallstrom, who greatly helped me improve this book. When asked
at the Apollo Hospital in Delhi what would please me while waiting for my
medical evacuation to France, my first answer was the book of Lisa. I have
to admit now this was a big challenge to write after her wonderful book on
Mā, Mother of Bliss.
Oxford University Press (New York), for making this publication hap-
pen. I would like to especially thank Theo Calderara and Marcela Maxfield.
The anonymous reviewers who read my manuscript for Oxford
University Press.
The South Asia Institute at Columbia University, for welcoming me
and giving me the chance to again be part of an academic community.
A special thanks to Philip Oldenburg at Columbia for his generous advice,
as well as Rachel McDermott for her guidance.
Sarah Myers, from the French Department at Columbia University, for
having translated large parts of this work from French to English.
The department of Religious Studies at the University of Quebec in
Montreal (UQAM), especially Jean-Jacques Lavoie, Guy Ménard, Paul
Leslie, Mark Bradley, and Genevieve Pigeon.
Anne Power, from the London School of Ecocomics, for supporting
my decision to redirect my Ph.D. studies from Social Policy in Tibet to
Religious Studies in India.
All of my friends, especially Laurence, Genevieve Meera, Juliette, Tarik,
Firas, and my “Quebecois godfather,” Michel. A special thank to Dinesh,
Joe, as well as Pascale, who looked after me at the hospital in Dehra Dun
as if I were her own daughter.
My neurosurgeon, Fabrice Parker, without whom I would certainly not
have been able to write this book!
The community of Ānandamayī Mā, for trusting me and sharing
their most intimate experiences of Mā. Special thanks to Caroline and
Izou, who maintain the samādhi (tomb) of Swami Vijayānanda at the
Père Lachaise cemetery almost daily. I also would like to thank the follow-
ing people for helping me with the publication of pictures, among other
things: Béatrice Abitbol, Christopher Pegler, Pushpraj, Richard Lannoy,
Swami Nityānanda (Neeta Mehta), and Swami Mangalananda.
Dr. Jacques Vigne (Vigyānānanda) for his valuable advice to write my
Ph.D. thesis and his attention when I was extremely sick in India.
My brother and sister for making me smile even when the situation
looks desperate!
 Acknowledgments xi

My parents for having always supported my decisions, however unex-

pected and inconsistent they were. Words are missing to express my love
and gratitude to them.
In memoriam, Swami Vijayānanda, the greatest magician I have ever
met, for teaching me the “Gai Savoir,” the path of Joy, and for caring after
me in certainly the most critical moment of my life.
And finally, the Supreme Divine Mother, to Mā Ānandamayī, without
whom none of this would be possible.
O.A.
When a Goddess Dies
 Introduction

Not far from the city of Hardwar, one of the most famous pilgrimage sites
in India, where millions of pilgrims flock every year to worship Ganga
Mā, the Mother Goddess incarnated as the Ganges River, and where every
twelve years the largest pilgrimage in the world, the Kumbhamelā, is held,
lies the town of Kankhal. Described by Mircea Eliade in his writings,1 this
small town on the banks of a tributary of the Ganges at the borders of the
Himalayas is host to the mythical site of Dakṣinesvāra, where Satī, in a
spirit of devotion and sacrifice for her husband Śiva, threw herself into the
fire. Only a few steps away from this site, in this atmosphere permeated
with the sacred, pilgrims, both Indians and Westerners, come to pray at
the tomb of a holy woman whom they simply call Mā.
Further South in Central India, the small island of Omkareshwar, sur-
rounded by the majestic river Narmada, welcomes another ancient pil-
grimage place, one that is dedicated to Śiva and that shelters a jyoti liṅgam
(pillar of light), Śiva’s manifestation. On the very same island, every day in
a school overlooking the Narmada, hundreds of children sing with devo-
tion and faith the name of the Divine Mother, the name of Mā.
A few thousand miles away, in the heart of the 20th arrondissement
of Paris, is the Père Lachaise cemetery, known worldwide for hosting the
graves of hundreds of personalities from Jim Morrison to Edith Piaf to
Frédéric Chopin and Oscar Wilde. In the Division 41, near the corner of the
cross Avenue No. 2 and Avenue Greffülhe, drifts a sweet scent of incense
from one of the tombs. On this tomb an inscription is engraved: OM MĀ.
This woman venerated in Kankhal, sung to in Omkareshwar, and
honored in a Parisian cemetery, is none other than Mā Ānandamayī
(1896–1982). In her lifetime Mā Ānandamayī became arguably the most
famous female religious leader in India, counting hundreds of thousands
of followers, including personalities like Kamala Nehru, wife of the prime
Minister Jawaharlal Nehru, and their daughter Indira Gandhi, and was
2 Introduction

venerated in turn as guru and avatar, incarnation of the Divine on Earth.2

Born in East Bengal (now Bangladesh) in 1896 to poor brahmin parents,
Mā Ānandamayī, also known as “Mā” (Mother) or in Bengal as Manush
Kālī (the “Human Kālī”), to refer to her status as Goddess, as Divine
Mother, was at the origin of a religious movement and a vast network
of ashrams, something never seen before for a woman in India, as well
as reforms seeking to promote gender equality. All this was in a society
where women gurus were rarely recognized. Because of her great influ-
ence on all layers of society in India, she now represents one of the few
Hindu female gurus to be worshiped after her death, and especially in a
cult at her tomb, in spite of the fact that tombs of holy women are virtually
nonexistent in India.
Omkareshwar is home to the ashram of one of Mā’s close disciples,
Swami Kedarnath, also called Baba (Father). Swami Kedarnath met Mā in
1976, six years before her mahāsamādhi (death of the saint, of the guru),
and received guidance directly from her. In the 1990s, after the pass-
ing of Mā, he established two ashrams independent of the Shree Shree
Anandamayee Sangha, Ānandamayī Mā’s official organization, and cre-
ated his own institution dedicated to spreading Mā’s teaching. Today, his
organization runs a school, where hundreds of children receive a K–12
education as well as an education in the life and teachings of Mā.
Among the very close disciples that Mā also counted was a Jewish doc-
tor, a native of Metz, France, and son of the greatest Rabbi of that city. In
1950, Dr. Abraham Jacob Weintrob left France for Sri Lanka and India with
the intention of staying only two months to meet with spiritual masters, in
particular with Ramana Maharshi and Sri Aurobindo. As fate would have
it, he met Mā Ānandamayī soon after his arrival. Following this meeting,
he decided to follow the holy woman and later became a monk or swami in
Mā’s organization, taking the name of Swami Vijayānanda (the Victory of
Bliss). Swami Vijayānanda never returned to France and spent nearly sixty
years in India, including seventeen years as a hermit in the mountains of
the Himalayas. This “gentil grand-père” (or “sweet grandfather”) as some
French followers liked to call him, emphasizing anything but a naïve
quality of this man with an exceptional destiny, welcomed Westerners to
Mā’s ashram in Kankhal, where the tomb of Mā is located, until his death
on April 5, 2010, at the age of 95. Today Swami Vijayānanda is an object
of veneration for Christians, Jews, Buddhists, Hindus, and others at his
grave in Père Lachaise, serving as a bridge between East and West, as well
as a central element to the worship of Mā.
 Introduction 3

While the veneration of a deceased person, especially at his or her

grave, is common in the West, especially in the Catholic tradition, it is less
developed in the Hindu tradition, where preference is given to the devo-
tion of beings during their lifetime and where death is normally associated
with the idea of pollution and impurity, and the corpse synonymous with
contamination. With the exception of satīs, wives sacrificed in fire by love
or by force to follow their deceased husbands, the very idea of worshipping
a woman after her death, or even when she is alive until the advent of Mā,
is something even more exceptional in India. How does the postmortem
worship of Mā then fall within the Indian religious landscape?
The study presented here investigates the postmortem cult of gurus
in the Hindu tradition, specifically the Bengali cult of Mā Ānandamayī
as it has been expressed since 1982, that is to say since she has “left her
body,” to use an expression in Indian English designating the death of a
guru. The fundamental question of this study is that of the impact of the
guru’s death on his or her cult. What are the resulting transformations in
the guru’s cult after his or her death and the origins thereof? Is the cult of
the guru, in this case that of Mā Ānandamayī, affected or strengthened by
the death of the guru? Does it decline, stagnate, or grow? Or rather does it
undergo a redefinition? What are the conditions under which the cult of a
Hindu religious figure thrives after his or her death?
This study describes, through the life of Mā Ānandamayī, the conse-
quences of the guru’s death on his or her cult, not only from an institu-
tional but also from an experiential point of view, since the institutional
and the experiential are closely related and are actually two facets of the
same phenomenon. As a result, my research situates itself around these
two aspects of the religious, that of actual experience and that of the insti-
tution. These two features of the religious refer to the distinction made by
William James in The Varieties of Religious Experience between “first hand
religion,” namely the religious experience of the individual, and “second
hand religion,” the institution, which is only a secondary expression of the
religious. The institutional aspect, though secondary for James, is never-
theless indispensable to a transmission of religious experience, although
it is often influential in the process. As such this study organizes itself
around these two important features, as the postmortem cult of Hindu
gurus is examined not only in its institutional but also in its experiential
dimension.
In addition of being one of the rare women to be venerated at a tomb,
Mā Ānandamayī is a particularly interesting figure for study due to her
4 Introduction

recent “departure” only thirty years ago. Her cult today is at a crossroads,
as it now consists of devotees who knew Mā during her lifetime, those
whom I call “early devotees,” and of devotees who did not, called here
“new devotees.” Due to the extent of her influence in her lifetime and her
recent death, Mā Ānandamayī then is a noteworthy illustration of a post-
humous cult of a Hindu guru.

Research Contribution
This study then explores the devotional movement of the enduring reli-
gious figure, Ānandamayī Mā, through the compelling question of what
happens to a charismatic movement after the death of the guru. There
have been previous studies on gurus, such as Shirdi Sai Baba or Ramana
Maharshi, but they have tended to focus more on the life and teachings
of the masters, rather than the postcharismatic fate of gurus. As such,
this study brings a significant contribution to the field of understanding a
community’s attempt in modern (and postmodern) times to sustain and
enliven the worship of a renowned guru.
Through the iconic figure of Mā, who, paradoxically always denied
her status as a guru while fulfilling that role,3 this study introduces in an
interdisciplinary manner the guru’s role in society and beyond and affords
important insights into the explorations of gurus and devotion. Although
an in-depth review of the history of studies on the guru would certainly be
of great value here, such an extensive review, however, is beyond the scope
of this study. It seems nevertheless essential to situate this work within the
state of scholarship on the guru—primarily anthropology, sociology, and
religious studies—so as to develop a line of questioning with regard to the
role of the guru after his or her death. The more theoretical elements will
be provided as they apply throughout this research.
In the past two decades, there has been an explosion of studies on the
Hindu guru. Most recently, scholarly works have focused on “middle-class”
gurus such as Mā Amṛtānandamayī (or Amma) and Sathya Sai Baba, con-
sidered today as the most popular gurus in India. Sathya Sai Baba himself
passed away in 2011. Tulasi Srivinas, Winged Faith (2010), for example, stud-
ies the Sathya Sai Baba transnational movement, arguing for a rethinking
of globalization, and suggesting new approaches for discussing religion
in a plural world. Smriti Srivinas, in her book, In the Presence of Sai Baba
(2008), conducts an investigation into the configurations of spatiality and
 Introduction 5

religiosity within the Sathya Sai Baba movement. While giving an account
of urban middle-class devotees of Sathya Sai Baba and the proliferation
of his presence through diverse physical and virtual channels, she shows
ways in which devotees and religious movements engage with global
processes. Maya Warrier, Hindu Selves in a Modern World (2005), for her
part, focuses on Amma’s devotional movement, exploring the relation-
ship between religion and modernity in contemporary India, and argu-
ing that Amma’s spiritual enterprise responds to the needs of devotees’
modern lifestyles. Jacob Copeman and Aya Ikegame, “The Multifarious
Guru” (2012), discuss the phenomenon of guruship through an interdisci-
plinary approach, drawing attention to the guru’s “uncontainability” (i.e.,
the guru’s capacity to move between various spheres). While defining the
term “guru” broadly, Copeman and Ikegame explore different kinds of
gurus, “the governing guru,” “the cosmopolitan guru,” and “the political
guru,” for example.
From a gender perspective, much work has also been done on female
guruship in recent years. Among the key writings that inspired me, of
course, we find Lisa Hallstrom’s Mother of Bliss (1999), which discusses
Ānandamayī Mā as a woman, saint, guru, and avatar. Karen Pechilis’s
“Gurumayi, the Play of Sakti and Guru” (2004) and the accompanying
authors of The Graceful Guru are of great value too, as different profiles
of female gurus are described and then analyzed, such as Ānandamayī
Mā (Lisa Hallstrom) and Mā Amṛtānandamayī (Selva Raj), Śrī Mā of
Kāmakkhya (Loriliai Biernacki) and Jaya Ma (June McDaniel), or Mother
Meera (Catherine Cornille). While discussing the figure of Mā, one can-
not avoid a comparison with Amma, the hugging Mother from Kerala.
Of great interest is Warrier’s approach to Amma’s movement through an
examination of secularization, a term she identifies as a “conscious choos-
ing,” where religion is not taken for granted but is seen more as an option.
Other authors that broadened my understanding of female gurus include
June McDaniel, The Madness of the Saints (1989), who discusses within a
Hindu Bengali context the intimate religious life, or what she calls “mad-
ness,” of five women, including Ānandamayī Mā, through their visions
and ecstasy states. My attention also turned to scholars such as Catherine
Clémentin-Ojha, La Divinité conquise (1990), who studied the life of
a female guru, Shoba Mā, in Benares, and Marie-Thérèse Charpentier,
Indian Female Gurus in Contemporary Hinduism (2010), who investigated
the phenomenon of contemporary female guruship within the framework
of the spiritual careers of seventy gurus.4
6 Introduction

This book then is aligned with an enormous corpus of literature on

guruship and contemporary global religious movements from different
fields of studies. It is surprising, however, that among the vast majority of
these scholarly works, the relationship between guruship and death has
been mostly overlooked by both the Indian and Western scholars. There
are writings, for example, on the masters’ teaching on death or on the
preservation of their postmortem memory, as evidenced lately by Christian
Lee Novetzke’s Religion and Public Memory (2008), on the maintenance of
saint Namdev’s memory through multiple “historical publics,” but there
is generally a lack of in-depth studies surrounding postmortem guruship.
Indeed, the masters’ death and its reception by devotees are rarely
addressed in scholarly writings, other than very indirectly. We encounter
studies on the self-cremation of sages and their entombment (Charles
Malamoud, Cooking the World (1996); Marcelle Saindon, “Le Rituel hindou
de la cremation” (2000), among other authors), but devotional practices sur-
rounding postmortem cults, more specifically at the tomb, are not addressed.
It is often necessary to turn to Sufi studies (to name a few, Pnina Werbner
and Helene Basu, eds., Embodying Charisma (1998); Marc Gaborieau, “The
Cult of Saints among the Muslims of Nepal and Northern India,” “Pouvoir
et autorité des soufis dans l’Himalaya,” and “A Nineteenth-Century Indian
‘Wahhabi’ Tract against the Cult of Muslim Saints: Al-Balagh al-Mubin”) and
studies of syncretism (Jackie Assayag, Au Confluent de deux rivières (1995);
Véronique Bouiller and Catherine Servan-Schreiber, eds., De l’Arabie à
l’Himalaya [2004], among other studies) to find a discussion of these prac-
tices of worship at the tomb. Though the religious affiliation of Sathya Sai
Baba is unique, as it is located between Sufism and Hinduism, the latest
work of Tulasi Srivinas, “Relics of Faith” (2012) on his relics, however, is
quite encouraging, as it may lead to future studies on relics in the field of
Hinduism. From the experiential perspective, the devotees’ religious experi-
ences of the guru after his or her death have not generated great interest
in scholarly circles either. Devotees’ experiences of trance, of ecstasies, of
the miraculous, or of the master’s presence are discussed, but generally in
regard to a living guru, not one who has died.
Finally, from a more sociological point of view, there have been socio-
logically based studies of the continuing cults after the death of a guru,
such as the study of Ramakrishna movement (Gwilym Beckerlegge, The
Ramakrishna Mission (2000)), the Divine Society movement of Shivananda
(Timothy Miller, “The Divine Life Society Movement” (2001)), the Krishna
Consciousness movement (Irvin Collins, “The ‘Routinization of Charisma’
 Introduction 7

and the Charismatic” (2004); Steven Gelberg, “The Call of the Lotus-Eyed
Lord” (1991)), the Shree Rajneesh movement (Charles Lindholm, “Culture,
Charisma, and Consciousness” (2002)), and the Radhasoami movement
(Lawrence Babb, Redemptive Encounters (1986)), but they are limited and
tend to ignore the experiential aspect of the cult. As such, the following
work is valuable in terms of further study of the continuation of guru’s
cults after death, especially with the recent passing away of gurus such as
Sathya Sai Baba and Ma Jaya Sati Bhagavati.
While this book fills an existing lacuna in the field by bringing together
different scholarly perspectives into a fruitful dialogue on guruship and
death, it acknowledges a lack of scholarly attention on this subject until
now. Is this lacuna the result of a lack of interest on the part of scholars?
Or might scholars shy away from approaching devotees of a guru who has
passed to speak about his or her death for fear of devotees’ reaction, given
that there is a widely held belief that the guru never dies? This was not my
personal experience, but this may be a concern for scholars who might not
dare to raise these issues.
This pioneering study also adds to the work on holy women in the
Hindu tradition, highlighting a new vision of holiness in revealing a new
mode of veneration of female gurus, that of the tomb’s cult. Worship at a
guru’s tomb was hitherto an exclusively male phenomenon, as the sepul-
chral landscape of Hindu sanctity shows. Mā, then, represents a shift to
female leadership in the world of Hindu guruship, and her grave is, in
this sense, a symbol of the affirmation of the Divine Feminine. With the
growing acceptance of the role of guru for women, it is likely in the near
future that we will see a far more significant cult of the tomb of women
gurus emerge in the Hindu tradition. This very well may come to pass in
the case of the most prominent figures of Hindu spirituality, Amma and
Swami Chidvilasananda or Gurumayi. As such, this study represents a
true milestone in the field, revealing the deep interconnections between
women, guruship, and death.
Finally, from an East–West guruship perspective, this study is a reflec-
tion of the globalization of religion. It reflects the growing interest in the
West in the holy figures of Hinduism, such as Amma, Mother Meera,
and Gurumayi, who travel outside the borders of Bhārat Mātā (Mother
India). In heralding the internationalization of the cult of Ānandamayī Mā
through the figure of Swami Vijayānanda, as well as through the Western
tours of Swami Kedarnath’s disciples, this work contributes to a better
understanding of Hinduism and its relationship to the West. As such,
8 Introduction

it is an undeniable contribution to the advancement of knowledge for

South Asian Studies, representing a renaissance moment in the history
of guruship.

Overview and Scope

This book is divided into five chapters. Its structure aims to systematically
bring the reader to the main question, what is the postcharismatic fate of
the guru’s cult after his or her death and what are the conditions for the
maintenance of his or her cult. I will now describe the subject of each
chapter while enumerating the relevant research and literature therein.

Aspects of the Postmortem Cult of Gurus

So as to understand the evolution of the guru’s cult after his or her death,
it seems first important to present a detailed picture of the postmortem
cult of gurus in the Hindu tradition. In ­chapter 1, I explore the postmor-
tem cult’s organization of Ānandamayī Mā. I consider its sacred spaces,
its agents, the community of devotees, its function and manifestations,
such as rituals, celebrations and retreats, and the cult of images and stat-
ues (mūrtis). In this context, I refer to the central concepts of tīrtha (place
of pilgrimage), of darśana (to see and be seen by the divinity), of sacred
exchange, and of ritual activity.

The Cult of Relics in Hinduism

Compared to other religions, such as Catholicism or Buddhism, the cult
of relics in the Hindu tradition is relatively underdeveloped and, therefore,
there are relatively few studies on it. This may due to Hindus’ preference
for the guru’s living presence; within the yogic tradition, to be sure, the
necessity of a living guru is affirmed. The fact that a cult of relics does
exist and may even be becoming more common testifies however to the
importance of studying this significant aspect of Hinduism in order to
better understand this religious tradition, particularly its relationship to
death, transmission, and the master–disciple relation.
In ­chapter 2, I describe the cult of relics in Hinduism, first by specify-
ing its origin and place in the sacred geography of India, while consider-
ing the burial of gurus and the belief in the incorruptibility of their bodies.
 Introduction 9

I go on to study the role of the feminine in this cult and I then turn to the
sacred function of relics, so as to demonstrate the importance of the cult
of relics within the postmortem cult. In this regard, I examine the ques-
tions of presence (sannidhi) and of the power (śakti) attached to relics, and
I consider the cult of relics as a form of meditation on death. The tantric
aspect, especially with regard to the powerful goddess Kālī, is not to be
neglected.
I explore themes related to death—transgression and danger, place and
embodiment, agency, and memories—through which the figure of the
guru is constructed. While approaching relics as a medium of guruship
and the transference of power, “contagion,” to use Douglas and Frazer’s
terms,5 the notion of agency is particularly powerful in relationship to
object analysis and materiality. In this regard, Srinivas’s work on the rel-
ics of Sathya Sai Baba and its discussion of his body, in which she distin-
guishes between the sacra and ephemera, is of great interest.6
The influence of Sufism on the Hindu cult of relics is here particularly
strong. As such, this study covers a vast terrain of unexplored territory,
providing a vital contribution to the field of subcontinental theology, guru-
ship studies, and religious studies.

Death of the Guru

It seems important to return to the guru’s physical death and to the devo-
tees’ response to it, so as to better understand the devotees’ relationship
with the guru today and thereby to more fully grasp the evolution of his or
her cult since his or her death. As a result, c­ hapter 3 addresses Mā’s death
in general.
What is the meaning of death in the eyes of the guru, here in Mā’s
eyes? To answer this question, I refer to Mā’s words and the words of other
mahātmas (great souls), such as Ramana Maharshi, Ramdas, Oupasani
Baba, and Vivekananda. I also call on sacred texts of the Hindu tradition,
quoting the Bhagavadgītā, the Kathā Upaniṣad, and the Bṛhadaranyaka
Upaniṣad to discuss the significance of death for the guru. The concept of
non-duality (Advaita) is particularly addressed here.
Mā’s death itself is then discussed with the aid of writings from the
Western disciple Atmananda and the Professor Bithika Mukerji, the main
biographer of Mā.7 I also look at the reception of Mā’s death among her
devotees, their reaction to her departure, using comparisons with the
death of the sage Ramakrishna. Finally, I discuss the devotees’ beliefs in
10 Introduction

an afterlife (i.e., the possible return of the guru on earth), referring notably
to the concept of avatar or divine descent, and I address the meaning that
death holds for Mā’s disciples.

Presence of the Guru

Chapter 4 focuses on the experiential face of the postmortem cult of the
guru, or that which James calls “personal religion,” as compared to “func-
tional”8 or institutionalized religion. Here I direct my attention to devotees’
religious experience, an experience that would not take place without the
affirmation of faith, as faith is the central element through which the sub-
ject confers his objectivity, or his true nature, to the religious experience.
I turn especially to the commentary of James, for whom the religious experi-
ence is found at the heart of religion, as well as to Rudolf Otto, who defines
the religious experience as nostalgia for the divine and as the experience of
the “wholly other,” that is to say that which is completely different.9
After addressing the question of whether the physical presence of Mā
is necessary for her devotees, and what the drawbacks and advantages of
her physical presence are, I then consider the experience itself, which for
James represents the very essence of religion. What are the principal char-
acteristics of the devotees’ experience? What experience do they have with
Mā since her passing? The key concepts of presence, of ānanda (supreme
beatitude), and of Advaita (non-duality) are used to qualify the devotional
experience after the death of the guru. This chapter looks then to under-
stand the experiential character of the postmortem cult. It is in fact a real
work of anthropology to give voice to Mā’s devotees.

Sustainability of the Postmortem Cult

Finally, c­ hapter 5, “Sustainability of the Postmortem Cult,” is exclusively
interested in the institutional side of the guru’s postmortem cult. Here
I explore the phenomenon of the routinization of the guru’s charisma
after his or her death, that is to say the perpetuation of his or her cha-
risma through institutionalization. While developing a discussion with
reference to scholars such as Bourdieu, Habermas, Hervieu-Léger, or
Lindholm, whose comprehension of charisma in non-Western societies,
especially in South Asia, is very useful,10 I use Max Weber’s sociological
theories concerning routinization, the process in which extraordinary sit-
uations transform themselves in order to endure.11 Weber’s concepts of
 Introduction 11

charismatic and bureaucratic domination, and of routinization here direct

my discussion.
With reference to routinization, I also address the problems of main-
taining ashrams and the cult’s community after Mā’s death, as well as the
role of brahminical orthodoxy’s within Mā’s organization, notably vis-à-vis
foreigners, who are considered outsiders. I draw the contrast between the
Bengali orthodox community’s custodianship of the site of Mā’s samādhi
(tomb) in Kankhal and the more relaxed and inclusive sampradāya (spiri-
tual lineage) established by one of Mā’s special disciples, Swami Kedarnath.
While observing internal rifts between Indians and Western devotees, and
distinguishing between what Habermas call “representative” communi-
ties and “critical” communities,12 I explore South Asian religious power
structures. Finally, the principle ways for the cult to sustain itself, notably
through hagiography and initiation, are the object of the last section.
Through exhaustive and interconnected empirical and documentative
research, I complete an in-depth examination of all facets of the postmor-
tem cult of the guru, particularly with respect to Mā, and I thus look to
describe the development of the guru’s cult after his or her death from
both an experiential and institutional point of view.

Return to Mā Ānandamayī’s Life and Teachings

Born on April 30, 1896, in the small village of Kheora in Eastern Bengal,
located in the state of Tripura, to poor Vaiṣṇavite brahmin parents, Mā
Ānandamayī was given the name of Nirmāla Sundari, which means
“immaculate beauty” or “purity.” Later the surnames of Hasi (smile) and
Khusir (the joyous) were also given to her. According to her spiritual biog-
raphies, especially the writings of Professor Bithika Mukerji, the principal
biographer of Mā Ānandamayī with whom I was able to meet in Allahabad,
Mā proved from her childhood, to be a detached child who had little inter-
est in the surrounding environment, so much so that many thought that
she was intellectually disabled.
At the age of 13, Nirmāla Sundari was married to the much older
Ramani Mohan Chakravarti, and at 18, she finally went to live with her
spouse, whom she later called “Bholanāth,” one of Śiva’s names. Although
Mā went through marriage, contrary to other late female gurus like Amma
or Gurumayi, and is described as the exemplary housewife, completely
devoted to her husband, she actually never consummated her marriage
12 Introduction

Figure 0.1 Mā Ānandamayī and her husband, Bholanāth.

Source: Picture belonging to the collection of the photographer Sadanand; now in the pos-
session of Neeta Mehta, also called Swami Nityānanda.

and gave no children to her spouse. She then distanced herself from the
traditional forms of marriage, going against the ideal of pativrata, of the
perfect Hindu woman. In addition to personal experience, Pechilis consid-
ers this refusal of the socially defined role of woman as a key element in
the charismatic status of Mā Ānandamayī and other female gurus.13

Sādhanā Līlā of Mā
In 1918, Mā and Bholanāth moved to Bajitpur in Eastern Bengal, where Mā
initiated an intensive sādhanā (spiritual discipline). For six years, she is
said to have practiced every type of sādhanā. Although she never received
any direction or spiritual teaching from a master yogi, she spontaneously
was able to perform yogic postures and to perfect mudrās (symbolic or rit-
ual gesture). She called this game her “līlā of sādhanā” (līlā meaning play,
 Introduction 13

game), for, as it has always been the same for her, there was nothing to
accomplish spiritually. Thus did Mā affirm that her state had always been
one of spiritual realization and that she never had past lives nor would she
have future lives, as she specifies here:

I am what I was and what I shall be; I am whatever you conceive,

think or say. But it is a supreme fact that this body has not come
into being to reap the fruits of past karma. Why don’t you take it
that this body is the material embodiment of all your thoughts and
ideas. You all have wanted it and you have it now. So play with this
doll for some time.14

Regarding the state of realization of Mā, the famous theologian

Gopinath Kaviraj views Mā in the following manner:

Samadhi or no Samadhi, She is where She always has been; She

knows no change, no modification, no alteration: She is always
poised in the selfsame awareness as a Supreme and Integral
Universality, transcending all limitations of time, space and per-
sonality and yet comprehending them all in a great harmony.15

Noting Mā’s unconventional, even strange behavior, as Mā would

engage during her sādhanā in complicated yogic postures and be in a
trancelike state, people began to think she was either possessed by spir-
its or was sick. It was then that her husband had exorcists try to stop his
wife’s “abnormal” behavior, but these exorcists eventually recognized the
saintly character of their patient, seeing in her a goddess, an incarnation
of Devī, the Divine Mother.
Mā continued to focus on the sādhanā that eventually led to an initia-
tion (dīkṣā) that she gave to herself August 3, 1922, simultaneously becom-
ing the disciple (śiṣya), the guru (guru), and the divinity (iṣṭa). By this act of
self-initiation, Mā distinguished herself from most gurus, making herself
an exceptional figure. Later, in December 1922, Bholanāth asked to receive
initiation from Mā and thus, became her first true disciple. It was at this
time that Mā entered into a period of silence (mauna) for three years.
Regarding self-initiation, a certain number of female gurus today are
self-initiated. This is the case, for example, of Amma and Karunamayi.
As spiritual knowledge for women mostly comes outside of the initiation
sphere of an established religious order, legitimation of female gurus does
14 Introduction

not necessarily require succession from previous gurus, but seems to be

more related to personal experience, visions, and mystical states.16

Years in Dhaka
In 1924, Bholanāth and Mā left for Dhaka, then the capital of Bangladesh.
It is during this period that the first disciples began to flock to Mā, and
it is also at Dhaka that one of her closest disciples, Bhaiji, gave her the
name of Mā Ānandamayī, which means “Mother Full of Bliss,” or “Mother
Saturated with Joy.” Little by little, people began to hear about Mā and her
states of ecstasy, and came to meet her. Some saw her as an incarnation
of the Divine Mother, a manifestation of the goddess Kālī, from which
came the name “Human Kālī” that was given to her. Others envisaged Mā
as a being that had attained the state of perfect realization (jīvanmukta)
and possessed extraordinary spiritual powers. Among the powers that Mā
was credited with are the powers of clairvoyance and of healing, the latter
being often at the basis of a saint’s reputation.17 Mā though would never
attribute these powers and miracles to herself, as she always spoke of the
action of God.18
At this time Mā began to take less and less care of her body, and so
needed others to look after her. She stated that she could not tell the dif-
ference between fire and water and that if others did not take care of her
body it would be destroyed. In 1926, at the age of 30, Mā also stopped
eating with her own hands and was instead fed by Didi, one of her closest
disciples.

Ma’s Pilgrimages
In the late 1920s, Mā began to take on the role of guru, or spiritual mas-
ter, giving dīkṣā to a small circle of devotees, even as she still maintained
throughout her life that she was not a guru. She affirmed: “Only God is
the Guru. It is a sin to regard the Guru as a human being.”19 The numbers
of her devotees, mostly male in the beginning, continued to increase and
in 1928 they built an ashram at Dhaka. Despite this, Mā did not stay at the
ashram and began to make pilgrimages all over India, moving around until
her death, like “a bird on the wing,” as she liked to call herself. Arnaud
Desjardins, a French writer and producer of documentaries for French
television, with whom I had the chance to exchange written correspon-
dences, spent several long periods of time around Mā and remarked that
 Introduction 15

one of the difficulties in accessing Mā was due to her innumerable dis-

placements: “Her incessant and unpredictable movements do not make
it easy to get close to her. You had to be really set on receiving her darshan
[to see and be seen by a deity] in order to meet her.”20 This reminds us
today of Amma, who, similarly to Mā, travels extensively throughout the
world, though in a very predictable way, as her trips are usually organized
months in advance.
Mā did not give any indication of where she would be going or when
she was going, nor did she ever specify if she would return. She would
simply go to the nearest train station, oftentimes in the middle of the
night, and would take the first departing train. She would follow, what she
called her kheyāla or divine inspiration, a term which Arnaud Desjardins
also defines as “a thought or an impulse suddenly springing out of her
spirit for no apparent reason, a whim or a caprice.”21 He adds that this
term, when applied to Mā who was without ego signifies a will identified
with the divine will, spontaneous and free. Mā ceaselessly moved around
until the end of her life following her kheyāla, an inner voice that dictated
divine will to her.
In her pilgrimages throughout India, Mā attracted a vast number
of followers and, although she never encouraged it, ashrams were con-
structed to welcome her. An organization was created in 1952, the Shree
Shree Anandamayee Sangha, making Mā the first woman in the history of
India to be represented by a movement of such size. During her travels,
she met people from all backgrounds. Kings, politicians, and prominent
gurus and saints alike prostrated themselves in front of her. Among these
were the saint Shivananda, the yogi Yogananda, and Mahatma Gandhi,
as well as numerous politicians, including the President of the Republic,
Dr. Rajendra Prasad, the Vice-President and philosopher Radhakrishnan,
and Pandit Nehru.
On August 27, 1982, Mā “left her body,” to use her devotees’ expres-
sion, at the ashram of Kishenpur, in Dehra Dun, north of Delhi. A pro-
cession took place during the day from Dehra Dun to Kankhal, close to
Hardwar, where Mā’s samādhi (tomb) is now located, and Mā’s body was
interred following the rules of interment specific to the Hindu burial of a
great spiritual being. Indian dignitaries came to pay tribute to Mā, includ-
ing Indira Gandhi, one of her disciples, who said this:

Ānandamayī Mā was the living embodiment of devotion and love.

Just with a glimpse of Her, countless problems are solved. She
16 Introduction

considered service to suffering humanity Her true religion. Her

spiritually powerful personality was a source of great guidance for
all human beings. I offer my homage to Her.22

Through her life and her radiance, Mā Ānandamayī, a self-initiated

being who defined herself as enlightened from birth, emerges then as an
exceptional figure who, in Weber’s words, disrupts order and produces
a certain dislocation: her role as a woman guru and especially as an ava-
tar and Divine Mother in a patriarchal society;23 her spiritual status inde-
pendent from her husband; her refusal to adopt the traditional forms of
marriage by following the ideal of pativrata (the perfect Hindu woman);
and her reforms to promote women’s equality (introduction of upanayana,
or the Vedic ceremony, for women, and the study of Sanskrit) testify to
her charisma. Despite her conservative tendencies in relation to certain
aspects of the sanātana dharma (“the eternal law,” the Hindu tradition),
especially with regard to marriage (such as her views regarding arranged
marriage) and satīs, this ambassador of Hinduism can paradoxically be
recognized, in the Weberian sense, as a charismatic figure, a figure of
rupture who dictates the terms of her own sanctity, and revolutionizes the
world of her devotees.

A Teaching “Beyond Words”

For Richard Lannoy, the photographer who published an album on Mā,24
the doctrine that Mā embodied approached the greatest degree of univer-
sality that a singular individual can reach. This, of course, explains why
Mā gathered around her individuals of many religious backgrounds (i.e.,
Hindus, Buddhists, Jains, Christians, Muslims, and Jews) and of all geo-
graphical origins (i.e., Indians, Americans, and Europeans). As is the case
today with Amma, her teaching suited each individual, but generally lim-
ited itself to the ancient Hindu tradition, the sanātana dharma. Depending
on the situation, she could call on the non-dualism of Advaita, the quali-
fied dualism of viśiṣṭādvaita, or the dualism of bhakti.
Mā compared life in the world to a slow poison and also said this: “This
world means the constant change between happiness and pain. There can
be no stability here, no ‘nitya’ [eternity], no ‘sthiti’ [absoluteness]. That is
only in Him. There cannot be both ‘samsar’ [the world] and God.”25 Thus,
for her, renouncing the world is not renunciation: “People talk and marvel
about those who renounce the world, but in actual fact it is you yourself
 Introduction 17

who have renounced everything. What is this ‘everything’? God! Leaving

Him aside, everyone is literally practicing supreme renunciation. [laugh-
ter]”26 Thus, she asked that every day one consecrates a moment to God,
however small it may be.
Due to the complexity and, at the same time, the simplicity of her teach-
ing, it can be difficult to give a philosophical synthesis to Mā Ānandamayī’s
teaching, for, as she said, a doctrine expressed in words cannot express the
Absolute.27 We can however summarize her teaching in the affirmation
that the true goal of life is to realize God, to know Oneself.28 With regard
to this, she spoke of the quest to find our true identity in order to escape
from saṃsāra, to escape from the endless cycle of rebirth that is nothing
but the world of death:

You study and you pass your exam; you earn money and you enjoy
the use of it. But all this is in the realm of death in which you go
on life after life, repeating the same thing over and over again. But
there is also another path—the path of Immortality, which leads to
the knowledge of what you are in reality.29

Although Mā’s teaching was not limited to a specific doctrine, she nev-
ertheless advocated for the monist tradition of Advaita,30 of non-duality.
For her, the true source of suffering (duḥkha) essentially resides in a false
belief that there is duality: “The sense of the separation is the root cause of
all sickness. It is founded on a misunderstanding: the belief in duality.”31
In this context, she declared that darśana (to see and be seen by the deity),
that is to say a true revelation of the Divine or ātma darśana, cannot exist
as long as there exists an “I”: “You have not had real darshan as long as the
‘I’ persists.”32
Mā’s non-dual thought is also shown in the way she referred to herself.
Similarly to other sages such as Ramdas, Swami Ramatirtha, or Sathya
Sai Baba,33 Mā Ānandamayī spoke of herself in the third person, desig-
nating herself as “this body” or ehi śarira in Bengali, or also as “this little
girl,” “this little baby.” As Arnaud Desjardins says, the sage is beyond the
possessive adjective and the possessive pronoun, because there cannot be
possession unless there is a separation. To someone who asked to describe
her own experience, Mā also declared the following: “it would imply that
the experiencer has still remained. This cannot be so here” (she often des-
ignated herself using the term ‘here’).34 And so Mā’s words and move-
ments continually focused on the absence of duality.
18 Introduction

But, even if Mā constantly associated herself with the non-dual phi-

losophy of Advaita, she actually situated herself beyond it: “A state exists
where the distinction between duality and non-duality has no place. . . . But
where the Brahman is, the One-without-a-second, nothing else can possi-
bly exist. You separate duality from non-duality because you are identified
with the body.”35
The theologian Gopinath Kaviraj, a disciple of Mā’s, shows that
Advaitic thought, which holds that “everything is one,” is actually not cor-
rect, in that the meaning of unity disappears in the same moment that the
True One is revealed: “Everything is one, the one is everything. And even
this statement is not exact, for the True One is there where the meaning
of the Unity no longer exists.”36 Mā also referred to the idea of “totality”
to express this necessity of moving past even these ideas of duality and
non-duality: “You will have to become conscious of your Self in its entirety.
Nay, to become fully conscious is not enough; you will have to rise beyond
consciousness and unconsciousness. The revelation of THAT is what is
wanted.”37 Raimon Panikkar’s suggestion that we should speak of “adu-
alism” rather than “non-dualism” seems, in this context, appropriate to
eliminating this idea of oppositions.38
Although in her statements, Mā constantly stressed the realization of
God, of the True One, as the only goal in life, she nevertheless admit-
ted that she did not have a message to pass on or a mission to accom-
plish. In reality, for numerous devotees, such as Arnaud Desjardins, “Mā
Ānandamayī’s teaching absolutely goes beyond words.”39

Portrait of Mā Ānandamayī as a Guru

The guru, literally the being of weight,40 represents “the third gender” and
is located beyond the feminine and the masculine.41 Most fundamentally,
however, the guru represents the figure of the master, who brings the dis-
ciple from darkness to light. In the Hindu tradition, gurus are generally
considered divine, and, up until a certain point, can be considered to be
divinity itself,42 for, as Bugault affirms, the guru is the radiating mask that
God takes to come to us.43
As Hallstrom notes in her study on Mā,44 mirroring the work of other
scholars on gurus such as Sathya Sai Baba,45 Mā is for her devotees beyond
all categorization and exceeds all understanding. Despite this “uncontain-
ability,” to refer to Copeman and Ikegame’s concept as they speak of the
 Introduction 19

nature of the guru’s participation in diverse spheres,46 Mā nevertheless

illustrates different characteristics that seem to define guruship: Mā as
a being of paradox; Mā as a being of divine madness; and Mā as a being
of power.

Mā as a Being of Paradox
The guru, often perceived as a liminal figure, on the boundary between
life and death, is marked by the presence of extremes. While situated in
“morality beyond morality,”47 to refer to an expression of Hawley, these
beings cannot always be models for people of this world. This paradoxical
nature of the guru is also observed in his or her nature that is both fasci-
nating and terrifying, that which Otto defined as the “fascinans” and the
“tremendum.” As a result, one may feel both attracted and repulsed by the
guru. But, if the guru manifests these apparently contradictory character-
istics, he or she also surpasses them. This transcendence of contradictions
associated with the figure of the guru is referred to in Yoga with the Hindu
concept of dvandvātīta (beyond the dualities), a concept that has much
in common with the two truths of Buddhism, the relative truth and the
absolute truth, the two sides of the same coin of reality. Thus, the guru,
by being beyond the concepts of good and evil, beyond purity and impu-
rity, would lead us not to the duality of paradoxes but to non-dualism. Far
from letting himself or herself be confused with any sort of uniqueness
or with univocity, the guru, this individual who is “outside of the world
while remaining in it” to use Padoux’s expression,48 thus acts in complete
freedom.
In their study of the sacred biography of Mā Ānandamayī, Katherine
Young and Lily Miller observe the paradoxical character associated
with Mā,49 as the following description given by a devotee of Mā’s
demonstrates:

She (Ma) can be strong and resolute as well as tender and merciful.
She is more impressive than thunder and softer than a flower. She
is softer than the greatest softness, more beautiful than the great-
est beauty, frightening like thunder, soft like the silver rays of the
moon and nevertheless as harsh as severity itself, severe and full of
compassion. These aspects, which seem so contradictory, show that
she is beyond all human classification.50
20 Introduction

With such a description, it is not surprising that Mā was recognized

by some as an incarnation of Kālī, the goddess of the margins who,
even in her totality, represents paradox, who incarnates the union of
extremes.51 And if Bengalis sometimes referred to Mā as the living
Kālī, “terrible mother” would also have been a very appropriate name.
The life of Mā is full of paradoxes and she described herself in the
following words:

I am conditioned as well as unconditioned

I am neither infinite nor confined within limits
I am both at the same time...
I exist before there is any creation, duration, or dissolution of the
world.52

The following quote from Mā explains the difficulties one encounters

in describing Mā: “One cannot describe Mā. To us, she seems to be a
fabric of contradictions but, at a higher level of consciousness, all of these
contradictions dissolve.”53
Thus this woman, who was considered simple-minded in her youth,
and who paradoxically later assembled around her some of the greatest
Indian philosophers and politicians of her age, represents the sum of her
contradictions. She who could respect social convention and violate it the
next day, who could sing and cry at the same time, who recommended
prayer but did not herself pray, was called by her close Western disciple
Atmananda “the supreme paradox”:

This evening it struck me how to entitle my article: “Ma—the

supreme paradox.” She is the most universal and yet the most
orthodox. She affirms all paths and yet She says: “There is no path
as all action, all effort, is done by He alone.” She also says: “He both is
and is not, neither is He not nor is He.”54

Atmananda also wondered about this mysterious attraction toward

Mā: “Isn’t it a paradox to feel this strong attraction to a person so totally
beyond the physical.”55 Mā’s apparently paradoxical position in real-
ity reflects an encompassing vision of life, this Ultimate Reality that
Mā defines as Yā tā, meaning “It is what it is.” Thus are the problems,
as Bharati Dhingra points out, in “understanding a being in which the
Impersonal is personified!”56
 Introduction 21

Figure 0.2 Mā Ānandamayī was called by her close Western disciple Atmananda
“the supreme paradox”: “Ma—the supreme paradox. She is the most universal
and yet the most orthodox. She affirms all paths and yet She says: ‘There is no path
as all action, all effort, is done by He alone.’ ”
Source: Photograph courtesy of Shree Shree Anandamayee Sangha.

Mā as a Being of Divine Madness

If the guru represents a contradictory figure, he or she is also perceived,
in some respects, as possessing a certain madness. In India one often
speaks of divine madness that, though surprising and incomprehensible,
is one of the characteristics of sanctity in India.57 This divine madness
is recognized as a sort of religious ecstasy, of intoxication with divine
love, and should not be confused with ordinary madness, as the Bengali
saint Lakṣmī Mā specifies.58 According to McDaniel, it is one of the cri-
teria of sanctity in the Hindu tradition, and particularly in Bengal, Mā
Ānandamayī’s birthplace. For McDaniel, there is no doubt that the spiri-
tual status of Mā Ānandamayī is based on her states of ecstasy, some of
which, especially during her youth, were considered to be a sign of ordi-
nary madness or of intellectual disability. As a child, Mā Ānandamayī was
suspected of being simple-minded due to her frequent periods of mental
22 Introduction

absence; these periods were only later recognized as manifestations of this

ecstasy. Mā Ānandamayī speaks of the divine madness as such:

Go forth to realize God, try at least. This is the genuine madman.

Madman (pagol) means paoya gol (to reach the goal), signifying
unlimited Enlightenment. When one becomes obsessed by this
madness, the madness for the world of duality takes flight. Some
people are crazy over another’s body. By this sort of insanity, falling
prey to infatuation (mohā), one ruins one’s body. Turning into a
madman after God will not spoil one’s body.59

Mā’s madness thus is interpreted as a sign of absorption in God and

demonstrates her sanctity. Moreover, Catherine Clément and Sudhir
Kakar discuss this same madness in their study La Folle et le saint (The
Mad Woman and the Saint), which draws parallels between the life of
Madeleine, a French woman interned for several years in the hospital in
Salpêtrière for mental disturbance, and the life of Saint Ramakrishna of
Calcutta during the same time. These two figures had the same experi-
ences but never met in their lifetimes. And yet, while one was enlightened
and perceived as a saint by his entourage, the other was held in a hospital
because of her mystical delirium. The two authors refer to Mā Ānandamayī
while discussing Madeleine’s case: “In India, she [Madeleine] would have
been one of these ‘Mothers,’ like Mā Ānanda Mayee, recently deceased,
who at Varanasi was treated like Ramakrishna was in his own time: as a
great yogini, a true guru, one of these exceptional souls that the faithful
call Hamsa, the swan, and who are destined to guide others.”60 Thus, Mā
Ānandamayī’s sanctity, as well as that of Ramakrishna’s or other Hindu
sages, is identifiable by the sort of divine madness that is manifested in
the figure of the guru.

Mā as a Being of Power
While gurus possess a large array of powers, giving spiritual seekers a
large selection of criteria for choosing their guru,61 the highest power
of the guru is said to lie in his or her ability to transmit power (śakti)
through initiation (dikśa), leading the disciple to a real spiritual transfor-
mation.62 This was reported to be true of Mā as she is said to have rou-
tinely transformed a materialist into an authentic spiritual seeker. Arnaud
Desjardins, who spent months near Mā, speaks of Mā’s miraculous ability
 Introduction 23

to penetrate into our consciousness: “What I found truly miraculous in

Mā Ānandamayī is what I would try to call the echo of her consciousness
within ours.”63
Contrary to other religious traditions, though, the spiritual master in
the Hindu tradition is perceived not as a channel for this power but as the
source of it, for he or she represent to a certain extent the very incarnation
of God, as shown by the following comment of Swami Vijayānanda:

I spent 24 hours a day with Mataji, in the course of innumerable

trips across India. And well, if I may permit myself to respond to
you on this point in a formal fashion: No, Ma Anandamayi was not
a human person. She was not a human being! She was, that is with-
out a doubt, an Incarnation of the Divinity.64

In this context, it is interesting to wonder about the future of this “con-

tagious” power after the death of the guru. The Hindu tradition generally
accepts the posthumous activity of the guru and, by the same token, recog-
nizes the persistence of his or her power after death. Swami Vijayānanda
essentially talks about a “residual power” and compares this to the per-
fume left by a woman on leaving a room. Like the perfume, the guru is
said to continue to act after his or her death. For some, the permanence
of the guru’s power, of his or her śakti, after death even represents an
authentic proof of his or her divinity. However, the power of the guru does
not necessarily accrue after death, as in the Sufi tradition in India, where
the pir, the Sufi saint, is said to manifest himself in all his power only after
his death.65 In the Hindu tradition, it is recognized that the posthumous
power of the spiritual master remains attached to the very spaces in which
he or she lived. The location of his or her tomb, called samādhi,66 consti-
tutes the favored among such spaces, one of the most important loci of
this study.
Although it is Mā’s devotees who have on the whole constructed and
affirmed Mā’s guruship, despite her numerous claims that she is not a
guru, we can nevertheless conclude that Mā fully incarnates the character
of the guru.

Methodology
This book, a development of my doctoral thesis, is based on a compre-
hensive reading of the current literature on this topic, as well as fieldwork
24 Introduction

extending throughout India and abroad. Because more than five years
have passed since the completion of my doctorate in Montreal in the Fall
2008, this study, originally called “Le Culte postmortem des saints dans
la tradition hindoue: Expériences religieuses et institutionnalisation du
culte de Mā Ānandamayī (1896–1982),”67 has been revised, both in its
form and content, in response to recent developments in the cult. Here,
I refer to new scholarship in the field, but more specifically to the death
of key monks within the organization and the internationalization of Mā
Ānandamayī’s movement. This internationalization can be seen today at
the Père Lachaise cemetery in Paris with the development of the cult of
her monk of French origin, Swami Vijayānanda, as well as in the European
and American tours of Swami Mangalananda and Swami Guruśarānanda
of Swami Kedarnath’s sampradāya.
This study represents the time I spent over the course of four years in
India, during which I stayed in most of Mā’s ashrams, participated in dif-
ferent celebrations and retreats, and conducted interviews. I also had the
opportunity to interact with members of Mā’s community abroad, espe-
cially in France. This study is the fruition then of a long series of inter-
views with members of Mā’s community as well as observational work.
In this sense, Fortin’s study concerning participatory observation was of
much use to my research.68

Observation
Mā’s cult is located not only in ashrams and other institutions associated
with Mā but also in the houses of her devotees. Although I was invited
many times to devotees’ homes, I have nevertheless limited my research
to the spaces directly associated with Mā’s cult. This observational work
thus was undertaken in some of the twenty-six ashrams of the Shree Shree
Anandamayee Sangha in India. All of these ashrams are concentrated in
Northern India, with the exception of two in Bangladesh.
Although I had the opportunity to visit most of these ashrams, my
attention nevertheless focused on two of them, the Kankhal ashram, near
Hardwar in Uttar Pradesh, and the Bhimpura ashram, next to Baroda
(Vadodara) in Gujarat. I chose these two sites because of their promi-
nence to the cult. Mā’s ashram at Kankhal is considered by many devo-
tees to be the heart of Mā’s cult, as it is at this location that Mā’s tomb
(samādhi) is situated and where every year during November a retreat
centered on Mā’s cult occurs, the Samyam Saptah. The Kankhal ashram
 Introduction 25

is also the seat of Mā’s organization and is thus a place for assembly.
The Bhimpura ashram also constitutes a major ashram within Mā’s
saṅgha, not only because it was inhabited by Swami Bhaskarānanda, the
former secretary general of Mā’s organization and according to many
devotees a guru and one of Mā’s closest disciples, but also because Mā’s
devotees hold an annual retreat in Bhimpura during the months of
January and February. I had the opportunity to participate in this retreat
in 2007, during Swami Bhaskarānanda’s birthday, as well as to attend
the festival of Mahāśivarātri, Śiva’s principal festival. In addition to these
two ashrams, I also visited the ashrams at Agartala, Almora, Calcutta,
Dehra Dun, Delhi, Dhaulchina, Uttarkashi, Varanasi,69 Vindhyachal,
as well as Mā’s two ashrams in Bangladesh, the Siddheshwari Lane
ashram at Dhaka and the Kheora’s ashram located at Mā’s birthplace
(janmabhūmi).
These pilgrimages across India and Bangladesh allowed me to
become familiar with the specificity of each of the ashrams of Mā’s
saṅgha, their respective vitality or lack thereof, as well as to observe the
manner in which Mā’s cult is maintained in these ashrams. I also vis-
ited institutions connected to Mā’s organization, such as Mā’s hospital
at Varanasi and Mā’s schools at Agartala, Kheora, and Varanasi. In addi-
tion, I was able to visit Mā’s saṅgha at the Kumbhamelā of Allahabad in
January 2007, where I participated, despite some initial resistance from
orthodox devotees, in two great ritual baths (śahisnāna) in the company
of Mā’s devotees.
I accompanied observation of Mā’s ashrams and other institutions
with an examination of a group of spaces sacred to cults of deceased
gurus throughout India, so as to better establish the postmortem cult
of Mā within the larger framework of Hinduism. I have visited the
tombs of many Hindu gurus, such as the tomb of Ramana Maharshi
in Tiruvanamalai at the feet of Śiva’s sacred mountain, Arunachala, the
tomb of Sri Aurobindo in Pondicherry, as well as Belur Math in Calcutta,
where relics of Ramakrishna and the Holy Mother, Sarada Devi, are
also venerated. I also visited spaces devoted to less famous deceased
gurus, such as the sacred tombs of the Kina Ram ashram, an aghori
center in Varanasi. I traveled to and studied spaces sacred to Sufi cults
of saints, such as the dargahs of Nizamuddin in the suburbs of Delhi,
of Shaikh Salim Chisthi in Fatehpur Sikri, or of Haji Ali Shah Bukhari
in Mumbai, looking at Sufi influence on the postmortem cult of Hindu
saints in India.
26 Introduction

Interviews
In addition to observational work and informal conversations, more than
forty interviews were completed with Mā’s devotees and agents of her
cult. The objective of these interviews was to examine the institutional,
as well as the experiential, side of Mā’s cult, especially with respect to the
impact of Mā’s death on her cult. Interviews with devotees were then ana-
lyzed qualitatively, referring here to the work of Bardin,70 and addressed
in terms of the following three themes: aspects of the postmortem cult;
death and the guru’s presence; sustainability of the cult. As the vast major-
ity of Mā’s community members come from similarly upper-class, edu-
cated backgrounds, English was the language used in these interviews.
Some were also conducted in French and others in Bengali and Gujarati,
these requiring the aid of an interpreter.
So as to reflect the diversity of Mā’s devotees, I conducted interviews
with as broad a swath of cult members as possible, and thus not only with
Hindus but also with followers of other religions, lay people and clergy,
Indians and Westerners, and women and men of all ages and of every
social class and caste. In the subjects chosen to interview, I have attempted
to respect the composition of Mā’s community with regard to the pro-
portions between these different variables. These interviews were mainly
conducted at Mā’s ashrams in Kankhal and in Bhimpura. The followers
interviewed include not only early devotees who joined Mā’s cult during
her lifetime but also new devotees who joined Mā’s community at either a
very young age during her lifetime or after her death. Although my desire
was to interview as many early devotees as new devotees, I was unable
to do so due to the prevalence of early devotees in Mā’s ashrams. On the
other hand, this does give an indication of the direction that Mā’s cult
takes after her death. So as to better understand the cult’s management,
key organizational people were also interviewed, such as the then secre-
tary general of the organization, Swami Bhaskarānanda, and the president
of the Kankhal ashram, Swami Vijayānanda. I also spoke to specialists of
rituals (pūjāris) at Mā’s ashram in Kankhal and the person in charge of
Mā’s samādhi.
In my thesis work, the totality of the interviews were codified along dif-
ferent matrixes (sex, Western/Indian origin, secular status, early/former
devotee), so as to allow readers, if they so desire, to undertake a comple-
mentary analysis according to the terms of codification. For the present
book, I opted, however, for removing this codification and simply writing,
 Introduction 27

in proper language, some relevant elements for most interviewees. As was

the case with my thesis, I also decided to forego a numbering of interviews,
so as to completely preserve the anonymity of my collaborators. With the
numbered coding, it might be possible for a person in close contact with
Mā’s community to recognize the identity of a certain collaboration. Due
to the large number of interviews, I cited only the most germane extracts
from interviews in this work in order to illustrate my arguments, and so,
I called on certain interviews more than others.
Because I was not sure if devotees would be willing to engage easily with
a Westerner, I admit that the beginning of my research was accompanied
by some apprehension. However I was quickly and pleasantly surprised
with the openness of the vast majority of devotees in their interactions
with me. Far exceeding my expectations, I was able to collect interviews of
great value and richness, especially in relation to devotees’ articulation of
their experiences of Mā. Speaking with confidence, the devotees did not
hesitate to tell me about their most intimate and deepest experiences of
Mā. Far from being an obstacle, being a foreigner even seemed to arouse
among some devotees a certain excitement, as some strongly encouraged
me to make my work known abroad and to write more about Mā. I believe
that being a woman also helped me in approaching Indian women.
It is however important to qualify these words by mentioning the pres-
ence of orthodox brahmins within the community of Mā. Considered
primarily as an untouchable in their eyes, access to them was not pos-
sible, as they would not speak to me at all. Though they represent a minor
part of the community in terms of numbers, they exercise a considerable
influence on the development of Mā’s cult. Swami Vijayānanda’s tomb
(samādhi) is now in France, for example, and this is directly related to the
attitude of certain orthodox brahmins who opposed the construction of a
samādhi for the French monk at Kankhal. The mistrust of these orthodox
devotees, however, was largely offset by the warmth and friendliness of the
vast majority of devotees throughout my research.

Literary Research
I have completed an exhaustive and systematic research of literature in
the field for this study. In this context, I used a multitude of sources in the
field of religious sciences, so as to better understand the long-neglected
phenomenon of the postmortem cult of gurus in the Hindu tradition, and
notably the cult of relics. Relatedly, I have also attempted to frame my
28 Introduction

study in a global context, so as to tie it to the larger questions of religious

sciences.
Although this study is based on research focusing on the Hindu tradi-
tion developed both by Indians and Westerners, I also referred to a num-
ber of writings about other religious traditions such as Buddhism, Islam
(especially the Sufi tradition), and Catholicism. It must be noted however
that my goal was not to conduct a comparative study of postmortem cults
of Hindu saints with other religious traditions. My aim has rather been
to understand the little-studied phenomenon of postmortem worship of
Hindu saints by opposing it with other religious traditions. In this regard,
Diderot wrote, “What the mind understands, it understands by assimila-
tion or by comparison, or analogy.” I have particularly examined the Sufi
tradition in India, which, with the Hindu tradition, presents numerous
points of comparison. As Lindholm notes, one of them lies in the notion
of hierarchical order common to South Asian Muslims and Hindus, refer-
ring here to the idea of transcendentally inspired individuals.71
While this research aims to reflect the internal logic of the Hindu tradi-
tion, it demonstrates an understanding of holiness and postmortem cults
that transcends this religious tradition and expands notions of sainthood
in the contemporary world, that is, in a global world. The links made ​​with
other religious traditions emphasize the specificity and originality of post-
mortem worship in Hinduism, while demonstrating the existence of cer-
tain similarities and continuities between other traditions.
The diversity of literature available in this sphere is also notable in
terms of the variety of fields of study employed. Although my research is
essentially sociological, I have also called on texts of an anthropological,
philosophical, psychological, and historical nature, and in so doing, I have
worked within the broader domain of religious sciences, allowing me to
better understand the postmortem cult of gurus in the Hindu tradition,
and notably the posthumous cult of Mā.
I have also completed a review of literature concerning Mā Ānandamayī,
including the words of Mā, hagiographies, and accounts of people who
saw her in life. If my study’s subject here is Mā specifically, throughout
this study I wished to always take into account the whole of spiritual mas-
ters in the Hindu tradition. For this reason, I alternately mentioned gurus
in general and Mā in particular, the distinction disappearing continuously
throughout this study. In this regard, it is remarkable to see a female
religious figure increasing our understanding of the postmortem cult
of gurus, both men and women. Within the context of the universalized
 Introduction 29

masculine that leads to generalization, this study succeeds in making a

female case explanatory and valid for both genders.

Methodological Problems and Limits

Various issues related to methodology arose in the context of this research.
In my view, the first is the use of Western terms to express concepts pecu-
liar to the Hindu tradition (i.e., relics, sainthood, soul).

Westernizing Terms
Faced with the complexity of religious beliefs and the multitude of con-
cepts in Hinduism, I recognize that I have sometimes had to rely on a
vocabulary borrowed from the Western world. In my anthropological
reflections, for example, the reader may find the use of certain terms
confusing. This is especially true of the word “soul,” which seems rather
unexpected in the context of the Hindu world, as it has a strong Greek or
Platonic connotation.
It was sometimes difficult to find the right Sanskrit terms to express
the complexity of the beliefs of devotees, vis-à-vis, for example, the posthu-
mous future of Mā. These beliefs range from the identification of Mā with
Ultimate Reality to her survival as a subtle body, or to her return in a per-
sonal or impersonal way, as suggested by the following terms: mind, body,
subtle, light body, body which survives, individual soul, collective soul,
spiritual principle, impersonal principle, jīva, ātma, the Self, the One. The
reader should be aware of the difficulty of distinguishing these different
types of bodies when the devotee evokes a survival of Mā in the form of a
subtle body. For this reason, the vocabulary can sometimes be imprecise.
The same issue applies to the word “saint.” Used mostly by Western
devotees or Westernized Indians speaking English, this Western term is
in fact inappropriate to speak of “sainthood” in Hindu India, and even
more for Ānandamayī Mā, who is perceived by her devotees as not merely
a “saint” but as a goddess incarnated on earth. “Sainthood” in Hinduism
is understood differently than in other religious traditions, such as
Catholicism, as the Hindu tradition recognizes the state of perfection of a
person in vita, in their lifetime, and does not generally consider death as a
sine qua non condition, as a prerequisite for reaching sanctity.72 Moreover,
the people are the only judge of sanctity and this value is generally revealed
through the saint’s way of life, his or her teaching and spiritual influence,
the importance of his or her community, as well as through the miracles
30 Introduction

he or she is said to have performed. As such, various scholars warn us of

the pitfalls associated with employing such a word without a preliminary
reciprocal clarification of the concept.73
Because I refer throughout this study to other religious traditions such
as Buddhism, Catholicism, and Sufism in order to better understand the
postmortem cult of gurus in Hinduism, especially the little-studied Hindu
cult of relics, I use in some cases the term “saint.” Here, however, “saint”
is more a general term which corresponds to a state of wisdom (hence the
use of “sage” sometimes), a state of perfection reached by one individual
and does not imply, in any way, the imposition of a Western pattern or a
diminishment of the divinity of Mā. In this context, Denton’s definition of
“sainthood” in Hinduism seems to be most appropriate:

The term saint, which has no indigenous equivalent, refers to

someone who is recognized as having attained the highest state of
spiritual accomplishment appropriate to her form of religiosity. It
is analogous to the Christian notion of a person of extraordinary
holiness of life, but this holiness admits of a rather different rela-
tionship with divinity than in the Christian world: Hindu saints are
themselves divine.74

If I had focused on the figure of Mā alone, I would have used the term
“avatar” throughout my study. In Bengal, the region where Mā originates
from, the term “avatar” seems to be the unique word to connote the saintly
character of a person. In her study on the construction of the figure of the
godman Chaitanya, a Bengali “saint,” France Bhattacharya, who is very
familiar with the Bengali language, states very clearly: “The word ‘saint’
has no equivalent in Bengali, and Caitanya cannot be considered but as an
avatâra, that is to say a divine incarnation.”75 The term “avatar” however
is not appropriate in this study to discuss the whole of gurus and Hindu
saints, insofar as they are not all of Bengali origin.
In a more general sense, then, avatar represents the descent of the
divine to earth, an incarnation of the divinity. Rivière gives the following
definition of these “instruments of deliverance:”

An Avatar is not a human being who struggles to attain enlighten-

ment, to pass through the veil of illusion in order to reach Reality.
It is a divine Being who veils himself or herself temporarily for the
good of humanity; it is not the ascension of a human being toward
 Introduction 31

the Real but the divine descent into a human form so as to uphold
or restore the dharma.76

As all gurus and saints discussed here are not necessarily considered
avatars, or incarnations of God on Earth, this also explains why this term
could not be applied systematically throughout this study.
Within this apparently overlapping set of terms, guru, saint, avatar,
I should specify here that there is no systematic equivalence between
guru, avatar, and saint, as many of those liberated beings “saints” stay in
solitude and do not necessarily fill the role of master (guru). In the same
way, many traditional stories of saints represent them as simply merging
in God and they are never seen again, implying that there is no samādhi
dedicated to them and no postmortem cult in general. Thus, all saints are
not gurus. Similarly, all saints and gurus are not perceived as avatars or
incarnation of the divinity, though the guru is perceived to some extent as
God incarnated.

Defining the Cult in Hinduism

It is important to show some reflexivity around the term “cult” in order to
avoid misunderstanding about the appropriation of this potent word. Far
from having the pejorative connotation and the strong political ramifica-
tions that English speakers ascribe to it, the word “cult” here is very much
related to the French term “culte” (i.e., “worship”). It connotes the devo-
tion, or bhakti (meaning actually “participation in the divinity”77) that the
devotee manifests toward the saint or guru (the divinity).
The “cult” in the Hindu tradition is characterized by its lack of exclu-
sivity and freedom of expression. Hindus essentially have the ability to
simultaneously join several cults of different religious traditions, as
dogma does not constitute the unifying principle of the group.78 In this
regard, Warrier refers to “secularization” to emphasize the multiplicity of
religious choices.79 This freedom is to be found in Mā’s community, for, as
the vast majority of devotees make clear, Mā does not require any specific
religious affiliation or commitment, as this Indian woman, an early devo-
tee of Mā’s, specified:

Any person from any faith walks into Mā’s vicinity, walks into
Mā’s ashram, anywhere close to Mā, is accepted. We are seeing
Mā like a matchbox. Mā is the universal Mother. She represents
Bhagavan, whether you call Christ, any God. That is Mā. Mā is
32 Introduction

everything . . . Mā doesn’t represent only Buddhism. Mā doesn’t rep-

resent only Hinduism. Mā doesn’t represent only Jainism. Mā rep-
resents everything that is.

If the devotional relationship (i.e., bhakti) between the saint or guru

and the devotee implies duality (dvaita), it can actually lead to a non-dual
experience (Advaita). As Swami Vivekananda states, there is no funda-
mental difference between the path of knowledge, jñāna, and the path of
devotion bhakti as the two in the end converge.80 In this regard, Swami
Vijayānanda specifies the following:

On this path (the path of knowledge or jñāna), the intellectual ele-

ment is employed only by discriminating between the transitory
and the real; in the observation of the mental and the ascent back
to its source—our ‘me’, or even by our search for ‘who am I’, as the
great sage Râmana Mahârshi taught. But limiting ourselves only
to the intellectual element is false Vedânta, it is wanting to fly with
only one wing. We need two wings to fly, and the second wing is
the affective element, it is the bhakti. The Vedantic devotee does
not generally adore a personal God (although there is no limit to
what he does if he so feels the need). His love is directed at the
guru, not the physical person of the guru, but towards that which
is gyana mûrti, the incarnation of Knowledge; that which leads
us towards the Supreme Omnipresent, the Formless, the akshara
brahma which is our Real Self. . . . In reality, there are not two differ-
ent paths, that of Knowledge and that of Love. Gyana and bhakti are
two aspects of the same sâdhanâ; they are inseparable. For some,
gyana is superficial and bhakti is profound; for others the reverse
is true.81

One cannot then conceive of bhakti without jñāna. As Vaudeville spec-

ifies on nirguṇa bhakti, the devotion to the formless, to the extent that
bhakti implies a duality, nirguṇa bhakti represents a contradiction in itself:

Actually, if we admit that there can be no real bhakti (from bhaj,

‘to participate’ or ‘to adore’) without some distinction between the
Lord (Bhagvan) and the devotee (bhakta), the very notion of ‘nirguṇa
bhakti’ seems to be a contradiction in terms; if it signifies the aboli-
tion of all distinctions and the thorough merging of the illusory jīva
 Introduction 33

into the One Reality so that all identity is lost forever, the ‘nirguṇa
bhakti’ would bring about the abolition of bhakti itself.82

According to various writings on bhakti, there are five types of relation-

ships with the divinity. Swami Vivekananda however suggests an addi-
tional path, the path of non-separability, the path of union with the Divine,
for, as he explains, when one is in samādhi, it is only then that the idea of
duality ceases and that the distinction between the devotee and their God
fades away.83

Transliteration
As the reader will notice in this work, Indian names (authors or charac-
ters) sometimes have diacritics, sometimes not. I am referring here to
proper names such as Vijayānanda, Bhaskarānanda, Neem Karoli Baba
[Nīma Karoli Bābā], Atma[ā]nanda, Kedarnath [Kedarnātha], and other
nath [nātha]. Although it seems logical to systematize everything and put
diacritics all along, this did not seem appropriate to me as some characters
such as Vivekananda [Vivekānanda], Ramdas [Rāmadāsa], Ramakrishna
[Rāmakṛṣṇa], or Ramana Maharshi [Ramaṇa Mahāṛṣi] are known in the
West with a spelling that does not meet the standards of transliteration.
Names that have been published in English without diacritics have thus
been left as printed.

Exploring Mā’s Personality and Contextualizing Her Cult

Mā is a fascinating figure who deserves further research, especially to
complement the work of Hallstrom, which goes into more detail regard-
ing Mā’s personality.84 The reader might therefore feel frustrated that this
book is based on the figure of Mā but does not really explore her. My
purpose however is to understand the mechanisms involved in the post-
mortem cult of gurus. As such it did not seem appropriate to me to dwell
on the personality of Mā, though I have given a summary of her life and
teachings as well as a portrait of her identity as a guru in this introduction.
I also engage her relevant teachings throughout my study and show the
centrality of her figure as the originator of a new type of worship among
female gurus.
Another issue relates to the contextualization of the subject of my
study. I do not situate the rise and perpetuation of the cult of Mā within its
broader social, economic, and political context—as has become standard
in many religious studies today. I hasten to add that, although a broader
34 Introduction

contextualization would be of interest, such as considering further the

contemporary moment of modernity within which I place guruship,85
I deliberately chose to leave this one aside, as it does not seem central to
addressing the subject of my research, which is an exploration of death
and modes of transmission within the postmortem cult of gurus. Far from
hampering my study, I believe that this “inward turn” on the contrary
strengthens it, as it is more attentive to the particularities and uniqueness
of the phenomenon under study.

Analyzing the Experiential Dimension

It also seems important to address the experiential dimension of devotees,
including its Advaitic, or non-dual aspect. As suggested by my numer-
ous references to the Upaniṣads, my interpretation of their experience is
influenced by the Advaitic perspective, as Mā usually recommended the
path of non-duality to Westerners, rather than that of bhakti. However, far
from implying a solely Advaitic interpretation of Mā’s teachings, I would
affirm rather that her teaching was open and included the non-dualism
of Advaita, as well as the dualism of bhakti, although in reality, her teach-
ing was mainly intended to overcome the very notions of dualism and
non-dualism, and relied more on the idea of ​​totality (Yā tā).86
The experiential dimension, moreover, is a complex and multifaceted
one, which therefore deserves much more attention, especially given the
breadth and quality of the material present here. The objective here is not
to make a phenomenological study of devotee’s experiences of Mā, but to
highlight the relative sustainability of the cult of Mā after her death, show-
ing especially that there has been a continuity of these experiences since
Mā left. I could have, in fact, analyzed the religious experience of the faith-
ful in more depth, and shown how it is universal, special, or both, but this
is not my objective. Because of the wealth of devotees’ testimonies, this
research may therefore serve as a basis for further studies.
As description sometimes speaks for itself, the analytical dimension
of this research is reflected somehow in the major role given to empiri-
cal data, culling it from a vast corpus of interviews, and its arrangement
in concordance with the theory presented here. This is in itself a way to
translate the experience of the devotee, the relation to the institution, and
thus better understand the processes involved in the postmortem cult of
the guru.
Relying mostly on primary sources, such as James on religious experi-
ence, or Weber on charisma and routinization, but also calling on critical
 Introduction 35

writings from more contemporary scholars, I should conclude by saying

that this book does not aim to create a new theory of religion; I would
rather say it utilizes existing theories wisely and efficiently. The major
contribution of this study is to have explored and analyzed religious expe-
riences and modes of institutionalization of the cult of gurus after their
death, mainly through the figure of Ānandamayī Mā.

The Author
An Unexpected Turn
When I started a Ph.D. in Social Sciences at the London School of
Economics and Political Science (LSE) on Tibetan issues as a continuity
of my master’s thesis on Tibet, there were no signs that I would eventu-
ally engage in a “religiological adventure” in the Indian subcontinent. As
I look back today, however, it seems that all aspects of my life took me in
this direction. My first contact with India and the Hindu tradition goes
back to a very brief stay in India at the age of 21. A few months later, I dis-
covered Mā through a picture a friend sent me, that of Mā blessing with
her hand. Without even suspecting a future absorption into the study of
Mā, although I found to be beautiful and radiant, I started to read her
words, which were already translated into French at the time.
Only four years later, in 2004, during my first long stay in India to learn
Tibetan language as part of my Ph.D., I discovered the tomb (samādhi) of
Mā by complete chance, as I had originally no intention of going there.
During this same trip, a few weeks apart, I visited the samādhi several
times, before deciding to stay for a complete week. Without a doubt, the
presence of this French monk, Swami Vijayānanda, now deceased, influ-
enced my many visits to Mā’s samādhi.
It seems to me important today, after obtaining my doctorate, to share
a major event that led me toward this research on Mā. The last night of
my stay at Mā’s ashram in Kankhal (foreigners sleep right next to the
ashram, a few meters from Mā’s tomb), I experienced a serious neuro-
logical event, which manifested in several strong epileptic seizures. After
hours of unconsciousness, during which I was under the care of Swami
Vijayānanda, a former physician, I was taken to the military hospital in
Dehra Dun, where I was diagnosed with a brain hemorrhage in the right
frontal lobe. After a farewell to my parents on the phone, I prepared for
death, or at least I tried to. Then, thinking that perhaps I might continue
36 Introduction

living, I promised myself to write a book on Mā if I survived. After a very

long journey, which included extensive hospital stays both in India and
France and a serious brain surgery, for which a special pūjā was performed
at Mā’s samādhi for its success, I can today testify to this event in addition
to the body of work presented here.
Nearly five years have passed since I received my Ph.D. and many
people I was close to in Mā’s organization, like Swami Vijayānanda, have
died. My path led me personally to join the International Committee of
the Red Cross (ICRC) as a Protection Delegate. After a one-year mission
in the Great Lakes Region, I was sent for fourteen months to Haiti, follow-
ing the earthquake that saw the death of over 200,000 people. Thus, this
research, which addresses these fundamental questions about death and
the impermanence of life, has taken on even more meaning for me. What
attitude would Mā have had, for example, in response to the disastrous
earthquake in Haiti, or even in response to the violence in the slums of
Port-au-Prince? Coming back to my work after these field experiences only
intensified the reflection on death already going on even before the begin-
ning of this research on Mā.

Being an Outcast
Despite my determination to complete my research, its execution has not
always been simple. Traveling in India is not easy for a single woman (I
have visited fourteen ashrams of Mā in Northern India and Bangladesh,
as well as other places of worship), but being the subject of censure by the
orthodox brahmins was even more of a challenge. During my research
in Mā’s ashrams I faced the attitude of orthodox brahmins for whom any
foreign presence is a source of pollution. As I wanted to maintain some
objectivity, I purposely omitted any mention of my personal experiences
vis-à-vis these brahminical rules in this doctoral research, only sharing
those of other foreigners.
Today however it seems relevant to mention, even briefly, how these
orthodox rules sometimes excluded me. I was constantly separated from
Indians during meals, as at the Kumbhamelā, where, under the eyes of
200 Indian devotees of Mā sitting a few meters from me, I had to eat alone
so as not to “contaminate” them. I was also unable to participate in certain
rituals, such as Mahāśivarātri, as I was separated from Indians through a
curtain so as not to pollute the atmosphere and compromise the effective-
ness of the ritual. I was shouted at by a swami because I had penetrated
 Introduction 37

and “dirtied” a place where I should not have ventured. These are just
examples, of course, and there are others.
My womanhood only further reinforced this exclusion. The most
striking example was the retreat of Samyam Saptah in Bhimpura, where
I was asked to leave the retreat because I was menstruating and thus
impure. A feeling of rejection and humiliation, but also strangely a feel-
ing of guilt for being a woman was aroused in me. It was paradoxically
accompanied by a sense of betrayal as the person who had “denounced”
me was a woman herself, an Indian lady whom I had asked to lend me
hygienic products! Another example is the great bath (śahisnāna) of the
Kumbhamelā in Allahabad, where, in the middle of January 2007, at 3
o’clock in the morning, in a freezing cold, I came to Mā’s camp to join the
devotees for their procession for the great bath. Despite having traveled
thousands of miles from Canada with the intention of immersing myself
in the icy waters of the Ganges, I was rejected by the swami in charge of
the camp, because I was not wearing a sari, but rather was wearing pants.
Some of Mā’s devotees pleaded my case and I was eventually able to join
Mā’s saṅgha for the great bath.
If these stories are interesting to tell in retrospect, they were not how-
ever easy to accept at the time. As Arnaud Desjardins rightly pointed
out concerning his personal experience when facing the orthodox brah-
mins of Mā’s community in the 1960s, “It is an experience to be on the
wrong side of the barrier.”87 Considering the difficulty of accessing Mā
due to ritual purity and caste rules, Denise, Arnaud’s wife at that time,
suggested that they reincarnate themselves as brahmins in their next
life!88 For the reasons stated, it was not possible then, as a foreigner and
therefore a source of pollution, to talk to certain orthodox brahmins. My
personal experience, like the experiences that are cited in this book by
other Westerners, reveals an internal tension within Mā’s community
between devotees open to foreign influence, and others who consider
the mere presence of Westerners to be dangerous. By the same token,
some may perceive my work as a kind of “sacrilege.” While relating
my personal experience, I should nevertheless specify that my objective
here is not to argue in favor of a removal of purity rules, which consti-
tute the foundation of brahminism, but to show the implications of this
exclusivity and to raise some of the concerns these rules bring today in
a globalized world.
 1

Aspects of the Postmortem Cult of

the Guru

Organization of the Postmortem Cult

The postmortem cult in Hinduism is, in a certain sense, similar to a
church, with its sacred spaces, its clergy, and its followers who search,
through their pilgrimage, to bring themselves back into contact with the
spiritual master. Through an investigation of the cult of Ānandamayī Mā,
I investigate here the particular organization of the postmortem cult of the
guru, not only in terms of its space but also in terms of the composition of
its agents and its community.

The Sacred Spaces of the Cult

The cult of Ānandamayī Mā’s practice takes place both in the devotee’s
house, as well as in the many ashrams of Mā’s saṅgha. However, my study
is limited to Mā’s ashrams, not only because this is the cult’s public space
but also to engage in a more focused research. And, though in India there
is the belief that on his or her death, the guru concentrates his or her power
at the location of his or her tomb, I do not limit this study to Mā’s Kankhal
ashram, as this belief does not seem to be shared by all of Mā’s devotees.
Mā Ānandamayī passed a large part of her life moving from sacred
space to sacred space. So as to facilitate these movements, her followers
decided to establish ashrams across India, particularly in Northern India.
Although she did not necessarily want ashrams, Mā nonetheless selected
their locations. Far from being insignificant, her choice of locations allows
a vast network of sacred geography to become evident. Furthermore, this
 Aspects of the Postmortem Cult 39

Figure 1.1 Mā Ānandamayī:

“I am what I was and what I shall be; I am whatever you conceive, think or say. But it is a
supreme fact that this body has not come into being to reap the fruits of past karma. Why
don’t you take it that this body is the material embodiment of all your thoughts and ideas.
You all have wanted it and you have it now. So play with this doll for some time.”
Source: Photograph courtesy of Shree Shree Anandamayee Sangha.

had some influence on the development of the cult, as the choice of loca-
tion for a cult’s space constitutes a determining factor in the cult’s expan-
sion. Ram Alexander, a Western disciple who long lived near Mā, describes
these spaces as follows:

To be in such a place with Ma was not only to receive Her blessing

but to become initiated into the ancient power of the place itself
which became profoundly activated and accessible through Her
presence there. These ancient focuses of spiritual power are points
on the energy grid that sustains the electro-magnetic field of Indian
spiritual culture. Ma was particularly concerned with keeping this
‘field’ of sacred geography intact.1
40 When a Goddess Dies

This field of sacred geography is apparent in the locations of Mā’s

ashrams, which, although extremely diverse, form an undeniably sacred
matrix. These “spheres of sacred jurisdiction” as Jackie Assayag likes to
call these cult spaces where the saint reigns,2 are often situated in strategic
locations, often on the great pilgrimage sites, as is the case at Kankhal,
next to Hardwar, or also Varanasi, the mythic city of Śiva, to name only
a few. Some of Mā’s ashrams are also located in ancient cult spaces,
now forgotten by modern pilgrims. This is the case of a site not far from
Vindhyachal, where, following a vision by Mā, archaeological digs brought
to light an ancient space for worship.3 Other cult spaces dedicated to Mā,
often difficult to access, also reveal certain natural qualities that give a
magical character to the place. Such is the case of the ashram at Bhimpura
in Gujarat, which looks over the sacred Narmada River. This is also the
case for the ashram at Dhaulchina, which offers a panoramic 180-degree
view on the snow-covered summits of the Himalayas.
In interviews, devotees often speak of a different atmosphere at each
ashram. Some feel a sense of gravity at the ashram in Kichenpur (Dehra
Dun), space of Mā’s mahāsamādhi (death of the saint, of the guru), while
others evoke the lightness of the ashram at Vrindavan, where Mā, like
Kṛṣṇa, performed numerous līlās or divine games. Others describe a pure
atmosphere at the Himalayan ashram at Dhaulchina, comparable to a
“type of crystal.” The ashram at Bhimpura can produce a state of “bliss,”
according to one devotee, a type of sweetness stemming from its closeness
to the Narmada: “You feel yourself anchored in an ocean of sweetness
and of infinite love.” Thus for devotees there is an atmosphere specific to
each ashram, and whatever their sensibility or predisposition, the faithful
can stay at the ashram that he or she prefers, as is the case of this early
disciple, an Indian man, who feels a marked preference for the ashram at
Bhimpura:

My favourite ashram is only Bhimpura. So many things are there.

The vibrations of Bhimpura are special to me. Ṛṣi were gathering
here. The Narmada shore is a place of tapasya. The Ganga and
Hardwar, there are so many pilgrims coming and going. Here, in
Bhimpura, you come, it is not easy. No vehicle. This place is for
tapasya.

As Mā has more than twenty-six ashrams, it would be laborious to

describe them all in detail. But a fundamental point is the importance of
 Aspects of the Postmortem Cult 41

the Indian land to foreign disciples when it comes to their devotion to Mā.
At the time of our interviews, some devotees spoke of their attachment to
India, which for them could not be disassociated from Mā, as is the case
for this American man, a long-time disciple of Mā’s:

The experience of India was as important as, every bit was impor-
tant as the experience of Mā. They were not separated. And moving
around in India with Mā, she initiated to all these powerful places.
You really became one with this vibration. So, the hardest thing
of all was losing India, because then I lost the context, the entire
context. I could go back to the West and meditate all day long, but
there is no context. . . . When I come back to India, all the lights go
on. There is an energy structure here that just activates everything.

Both the cult spaces and the Indian land hold an important place in Mā’s
cult. The specific positioning of Mā’s many ashrams within in a sacred
geography participates in the development of her cult, permitting the cult
to attract pilgrims still today.

The Agents of the Cult

To examine the postmortem cult is also to discuss those who lead it. It is
thus necessary for this study to establish the role played by this plurality
of actors that I call the “agents of the cult” or the officials charged with
the maintenance of the cult and with the management of its sacred site.
I refer here to the cult’s space at Mā’s tomb in Kankhal, which is the prin-
cipal space of the postmortem cult of Mā.
At Kankhal, there is a diversity of religious officials who are engaged
in Mā’s cult on a regular basis, contrary to other less important spaces
where the officials are only present sporadically (with the exception of cel-
ebrations). At Mā’s tomb, there are two categories of officials, the ritual
specialists and the musicians. In his study on saint’s cults among Indian
Muslims, Marc Gaborieau demarcates a third category, that of mediums.
Mediums are, however, absent from Mā’s postmortem cult, as the pres-
ence of swamis, who are considered a type of oracle through which Mā
may speak, have perhaps been judged sufficient for communicating Mā’s
message.
Following the example of Jackie Assayag in her study on Indian saints
in Islam, I address here the role of the cult’s agents in stimulating and
42 When a Goddess Dies

channeling the energy (śakti) emanating from the tomb of the saint,
which is transferable not only through objects but also through individu-
als. The religious personnel become a type of “support” for this energy
and as such, the “servant” of the saint, to use Assayag’s terms.4 As a result,
the role of these religious actors in mobilizing śakti is of utmost impor-
tance to the upkeep of the space’s sacredness.
The ritual specialists, who may be described as a sort of clergy, with-
out referring to this word in all of its Christian dimensions, constitute
the first category of officials present at the cult space dedicated to Mā.
They are the pūjāris, the “technicians of the ritual” who are charged
with the maintenance of the cult’s space as well as the daily perfor-
mance of rituals. The pūjāris, as specialized priests, are in many ways
considered by devotees to be intermediaries between themselves and
Mā, who is perceived as the supreme divinity. As they have a religious
vocation, the pūjāris are brahmins and must have taken the vow of
brahmacārya (celibacy and chastity), something not always required for
pūjāris in the Hindu tradition. As opposed to the general Hindu prac-
tice, their function is thus not hereditary. As elsewhere in the Hindu
tradition, there is a noticeable absence of women pūjāris within Mā’s
ashrams. Although a brahmacārini on occasion replaces the pūjāri in
the samādhi, because of sickness or any other reason, such an event is
not routine, especially in a patriarchal organization like the saṅgha of
Mā Ānandamayī.
A regular body of three pūjāris assures ritual service year-round, every
day, morning and night. One has the function of performing daily ritu-
als of yajña, and two others are responsible for the pūjā at Mā’s samādhi.
These functions trade off every three months. As Mā’s pūjāri, one must
of course be Mā’s disciple. And although it is not an explicit condition, it
seems that the Bengali origins of the incumbent pūjāri also constitute a
criterion in their recruitment by the Kankhal ashram’s committee. The
pūjāris at Mā’s samādhi are everyday charged with a number of tasks
attached to the habitual practice of the cult to the mūrti (statue), such as
waking, washing, and feeding the mūrti. This caring for Mā, through her
mūrti, is accompanied by ritual functions, such as the performance of the
daily ārati (offering of light), a ritual which one finds in Hindu temples
throughout India.
The work of these pūjāris is associated with that of other disciples
of Mā, who could be called “servants” of Mā. They are charged with
panoply of services such as cleaning Mā’s temple, leaving flowers at the
 Aspects of the Postmortem Cult 43

samādhi, and so on. They must also be brahmins so as to maintain the

purity of the space according to brahmanical rules.
Finally, the priests, who perform only occasionally in Mā’s ashrams
and live outside of them, have functions each year in the context of certain
celebrations such as the Durgā Pūjā. These priests, specialized in a spe-
cific type of ritual, do not act in the function of the priesthood except on
the occasion of these celebrations.
Another type of religious actor involved in the postmortem cult of Mā
is the musician. Music essentially plays an important role in the cult, as
Joachim Wach specifies that it is a way to emphasize the impression given
by religious rites.5 The musicians at Mā’s samādhi are not engaged in this
function on a regular basis; they are often disciples in permanent resi-
dence at the ashram or devotees who came to the ashram for a determined
period and who performed kīrtana as sādhanā. Chants are particularly
common at the big annual celebrations of Mā’s birth and Gurupūrṇimā
(holiday in honor of the guru). Thus, musicians represent essential reli-
gious actors in the cult.
There exists one more category of religious agents, the mediums.
Mediums are absent from Mā’s cult, though they are found marginally in
other postmortem cults,6 often manifesting themselves in trances and in
possession.

The Community of Devotees

The society of devotees, commonly called bhaktas, reflect considerable
diversity within the saṅgha of Mā Ānandamayī. The followers come from
diverse social classes, various castes, and even different religions. Still,
the predominance of a certain type of devotee is nevertheless fairly appar-
ent, as Mā’s followers are for the most part Hindu, essentially coming
from urban environments and belonging to the upper levels of society. In
this community, it is not rare to meet rich families of industry or politi-
cal personalities taking refuge at the feet of Mā. It was so during Mā’s
lifetime and remains the case today. It is also interesting to note that
Mā Ānandamayī counted among her disciples many powerful political
figures, such as Kamala Nehru and Indira Gandhi,7 as well as scholars
like the philosopher, Gopinath Kaviraj.8 Ram Alexander, a disciple of Mā
speaks of these rich and educated disciples in the following words: “Often
these were highly educated people who had to face serious social oppro-
brium, particularly as it was unheard of to receive such guidance from an
44 When a Goddess Dies

Figure 1.2 Mā Ānandamayī with Nehru (right) and Indira Gandhi (left) who
became her disciple.
Source: Photograph courtesy of Shree Shree Anandamayee Sangha.

uneducated village woman.”9 It is also evident that the presence of higher

class devotees, the wealthy and intellectual elites plays some role in the
visibility of the cult.10
As Gaborieau notes in one of his studies on Muslim saints, the cult
of the saint generally comes from the social group the saint is associated
with.11 Therefore, certain factors such as the caste or the region of origin of
the saint can influence the composition of the community. Mā being born
brahmin, it is not then surprising to observe a marked presence of the
brahmin castes within her community. Mā also comes from Bengal, and
accordingly, there is a considerable presence of Bengalis among her fol-
lowers. Thus, the importance of Mā’s community of devotees in Bengal,
and notably in Calcutta, is not surprising.
Women also represent a large part of the community of devotees, and
it seems, following my observation at celebrations such as the anniversary
of Mā’s birth, that their number is greater than that of male devotees.
Far from considering Mā, the Supreme Goddess above all, as a source of
inspiration or as a model, the presence of so many women within Mā’s
cult may be attributed to the fact that they could have access to Mā’s body
 Aspects of the Postmortem Cult 45

more easily than men.12 In the main cult spaces dedicated to Mā, notably
at her samādhi, there is a separation of women and men. Far from being
specific to Mā’s ashrams, this separation of men and women is present in
the vast majority of spaces dedicated to Hindu cults in India.
The postmortem cult of Mā Ānandamayī is also characterized by a
presence of foreigners, although their number is grossly inferior to the
number of Indians. This presence of foreigners is associated with Swami
Bhaskarānanda, but mainly with Swami Vijayānanda. This French monk,
who passed away in April 2010, had not left India since his encounter
with Mā in the 1950s. Many Westerners, especially French people, consid-
ered him to be a living presence of Mā. As Mā requested of him, he wel-
comed foreign devotees to Mā’s tomb at Kankhal. The increased diffusion
of books about Mā in English and French, and more recently in German,
Italian, and Spanish, is another major factor contributing to the attraction
of Westerners to Mā. For example, there are more than a dozen works on
Mā in French today,13 some of them available on the Internet on the web-
site dedicated to Mā’s organization. The biannual publication of reviews
on Mā, in English (Ananda Varta)14 and in French (Jay Ma), reviews that
relate the events of Mā’s life and news regarding the saṅgha, also contrib-
ute to the expansion of Mā’s community in the West.
So as Weber and Gauchet might say, this attraction of Westerners
toward divine beings, even to the extent that they consider an “invisible”
guru such as Mā, may also be a response to the growing “disenchant-
ment” of the Western world, to the increasing rationalization of moder-
nity, which, as Lindholm argues, “pushes individuals towards immersion
in a charismatic group.”15 This idea of extreme rationalization underpins
much of the theories on new social movements.16
To understand Mā’s cult since her death, it is important to distinguish
between early devotees, that is to say devotees who knew Mā during her
lifetime, and new devotees, or those who venerate Mā despite the fact that
they never met her. Throughout the interviews and informal discussions
with members of Mā’s community, we see that the vast majority of new
devotees essentially differentiate themselves from the early devotees by
their belief in a past life spent with Mā,17 as the comments of this new
disciple demonstrate:

I think that I had a past life with Mā Anandamayī, between 1936

and 1961. I had flashes, reminiscences, some snippets, not complete
scenes, but some snippets. Swami Vijayānanda confirmed this for
46 When a Goddess Dies

Figure 1.3 Swami Vijayānanda: “In the case of a great sage like Mā, who left a
residual presence, one may enter into contact with this presence. And this contact
can become a considerable aid to our spiritual pursuit. The guru transmits power
and he can do this even after leaving his physical form.”
Source: Picture taken by French photographer Caroline Abitbol.

me. It’s very, very intimate. I was normally in a place not far from the
Himalaya where I was responsible for a temple. I was in the priest-
hood. That’s all I can say. After, it’s too intimate. Mā was there and
she guided me, she gave me information. It’s all I can say, it’s very,
very intimate. It’s of the experiential order, one cannot speak of it.

In another case, a young Indian woman associates her present attrac-

tion to Mā with a life spent with Mā:

Sometimes, I feel sad. I tell Mā during my prayers, ‘why did you

make me born so late? I could be born at least three four years ear-
lier. I could have seen you, at least once in my life time. But I feel
that in my previous birth, I must have seen her. I must have done
 Aspects of the Postmortem Cult 47

some good deeds, so this is why I have come over here and I have
been able to have contact with her.

If some new devotees regret the fact that they did not know Mā, they nev-
ertheless seem to find a sort of consolation and comfort in their belief in a
past life with Mā, as this English woman specifies:

I was alive most of the time when she was around in her body. If
she wanted me to see her, she could have drawn me to her. Couldn’t
she? She didn’t. I was born in 1950. I was over 30 when she left her
body. Easily, I could have seen her. It was not supposed to be. I do
feel that there is something that links those who have been around.
Or maybe everybody who had some connection with Mā already,
who had not seen her in her body this time, there must be some
connection that goes further back than this life time. I think we
must have had at least one life time before with her. We must have.
Otherwise, this wouldn’t be happening.

Another new disciple, a French woman, also shows her acceptance of the
fact that she never knew Mā:

I believe that it was perfect as it was. I am sure of it. This is how it

should be for me. It’s perfect. I realize what I am. I do not speak of
her in the past tense. There are thousands of people who never saw
her and who will never see her. It’s like that, it’s like that.

New devotees seem to find in this belief in a past life with Mā a sort of
comfort that helps them to accept the fact that they never met her in their
present life.
There is also another distinction between the early and new devotees,
that of a more marked attraction for the impersonal. As Dr. Jacques Vigne
reveals: “Personal relationship, that would be saying too much. For me,
I did not meet her in her body; it’s a very profound relationship, I have the
tendency to say an impersonal one. That does not impede it from being
very strong.”18 Although the attraction of new devotees for Mā essentially
stems from having seen photos of her, and so, still belongs to the realm of
materiality, new devotees nevertheless seem to manifest a stronger attrac-
tion for the unquantifiable formless aspect (nirguṇi) of Mā, in comparison
to early devotees.
48 When a Goddess Dies

Functions and Manifestations of the Postmortem Cult

Here, I examine first the concept of pilgrimage in relation to Mā’s post-
humous cult, notably pilgrimage to her tomb. From the perspective of
sacred exchange, this type of cult does not differ from a temple dedicated
to a divinity, in that it makes of the tomb a type of sanctuary. The cen-
tral concepts of tīrtha (place of pilgrimage), sacred transactions, merits,
and darśana are outlined here, but also those of communitas and vows
(vratas). Second, I concentrate on the rituality of the postmortem cult, in
demonstrating the diverse functions of the rituals specific to Mā’s cult.
In another section entitled “Celebrations and Retreats,” I define the role
of the large assemblies of followers within Mā’s ashrams, at the anniver-
sary of Mā’s birth, the most important celebration of the year, and also at
Gurupūrṇimā and the Samyam Saptah retreats. I also discuss the partici-
pation of Mā’s saṅgha in the Kumbhamelā. Finally, the cult of images and
of statues (mūrtis) is studied in the context of posthumous devotion to Mā,
and I examine the different functions of these two aspects of the cult.

Pilgrimage and Sacred Exchanges

Pilgrimage constitutes a way for Mā’s pilgrims to accumulate merit and
to purify themselves from their “sins.”19 A recompense (phala), whether
material or spiritual, is generally either consciously or unconsciously
expected by the pilgrims who come to engage in private prayer at the
guru’s tomb; this recompense may take the form of a change in karma, of
protection, of fertility, or even of a spiritual realization.
The pilgrimage can often take either a social or an individual form,
thus distinguishing two types of pilgrimage: a pilgrimage performed indi-
vidually at any time of year and a collective pilgrimage on the occasion of
certain communal events. As Chambert-Loir and Guillot specify, while the
individual pilgrimage represents a more conscious and reflective journey,
the collective pilgrimage conversely tends to assimilate the personal voli-
tion of the pilgrim into that of the community,20 thus resulting less in a
resolution of a personal question than in a celebration of the guru within
an assembly of the community. Every year, the spaces of Mā’s cult, and
especially her tomb at Kankhal, are the destination of collective pilgrim-
ages on the occasion of annual events, such as Mā’s birthday. Similarly,
there is another type of collective pilgrimage observed at Mā’s tomb, the
pilgrimage of Indians who travel by bus to the ashram at Kankhal, and
 Aspects of the Postmortem Cult 49

who remain there generally for thirty minutes, quickly heading off to the
next destination in their pilgrimage. The growth of this type of group pil-
grimage in recent years is strongly associated with the modernization of
India and the development of transportation in the countryside. Distinct
from the community of Mā’s devotees, these pilgrims are generally of
modest origin, with a limited education, and generally are not interested
specifically in Mā.
This place of pilgrimage (tīrtha), Mā’s tomb, represents by virtue of
its role as a crossing and turning point, a place of transition between the
world of humans and the world of gods, here being the world of Mā.21 It
may also refer to the Vaitarani, the fetid river that runs between the world
of the living and the world of the death, ruled by the God of death, Yama.
It may also signify a passage from the world of saṃsāra, that of suffering,
to the world of the eternally One. This pilgrimage, which may be related to
a true initiation, corresponds to a transformation of death into life, accom-
plished through a sacred exchange.
The effectiveness of the pilgrimage essentially lies in these sacred
exchanges between the pilgrim and the guru. A sort of “contractual rela-
tion,” to use Chaput’s expression22 is then established between Mā and the
devotee. The pilgrim, by exchanging a gift from himself or herself, receives
the benediction of Mā.23 These exchanges can also be of a material order.
Offerings (fruits, rice, flowers, silver, etc.) can be presented to Mā, who,
in return, distributes them through the intermediary of religious agents
as a blessed support, called prasāda. The prasāda, which McKim Mariott
calls biomoral earnings,24 is said to be imbued with the beneficial aura of
Mā. As Werbner specifies, it is nevertheless important to not interpret this
type of sacred exchange as a sort of “commerce,” which would remove
any disinterested dimension from the pilgrimage. Although it is true that
pilgrims travel in search of merit, the reality of their personal experience
is much more complex than that of a simple transaction.25
Likewise pilgrimage cannot be discussed without mentioning the
idea of darśana, which, in bhakti, means “seeing and being seen by
the deity.” Far from being a passive action, the darśana corresponds
to an “exchange of sight” between the devotee and the guru. Here the
pilgrim not only sees the guru but is also seen by him or her so as to
reach the power of this superior being.26 This concept of darśana gener-
ally implies the idea of some sort of gain to be obtained in the experi-
ence of this divine presence. The darśana of the guru has not only the
merit of bringing good fortune and well-being to the pilgrim but also
50 When a Goddess Dies

of leading him to a personal transformation. In the case of the darśana

of the Divine Mother, here being Mā Ānandamayī as she is considered
by her devotees to be an incarnation of the goddess, it is referred to as
“śakta darśana.” Mā’s devotees then are moved by what Tulasi Srivinas
would call a “proxemic desire,” that is to say the need of a visual close-
ness to Mā.27
Through its liminal character, the pilgrimage marks a true rupture
with daily life and the past, leading to not only a spiritual renewal for the
pilgrim but also a renewal of the community. Pilgrims experience then a
feeling of unity and camaraderie that only this experience of communitas
can engender, as the limits between themselves and the group disappear.
In this state of communitas, “the other” becomes “a brother,” as Turner
expresses it,28 and ceases to play his normal social role. If this spirit of
communitas is especially present during these large assemblies in honor
of Mā, for example, on her birthday, it nonetheless can be checked by the
strict brahmanical orthodoxy within Mā’s ashrams, notably for Westerners
who can often feel excluded by virtue of their status as outcasts or mleccha
(foreigners).
Pilgrimage can also become an occasion for the pilgrim to make a vow,
called a “vrata” in the Hindu tradition. This vow corresponds to a personal
engagement of the pilgrim with the guru to fulfill a particular desire. The
practice of writing the pilgrim’s request on a slip of paper and of attach-
ing it to the gates surrounding the tomb, typical of cult spaces of Muslim
saints, does not exist, as far as I know, in the Hindu tradition. Some post-
mortem cults to Hindu saints however may have adopted this practice
due to their syncretic nature, caught between the Hindu and the Muslim
traditions.
In reference to the vrata, the devotee can go so far as to become the
servant of a guru (atima) to thank him or her for having fulfilled his vow.
Bhardwaj also notes the ties between requests of a material nature, more
spiritual requests, and the veneration of the goddess Devī.29 It is said that
the veneration of the goddess should be more material and less spiritual
than for male deities, as, according to śakta theology, the material world
represents the manifestation of the goddess. However, although material
requests are said to have a greater chance of being granted in venerating
Devī, here represented by Mā, for her followers her cult is nonetheless
very spiritual.30
Pilgrimage, which Brown calls a “therapy of distance,”31 can be interior
as well. The body may be compared to a tīrtha, and the journey to the place
 Aspects of the Postmortem Cult 51

of pilgrimage can be accomplished within the pilgrim, who should adopt

the attitude or the emotion appropriate toward the guru.

Rituality of the Postmortem Cult

Rituals constitute an essential aspect of the guru’s postmortem cult. They
must be, though, acknowledged or legitimate in order to be effective and
valid.32 Rituals constitute a path of access to the divine, a way to be associ-
ated with superior powers, making the cult’s space a space of mediation
between the profane and the divine. They create and control the religious
experience, acting as a way of “harnessing,” of “domestication,” and of
“administration” of the sacred33 and contribute to the creation of a direct
link between its participants.34 Finally, rituals call to mind (anamnesis)
this past that gives a sense of the present.35 They constitute the very basis
of collective memory.36
In relation to the ritual activity in the postmortem cult, the concepts of
activity and of inactivity37 are often present. These concepts, both found in
the Sufi and Hindu traditions, refer to the posthumous action of the sage
toward devotees, particularly at the tomb. If the absence of offerings and
of rituals dedicated to the sage would make him or her “only a potential”
sage, according to Jamous, and would render the tomb “inactive,” with
no presence of power or of the sacred, the ritual activity conversely is said
to return to the sage the ability to act among devotees, to confer upon
them certain powers, from which comes Jamous’s expressions of “redo-
ing” and “undoing” the saint. The sage then must be sufficiently honored,
so that he or she may continue to release grace unto the faithfuls and to
assure their protection. In the same manner, it would then not be “recom-
mended” by the Hindu tradition to demonstrate an excessive indifference
toward the sage.
With regard to the ritual activity performed daily in Mā’s ashrams, one
of the key moments consists in the rite of illumination (ārati), which takes
place twice a day, at morning and at night, in the presence of lay devo-
tees and of ascetics. Fuller evokes the importance of this ritual that for
him constitutes the climax of the cult.38 Although the focus here is on the
cult within Mā’s ashrams, it nevertheless seems important to mention the
presence of a daily ritual activity in the houses of lay disciples. The devo-
tee usually lights a stick of incense and a candle before Mā’s image, and
performs offerings, such as fruits and flowers, to Mā. A meditation or a
prayer can also accompany this daily ritual activity.
52 When a Goddess Dies

In addition, there is not strictly speaking a day of the week dedi-

cated to Mā when ritual activity would gain greater importance. This
is, however, the case for the majority of gods and goddesses vener-
ated in Hindu temples, as well as for some gurus like Nadar, whose
samādhi is visited every Friday, a day said to be auspicious to venerate
the guru,39 as well as in Sufism, where the saint is generally honored
every Thursday.40
If Indians are much inclined to perform daily rituals both in
Mā’s ashrams and in their homes, this is not necessarily the case for
Westerners who, according to some informal discussions with them,
attach much less importance to the ritual aspect of the cult. As to
whether Westerners are missing out on something, Swami Vijayānanda
has the following to say:

The true pūjā is a mental attitude. The ritual serves to awaken this
attitude of love and of veneration. Westerners do not need to use
the same ritual as Hindus; but when one begins to meditate, it is
good to establish contact with the master (here being Mā) for whom
he (or She) transmits to you the necessary spiritual energy. And for
that, a certain type of pūjā may be useful: to recite several mantras,
to light a stick of incense, to do pranām, etc.41

Swami Vijayānanda adds this on the subject of rituality:

The people of this world are like fish out of water. They need
these rituals and these ceremonies, as the fish on the market
shelf needs a glass of water from time to time in order to survive.
But for those who already live in God, rites and rituals are not
only superfluous, but they can be an obstacle to spiritual evo-
lution, a sort of strong straightjacket which the spiritual seeker
would need to remove.42

Westerners then would seem less inclined than Indians toward rituals
and celebrations, returning us to the question of secularization in the
West. In this context, there is a cultural detachment among Westerners
who generally have not been in contact with Hindu culture from an early
age, and who demonstrate much less sensibility for the ritualistic Hindu
accoutrements.
 Aspects of the Postmortem Cult 53

Celebrating the Guru

The celebration, this great ritual through which the sacred is experi-
enced, becomes a privileged moment for Mā’s entire community to
gather together and to refresh their memory of Mā’s presence. As Raimon
Panikkar specifies, the celebration comes to mark the communal char-
acter of joy, something that would seem to be essential for a great being
called Mā Ānandamayī, whose name means “Mother Full of Joy.”43
If one may always pray to Mā, there are nevertheless certain moments
of the year during which it is especially beneficial to pray. These are the
great celebrations such as the anniversary of Mā’s birth, Gurupūrṇimā,
and Durgā Pūjā, three occasions being the only times during the year
(along with the Samyam Saptah retreat at Kankhal) during which every
devotee, regardless of their caste or religious status, can touch Mā’s tomb.
These celebrations are accompanied by other annual celebrations, such
as Mahāśivarātri, Holi, and Rakṣabandhan.44 The following is a descrip-
tion of four gatherings: the anniversary of Mā’s birth, Gurupūrṇimā, the
retreats (Samyam Saptah), and the participation of Mā’s saṅgha in the
Kumbhamelā.

Anniversary of Mā’s Birth

The anniversary of Mā’s birth in the month of May is the most impor-
tant celebration in honor of Mā and brings together a large number of
her devotees. Astrological calculations are completed in order to deter-
mine the exact moment of Mā’s birth according to the lunar calendar.
As this moment is fixed each year, a series of celebrations and of rituals
takes place the preceding week of her birthday. Mā’s birthday, marked
when she was alive by Mā’s going into samādhi, unfolds throughout the
night and is characterized by successive rituals, moments of silence
and chants. It is not uncommon to hear resounding in the samādhi
the famous Bengali cry, the “ulu.”45 An impressive number of flower
garlands are placed on Mā’s tomb, garlands that will be redistributed
to the devotees at the end of the night, when each of them may come
to prostrate themselves directly before and touch Mā’s tomb. For this
celebration, the samādhi is decorated by garlands of lights, which
gives to Mā’s birthday the allure of a Christmas night. Televisions are
placed outside to simulcast the event for those who were not able to
find a place inside the samādhi temple. The culminating point of Mā’s
birthday comes in the early morning when, in a surge of devotion, her
54 When a Goddess Dies

devotees dash toward the interior of the samādhi in order to penetrate

the sacred space, “the saint of saints,” the sanctum sanctorum, usually
reserved for monks, for some of Mā’s brahmanical disciples and for
“VIPs,” that is to say principally the biggest donors and some politi-
cal and religious personalities. A long line of devotees tries to form in
the crush of people. Each devotee brings with him or her an offering
for Mā, generally flowers. Alternately, starting with the oldest, swamis
come to circle around the tomb in a rite called pradakṣina, and then
perform a pranām (prostration) to Mā. Next come the brahmacārins and
brahmacārinis, that is to say those who have performed the vow of celi-
bacy or brahmacārya, the VIPs, and finally the simple lay devotees. This
succession of devotees demonstrates a type of religious hierarchy that
persists to this day.
Although the anniversary of Mā’s birth constitutes an important event
for Mā’s community, the anniversary of her death (mahāsamādhi) seems
to be of much less importance. It is interesting to note that the Hindu
tradition does not generally celebrate the anniversary of a guru’s death;
and if there are some exceptions, they are fairly rare. Among these excep-
tions may be noted the celebrations of the anniversary of the death of
the saint Ekanath (punya-tithi), who did not leave mortal remains behind
and who is venerated each year in the person of his descendent,46 and
the mahāsamādhi anniversaries of Swami Muktananda and Bhagavan
Nityananda (Siddha Yoga). The near absence of celebration of gurus’
deaths stands in stark contrast to the Sufi tradition, which conversely
holds large celebrations for the anniversaries of the death of the saint, also
called urs. The urs is literally viewed as the mystical marriage of the saint’s
soul to Allah, the soul of a saint being essentially perceived as a woman in
Muslim theosophy, and Allah as her beloved.47 And contrary to the Hindu
tradition, forgetting to celebrate a saint on the day of his death constitutes
one of the greatest offenses that can be committed against the saint in the
Sufi tradition.48 If the anniversary of Mā’s death is not celebrated among
her disciples and often remains a rather painful day for some of them,
nonetheless her disciples perform a special thirty-minute meditation on
the day of her death, August 27.

Gurupūrṇimā
Gurupūrṇimā is the other major celebration of Mā’s community, although
it is less important than the anniversary of her birth. Gurupūrṇimā, which
takes place during the full moon in the month of July in India, celebrates
 Aspects of the Postmortem Cult 55

the guru throughout India. In Mā’s time, she was the subject of a Gurupūjā,
which can be seen in Arnaud Desjardins’s film Ashram, in which the lives
of several great spiritual beings in India, including Mā Ānandamayī, are
documented.49 Despite Mā’s departure, devotees continue to celebrate the
Gurupūrṇimā in her honor even today.

Kumbhamelā
Mā’s saṅgha is also present in the Kumbhamelā and Ardhakumbhamelā at
Hardwar and Allahabad.50 These immense religious gatherings represent
not only an occasion for Mā’s community to celebrate Mā in an excep-
tional religious setting but also to continue to insure Mā and her cult an
important place within the main Hindu religious organizations. During
my visit to the Ardhakumbhamelā at Allahabad in January 2007, I was able
to regularly visit Mā’s saṅgha’s camp and to observe the cult in its func-
tioning during such an occasion. Half a dozen girls from Mā’s school at
Varanasi traveled there to participate in the event, performing daily bha-
jana at the camp. My participation in this Kumbhamelā at Allahabad also
provided me the occasion to follow the procession of Mā’s saṅgha within
different religious orders or akḥāḍas, during the days of the great bath
(śahisnāna). It is interesting to remark the incorporation of Mā’s saṅgha
into the ascetic order of the nirmālaakḥāḍa during the Ardhakumbhamelā
of January 2007. The order of the procession of Mā’s saṅgha, as well as
the incorporation into the ascetic order (akhāḍa), seems to vary with each
Kumbhamelā. Another interesting anecdote to relate concerns the partici-
pation of Mā’s saṅgha in the Kumbhamelā at Hardwar in 1998, where the
Nāga Bābās,51 naked sādhus, furious that the cart of another, much less
that of a woman, Mā’s, had passed in front of theirs during the procession
of the great bath, were overcome with rage and overturned Mā’s cart pur-
suing her devotees. This contrasts starkly with times when Mā was alive
and was honored by riding on an elephant in front of everyone during
Kumbhamelā procession.

Samyam Saptah
The postmortem cult of Mā also includes the collective, weeklong retreats
which take place every year, not only in India but also in Europe and
America. I had the opportunity to participate in these retreats several
times and they seem to form an important element of the cult’s sustain-
ability. These retreats, called Samyam Saptahs, were instituted during
Mā’s time and today continue to gather her devotees together from across
56 When a Goddess Dies

Figure 1.4 Young girls from Mā Ānandamayī’s school (Kaṇyapīţha) sing daily at
Mā’s camp during the Ardhakumbhamelā (Allahabad, 2007).
Source: Photograph by Orianne Aymard.

India and the West. “It’s the planet of Mā,” says one devotee discussing
the Samyam Saptah. The principle retreat takes place at the ashram at
Kankhal in November and the other in January at the ashram of Bhimpura
in Gujarat. These weeks of collective asceticism, which united thousands
when Mā participated in them, still gather between two and three hundred
people every year. Having only participated in the Samyam Saptah in India
at the ashram in Bhimpura, I cannot make comparisons to the retreat at
Kankhal, but it seems that, according to interviews and informal discus-
sions, the retreat at Kankhal draws much more orthodox devotees than
the retreat at Bhimpura. This may be explained by the marked preference
for Bhimpura among Mā’s Western followers. The Samyam Saptah retreat
mostly consists of devotional chants, daily recitations of the Bhagavadgītā,
readings of Mā’s words as well as silent meditations. During this retreat,
each devotee is directed to follow a strict diet, including a single daily meal
of rice, lentils and vegetables, without spices. All stimulants like coffee or
tea are prohibited and only water is allowed for drinking. A glass of hot
 Aspects of the Postmortem Cult 57

milk is finally permitted every evening. For some rare devotees, a water
fast is followed during the entire week.
Replicas of these retreats also take place in Europe and America, but
due to the majority presence of Westerners attending, the rules concern-
ing purity, such as the exclusion of menstruating women or the rules
concerning pollution tied to the caste system are not observed. I had the
opportunity to participate in two of these retreats near Paris and each of
them brought together around thirty people.

Worshipping Images and Statues

The cult of images constitutes one of the essential manifestations of wor-
ship in the Hindu tradition,52 including the postmortem cult of gurus. By
the term images, I include photos, a very important element in Mā’s cult.
Here then I describe this tradition of the cult of images in Hinduism, then
show the importance of this practice in Mā’s ashrams. I also address the
cult of statues (mūrtis) in terms of veneration of Mā Ānandamayī.
All images used in the cult need to be consecrated by a rite of initiation
called prāṇapratiṣṭhā or the “establishment of the breath.” This introduces
divine power, śakti, and transforms the image into the incarnation of the
divinity, here the guru.53 This is also how the statues in Mā’s ashrams were
consecrated. So as to conserve the presence of śakti in the image, these
rituals need to be performed daily,54 for an unattended image is inappro-
priate for the cult. Mā is thus invited to enter into the image each time by
a ritual called the avahana.55 There also exist certain extremely rare excep-
tions, where the image does not require the rite of initiation in order to
be considered sacred. These are self-manifested images or svayamvyakta,
such as a certain self-manifested stone called shaligrama shila, symbol of
Viṣṇu, or the jyoti liṅgam (pillar of light), Śiva’s symbol. To the best of my
knowledge, there are no such types of images found in Mā’s ashrams.
The role of images hinges above all on their function regarding the
memoria of the guru, permitting the reactivation of evidence of a pres-
ence to use the expression of Chenet regarding the role of the image in
Hinduism.56 Images also represent a source of support for concentration
and facilitate meditation on the guru.57 A number of Mā’s disciples use a
photo of Mā to help them concentrate, as this disciple describes: “When
I am having a bit of trouble concentrating, I meditate on the photo, and by
doing so, she takes me with her.” This is also the case of this early Indian
58 When a Goddess Dies

disciple, a woman, who, discussing photos of Mā, affirms the importance

of form in supporting the concentration:

I am attached to her form. I loved to see her body. Mā’s form is very
beautiful. It’s easier to concentrate for us who are much below. If
you can realize the Advaita (non duality), it’s ok, but for most of us,
we can’t. We need an image, we need a focus, a form, we need a
point, and what can be more beautiful than a mother, really?

Thus, the image of a god is a way to hold on to him or her solidly, to guar-
antee his or her presence.
Another point to address concerning the cult of images is whether
the divine presence of the guru is in the image itself. According to Diana
Eck, the image of the divinity does not simply constitute a meditative
support or even a sort of reminder for the devotee but also represents
a true incarnation of the divine.58 Clémentin-Ojha also refers to this
Hindu belief, which holds that the cult’s image has a life of its own.59
To a disciple who asked Sarada Devi if Ramakrishna continued to live
through these photos, she responded “Of course he does. The body and
the shadow are the same. And what is this picture but a shadow. . . . If
you pray to him constantly before his picture, then he manifests him-
self through that picture. The place where the picture is kept becomes
a shrine.”60 This belief is found in many Indian traditions, such as that
among the Radhasoamis who also consider the image of the guru to be
a true manifestation of his physical presence.61 As opposed to ordinary
images, photos of the guru are thus said to be images endowed with life
and capable of transmitting power through its gaze despite the guru’s
death. In the case of photographs of Mā, Mā is said to have “breathed
force” into these images. For Mā’s devotees, there is no doubt that
images of Mā are instilled with her presence, as the following commen-
tary by a new disciple, an Indian man, reveals: “Sometimes, I have the
impression that the pictures of Mā are becoming real. Yesterday night,
for example, during the kīrtana, I was looking at the big picture of Mā
under the banyan tree and I felt that Mā is alive and she is looking at
us.” Another disciple, a French woman, who is a recent devotee of Mā’s,
described her experience with photographs of Mā to us in the following
way: “It is truly her presence. I no longer see the photo as flat. I see the
photo in three dimensions. She is there across from me. There are only
one or two photos that I particularly like, with this tenderness, this love,
 Aspects of the Postmortem Cult 59

this support, this protection.” Similar testimonies abound among Mā’s

devotees:

Picture is no picture, it is Mā.

Picture of Mā is a living presence.
By seeing her photograph, I come to know what Mā wants from me.
I always have an altar, even if I am travelling. I put the pictures
of Mā. It’s just material but they radiate some kind of presence,
undoubtedly.

One Indian man, an early devotee, perceives changing expressions in

Mā’s face in her photographs, according to the attitude that he himself
must adopt:

I feel that whenever I have a genuine problem, she has ways of solv-
ing it without being here. There is a particular picture that I use.
There are only two or three pictures of Mā when she makes an
eye contact with you. She talks to me. If there is nothing to talk
about, then, she goes to sleep [laughs]. If there is a genuine prob-
lem for which I am not able to find an answer, then, she talks to
me. The expression is always changing. Sometimes, she is very
angry with me. I know I have done something wrong [laughs].
I don’t know if it is my imagination or what. I have shared that
with Swami Bhaskarānanda. It’s an illusion? There is something
wrong in my head? Maybe, this is my imagination. He said no, no.
Whenever I come back to Swamiji, he gives me the impression that
yes, believe it, it’s not an illusion. The way I look at it, it’s giving me
the right message. And that’s more important than how it is hap-
pening. Right message and I follow that and I have a good result.
What else do I want? The rest is really theoretical, how it came, why
it came.

The comments of this disciple in a sense correspond to what Arnaud

Desjardins used to say regarding the variations of Mā’s expressions accord-
ing to the inner disposition of the devotee: “Mataji has very correctly been
compared to a crystal that, completely pure and transparent, reflects every-
thing that passes around her. I have even wondered if different people do
not see her at the same moment with ten different appearances—different
according to their respective interiors.”62 Thus, Mā’s images can similarly
60 When a Goddess Dies

Figure 1.5 Arnaud Desjardins: “Mataji has very correctly been compared to a crys-
tal that, completely pure and transparent, reflects everything that passes around
her. I have even wondered if different people do not see her at the same moment
with ten different appearances—different according to their respective interiors.”
Source: Picture belonging to the collection of the photographer Sadanand; now in the pos-
session of Neeta Mehta, also called Swami Nityananda.

be compared to a crystal that reflects our own state, from which comes
the importance of the gaze brought onto the sacred image, as Schmitt
describes here: “One does not look upon the sacred without impunity,
whether it takes the form of an image or of a relic.”63
Photos of Mā then hold an essential place in her posthumous cult,
whether among early or new followers. Carried by devotees or situated in
their home, the pictures seem to reactivate the presence of Mā. Mazzarella
has called this dialectical effect “close distance.”64 More so even than Mā’s
words or eyewitness accounts of her, photographs of Mā are an essential way
to mobilize new devotees as this new follower, a French woman, specifies:

In the beginning, I was touched more by photos of Mā than by her

words. The image of Mā really touched me. I completely entered into
 Aspects of the Postmortem Cult 61

her gaze and I had shivers in my body, a sort of loss of the concept
of time between Mā’s gaze and myself, it was of that nature, I was
really in the image, in her gaze, in that which she freed I plunged
completely. And little by little, I started to become interested in Mā,
to read her books, and I started to want to go to her samādhi.

And although devotees no longer confine Mā to a physical form, they nev-

ertheless keep a photo of Mā at their side, as was the case with Swami
Vijayānanda: “I no longer see her as a form, I see her as an omnipresence.
Although I do have a photo of her with which I do my pūjā.”
Still, the use of images in the postmortem cult does not appear to suit
everyone. Some of Mā’s devotees are little inclined to adopt this type of
practice, as can be noted in the following testimony by this French woman,
a new devotee:

Mā is closer to the ultimate than anything else I could have seen or

felt. I should not say “seen,” “felt,” because if I see her, I find her ordi-
nary. I even amuse myself by looking at her face close up and finding
that, at heart, she had a very ordinary face, contrary to what people
usually say, that her charm must operate by an attitude and not by
the beauty of her face. Her facial features are too large, her face is too
big. There is a lack of delicacy in her face. It’s the delicacy of energy,
it’s not corporal delicacy. I would even say that all of these images
turn me off. But from another side, it’s nevertheless extremely dif-
ficult to adore the ultimate without a form. For a human being this
is very difficult. To make it easier, you have to go into this world
of light. Once that you are in this world of light, it’s comparatively
easier. But, without the image, I believe that one cannot uphold the
postmortem cult. This is clear if we consider our Western world,
with Jesus Christ and the Virgin Mary, we need images. It’s images
that maintain a cult, not writing. When I see the type of images
that they placed for us in this hall, I ask myself where am I? But
I shouldn’t relate this to myself, because I am in India where every
image of a guru is sacred. I don’t think that Indians can understand.
They do not know what it is to adore abstractly. The only people who
adore God abstractly, for better or for worse, is Islam. Islam is truly
God without form. . . . I meditate a lot in front of photos of Mā, and
of Amma, but I do not look at them. Sometimes, I even forget that
they are there. I think I put them there because of some superstition
62 When a Goddess Dies

on my part, and that, like many other people, I have a need for my
gri gri.65 Here, for example, I am wearing my two medals, of Mā and
of Amma. So, I don’t know what that means but that’s the way it is.

This devotee seems in some ways to agree with the thought advanced by
the Yogavasiṣṭa which forbids the cult of images. According to this Hindu
text, the inner veneration of the divine constitutes true veneration and only
simple people require the support of a divine image.66 The pervasive pres-
ence of the divine within the devotee in reality permits him or her to follow a
more conventional type of adoration, to which the cult of the image belongs.
If some devotees have absolutely no inclination toward the cult of
images, others also speak of less and less frequently using photos of Mā
as they advanced in their sādhanā. This is notably the case of this man, a
new disciple who affirmed in an interview that he is less and less likely to
use photos of Mā in his religious practice:

They come to life less and less. They no longer want to say anything.
Just a reminder, an old memory. What we live in the moment, it’s
more present, very fresh. Everything that is form, image, that seems
a little denatured. I don’t really like the statue of Mā in the samādhi,
it doesn’t touch me. I have respect because that recalls her, reminds
us of her. It’s like a reminder of a name. There was an evolution, first
it was a form, a photo, the texts. There are different reasons. Either
we may be bored before the photo because it’s not alive, or because
we have a level of presence that is stronger, which doesn’t need the
support of a photo. There are many possibilities. But still, I always
have a small photo to remind me of her presence, it’s like an exterior
protection, a reminder, in case of a small failing, of a lack of con-
sciousness. But I don’t always walk around with it. It’s not a fetish.
It’s a protection at the house, but it’s not on my person all the time.

Even devotees less disposed to use photos of Mā as a type of support for

their devotion consider that her images offer a form of protection, as
shown in the two preceding witness accounts.
The guru may also be venerated through the cult of statues, a cult
which is related in many ways to the cult of images. Like the image, the
statue of the guru (mūrti) also functions as a reminder and as support
for meditation, and in so doing, the mūrti is often perceived as the living
being in the eyes of the devotee, who sees the guru as residing in it. In
 Aspects of the Postmortem Cult 63

Figure 1.6 Mūrti (statue) of Mā Ānandamayī in the ashram at Kheora in

Bangladesh, her birthplace.
Source: Photograph by Orianne Aymard.

fact, for many devotees, the mūrti represents the very manifestation of the
guru, as this anecdote regarding one of the pūjāris, also a new devotee, at
the ashram at Kankhal demonstrates:

One day, I was joking [with] one didi (sister). She said you should
give to Mā, everyday, one glass of water and flowers before you go to
sleep. All these things you should do. One hundred eight times you
should also chant one mantra. I said, “Come on, it is only a stone.”
I have been giving water for three years, she is not drinking. When
I came back, I saw that there was almost no water. The mosquito
net had gone. I thought a theft has come. All the doors were closed.
I said, “I am very sorry Mā.” I felt at that time a strong presence.
I repeated, “I am very sorry, it was only a joke.” Then, I heard some-
one walking in the samādhi. I called the guard.

And so, many of Mā’s devotees believe that the mūrti represents the guru,
making the mūrti a body of presence. Throughout the Hindu tradition this
64 When a Goddess Dies

practice of venerating the mūrti as if it were the guru can be observed, and
it is notable in Mā’s postmortem cult.
In Mā’s temple at Kankhal, also called Ānanda Jyotipīṭha, there is one
sole statue of white marble representing Mā and it seems that the absence
of statues of gods and saints framing the mūrti of Mā confers on her the
status of supreme divinity. There are other mūrtis within the ashram, but
they are situated exterior to the temple and are not the objects of such
attention. There is, for example, a mūrti of Shankaracharya in the great
hall adjacent to Mā’s temple, as well as a mūrti of Mā’s mother, Didimā,
in a building outside the principle interior section of the ashram, in the
same place as her tomb.
Although Didimā was considered by some to be a guru during Mā’s
time, as she held the responsibility of conferring initiations, today few
come to prostrate themselves before her mūrti at Kankhal, except for a few
devotees like the following woman:

I do not know her at all, I don’t really know who she is, I find it
marvelous that she is the mother of such a being and the manner in
which Mā treated her throughout her life. I just did a pranām to the
grandmother. It’s the Mother of my ‘spiritual God Mother’ I come
to say hello when I am here. It’s the least I can do.

The fact that Didimā sparks only a limited interest among the members
of Mā’s community represents a paradox for some. Regarding the reason
for this near indifference toward Didimā, a new devotee, an Indian man,
had the following to say:

That’s the paradox. She is the one who has given birth to God. She is
the one who has given dīkṣā to everybody. This is human nature. We
are attracted towards God, towards light, but we do not see what is
behind that thing. This source of light comes from somebody else. So,
Mā used to tell ‘go to do pranām to Didimā first, then, come to me.’

This lack of attention paid to Mā’s mother could even stem from a belief
held by some devotees that Didimā was not the biological mother of Mā,67
as this Indian man, an early devotee, seems to imply:

I am not sure whether Mā came out from Didimā’s womb, there is

no evidence of that. But Didimā has been identified as Mā’s mother.
 Aspects of the Postmortem Cult 65

Figure 1.7 Mā Ānandamayī and her mother Didimā, who took vows of saṃnyāsa
(renunciation).
Source: Picture belonging to the collection of the photographer Sadanand; now in the pos-
session of Neeta Mehta, also called Swami Nityānanda.

There is one swamiji who told me about an absence of navel on

Mā. He told me not to discuss it very much. Since I have not seen
myself, I cannot say, but this was told to me by a very sincere devo-
tee of Mā. He said that Mā had shown it to him.

Despite then the presence of a mūrti of Didimā in the Kankhal ashram,

as well as in other ashrams dedicated to Mā in India, Didimā’s cult is
completely secondary to Mā’s. The posthumous cult to Mā is also associ-
ated with the cult of her husband, Bholanāth (who died on May 7, 1938),
of whom there is also a mūrti at the ashram in Kankhal and at the ashram
in Calcutta. The statue at Kankhal was installed there only in 2006 in the
same courtyard as the mūrti of Didimā. As in the case of Didimā’s, or even
to a greater extent, his cult is of a minor importance compared to Mā’s.
66 When a Goddess Dies

Similarly to pictures and mūrtis, there exists the possibility of worship-

ing a doll that represents the deity or the guru. Although the use of dolls
does not pertain to Mā’s cult, it has developed among other cults, such as
in the cult of Mātā Amṛtānandamayī (Amma). The “Amma doll” repre-
sents a kind of protection for devotees and helps them to connect with the
guru wherever they are, ensuring her presence even at a physical distance.
The cult of images and of mūrtis appears then as an essential element
in Mā’s cult, although a small number of Western devotees feel some-
what averse toward this type of devotional practice. The idea of a presence
associated with these sacred images and statues seems then particularly
central to describing this aspect of the postmortem cult.
 2

The Cult of Relics in Hinduism

Some Aspects of the Cult of Relics in the Hindu

Tradition
I turn now to a central aspect of the postmortem cult of the guru in
Hinduism, the “cult of relics.” Although the cult of relics is very com-
mon in many religious traditions like Catholicism and Buddhism, it is less
important in the Hindu tradition. Its role is nevertheless central to Mā’s
cult, and it thus seems important to describe it. I shall first present the
Hindu cult of relics in several ways, addressing its origin and its place in
Indian geography, but also in considering the related practices of burial.
Here I explore the cult of relics in its feminine dimension and endeavor
to show the place of the sacred in the cult of relics, calling on the ideas of
presence, power, and death.

Relics and their Origin

The Hindu Relics in the Religious Landscape
As Patrick Geary specifies, the cult of relics constitutes a common method
of expression in numerous traditions.1 Buddhism, for example, the clas-
sic religion of relics according to Gerardus Van der Leeuw,2 places a fair
amount of emphasis on the veneration of relics, as manifested by the
cult of Buddha (i.e., procession of the Buddha’s tooth, veneration of his
footprints). Within the Christian tradition, the cult of relics is also espe-
cially important, as the veneration in France of the body of Bernadette of
Soubirous at Nevers, who died in 1879, attests to. Another example is the
relics of James, son of Zebedee at the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela
in Galicia, Spain. Peter Brown’s work on later antiquity and André
68 When a Goddess Dies

Figure 2.1 Mā Ānandamayī’s samādhi (tomb) in Kankhal, near Hardwar.

Source: Picture taken by French photographer Caroline Abitbol.

Vauchez’s work on the Late Middle Ages have made major contributions
to the field of the cult of saints in Christianity.3 Although Islam, with the
exception of the Sufi tradition, is little inclined toward the veneration of
relics, paradoxically it also manifests a fairly important cult of relics, as
shown by the veneration of the tomb of the prophet at Medina.4 And far
from being limited to religious traditions, the veneration of relics appears
in society in general, as the veneration of Lenin’s body at the mausoleum
at the Red Square testifies to. And so, because the cult of relics is common
in numerous traditions, it is perhaps surprising that it is less common in
the Hindu tradition. Catherine Servan-Schreiber explains the attraction
Hindus have to the dargah, the location of the Muslim saint’s tomb, in the
following way: “The fascination that the dargah holds for Hindus is more
linked to the fascination for the space of a saint. It implies a relationship to
death, to the body, to the relics, fundamentally absent from Hinduism.”5
It is thus interesting to consider the reason for the relatively limited adop-
tion of a cult of relics in the Hindu tradition.
Before addressing this question, it is necessary to precisely define
the term “relics.” Nicole Hermann-Mascard, a legal historian who was
the pioneer in studies on relics in France and whose thesis Les Reliques
des saints: Formations coutumières d’un droit (Paris, 1975) is still the
 The Cult of Relics in Hinduism 69

authority on the subject, distinguishes three types of relics: “corporal

relics,” “non-corporal relics,” and “representative relics.”6 Corporal rel-
ics, often called “real relics,”7 refer to the corporal remains of the saint
and are the definitive relic. In Mā’s case, her body in Kankhal repre-
sents the “real relic.” Non-corporal relics include objects used daily by
the saint, like things shown at the museum dedicated to Mā at Kankhal
(e.g., a sari worn by Mā). Finally, relics said to be “representative” are
made up of objects that had contact with the tomb of the saint or with
his or her bones and which are thus permeated with his or her sanctity.
These are, for example, jewels or gem stones that devotees place on the
tomb of Mā.
These three categories, which are also present in the Buddhist tra-
dition, specifically in the Theravada tradition in the respective forms of
dagaba (stūpa), the Bodhi tree, and the image of the Buddha,8 are also to
be found in the Hindu tradition. This reminds us of the distinction made
by Tulasi Srivinas regarding Sathya Sai Baba’s sacred objects, as she looks
at their meanings and patterns of circulation in the Sathya Sai movement.
Srivinas distinguishes between what she calls ephemera and sacra in terms
of closeness to the guru, emphasizing the value of proximity to Sai’s sub-
jects and objects. While ephemera refers to secondary types of relics (i.e.,
the representative relics), sacra constitutes the real relics, the most valu-
able ones, like the objects considered as a sacred gift, such as jewels and
liṅgams coming out from Sai Baba’s hands and mouth.9 It remains to be
seen today how the sacred objects will be construed by devotees after the
recent death of Sathya Sai Baba.
Two factors may be considered to explain the relatively limited adop-
tion of the cult of relics in Hinduism. The first one may lie in the incli-
nation that Hindus have for living gurus. The second one may lie in the
brahminical beliefs that hold that a dead body is a source of pollution. As
far as the second factor is concerned, various scholars give the following
explanation. For Jean Przylusky, the body of the deceased is seen as an
impure and dangerous object that must be removed: “Nothing [in India]
prepared people’s minds for the celebration of a cult of relics. The corpse
was [generally considered to be] an impure, dangerous object, to be kept
away from human habitations.”10 For Charles Malamoud, Hindus have a
pressing need to get rid of the dead body as soon as possible: “funerary
ceremonies . . . seem to have no other purpose than to give an abundant,
minute, passionate response to this question that the collective asks itself
when it is in the presence of a dead body: how do we get rid of it?”11 Monier
70 When a Goddess Dies

Monier-Williams also speaks of a certain rejection of the cult of relics in

relation to impurity and death:

Adoration of relics constitutes an important point of difference

between Buddhism and Brāhmanism; for Brāhmanism and its off-
spring Hindūism are wholly opposed to the practice of preserving
the ashes, bones, hair, or teeth of deceased persons, however much
such individuals may have been revered during life. . . . Articles used
by great religious teachers—as, for example, robes, wooden shoes
and seats—are sometimes preserved and venerated after their
death. All articles of this kind, however, must, of course, be removed
from the body before actual decease; for it is well known that, in the
minds of Hindūs, ideas of impurity are especially connected with
death, and contamination is supposed to result from the contact
with the corpses of even a man’s dearest relatives. . . . Hence in the
present day a corpse is burnt, and its ashes are generally scattered
on the surface of sacred rivers or of the sea.12

While the first factor, the inclination of Hindus for the living guru, may
be a possible reason to explain the relatively limited adoption of the cult of
relics, the second factor, the body as source of pollution, however, should
not be taken into account. The bodies of realized beings such as Mā are in
fact considered by Hindus as pure and sacred bodies.

Origin of Relics
The origin of the cult of relics in the Hindu religion seems uncertain. For
some, like Bharati, the cult of relics in the Buddhist tradition constitutes
the first instance of a cult of relics in India and is not the sign of an earlier
cult of Hindu origin:

The desire to keep and perhaps display the Buddha’s relics cannot
be explained from any known Hindu precedence—nothing of the
sort is mentioned in any pre-Buddhist literature. The building of
memorial stupas over them, following the distribution of the relics,
cannot be traced to anything older—in fact, the Buddhist stupas
and caityas are the oldest instances of relic worship in India.13

For Agehananda Bharati, the cult of relics in the Hindu tradition did not
appear until after the arrival of Buddhism (in the fifth century b.c.e.). On
 The Cult of Relics in Hinduism 71

the other hand, it seems likely that there may have been a Hindu cult
of relics preceding the appearance of Buddhism. According to Johannes
Bronkhorst, the cult of relics in Hinduism actually traces its origin to the
movement of the śramaṇa, a movement that Buddhism, Jainism, and
other religious currents stem from.14 He gives the following explanation of
the origin of the practice of burial of deceased saṃnyāsins (renunciants):

It seems justifiable to believe that the practice of burying the

saṃnyāsin ascetics continues an old custom whose origin is located
in the śramaṇa movement, a tradition that does not find impurity
associated with the dead body that characterizes Brahmanism, and
in which the veneration of the tomb of a saint is customary. Thus
considered, the treatment reserved for the saṃnyāsin in modern
India is an expression of the same tradition that we find in ancient
Buddhism and Jainism.15

Thus, the veneration of corporal relics in Hinduism most likely had its
origin in the śramaṇa movement, probably appearing before the arrival
of Buddhism.
If the origin of the cult of relics in the Hindu tradition is uncertain,
there is nevertheless no doubt that the cult developed with the Muslim
invasion, as R. L. Mishra notes: “Many foreign scholars and art critics have
consistently opined that the practice of building of sepulchral or commem-
orative monuments in India coincided with the advent of the Muslims in
this country. It was, according to them, a result of inspiration provided by
the Muslim tombs.”16 Thus, the practice of burial in the Hindu tradition
is said to have developed alongside Islam in India, which explains the
sometimes syncretic character of the cult of the tomb,17 such as the tomb
of the hero-saint Rajput Ramdev, which attracts thousands of pilgrims,
both Hindu and Muslim, each year.18 Other examples are the tombs of the
nineteenth-century saint Shirdi Sai Baba19 and of the recently deceased
Sathya Sai Baba,20 who, due to their ambiguous position straddling both
Hinduism and Islam, are venerated both by Muslims and by Hindus and
could be considered the most popular deceased saints in India today.
If the Hindu saint is not canonized after his or her lifetime but is
declared a saint by the vox populi, “the voice of the people,” the relic is
similarly the fruit of popular consensus, making of Hindu sainthood not
an “official” sanctity but a “popular” one, as Jean-Claude Schmitt terms
it.21 Because Hinduism is not institutionalized, as shown by the absence of
72 When a Goddess Dies

a superior decision-making body that determines an individual’s spiritual

value, the relic cannot be recognized officially as authentic. Considering
the absence of canonical texts codifying the rites of such a cult, Hinduism
thus has a fair amount of freedom, a true system of free choice. The cult of
relics in the Hindu tradition occurs then in spontaneous popular devotion,
not monitored as in Catholicism. In this spirit of religious expression,
some Westerners have even been elevated to the level of saints among
Hindus and venerated as such after their death, despite being considered
technically impure by Hindu orthodoxy. L. S. S. O’Malley mentions many
surprising cases regarding this subject.22 He cites the example of Colonel
William Wallace who died in 1809 at the age of 47, and who has since been
venerated at his tomb in Sirur not far from Pune. Considered a sage and
a sat puruṣa (true being), he is venerated by the group of Hindus at Sirur,
with the exception of the brahmins, and receives offerings on a regular
basis. An American missionary tried to put a stop to these practices, but
he died suddenly of cholera, which only served to reinforce the belief in
the posthumous powers of Col. Wallace.

Geography of Relics
The very choice of location for the relics of a holy person, and notably the
body, is a significant one and inserts itself generally into India’s sacred
geography, a geography said to be “real,” as Mircea Eliade says, distin-
guishing it from profane, diffuse, and undefined geography.23 The sacred
thus becomes localizable, Hic locus est, “this is the place.”24 The tombs
of spiritual masters are usually located in spaces marked by their mythic
character, and/or in places of great and sometimes spectacular beauty, thus
contributing to the master’s prestige. It is not rare to venerate a sage at his
or her tomb located at the foot of a sacred mountain, as is the case with
Ramana Maharshi, whose tomb is found at the base of the sacred moun-
tain of Arunachala, Śiva’s mountain. This is also the case with the Marathi
saint Nivrittinath, whose samādhi is at the foot of the sacred Brahmagiri
mountain, where there are regularly chanters who come to interpret the
mystic chants (abhaṇga) of his little brother Jnaneshwar.
We often observe that there is water near the tombs, which, by its sym-
bolic character of regeneration, recalls both death and rebirth. It is cer-
tainly no accident that Mā’s tomb is located only a few meters from the
edge of the Ganges. There is a presence of trees, and notably of banyan
trees, which are often associated with tombs of great spiritual beings. It
 The Cult of Relics in Hinduism 73

is said that the spirit of the sage inhabits certain species of trees, making
them the object of devotion.25 This explains the reason for the devotees of
Sri Aurobindo and of Mother touching their foreheads, in a sign of rever-
ence, to the banyan which is located by their samādhis. There is also the
case of Ramakrishna who had the habit of meditating under an immense
pañcabati (a sacred fig tree or ficus Indica religiosa), which is today the
object of devotion for his devotees and which constitutes a privileged site
for yogis.
Saligrama K. Ramachandra Rao emphasizes the importance of the
tree in the Indian tradition and affirms that it was always associated with
Indian temples:

The Upanishads speak of the ‘inverted tree’, asvattha, with roots

hidden above and branches spreading below (Katha, 2, 3, 1). The
tree is an ancient analogue of life here and beyond. We find ref-
erences to it in the Rigveda itself, and we find it illustrated in the
Indus Valley seals. The folk cults are filled with reverential involve-
ments of trees. Trees have been claimed as totems, trees have been
worshipped as divinities, and trees have played an important role
in our economy. The two trends in the growth of the tree, the nor-
mal upward and the spiritual downward, emphasize the principle
of complementarity in human life. The Indian temple has not only
been associated with trees, but it is in fact a representation of the
life-tree. It pictures the principle of complementarity. The sanctum
is a model of the normal tree with roots below and branches above;
and the spiral tower of the sanctum symbolizes the inverted tree,
with roots above and the spreading branches below.26

Mā’s samādhi is located in the exact same place where there had previously
been a banyan tree that fell naturally a few months before her mahāsamādhi
(literally great samādhi or the death of the saint). Designating the tree’s
location, Mā had always let it be understood (even years before her death)
that her body would one day be found at that spot: “One day, this body will
rest here. It will not speak, but it will see absolutely everything.” Mā paid
a lot of attention to trees and compared them even to gurus: “Let trees be
your guru. They give their fruits and their shade.”27 She also said: “Go,
sit under this tree. The tree signifies a saint, a truly realized Being that
can lead you to God.”28 Although there is no longer a tree at Mā’s tomb,
some disciples can still remember the presence of the banyan tree. Thus,
74 When a Goddess Dies

the tree is strongly associated with great spiritual beings, to the point of
even awakening the sage in his tomb, as a legend of the Marathi saint
Jnaneshwar demonstrates. He appeared in the dreams of saint Eknath,
asking him to remove the root of a tree that had wrapped itself around his
neck in his tomb.29
We also may note the mythic character of the place where Mā’s tomb
is located. The fact that her tomb is found in Kankhal, near Hardwar, is
not due to the simple fact that the Kankhal ashram is larger and more
recently built than the Kishenpur ashram at Dehra Dun, the place where
Mā left her body. It is certain that the placement of Mā’s tomb at Kankhal
is due in no small part to the sacred nature of the space, as it is located
a few meters from the mythic site of Dakṣinesvāra, where Satī is said to
have thrown herself in the fire before the refusal of her father to accept
her love for Śiva. Eliade also gives the following description of Kankhal
and Dakṣinesvāra:

Kankhal is located on the other side of Hardwar, two miles from the
ghat. You arrive on a road bordered by large, wealthy white houses
and by gardens full of cypress trees. The route follows for a while
the banks of a channel with green and rapid water. At all hours of
the day, you meet from both directions groups of travellers and of
pilgrims who walk without haste, not thinking of the time spent
travelling, their gaze attentive, greeting everyone they meet on
their path.
The temple of Daksheshvara [sic], famous throughout India, its
old, humid walls surrounded by giant poplars and acacias. I enter
after having deposed my shoes before the door into the courtyard;
the shadow of oaks, the calm. The Ganges runs in front of the
temple, and this sacred, supernatural silence is no longer broke by
the rumble of these waves of cries of monkeys that leap among
the trees. A few old devotees take care of the small altars—they are
numerous and ancient—next to the temple of Siva. Ruins, columns
of burned brick, laurel and virgin vine, creeping white flowers,
squirrels. Pilgrims come to bathe in the Ganges, anointing their
forehead with the sacred golden dust.30

Thus, Mā’s samādhi is located next to the mythic site of Dakṣinesvāra.

However, for Mā’s devotees, the true location where Satī left her mortal
shell would be at the very place where Mā’s tomb is now located, as the
 The Cult of Relics in Hinduism 75

Figure 2.2 Temple where Mā Ānandamayī’s samādhi (tomb) is located.

Source: Photograph taken by an English devotee of Mā, Christopher Pegler.

following Indian old devotee says: “The samādhi is a very important place
because Satī Devī left her body in that place. To me, that is the original
place. That place is very auspicious.” Some devotees go so far as to affirm
that the exact location of the Satī would in reality be at the level of the tomb
of Mā’s mother, Didimā.
The proximity of Hardwar, one of the most famous cities for pilgrim-
age in India, also reinforces the mythic and sacred location of Mā’s tomb.
Eliade speaks of Hardwar as the archetypal location for Hindu pilgrim-
age: “All of those who demonstrate some interest in religiosity and have a
certain respect for these moral ‘athletes’ of ascetism and solitude speak of
Hardwar; that is to say that all of India talks about it. Hardwar is the loca-
tion for salvation for orphans of fate and those thirsty for true freedom.”31
Mā’s tomb is inserted then within a geography already considered to
be sacred, not only due to its proximity to the sacred Ganges River, but to
the mythic sites of Hardwar and of Dakṣinesvāra at Kankhal as well. In its
location, the tomb thus contributes to the development of Mā’s cult.
76 When a Goddess Dies

Burial Practices and Sanctity

In traditional Hindu society, death is often perceived as a source of impu-
rity, as it is the synonym of pollution. As the dead body taints the atmo-
sphere, there is a pressing desire among Hindus to dispose of the body
as soon as possible through cremation.32 Despite the idea that pollution
is inherent to the dead body, there are nevertheless several situations
in which the body is considered sacred. This is the case with the bodies
of a sacred person, or renunciant (saṃnyāsin). Contrary to traditional
custom in Hinduism, the body of the liberated being, the enlightened
one, is buried and not cremated, counter to the brahminical attitude
regarding death. The body of the deceased saint, designated by the term
ucchiṣṭa33 to indicate physical remains, is far from being considered a
polluting agent, as it is viewed as sacred. The tomb of the realized being
becomes an imposing place due the fact that it houses a “body delivered
into a state of permanent meditation”34 and in which energy continues
to circulate.35
The Indian tradition of burying renunciants seems to be a fairly old
one.36 It is described in two ancient texts, the Baudhayana-pitṛmedha Sūtra
and the Vaikhanasasmārtasūtra (V, 8), as well as in more recent texts such
as Smṛtyarthaśastra (written in the year 1200), which Pandurang Vaman
Kane examines in his work History of Dharmaśastra.37
We should specify that this practice of burying renunciants also applies
to two other cases, that of children dead before the age of 2 and those
who suffered a cruel and unusual death. Children are considered to be
like renunciants, liminal figures due to their position outside of the caste
system. As they performed no real actions before their death, their kar-
mic baggage is also considered neutral, at least as to what was accumu-
lated in that lifetime. In the same way, individuals who suffered horrible
deaths are not cremated after their death; these people died violently,
some accidentally, others drowned or were bitten by a snake, etc. (cf.
Vaikhanasasmārtasūtra V, 11).38 In addition to renunciants, young children,
and victims of horrible deaths, there are other cases in which the deceased
is buried instead of cremated. For example, the Vīraśaivas or Liṅgāyats
(bearer of liṅgam) practice burial among their initiated Liṅgāyat devotees,
whose status then has nothing to do with caste, social background, and
life stages (āśrama). Also the members of the Tiruvavatuturai order (Tamil
Nadu) are considered on their death (civaparipuranam, or death) to have
attained the “fullness of Śiva.”39
 The Cult of Relics in Hinduism 77

Although the burial practice does not apply to satī mātās, these women
who burn themselves alive in the funeral pyre of their deceased husband,
and to vīras, heroes sacrificed on the field of battle, it is however impor-
tant here to mention them. By virtue of the violence of their death, these
individuals are generally deified and steles are dedicated to them, which
is unusual considering the little presence of funerary art within Hindu
culture.40 Due to their heroic sacrifice, vīras and satīs are considered pow-
erful beings, often endowed with powers of healing or protection, and,
to a certain extent, are viewed as renunciants or saints, as they become
the object of a cult at a funerary monument.41 It is interesting to observe
that, although these heroes are deified and their memory is preserved by
a stone tomb, for many, these sorts of violent deaths would nevertheless
hardly be considered auspicious, as horrible deaths are perceived as more
polluting than natural deaths.42
To return to the subject of renunciants, the practice of interring their
bodies can be justified by the symbolic self-cremation that they perform
on entering into a state of renunciation (sannyāsa). Therefore, they cannot
be cremated a second time after their death.43 This ritual cremation could
be at the origin of the burial of saints.44 Charles Malamoud has the follow-
ing to say on this subject:

The complex ceremony which marks one’s entry into ‘renunciation’

consists of allowing one’s sacrificial fires to extinguish after having
incinerated one’s sacrificial utensils, as an ultimate fuel source, in
a final oblation. One’s fire are not abolished for all this: they are
rather internalized, inhaled; they are made to ‘mount back’ into one-
self (samāropaṇa), such as the renouncer’s own person thenceforth
becomes at once the seat of, and the raw material for, a burning
up, a permanent oblation, offered upon that internal flame that is
the Veda.90 We can see that the renouncer settles down at the dīkṣā
stage of sacrifice: his non-sacrifice is an endless dīkṣā. For the dīkṣita
proper, the internal sacrificial cooking process is separate from the
act of cooking. As for the renunciant, who is often designated as a
tapasvin, as ‘one who heats himself up’, he eschews cooking, since
by definition, he has in a sense done away with his external fires.
Constantly performing the essential fire, the cooking of the self, he
renders useless and impossible the cooking of any substitute.
Furthermore, because he is cooked from the inside while still
alive, the saṃnyāsin had no need of being cooked after his death: he
78 When a Goddess Dies

is therefore not burned, not buried.91 The funerary arrangements

for ‘men of the world’ are different from those reserved for
‘renouncers’. They have given their lives a different orientation;
therefore, their postmortem fates carry them in different direc-
tions. But, more than this and most especially, they are not made
of the same oblatory stuff: ordinary men, like animal victims, are
first put to death and then offered into the flames that cook them
and carry them up to the world of the gods. As for the renunciants,
they begin by cooking themselves. But by internalizing their fires,
they have also abolished the possibility of being borne upwards to a
divinity located outside of themselves. By establishing themselves
as offerings from the outset, and by adhering to this role down
to the very end, they have transformed their own persons, their
ātmans identified with the universal Self, into their divinity: they
are ātma-yājins. To ‘renounce’, therefore, is to raise one’s tapas to
that temperature at which a fusion occurs between the divinity,
sacrificier and victim—and this is both the climax and final death
of a sacrifice.45

Thus, the renunciant’s body, this temple of God, cannot be exposed to

this burning by the sacrificial funerary fire that constitutes cremation, and
his body can no longer be the object of oblation through fire. The crema-
tion of the bodies of renunciants is also marked by the absence of friends
and family mourning them. All post funerary rites or śraddhas are absent,
and the cult of the Manes, or the cult of ancestors, is for this reason not
required.46
After this discussion on the burial of renunciants, it is important to
describe its process. It calls on numerous rules that take account of astro-
logical and mathematical information. The following is how the entomb-
ment of renunciants’ bodies is carried out:

We dig a grave, generally on the banks of a river; you place the body
in the sitting position of meditation said to be samādhi. We fill the
body with salt so that the body will be supported, fixed in this pos-
ture by the mass of salt surrounding him, rising up to his chin; only
the head rises above the salt; we break the skull by hitting it with
a coconut or a large shell: the soul reaches the world of Brahman
more surely, as popular opinion holds, if it leaves through an open-
ing made at the highest extremity of the body. Above the grave,
 The Cult of Relics in Hinduism 79

around their head, we erect a burial mound, also called a samādhi.

This tomb is the true location of the cult, it is a sanctuary, a place
for pilgrimage, a place for those who feel spiritually linked to the
deceased (I am not speaking of blood relations) to come to com-
memorate him with offerings, prayers, absolutions, and to leave
these things at the site.47

We should specify that the body of the renunciant is placed in a lotus

position in the samādhi facing the south, as was the case with Mā’s body.
This custom of breaking the skull is not limited to saṃnyāsins, but is
also practiced by the families of non-renunciants before their relatives’
cremation.48
Thus, this practice of interment was applied to both Mā’s body as well
as her mother’s. The other saṃnyāsins and saṃnyāsinis in Mā’s saṅgha
were immersed in the Ganges, a practice known as jhal-samādhi, as is
often the custom for saṃnyāsins.49 This was the case with the Austrian
disciple Atmananda, who, although a foreigner, was given this honor due
to her status.
If the bodies of sages are generally buried, it should also be noted that
they are sometimes cremated if they were married, as was the case with
Gandhi, who is today venerated at his memorial at Delhi,50 or with Lahiri
Mahasaya, whose ashes are located at his ashram at Kankhal. Other exam-
ples include the couples of Ramakrishna and Sarada Devi, and Ramdas
and the Mother Krishnabai. This is not always the case, as some married
gurus are interred rather than cremated on their death. Mā Ānandamayī is,
of course, one such example, for, although she was married to Bholanāth,
her body was buried. This is explained by Mā’s affirmation that her mar-
riage was never consummated physically, as the renunciation associated
to sanctity generally precludes the absence of sexual desire in the Hindu
tradition.
I should also address another element associated with the burial of
realized beings, which, in the West, is called burial ad sanctos. Some devo-
tees wishing to benefit from a sage’s protection after his or her death may
express a desire to be interred next to his or her tomb. This type of practice
that is often encountered among Muslims,51 Christians,52 and sometimes
Buddhists53 does not occur in Hinduism, however, for as we stated earlier,
only sages, children, and those who suffered a cruel and unusual death
(and occasionally kings) may be interred. Thus, is it normal to observe the
absence of tombs of devotees surrounding Mā’s tomb.
80 When a Goddess Dies

Incorruptibility and Odor of Sanctity

Another aspect of the cult of relics is a belief in incorruptibility of the
body of the sage. The non-decomposition of the saint’s body or at least the
belief therein may be an important factor in the development of the cult
after his or her death. Far from being considered a malediction, as was the
case with vampirism in Central Europe during the seventeenth century,
manifestations of an incorruptible body contribute to the recognition of
the person’s sanctity,54 and is thus perceived by many as a major character-
istic of sanctity. This sign of incorruptibility that defies the laws of nature
actually reflects a state of sanctity already present before death. As Sofia
Gajano says in her study on relics, the body of the saint, this “physical
reality in which is written the spiritual path” can only remain “holy” after
death.55 It is then natural that the powers of the saint should be conserved
beyond death, and in his or her body.
If this phenomenon of incorruptibility is often encountered in the
Christian tradition, as with the case of Saint Francis Xavier’s body in
Goa, whose toe was reportedly bitten by a follower in surge of devotion
years after his death,56 it is also found in Hinduism. According to Hindu
belief, the body of the sage does not undergo rigor mortis as an ordinary
man’s body does, but retains a “state of freshness” in the tomb, also not
undergoing putrefaction and decomposition for thousands of years. The
body of a deceased sage continues to be inhabited by his or her soul
that travels in the three worlds (lokas), the sky, the earth, and the lower
world.57 This idea is often accompanied by the belief that a devotee’s
intense prayer may reanimate the body of the guru. Some of Aurobindo’s
followers, seeing the incorruptibility of their master’s body, thought he
was coming back to life.58 The testimony of the Mother of Pondicherry
also illustrates this belief in the postmortem life of the physical body of
the saint:

This body must be left in peace . . . they should not be in a hurry to

put it into the hole . . . because even after the doctors have declared
it “dead” it will be conscious—the cells are conscious—and it will
know it, it will feel it, and this will again add one more misery to all
those it has had.59

Thus the tradition of corpus incorruptum, the body remaining intact after
death, is present in the Hindu tradition. The body of Shirdi Sai Baba, one
 The Cult of Relics in Hinduism 81

of the most famous examples, showed such signs after his death, as well
as the famous yogi Yogananda’s body. There is also the case of Swami
Ramatirtha whose body was found intact a week after his death from
drowning in the Ganges.60 The phenomenon of incorruptibility is not said
to be present with all great spiritual beings, only some who have a specific
reason for making use of it, such as Yogananda who wanted to demon-
strate the value of yoga in the West. This corporal non-decomposition is
sometimes said to be accompanied by other extraordinary manifestations,
such as emanations of light coming from the saint’s body. This is a com-
mon belief in the Hindu tradition, particularly in the Siddha tradition. It
is often expected by disciples, as was the case in the death of Aurobindo,
described by Alexandra David-Neel:

Many devotees expected to contemplate miracles around the

funeral bed. That didn’t happen. Some followers declared that they
had seen luminous emanations from their master’s body. No trace
of decomposition appeared for four and a half days (exactly eleven
hours and thirty-six minutes, according to ashram officials). The
‘Mother’ interpreted this fact in declaring that Sri Aurobindo’s body
had been impregnated with such a concentration of supernatural
light that it had stalled his decomposition.61

As Mā’s body was conserved in ice for her last physical darśana, her fol-
lowers were not able to establish what kind of state her body would have
been in without refrigeration. Devotees are thus free to believe in the
incorruptibility of her body if they wish. Interviews however reveal some
indifference on the part of devotees regarding this question, and whether
her body decomposed or not after her death does not seem to hold much
importance. The absence of signs of the incorruptibility of her body would
not question her divinity, and if they had discovered a corpus incorruptum
on reopening her tomb, as it is practiced in the Catholic tradition when
there is an elevation or a transfer in the course of the canonization pro-
cess, this would constitute only a supplementary sign of her power. For
the majority of her followers, the question of the incorruptibility of Mā’s
body is thus a relatively insignificant one, only pertaining to “material”
matters: “I have no opinion on that. For me, this is material. Whether
her body has turned into flowers, or something else, it is only a question
of inquisitiveness which I don’t have. I am concerned with Mā only.” In
invoking scientific reasons, some followers imply that it is possible that
82 When a Goddess Dies

Mā’s body did not decompose due to the fact that 40 kilograms of rock salt
were placed in her tomb, suggesting the absence of infiltration with water.
Thus, if signs of incorruptibility contribute to the construction of divinity,
it does not seem to be a determining element in the cult’s expansion after
the death of the sage.
Another sign of sanctity is related to the smell of the body after death,
that is, the famous “odor of sanctity,” the “sweet smell” which is often
mentioned as present during the life of accomplished spiritual beings.
As to the incorruptibility of their body, this phenomenon of the odor of
sanctity is associated mainly with the Christian tradition. However, it is
not rare to hear it said in India, and notably among Hindus, that there
is an odor of sanctity emanating from a saint’s body, an “inversion of
the funerary to the vernal,” as Debray describes it.62 This odor, which
as Van Der Leeuw specifies is not completely metaphorical,63 is said to
be a sort of pleasant perfume originating from the saint’s body at death
and contributes to the mysterious conservation of the body an addi-
tional sense of the sacred. It reflects, according to Catherine Grémion,
a certain monism demonstrating the union of the soul and the body.64
This odor of sanctity at death is sometimes said to be associated with a
state of purity present in the body of the sage before his or her death.
Buddha’s body, according to some Buddhist texts, did not need to be
washed for his funeral.65 This physical purity preceding the death of
the liberated one also is manifested in the absence of excretions and
unpleasant smells.66
In the case of Mā Ānandamayī, there are no accounts testifying to
the phenomenon of the odor of sanctity on her death, although many
of her followers have remarked on the divine smell Mā emanated dur-
ing her lifetime. Thus, the existence of a pleasant smell after death
becomes a supplementary corroboration of divinity but does not seem
to be absolutely necessary to recognizing the sanctity of sages, as Mā’s
case demonstrates.

Relics and the Feminine

As Ānandamayī Mā was a woman, it seems necessary to address the exist-
ing relationship between relics and the feminine, especially the reasons
why the cult of relics is even less common for female gurus in the Hindu
tradition.
 The Cult of Relics in Hinduism 83

Relics and Women

Mā Ānandamayī’s tomb constitutes an exception in the Hindu universe of
guruship, as it is extremely rare to find tombs of female gurus in India.
This inequality is all the more surprising considering the greater partici-
pation of women in the cult compared to men.
First of all, it is difficult for a Hindu woman to follow a spiritual path,
and thus to be recognized as a saint, as women traditionally marry and
are dependent upon their husbands following the laws of Manu and the
ideals of the pativrata, that is to say the ideal of the perfect woman. In
fact, the Hindu tradition considers the renunciation of the world to not be
the destiny of women.67 The ascetic way, often symbolized by the body’s
nudity, which is forbidden to women by societal norms, thus constitutes
a masculine path in Hinduism, and female renunciants are to a certain
point considered dangerous as they are free from men.68 Regarding this
matter, do the saṃnyāsins not say that the woman is the way to hell (narak
kā dvāra)? Thus, this lack of female gurus’ tombs can be explained in part
by how difficult it is for a woman to follow the path of the renunciant.
This inequality also stems from the lack of societal recognition for
female gurus, as women are perceived as śūdras, the fourth and most
inferior of the Hindu castes, and are thus not able to access sacred writ-
ings.69 Although some women were in the past perceived as true saints,
their role as a spiritual master or soteriological agent (guru) however was
never really recognized. This is the case with the saint Mirabai and the
saint Andal, both of whom continue to be venerated in Rajasthan and
Villiputtur, respectively,70 in Southern India, despite possessing no tomb.
For if these women represent models of devotion, their capacity to teach
and to transmit was never truly recognized. For this reason it has been
historically rare for a female Hindu saint to be seen as a guru71 and to be
venerated as such during or after her lifetime. The Dharmaśastra specifi-
cally holds that the role of the guru is principally destined for men. The
role of the female guru was seen as a marginal one and was far from being
recognized by traditional Hinduism; the absence of a female form of the
word “guru” also reflects this state of affairs.72 In orthodox circles, it was
even thought until recently that a woman could not become enlightened
and could not thus lead individuals on the path to liberation.73 A book
by Bhaiji, a close disciple of Mā’s, mentions this in relation to a story in
which Bhaiji’s brother-in-law affirmed that a woman like Mā could not lead
a being to spiritual enlightenment.74 In an informal conversation, Swami
84 When a Goddess Dies

Figure 2.3 Samādhi (tomb) of Mā Ānandamayī, Kankhal. Swami Vijayānanda:

“Make a vow at the samādhi, it will be fulfilled.”
Source: Picture taken by French photographer Caroline Abitbol.

Vijayānanda also evoked the statements of a brahmin at Varanasi who had

suggested that he follow a male guru as opposed to Mā Ānandamayī, as a
woman could not perform the role of guru.
Thus, this lack of recognition for female renunciants as gurus is
reflected in the near absence of sects founded by women75 and is closely
associated with the rarity of women’s tombs today. In this context, Mā
Ānandamayī, during her lifetime, constituted one of the rare exceptions.
Although she was never affirmed as a guru, she nevertheless performed
that role for many disciples, for they saw in her a being capable of guid-
ing them on the path to realization. The fact that Mā Ānandamayī was at
the basis of a religious movement, along with the establishment of nearly
thirty ashrams across India, without a doubt contributed to the construc-
tion of a samādhi in her honor.
Although it has been extremely rare to encounter female saints ven-
erated on the site of their own tombs, such a practice, however, might
develop in the near future considering the growing acceptance of female
 The Cult of Relics in Hinduism 85

gurus (referring more specifically to Amma or Gurumayi).76 Mā, in some

sense, opened the door to affirming the religious leadership of women
within a strongly patriarchal society.

Feminine Configuration of Relics

If the internment of female gurus is uncommon in the Hindu tradition,
there are nevertheless some rare cases of female gurus interred on their
death. With the exception of Mā Ānandamayī, these women are almost
always venerated in association with a male guru. As a result, the sacred
space is not the location of the woman’s tomb but of two tombs, that of
the woman and the man with whom she is associated. If this association
often reveals the woman’s subordination to the man, sainted though she
may be, there may also be a complementary relationship between them,
Śiva and Śakti. The samādhi of Aurobindo and the Mother constitutes an
interesting example of this, in the sense that the placement of the two
bodies, hers on top of his, consciously calls to mind tantric representa-
tions of Śakti placed upon Śiva. This demonstrates the complementarity
of the feminine prakṛti, active and dynamic, and the masculine puruṣa,
which is passive and unacting.77 Ramdas and Krishnabai are also vener-
ated in their ashram in Kerala, the Anandashram, on the same principle,
although in different tombs, or cenotaphs as it were, in which their ashes
were preserved. The case of Ramakrishna and Sarada Devi, whose ashes
were also conserved under their respective statues in Belur Math at the
seat of the Ramakrishna Mission, differs slightly, as the cult of the sainted
couple is more centered on Ramakrishna than on his wife Sarada Devi.
This of course reveals two facets to her role, the “woman who follows,”
that is, the traditional Hindu woman, and the “complementary woman,”
demonstrating that Śiva cannot be separated from Śakti. Finally, it is
interesting to look at the case of Ramana Maharshi and his mother, rec-
ognized as a saint since her death. If she does not hold a central role in
the cult, she nevertheless plays an important one as she is a figure of
the Divine Mother, and as such, her tomb is located next to her son’s.78
This brings us back to the considerable role the Divine Mother plays for
those who wish to attain supreme liberation, as seen in the devotion
to the Mother by Shankaracharya, this great philosopher and religious
reformer of the eighth century. Though a saṃnyāsin, someone who had
died to his old life, he is said to have defied the norm to light his mother’s
funeral pyre.
86 When a Goddess Dies

Because of the absence of an association with the masculine, Mā’s

tomb represents an exception in the relics’ landscape. Her samādhi is
characterized by its independence and, in this sense, can be considered a
śakti pīṭha, a powerful site where a relic of the goddess lies and where it is
venerated in all its splendor.79 This brings us back to the vision of the god-
dess present in the Devī-mahātmya, that is to say, that of an autonomous,
independent goddess with no partner.80 The Hindu tradition generally rec-
ognizes the independent, supreme goddess, or the Great Goddess, that is
to say she who was not fashioned in relation to a male consort, to be more
powerful but also more violent and more dangerous than the goddess
associated with a masculine partner, the so-called “small goddess,” possi-
bly due to the absence of erotic associations and the subsequent retention
of her sexual energy.81 In this context, Fuller speaks of the “hot” goddesses
to designate these independent and celibate goddesses whose power is
not channeled by a sexual relationship,82 and whose prakṛti is thus not
checked. As Marglin specifies, if the power of the woman (śakti), which is
neutral at its base, is not channeled by a sexual relationship, it oscillates
between a destructive and beneficial force.83 In this respect, Mā could be
seen to represent a powerful but also dangerous figure, in that she dis-
turbs the profane world with respect to its sacred dissolution. Thus, the
examples show that through the configurations of female relics, different
visions of the feminine can be seen. Relics of Mā Ānandamayī, in their
autonomous presentation at her tomb, reveal a divine woman completely
assuming her powers.
Despite her status as a married woman and the historical scarcity
of postmortem cults associated with female Hindu religious figures, Mā
Ānandamayī is certainly an exceptional figure. Within a male-dominated
funerary tradition, Mā represents then the beginning of independent
female spiritual leadership in the Hindu world, and her tomb a symbol of
the affirmation of the feminine. The cult of her relics offers a new possibil-
ity within the Hindu universe of guruship, opening up a path for venera-
tion of future women gurus after their death.

Presence and Relics

By virtue of the presence and the power conferred upon them, but also
because of the reflection on death that they encourage, relics constitute key
agents in accessing the sacred. This study consists then in approaching
 The Cult of Relics in Hinduism 87

the sacred at Mā’s samādhi, not only through its traits of presence (sanni-
dhi) and of power (śakti) but also through its association with death.

Relics as Central Points

As Jacob Kinnard affirmed, in addressing relics, the language of “pres-
ence” must be employed.84 Muslims hold saints to be continually present
at their tombs,85 as the Christian tradition does at their sepulcher. Brown
calls this the praesentia of the saint, going so far as to consider the relic to
be the saint himself or herself, for as Thomas Head emphasizes regarding
medieval Christianity: “The relics of the saint in the shrine are the saint.”86
The Theravada Buddhist tradition also affirms the presence of the Buddha
in his relics, as is indicated by the comments of the monk Mohinda, the
son of the emperor Ashoka, who affirms that to view the relics of the
Buddha is equivalent to beholding the Buddha himself.87 Bareau confirms
this: “The participation of the stūpa in the sacred character of relics and
of the Buddha or the saint tends to personalize the monument . . . since
before our era then the stūpa has been more than a symbol of the Buddha,
it is the Buddha himself.”88 And if others contend that the relic is not the
Buddha and is only a substitute, it is nevertheless totally permeated with
the qualities of the Buddha, possessing the ability to act as the Buddha did
during his lifetime.89
We similarly find this idea of presence inherent in relics in the Hindu
tradition, where it is said that the holy person leaves his or her presence,
also called sannidhi, or at least some part of it at his or her tomb.90 Before
dying, Sai Baba de Shirdi is said to have stated the following concern-
ing his posthumous presence at his tomb: “I shall be active and vigorous
even from the tomb” or even that “my mortal remains will speak from the
tomb.”91 The Hindu tradition also holds that the presence of the sage is
strong at his or her tomb, from which the name samādhi (camati in Tamil)
to designate the tomb comes, as the sage continues to meditate there in
a state of profound beatitude. Some episodes in Mā Ānandamayī’s life
reflect this belief in a posthumous presence of the holy being at his or her
tomb, as this event related in writings on Mā demonstrates:

Mā’s husband and several friends met her, when she was pray-
ing near the grave of a Fakir according to the tenets of the Koran.
Occasionally similar situations were repeated. And Mā was com-
pletely fluent in the complexity of the Muslim prayer, although she
88 When a Goddess Dies

said, “she knew” nothing about this, when asked. She also said then
that she communicated with the spirits of the deceased Muslim
sages and saints, as she was often visited by beings no longer alive
among us.92

This belief in the presence (sannidhi) of the sage at his or her tomb
is very strong within the cult in relation to Mā’s samādhi. Atmananda
affirmed this: “You know, you can’t even say that she left her body.
There where it lies, at Kankhal, you feel the radiation of her Presence.”93
For the large majority of her followers, Mā’s presence at her tomb is
beyond doubt and, for this reason, many consider her samādhi to be a
special place, a place where Mā’s energy is felt with greater force than
elsewhere: “Samādhi, that is the concentrated Mā there, as a shrine.
Naturally, it is an important place. When we go there, we feel her pres-
ence stronger. . . . If you sit in the samādhi, or around the samādhi, you
get very easily cut off from the rest of the world. It is very obvious.” Some
also evoke the existence of a “living energy” at the samādhi, as this old
male devotee:

I do feel the samādhi really has a vivid energy. It’s close to Mā as pos-
sible you get. Even now, maybe more than ever now, I feel greatly
benefited by being by the samādhi. I don’t like it here that much
actually. For myself, for example, I prefer to live in Varanasi. But
still, I have to admit that this unique energy here is important for
me. It doesn’t mean that I am going to stay here all the time. But it
is definitely a special place for me.

Others also perceive Mā’s presence at her samādhi as a sentiment of

well-being, like the sensation of being returned to yourself: “The energy
of the samādhi helps me, I feel like I am at home. I feel really well, I feel
the presence of Mā.” People also mention positive vibrations to evoke this
feeling of presence at Mā’s tomb: “You get positive vibes at samādhi, you
can concentrate in a better manner, it’s a cool, calm place. Moreover, you
feel Mā’s aura is there, because Mā’s remains are there. So naturally, it is
one of the most sacred places for us.” As testimonies on this subject are
numerous, only a few others will be cited:

As soon as I go into the samādhi, I feel the atmosphere is so charged.

Nothing is needed. It is like one to one with Mā when I sit there.
 The Cult of Relics in Hinduism 89

It is very special. It is the only special place . . . Where Mā’s body

is and where so many pūjā are taking place everyday, it has to be a
very special place.
For me, Mā’s presence is very strong there. There is something
very special.

We note that this quality of presence, this energy that devotees mention at
Mā’s samādhi seems to differ according to the samādhi, as the account of
this new follower, a Western woman, testifies to; she compares the energy
at each tomb’s location to the smell of perfume:

The samādhi of Swami Muktananda, it’s a completely different

energy than the samādhi of Mā. It’s not the same quality. It’s like
perfumes, there are different perfumes. It’s not in the form of per-
fume but it’s an intensity, a quality of energy that is different. At
Ganeshpuri, there is also the samādhi of Nityananda, and there is
again a totally different energy. At Shivananda’s, it’s different. At
Alandi, it’s teenage. Aurobindo, it’s again something else. Ramana
Maharshi, it’s also a different quality. But the “divine” presence, as
we say, to put it into words, it is truly very concentrated.

It is also interesting to look to the expression of the “residual presence”

used by Swami Vijayānanda regarding the samādhi: “In the case of a great
sage like Mā, who left a residual presence, one may enter into contact
with this presence. And this contact can become a considerable aid to our
spiritual pursuit. The guru transmits power and he can do this even after
leaving his physical form.”94 This residual presence may be like a form of
a trace, a memory, as this close disciple of Swami Vijayānanda explains:

With the word residual, you touch on something that is seen also
with the memory, but a memory that lies with physical elements,
elements that have existed, and it’s there where I distinguish it
from the ‘virtual’, it’s concrete. You address to a physical presence.
For me, it’s very important that Mā existed. It’s not the Divine
Mother in the absolute, the fact that there was a passage to earth,
that there was a body, that she was born into a body and that now
there is the samādhi, it’s very very different. There is a presence on
the earth. . . . We don’t speak like that of the Divine Mother in space.
90 When a Goddess Dies

The fact that Mā took form, that she came into a physical body,
I think that it’s very important.

Thus, the tomb of the sage, this sacred enclave where time is abol-
ished, represents a “real and living point” to many, defined by Eliade as
the very origin of creation, as the source of “life’s energy.”95 Only in the
hierophanic space of the divine tomb is time overcome and transcended,
thereby allowing access to a radically different reality, a true and perma-
nent reality. The tomb of the sage symbolizes in this sense a point of rup-
ture of levels, a center access to which serves as a true initiation. Devotees
often speak of Mā’s samādhi as a “central point,” as this old disciple, a
Western man, affirms: “It is somehow a kind of consolation sitting in this
place, at the samādhi. I do feel Mā’s presence very strong. It’s a kind of
a central point where her power radiates from. It is definitely a special
place.” Another old follower, an Indian man, also evokes the role of reori-
entation associated with the samādhi:

It’s a very powerful place. No question about it. Mā has given me

there a new direction in life. Sometimes, you lose track. That’s why
this place becomes very important to me. I relate that place to the
change of direction in my life. The inner pursuit is so complex.
You don’t know whether you are going in the right direction or not.
Sometimes you think that everything is fine, but actually everything
is not fine. That’s the time when she guides you. I had very peace-
ful, very good experiences in this place. That’s why I keep going
back and I look forward to any excuse to go back there. I would find
any excuse to go there. The presence of Mā is very strong there. It’s
really a special place.

As such a center, the samādhi responds to disciples’ questions, as the fol-

lowing testimony demonstrates: “Time passed, I came back with all sorts
of questions, serious or futile, I have never returned from the samādhi-
mandir without a response.”96
The samādhi constitutes then, in the eyes of devotees, a true point of
convergence, a space of spiritual affluence. By its liminal character, Mā’s
tomb thus represents a point of junction between the earth and the heav-
ens, an intermediary between two distinct symbolic orders, between the
world of the living and the invisible world,97 and as a tīrtha, assures the
passage from the profane world, that of illusion, to the sacred world, that
 The Cult of Relics in Hinduism 91

of reality. In the same way that the stūpa allows us to escape from the sam-
saric wheel, the relic of the Hindu sage opens to us the door of entry to this
sacred reality, to this “other.”
Although for devotees, prayers, chants, and pūjās performed at the
samādhi serve to amplify Mā’s vibrations, today it seems that for some the
samādhi has lost some of this energy. This French man implies that this is
due to a less intense spiritual call:

That’s changed with time. As far as I’m concerned, it’s no longer

the same presence that I feel at the samādhi. At the very beginning,
four years ago, I felt a much stronger presence. And today, almost
nothing. It changes, but there is also a progression. . . . It’s not an
insignificant center. It’s a spiritual center. But one feels less of a
presence, as if maybe there are fewer devotees. The cult is perhaps
qualitatively less important. You feel less divine energy than before.
I think that it’s not subjective, it’s more objective because I’m used
to feeling through experience. I think that it’s due to the environ-
ment; I don’t think it’s me. You can ask other people too. There
is still an emanation from her remains, from her relics but they
carry less grace than before. It’s as if people weren’t calling [her].
The relics do not need to emanate grace for nothing, for absolutely
nothing. That may explain it. So you have to call her, you have to
invoke her. The request of the people is not necessarily there. When
I often speak to devotees, they tell me, me, enlightenment, it will be
for future lifetimes. There is no urgency. There is not this call, this
urgency, as if it was the last life. This isn’t there, there isn’t such a
call, so I don’t see why there would be a reactivation of the relics.

This recalls in a certain sense the comments of Jamous who also evokes
the idea of inactivity of the tomb when there is an absence of rituals and
of offerings to the saint. Without an intense call among devotees, the rel-
ics are essentially inactive, ceasing to emanate or to radiate their “grace.”
Although some devotees today feel less of a presence at Mā’s tomb
or samādhi, there is still a large portion of followers who consider Mā’s
samādhi to be the principal location of this presence. The corporal relic of
Mā forms then the central point of the postmortem cult for a significant
number of devotees. This vision of Mā’s tomb as a place of her presence
is opposed to the view of other devotees who hold that her presence is not
confined to a particular location. As this view conforms to a more Advaitic
92 When a Goddess Dies

conception of presence and relics, I will now address in detail the Advaitic
model with regard to these topics.

Presence and Relics in the Non-dual Vision

A certain number of devotees refute the affirmation that holds that Mā’s
presence is felt more strongly at her samādhi than elsewhere, for from a
Vedantic, non-dualistic perspective, Mā is everywhere and is not limited to
a particular place as this swami firmly declares:

People, out of their spiritual impulse, out of love for their mother,
feel the strong presence of Mā in and around samādhi. I don’t
believe it. If you feel the presence of Mā, you feel the presence in
full, anywhere. It is not “Mā’s stronger presence.” It is your strong
interaction with the place. It is your interaction. It is from your side.
There is nothing wrong in it, nothing bad in it. But be sure that
wherever Mā is, she is there in full but, because of our limitations,
we cannot feel her presence in full. So, we need some specific place.
If you are convinced about the universality of Mā, she must be pres-
ent anywhere, anytime, and in her fullness.

The assertion that holds Mā’s presence not to be limited to her tomb is
repeated in many testimonies, as in the following by this Indian man, an
early disciple of Mā’s:

I know that Mā is here and everywhere. Mā is a worldly Mā. Why,

you people, came over here, from so far away? Mā is everywhere.
The world is Mā. Her body is a flying bird. Two, three times, I came
back to Mā’s samādhi but I don’t feel that I have to go there espe-
cially. Mā is everywhere, in any place. Why should I go there?

For this other early male disciple of Mā’s, a Westerner who is also a devo-
tee of the Mother Krishnabai, the vision of the divine must be enlarged
and not simply reduced to a tomb:

I like it there [the samādhi] but I don’t feel that it is so special. I have
a little box in my room, in England, with a little bit of the ashes of
Krishnabai. I consider it as a samādhi. . . . Of course, it’s a very nice
atmosphere in Kankhal. We should have respect for things that are
 The Cult of Relics in Hinduism 93

truly sacred. But we shouldn’t particularize too much. If we say that

the sacred is only there and nowhere else, then it becomes very dif-
ficult to widen our vision, which they want us to do, they want us to
widen our vision.

Like many great spiritual beings, Mā had always affirmed that she was not
“this body.” The cult of her samādhi, in that sense, would be like a regres-
sion from the Advaitic or non-dual teaching that she supported. In this
regard, she also affirmed her refusal to be confined to a particular place:

“I never leave you. Why do you want to push me away? I am always

with you.” And someone asks, “Mā, you live then in our heart?”
And Mataji responded, “In your heart? Why do you want to confine
me to a special place? I am in the blood of your blood, the bones of
your bones. It’s the truth. You can believe me. I never lie.”98

For Swami Bhaskarānanda, who was perceived by many as being one with
Mā, “Mā is not there, She is inside and outside.” He did not consider her
samādhi to be particularly important as, for him, the force with which an
individual feels Mā’s presence depends on his own spiritual aspiration
and not on a particular place: “It depends upon your intensity and aspira-
tion, your own faith.” Others agree with this view, as the following testi-
mony from an Indian woman, an early disciple, shows:

I wouldn’t say Mā’s presence is more in the samādhi. It is your own

expression. If Mā is within you all the time, you will see Mā any-
where. If I am walking on the road, and if I am thinking of Mā very
strongly, I feel Mā on the road, walking right next to me. It is a pro-
jection of your own self. It’s a projection of your own thoughts. It’s
a projection of your own feeling. It is your projection of your own
belief, that Mā is this or that. If Mā is within you all the time, you
will see Mā anywhere. My feeling is that Mā is with me all the time.
I will love you also because you are also a part of Mā. Mā is every-
where. That’s why love and compassion for everybody just draws.
Everything belongs to Mā.

But although certain devotees refuse to confine Mā’s presence to her

samādhi or to another place, the samādhi seems to represent for them a
particular place where Mā’s presence is objectively easier to feel: “She is
94 When a Goddess Dies

everywhere but we feel her presence there, at her samādhi.” Mā’s samādhi
represents a place where her presence is easily perceived compared to
other places, as Swami Kedarnath affirms: “I feel her presence every-
where. To me, Mā is everything. There is no particular place attached to
her. Everywhere I get her vibrations, because everything is Mā. But, it is
true; some places have got special vibrations. The samādhi is one of these
places. You feel strong vibrations there.” Although the presence felt at
the samādhi does not equal the presence that is felt within, the follow-
ing French disciple, a recent devotee, also recognizes the importance of
this place:

It’s a recentering. Instead of going on vacation at Club Med, I prefer

to come to the samādhi. It relaxes me. I feel more in harmony. And
then, that’s all. It’s not extraordinary. . . . But it’s nevertheless impor-
tant. You can’t banalize the samādhi, and neither can you place it
under a highway. History, it counts. Even if you have to leave history
to become enlightened. But it counts, it’s a way to recenter yourself,
it’s a memory. It’s like a book, a photo. It’s charged, but it’s not this
extraordinary presence that you feel on the inside, when you do a
sādhanā.

While affirming that Mā is everywhere, another new Western disciple, a

woman, evokes her “concentrated” presence at the samādhi: “Mā’s pres-
ence is everywhere, she is not only here. Here, it’s concentrated if I can
put it that way. It’s a bit like your mother. You go to see your mom, you go
to see her on vacation and then after, you will continue on with your life.
When you’re a certain age, you’re not hanging around your mother all the
time anymore.”
There seems to be a wide range of perspectives on the presence’s sig-
nificance at the samādhi. If for many devotees, there is no doubt that Mā’s
presence is felt more intensely at her samādhi, for others, her presence
is not at all associated with a specific place, although they admit that the
samādhi is a special place. In addition, notable differences do not seem
to exist between men and women or between Westerners and Indians
regarding the question of Mā’s presence at her samādhi. And, as to the
differences between old and new devotees, it is difficult to make a com-
parison due to the limited number of new devotees interviewed compared
to early devotees; on the whole though there does not seem to be a large
divergence in their views.
 The Cult of Relics in Hinduism 95

Regarding the presence attached to relics, one can ask oneself, as

Copeman and Ikegame remark and as do Urban and McDermott within
the Tantric context, whether the recent developments in media technolo-
gies can contribute to extend this presence and so, contribute to gurus’
expansive agency.99 As new ritual spaces with virtual temples and online
pūjās are developed, one can wonder if, in the same manner, this sense of
presence could be communicated while virtually attending the rituals at
the samādhi of Mā.
To conclude, the samādhi seems to have an influence on the cult, in the
sense that it represents a central point for the devotee, not only because
of the presence associated with it but also because of the power that is
attributed to it.

Relics as Centers of Power

The relic in the Hindu tradition can be considered a truly living entity, in
the same way as in the Buddhist, Christian, or Muslim traditions, which
also confers upon it the power of the deceased saint. The relic of the Hindu
sage is a “center of power,” power which is designated in Hinduism by the
word śakti100 and which also corresponds to the baraka of Muslims101 or
to the virtus of Christians. The tomb of the enlightened one, this place of
augustum, of magnificence, thus becomes the guarantee of sacred power.
While the previous section discussed the relics’ power in relation to the
feminine aspect of the divinity and in terms of “presence,” the following
section considers the appropriation of this power.

Relics and Appropriation of the Sacred

If this power is said to be attached to all the places where the sage lived
and to all the objects associated with him or her, it is especially associated
with his or her tomb. An early disciple of Mā’s, a Western woman, evokes
this power, this “śakti” associated with Mā’s tomb:

I feel that there are some special vibrations at the samādhi. Being
in the samādhi really helps you to focus on Mā. I feel great love
when I am around that place for a long time. It is said that the
body of an enlightened person is purely sadhvic. I cannot really
explain. If people pray a lot, have a lot of faith at a specific place
96 When a Goddess Dies

where they direct all their feelings and thoughts, this also adds
to the sanctity of the place. But I think also that, somehow, it has
Mā’s śakti.

This power (śakti) associated with Mā’s samādhi is also felt by a large num-
ber of devotees, as is the case with this other follower, an Indian man, new
devotee of Mā’s: “The blessing of Mother is all time playing here. I don’t
know why I came here. I just feel that some power is playing here. What is
the reason, what is the cause? I don’t know. The only thing I know is that
Mother is living here.”
In the same way that the body of a Christian martyr has been capable
of “making a worker fall down dead in a room of the catacombs,”102 the
body of the Hindu sage, through the singular presence of the sacred, can
rattle a devotee to the core. Swami Muktananda speaks to this effect in dis-
cussing the power associated with the saint’s tomb as one strong enough
to violently shake their body: “Now when I visit a temple, samādhi or dar-
gah, I become acutely aware of the śakti present there, to the extent that
my body shakes very violently.”103 In the same way, Jacques Vigne talks
about a “shock” that can be felt by some who come to Mā Ānandamayī’s
samādhi.104 Thus, this power seems to be inseparable from the holy tomb.
The body of the sage, far from being perceived as a polluting or danger-
ous element that must be disposed of as soon as possible, thus becomes
an object of veneration, making the tomb into the cornerstone of the cult.
Regarding transformations such as this one, Caillois speaks of a “horror”
that transforms into “confidence.”105 The comments of the Indianist Paul
Mus also take on greater significance in this context: “the tomb becomes
much less the dwelling of death and more a sort of artificial body substi-
tuted for the mortal shell, a funerary ‘cosmic man,’ where the magical
entity will be that which will prolong the deceased.”106
By the veneration of the sage at his or her tomb, the faithful hopes to
benefit from his or her power; devotion and rituals play then a key role in
the mobilization and the absorption of this energy emanating from the
tomb. As a result, contact with the tomb becomes an essential element in
this quest for the appropriation of the sage’s śakti, a power that Assayag
specifies as an “extraordinary warehouse of charisma.”107 By this contact,
followers look to assimilate the qualities of death, or to absorb the mys-
tic power of which the body is the seat. The sage’s head seems to be of
great importance for some devotees as it concentrates the power of death.
But although followers can sometimes prostrate themselves at the tomb,
 The Cult of Relics in Hinduism 97

touch it and even embrace it, as is the case with Sri Aurobindo’s and the
Mother’s tombs, this is not always the case.
Mā Ānandamayī’s tomb is not accessible to devotees except on certain
occasions (her birthday, Gurupūrṇimā, Samyam Saptah, and Durgā Pūjā),
revealing a management of the sacred by a body of religious specialists
(pūjāris and priests). In this context, Bourdieu would speak of the “man-
agement’s monopolization of the goods of salvation” by these ritual spe-
cialists.108 The existence of certain auspicious periods for the veneration
of the sage and his or her relics is also noted; the power exuding from the
tomb would be more active at certain times of day, its intensity attaining a
maximum during ārati. Thus the peaks of the sage’s powers vary accord-
ing to the hours of the day.
In this quest for the appropriation of relics’ power, some followers go
so far as to leave an object on the holy tomb, so that the object will be per-
meated with the subtle vibrations of the relic. Douglas, like Frazer,109 also
speaks of “contagion” in evoking this “power of success,” this auspicious
power that is transmitted to objects along with the pollution:

Another characteristic of success power is that it is often conta-

gious. It is transmitted materially. Anything which has been in con-
tact with Baraka may get Baraka. Luck was also transmitted partly
in heirlooms and treasures. If these changed hands, Luck changed
hands too. In this respect these powers are like pollution, which
transmits danger by contact.110

Some of Mā’s followers often ask for authorization to leave one of their
objects, like a jewel, on Mā’s tomb for it to be permeated with the rel-
ics’ energy. It is interesting, in this context, to observe that Hindus have
adopted certain practices associated with the tombs of Sufi saints, like cov-
ering oneself with pieces of cloths left beforehand on the saint’s tomb,
so as to capture the mystic power of the dead.111 If these practices are not
necessarily visible at the tombs of Hindu saints, they nevertheless seem to
be adopted by Hindus who frequent dargah, these cult spaces where one
comes to venerate the Muslim saint at his tomb.112
If the follower appropriates sacred power at the holy tomb, he or she
can also appropriate it through objects that belonged to the sage. Mills
speaks of the flow of the sage’s “idiosyncratic presence” through his or
her objects, transforming them into anthropomorphic extensions. These
extensions of the physical presence of the sage permit a sort of physical
98 When a Goddess Dies

survival of the sage and thus serve as “solid material” in the construc-
tion of divinity, as Mills says.113 Devotees of the saint Ekanath of the Sant
tradition make up for the absence of a tomb by coming to touch a pillar
at the saint’s house, the same pillar upon which Ekanath had the habit
of leaning on to write.114 This idea of an “anthropomorphic extension”
returns us to the comments made by Stanley Tambiah who, in his study
on Buddhist saints in Thailand, speaks of a process not discussed by Max
Weber, through which this sacred power of the sage’s charisma is con-
centrated and accumulated in objects, these non-corporal relics. Far from
being eliminated, the routinization of the deceased sage’s charisma con-
tinues through the materialization of his or her charisma, notably through
rituals and the distribution of the charismatic power.115 If objects perme-
ated with the sage’s charisma can bring certain benefits to the devotee, it
is nevertheless recognized that these benefits are generally much more
important on contact with the corporal relic of the sage. The power radiat-
ing from whatever object belonging to the sage would not then equal the
power of the corporal relic. This is even more true for the cenotaph, the
funerary monument absent a body where the sacred being is honored in
the case of his or her place of burial being unknown or if his or her tomb
is too far away to be visited by his or her followers.116 Although the ceno-
taph can act as a gravestone, it is nevertheless considered to be much less
powerful than the true tomb containing the body of the sage.
Thus relics, as vehicles for the “spiritual influence” of the great sage, in
this case Mā, constitute true objects of power for believers. Taking on the
role of a theurgical aid through which the beneficial and protective forces
of the sage are carried, they are the object of a real veneration, through
which the follower looks in vain to benefit from these forces, in order to
appropriate them. Mā’s relics represent then, in the eyes of her devotees,
a center of power altogether apart.

Multiplication of Relics as a Source of Conflicts

Related to this search to appropriate the sacred is the dissemination of
relics and the conflicts that sometimes surround this dissemination. In
certain traditions, notably in the Christian tradition, the corporal relic can
be divided and redivided indefinitely, so as to assure what Brown calls
an effect of “inversed magnitude,” a preservation of the integrality of the
power associated with the sage’s body in the smallest of his relics.117 For as
Caillois says regarding the division of relics, the sacred is “indivisible” and
 The Cult of Relics in Hinduism 99

“always whole.”118 By this process of reducing the relics, the grace of the
enlightened being can thus be exercised through a multitude of fragments
as powerful as the intact relic, contributing to the creation of new centers
of sacredness and thus to the expansion of the cult. Brown also sees in this
practice of multiplication and dissemination of relics a way to overcome
death: “What better way to remove the fact of death than to dislocate a part
of death outside of its original context, the tomb that is already too satu-
rated?”119 Bernard Faure sees in the relic two opposing yet complementary
aspects: the relic as a fixed presence, in situ, as for the tomb of the sage,
and which thus defines a sacred space of pilgrimage, and the relic as a
“circulating token of salvation,” that is to say as a sort of circulating good
of liberation, which distributes the sacred through its pilgrimages.120
If this practice of dividing relics and of disseminating them takes place
in some religious traditions, this seems to be very rare in the Hindu tradi-
tion. There are, however, some existing cases where fragments of corporal
relics are venerated in diverse locations. Within the religious movement
of the Radhasoamis of Soamibagh, for example, fingernails of the former
master are exposed for devotional ends.121 The case of Aurobindo can also
be cited; similarly to the veneration of his body at Pondicherry, his nails
and hair are used as relics in different ashrams in India. Regarding the
figure of this study, Mā Ānandamayī’s teeth have been conserved by some
monks, but they are not the object of a collective cult of relics. This dis-
semination of relics can also take place in the case of great sages who have
been cremated. Some of Ramakrishna’s ashes are found in several of his
ashrams across India, along with Vivekananda and Sarada Devi’s ashes.
If this multiplication of relics is uncommon in Hinduism, it is thus not
entirely absent from it either.
Associated with this multiplication of relics and search for the appro-
priation of the sacred, the relic of the saint, this “powerful mobilizing force
for pilgrims,” as Kaplan calls it,122 can become a source of conflicts and the
object of intense competition. The appropriation of the relic confers power
and a certain prestige on the individual, the community, or the institution.
The question of possessing Ramakrishna’s ashes has provoked conflicts
between young monks and family members, conflicts that ended in the
theft of the sacred ashes by a young disciple.123 However, the theft of relics
does not seem to be a common phenomenon in Hinduism, as compared
to the Muslim, Christian, and Theravada Buddhist traditions. It is also
interesting to note that the theft of relics is not considered to be reprehen-
sible or condemnable, as relics cannot be stolen without the approval of
100 When a Goddess Dies

the saint. Thus, if the cult of relics is less practiced in the Hindu tradition
as compared to other religious traditions, the theft or even the purchase
of relics is all the more so, as are the official or secret translations like the
pia furta in Christianity.124

Miracles and Danger of Relics

We cannot discuss the power of relics without addressing miracles. The
tomb is often associated with the manifestation of miracles and follow-
ers generally believe in the sage’s supernatural intervention particularly at
his or her tomb. “Miracle” means a positive extraordinary act, beyond the
natural course of things, that the believer attributes to a divine interven-
tion and to which he gives a spiritual provenance. The miracle as such
cannot be recognized except by the believer and the essential idea is that it
is a “sign.” Referring to an “anthropology of credibility,” Babb argues that
miracles are central to create and maintain the relationship between the
devotee and the guru.125
This belief in the supernatural intervention of the sage is found
among Mā’s followers, as is demonstrated by this affirmation of Swami
Vijayānanda during one of his daily satsaṅgas before Mā’s samādhi: “Make
a vow at the samādhi, it will be fulfilled.” This dovetails with the belief that
holds that the closer you are to the tomb, the greater the force of the call.
Among the miracles attributed to the relics is that of healing, though this
is attributed specifically to certain beings more than to others. Assayag
distinguishes between two types of sainted beings, the “literates,” gener-
ally little inclined in their lifetime to openly use their thaumaturgic power,
preferring anonymity to crowds, and the “rustics,” who do not hesitate to
display their powers to every comer.126
Within the context of miracles, relics can also appear mysteriously
(swayambhu). When Mā died, a cushion bearing an image of her is
said to have magically appeared in the house of one of her followers in
Chandigarh. This cushion, today surrounded with garlands of flowers,
constitutes an object of veneration and is the gathering place for Mā’s
devotees. Although similar mysterious appearances of objects in Mā’s
community have not been heard of, this phenomenon seems to happen
for other guru’s devotees, such as Sathya Sai Baba’s, who witnessed, at
least during his lifetime, the appearance of objects, especially in times of
difficulties.127 In the same way, relics can sometimes disappear for myste-
rious reasons. While there is no written or oral tradition one can reference
 The Cult of Relics in Hinduism 101

in these matters, Theravada Buddhism recognizes this and affirms that

Buddha’s relics are supposed to disappear by disintegration at the end of a
period of five thousand years, so as to make room for the future Buddha.128
If the sacred tomb represents a fascinating and attractive place, nota-
bly because of the miracles that take place there, it also embodies danger.
Because of its sacred nature, one cannot approach the tomb of a great
sage without running some risks, for if this sacred power is accompanied
by fascinans, it can also manifest its terrifying aspect of tremendum. To
question this sacred power is to place yourself in a perilous position and
to openly expose yourself to danger. One does not frequent with impunity
the sanctuary of a saint, the sacred place par excellence, without exercising
some caution. For one who would like to appropriate some of this sacred
power, there is a certain level of purity that is required—from whence
come rites of purification. The profane must then pass by a purification
process, so as to protect oneself from the effects inherent to a force so dif-
ficult to control, a force that can even result in death.129 Thus, if the sacred
at the sage’s tomb leads the faithful to immortality, it can also lead him or
her to death, as Caillois expresses in saying that the sacred is that which
one does not approach without dying.130
Because of its dangerous energy, the sacred at the sage’s tomb is the
object of a series of prohibitions designed to protect devotees. Being com-
pelled to keep a distance from this dangerous and unpredictable power
through a number of ritual prohibitions, the follower is thus informed
of the dangerous effects associated with the contagion of this power.
The restriction of direct access to Mā’s tomb permits the demarcation of
a boundary to this sacred power and allows the religious experience to
become a domestic one. Mā’s tomb, this sacred space rendered taboo by a
system of restrictions established by the religious authorities, is not acces-
sible, except by a periodic lifting of these restrictions, that is to say on
certain holidays dedicated to Mā. Thus, the tomb proceeds from a para-
doxical dialectic, which simultaneously reveals its accessibility and inac-
cessibility. As Jean-Claude Schmitt says regarding the rituals of veiling
and unveiling relics in the Christian tradition, “the sacred escapes from
our gazes to make itself more desired, so that the clerics cover their trea-
sures, so to better remind us of their monopoly over the management of
the sacred.”131 The longer these periods of inaccessibility are, the more
effective the sage’s action will appear to be.
But, if one has to protect against the undesirable effects of sacred objects,
one also has to protect the latter against too frequent contact with the profane.
102 When a Goddess Dies

This is because this contact could lead in the long term to a change in the
nature of these objects’ sacred power. This is doubtlessly one of the reasons
why access to Mā’s tomb is usually forbidden. As well as warning followers
against the dangers inherent to the power of the place, the lack of access to
her tomb aims to maintain the purity of the space, to avoid any pollution
of the sacred by the profane. This is especially the case with menstruating
women, who are considered impure, and who are forbidden access not only
from Mā’s samādhi but also from the temple in which her tomb is located.
By virtue of the intensity of the force (śakti) attributed to them, rel-
ics thus constitute a true source of power. In this sense, they represent
a privileged way to access the sacred, and so, contribute to the develop-
ment of the postmortem cult, notably Mā Ānandamayī’s cult. This connec-
tion between relics and the sacred is reinforced by the reflection on death
engendered by the cult of relics.

Relics and Death

Although the connection between relics and death seems to be quite obvi-
ous, it is however important to explore this link. The next section will
examine the direct link between “female relics” and death, and consider
the assimilation of Mā to Kālī.

Relics as Symbols of Death and of Immortality

The relics of the sage represent to many a support for reflection on
death, in the sense that they recall the impermanence of the body and
the transitory nature of existence. To meditate on the relic thus calls
one to meditate on the evanescent character of the body, to realize
the ephemeral, and the “[domestication] of death”. As Bernard Faure
expresses it: “Relics also constitute, in the symbolic, a way to ‘tame’
death in creating a form of familiarity with some eminent deceased
people and in contributing to the development of a cult . . . of saints.”132
In this sense, relics form a precious tool for those who want to awaken
their consciousness to the transitory character of life. This can be seen
in tantric Hindu practices with regard to the sites for cremation,133
but also in Buddhist practices like maraṇasati that designate a form of
meditation based on contemplation of a dead body.134 Likewise, the Zen
tradition advises one to “meditate on the bottom of his casket,” and
St. Antoine, the founder of Christian monasticism, lived in a tomb in
 The Cult of Relics in Hinduism 103

Egypt. Meditating on a tomb can also represent a tool for liberation in

itself. Mā’s samādhi is proven then to be a meditative support to cul-
tivate this sense of impermanence, so as to integrate death into con-
sciousness. Far from demonstrating a depressive attitude on the part of
disciples who cannot say goodbye to the incarnation of Mā, the cult of
the samādhi, on the contrary, leads the disciple to accept death’s reality
and thus his or her own death.
If relics of the sage symbolize death, they also paradoxically affirm the
eternality of life. In assuring the continuity of life in death, relics are guar-
antees of the immortality of the soul. For Singh, the tomb reflects the
belief in an after-life, becoming the “symbol of the material expression of
spiritual beliefs.”135 For Schmitt, corporal relics also represent indications
of life after death: “Relics are on earth like hard parcels of eternity.”136 In
the same way, Weinberger speaks of “the fleetingness of terrestrial life
finding in the funerary inscription a taste of eternity.”137 Edgar Morin
relates the preservation of the deceased’s body to a continuation of his
or her life, and, in this context, affirms that the non-abandonment of the
dead implies their survival.138 Thus, the tomb of the sage becomes a place
to encounter eternity, a space where time has no hold, an assurance of
a future life after death. The tomb then openly contests death. Assayag
takes up this challenge of death in her study on the burial practices of
the Liṅgāyat where she speaks of the deceased’s body in his tomb as the
symbol of a conquest over death: “His emblematic corporal position pro-
vides the living with a model of the meditative Absolute. The dead person
repudiates death.”139 In becoming a symbol of deliverance from death, the
imagery of relics strives, in every way it can, to proclaim the elimination
of death.
This elimination of death attached to relics is also reinforced by the
function of relics as an aid in preserving the sage’s memory, as implies
the name “memoriae,” which was attributed to relics in the Christian tra-
dition. Meslin speaks of relics as “material supports of a collective reli-
gious memory”140 and Trainor confers on them the role of “technology of
remembrance.”141 In so preserving the memory of holy beings, the cult
of relics strongly contrasts with the common practice of cremation that,
on the contrary, looks to retain nothing of death as Maurice Bloch and
Jonathan Parry note:

In Hinduism nothing of the individual is preserved which could

provide a focal symbol of group continuity. The physical remains
104 When a Goddess Dies

of the deceased are obliterated as completely as possible: first the

corpse is cremated and then the ashes are immersed in the Ganges
and are seen as finally flowing into the ocean. The ultimate objec-
tive seems to be as complete a dissolution of the body as possible.142

Accordingly in India, cremation tends to remove all physical trace of time

spent on earth,143 while the saint’s relics, and especially his or her tomb,
looks to preserve the memory of the renunciant. As Malamoud states, the
saint’s tomb should not then be confused with smasana, these lugubrious
spheres of cremation fated to be forgotten, nor with these strange tumuli
mentioned in the Vedic texts (Satapathabrāhmaṇa):144

The mortuary of the saṃnyāsin remains then as different as pos-

sible from the smasana, from these sinister crematorium fields,
haunted with vampires and disgusting spirits, where one reduces
to ashes, in what is nevertheless a sacrifice by fire, the body of ordi-
nary men; different also from these mysterious tombs, which the
Vedic texts tell us were sometimes lifted around funerary urns, but
which also tell us that they are designed more for oblivion than for
remembrance, and which are never mentioned in the perspectives
related to the cult of the dead.145

It is also interesting to note the paradox attached to the sage’s

relic and to his or her memory. The relic comes to perpetuate the
memory of a being that is presented as totally lacking an ego, of a
being without any desire for recognition or glory before or after his
or her death. Malamoud specifies that this paradox is particular to
brahminical India since, in other ages, funerary monuments were
erected for lay individuals, like kings. 146 And so, not at all making the
deceased a “dead person without a face” and of removing all memory
of him or her, relics, on the contrary, allow the preservation of his or
her memory and the subsequent maintenance of an intimate relation-
ship between the living and departed sages. Mother Meera, a female
guru who today lives in Germany, holds that the tomb of a sage con-
stitutes an important aspect of the preservation of memory: “the exis-
tence of a tomb gives a stronger impression of the dead’s presence
than a small urn of ashes. This memory then will live on in hearts
and minds.” 147 The tomb represents, then, an essential element in
the preservation of the deceased sage’s memory, and as such leads
 The Cult of Relics in Hinduism 105

the devotee to surpass his own death, for, as Hervieu-Léger writes, to

believe that a man survives in the memory of those who loved him
represents a way to embody the desire that every man has to surpass
his or her own physical death and to cope with the deaths of those
who surround him or her.148
By virtue of their paradoxical nature, relics, then, remind us of both the
transitory and eternal nature of existence. Regarding this matter, Goody
speaks of relics as “pure symbols of impurity, ongoing representations
of impermanence, signs of mortality enduring after death, embodiments
of bodilessness.”149 This paradoxical aspect of relics returns us to the tes-
timony of one of Mā’s disciples, a French woman and a new devotee,
regarding the apparently contradictory character of the dual reality of the
transitory and the eternal:

What’s really interesting in Mā’s case is that it references the two

realities discussed in the Vedānta that are not contradictory. You
have to learn to live both in a transitory reality and a reality that is
permanent. Vijayānanda always uses this metaphor, it’s like water,
there is the bottom of the ocean, this permanent reality and there
are the waves, which are transitory. The fact of knowing that Mā
had a body, that gives us this concept of the incarnated divine, of the
transitory and the permanent. We, as humans, this helps us even
more in our path. We have this to realize, to be both in the transi-
tory reality and the permanent reality.

This dialectic of contraries associated with Mā and her relics makes

us perceive the true nature of the real in a totally different way, as it
is situated well beyond opposites in which contraries coexist. As a
result, meditation on Mā’s relics leads us to transcend contradictions
in order to access the true nature of the Real, the Ultimate Real. This
necessity of abolishing the polarity of the human condition in order
to realize its true character is found in the Bhagavadgītā, where Kṛṣṇa
reveals to Arjuna that to know God, it is necessary to surpass these
dualities: “It’s in renouncing all virtues that you will find me,” for as
Daniélou specifies, virtue in reality is only the opposite of vice: “One
is as far removed as the other from the transcendent reality. Neither
one nor the other can lead us to God.”150 By virtue of their dialectical
and paradoxical nature then relics represent a true aid in the path to
enlightenment.
106 When a Goddess Dies

Relics, Death and Feminine Sanctity

The reflection on death engendered by the cult of relics is reinforced by
the identification of Mā with the goddess Kālī, the goddess of death par
excellence, as her iconography shows very clearly. While Kālī’s right arms
promise freedom from fear, the two left ones bestow death, with one hold-
ing a sword and the bottom one a decapitated head. Mā Ānandamayī,
sometimes referred to as the “Human Kālī” in Bengal, represents the
incarnation of Kālī in the eyes of some of her devotees, and, in this sense,
symbolizes the inevitable reality of death.151 Regarding this matter, one of
Mā’s long-time disciples, a Westerner, evokes that which being beside Mā
signified for him:

You could never stay with Mā. You could come and see Mā for two
weeks out of the year, have a deep experience and go home. That’s
one thing. But if you stay with Mā, all the time, you could never do it
unless you were beyond death. That was the price to pay. She would
take you to death again and again, one way or the other. And that
was the beauty of living with Mā. You live beyond death. What is
death? Who cares about death? You live on the other side of death.
That was the thing of being with her physical body. You were not
in this world. Never for a second in those years was I in this world.
I was in some other loka [world] and that loka had much more real-
ity than what people called this world. What extraordinary grace
allowed this to happen? But then, that loka is hard to maintain with-
out Mā there.

As such, to be in Mā’s presence led to accepting the reality of death but

also to surpassing it, for if Kālī symbolizes death, she also represents the
victory over it.152
Even today, despite Mā’s departure, some devotees learn to reconcile
themselves with death through their devotion to Mā as an incarnation
of Kālī. To meditate on Mā through her relics helps in becoming con-
scious and accepting death in all of its dimensions, suffering (duḥkha) and
destruction, for one does not conquer death in ignoring it. In a sense, this
leads us to Pierre Feuga’s comments on the acceptance of death in order
to better undo it: “The fundamental intuition is that you cannot vanquish
death if you do not constantly integrate it into life. To push it towards an
‘after’ or an ‘over there’ only serves to multiply its force. It is here and
 The Cult of Relics in Hinduism 107

now, at the end of each breath, at the end of every desire, in each night’s
sleep.”153
Like Ramprasad then, the great Bengali poet and fervent devotee of
Kālī, Mā’s disciple must demonstrate a complete abandon (prapatti) to
Mā, so as to die to oneself to be reborn and thus to triumph over death.
And if Mā represents an incarnation of the goddess Kālī to some, she
can similarly be identified with mṛtyu, the feminine form of death created
by Brahma,154 reinforcing this reflection on death initiated by the cult of
relics.
In the context of feminine sanctity, this meditation on death inherent
to the cult of relics is also supported by the idea of a return to the mater-
nal womb, into the uterus of the Mother, regressus ad uterum, a return
that symbolizes death in the profane universe and rebirth in the sacred
sphere.155 This symbolic regression to the embryonic state, in which time
is abolished, is related to the devotee’s death to the profane condition but
also to his mystic regeneration.156 This recalls Otto Rank’s comments that
conceive of death as a metaphor for the return to the maternal matrix.157
The aspiration towards the return to the mother, the security of the mater-
nal breast, then, is not different from that of death.
If the cult of relics inevitably implies a form of meditation on life and
death, it can also be reinforced by the idea of a return to the mother, to
the primordial unity. Mā’s relics reveal themselves then to be directly con-
nected to the idea of fording and of passage, in assuming the role of one
who passes not only between birth and death, but also between the world
of humans and the world of God, for as Ysé Tardan-Masquelier notes, “the
sacred passes through the feminine that is the necessary mediator of its
presence in the world of men.”158
This idea of an inter-uterine return associated with the personified
aspect of the feminine principle, here being Mā, is also accentuated by
the analogy between the womb and the tomb. The tomb symbolizes the
womb, as Filippi explains here:

The womb is considered as the tomb of the preceding state.

Analogously, the tomb ritually used for deceased children is consid-
ered a womb in which the dead person is collocated as an embryo in
view of a successive rebirth. The burial of a corpse is really a regres-
sus ad uterum, an idea widely attested to even among the ancient
Western civilizations.159
108 When a Goddess Dies

To meditate on the sage’s tomb can then be related to a symbolic return

into the Mother’s womb. In the same context, David Wulff speaks of the
tomb as an impersonal symbol of the Mother archetype under its “nega-
tive” aspect:

The mother archetype is commonly personified, especially as the

mother goddess or the Great Mother. She may also appear, however,
in a variety of impersonal forms, including city or country, earth,
the woods, a tree, the moon, or the cow, on the positive side, and a
witch, dragon, the grave, or deep water, on the negative.160

Consequently, along with the sanctum sanctorum of the temple, the saint of
saints, the inner enclosure of Mā’s temple where her tomb is located can
be designated under the Sanskrit name of garbha-gṛha, which means the
motherly chamber.161 Access to Mā’s tomb, to the garbha-gṛha symbolizes
the idea of death and rebirth, kālakirtimukha, in the sense that the devotee
dies in the exterior world to be reborn to himself.
By virtue of their direct relationship with death, relics (and notably the
relics of female gurus) come to represent aids in accessing the sacred. In
serving as a support to a reflection on death and immortality, relics in this
sense constitute true tools of meditation on the nature of the Real. The
sacred cannot then be disassociated from relics, as the direct link that
relics maintain with the concepts of presence, power, and death reveals.
Because of their nature, relics are placed then as turning points for reach-
ing toward this other reality, the sacred.
While ideas of the sacred and miracles, of power and danger, of agency
and presence attached to the cult of relics are found across various reli-
gious traditions, Hinduism, however, brings new elements, in addition
to the practice of burial, the rituals, and so on. Considering the distinctive
stance of Hinduism vis-à-vis death and pollution, the Hindu cult of relics
essentially shows the ability of a religious tradition to overthrow its estab-
lished norms for achieving its spiritual aims. The ideas of impurity, of
the cadaver as a contaminant, disappear in favor of an embodied religion
rooted in the tantric concepts of flesh, as in Tantra the body is seen as a
vehicle to liberation. There is then a reversal of bhakti to śaktism,162 some-
thing no less surprising in the case of Mā Ānandamayī as she comes from
Bengal, the land of śaktism. Here, pure and impure, sacred and profane
are ultimately identified, in what Eliade refers as a coincidencia opposito-
rum to attain the experience of spiritual liberation.
 The Cult of Relics in Hinduism 109

This strength to overthrow dharma, to transmute the impure into pure,

brings us to the centrality of the master (guru) in Hinduism, whose dead
body is venerated despite rules of purity related to death. The guru is well
beyond concepts, beyond opposites, and must look after his disciple both
in life and death. The relics are, in this respect, a support, a reminder of
the eternal bond between the guru and his or her disciple, celebrating the
victory of the master over death.
This tantric perspective obviously brings us to the importance of the
sacred feminine. Through the veneration of Mā Ānandamayī and female
religious figures who are associated with male gurus (Sarada Devi, The
Mother, Krishnabai), the Divine Feminine or Śakti is honored in all its
splendor and relics of female spiritual figures become a site of worship
dedicated to the goddess, a kind of śakti pīṭha. As such, the Hindu cult of
relics brings to other religious traditions a new perspective on the femi-
nine and the sacred, including its terrifying and “deadly” aspect. As the
cult of relics of female gurus situates itself at its inception, new develop-
ments in the future should be considered with the proliferation of women
gurus in India and elsewhere in the world.
 3

Death of the Guru

The Departure of the Guru

I turn now to an exploration of the guru’s death so as to better under-
stand the development of the postmortem cult in its entirety. The guru’s
death, generally perceived as a “departure” and not a definitive end, can be
regarded from two different angles: death from the guru’s perspective and
death from the disciples’ point of view. In Mā’s case, I refer here especially
to the account of the Austrian disciple, Atmananda, but also to the work
of Professor Bithika Mukerji, another close disciple and Mā’s principal
biographer. Finally, I also turn to the subject of the posthumous future of
the guru on more subtle levels.

What is Death for the Guru?

It is important to examine the meaning of death for the guru so as to
better grasp all of the aspects related to his or her death, such as the
behavioral aspect (funeral rites, formal grief, etc.), the affective aspect
(the emotional shock of devotees) and the cognitive aspect (meaning of
the guru’s death among their devotees). I will thus turn to Mā’s view of
death, for this view impacts the disciple’s attitude when the guru does
depart as well as the devotee’s will to “sustain” the cult of the guru after
his or her death.
Like other great beings, Mā always affirmed the death of death: “There
is only one real life, namely, the one that is dedicated to the search of
God; only one real death, which is the death of death. After that there is
no more birth and no more death.”1 For Mā, there is in fact no death in
and of itself, for as she says, “appearance, continuity and disappearance
 Death of the Guru 111

Figure 3.1 Mā Ānandamayī: “You may want to banish this body from your mind.
But this body won’t leave you for a single day—it does not and never will leave
your thought. Whoever has once been drawn to love this body will never succeed
in wiping out its impression even despite hundreds of attempts. This body rests
and shall remain in [her] memory for all times.”
Source: Picture belonging to the collection of photographer Sadanand; now in the posses-
sion of Neeta Mehta, also called Swami Nityānanda.

occur simultaneously in one place.”2 Thus does she emphasize the vanity
of mourning the departure of a person.3 “To be distressed by the death of
someone close to you, to regret the loss of human joys that they brought
us is bad both for the person who is dead as well as the person who is
alive.”4 This reminds us of the words of saint Ramdas, who also affirms
the illusion of death and the insignificance of mourning: “To lament the
death of someone close is pure ignorance,”5 or the discourse of Ramana
Maharshi: “They say that I am dying but I am not going away. Where could
I go? I am here.”6 Mā’s way of perceiving death can also be seen in many
different events of her life, where, on the announcement of someone’s
loss, even someone close, she would demonstrate no sorrow. She thus
demonstrated no sign of sadness, no change in her bhāva (state of being)
on Bholanāth’s death, who was both her husband and her first disciple.
112 When a Goddess Dies

Following the announcement of hundreds of deaths at the Kumbhamelā of

1954, which Mā attended, she similarly showed an attitude of detachment
at the news, declaring the absence of death and of duality and repeating
that all of this only represented a manifestation of līlā, or divine game.
Other incidents also reveal Mā’s attitude towards death, as is the case of
this woman who came to Mā’s side following the sudden death of her
daughter:

“My husband died. I could handle that, for I had my only daughter.
An amazing and talented child. At 12 years old she died. And that
I couldn’t understand . . .” Ma spoke to her at length and concluded
in telling her: “I am your child.” The same woman reappeared
months later, serene. She confided to us: “When Ma told me: I am
your child, her voice was that of my daughter . . . my emotion was
indescribable. Since then, my heart began to heal.”7

In the same way, Mā said this:

Every sorrow stems from the fact that one holds oneself to be
apart from God. With Him all pain disappears. Your thoughts
should turn towards Him. Remind yourself that your daughter
is now with Him. The more you think about God, the more you
will be close to her. If you need to shed tears, let them be destined
to Him.

Mā would often cry at the news of someone’s death, not, as she said, for
the loss of the person, but to relieve him or her who suffered from this
loss, as this episode reveals:

One day a lady who had lost her son fell at Her feet wailing bit-
terly. Mother began to weep and shed tears so profusely with the
bereaved mother, held close in Her embrace, that the latter came to
forget all her woes; on the other hand she showed so much concern
at Mother’s weeping that she exclaimed, “Mother, be comforted,
I shall not weep over my son’s death anymore.”8

And so, Mā did not generally demonstrate any regret or grief following the
death of an individual, and, if she did on rare occasions, it was to discour-
age the grieving person from their sorrow, as for her, dying was simply
 Death of the Guru 113

changing clothes. Mā’s view of death returns us to the central position of

Advaita, of non-duality:

On the level where there is only one Self, there is no question of

birth and death. Who is born? Who dies? All is one Self. The same
mind that identifies itself with the body can be turned towards the
Eternal and then the pain the body experiences will be a matter of
indifference. Since the body is bound to get hurt at times, there
must be suffering as long as one is identified with it. This world
oscillates endlessly between happiness and sorrow; there can be no
security, no stability here. These are to be found in God alone. How
can there be both, the world and the One? On the way there seem
to be two, God and the world, but when the goal has been reached,
there is only One.9

These words, spoken by Mā on the existence of the Self and the true
absence of death resonate with the Bhagavadgītā (II, 19–20), which also
affirms the indestructibility of the One, of the Self, which is eternal: “He
is never born, nor does he die at any time, nor having (once) come to
be will he again cease to be. He is unborn, eternal, permanent and pri-
meval. He is not slain when the body is slain.”10 In the same spirit, a
stanza of the Kaṭha Upaniṣad (2, 18) also affirms this: “The intelligent Self
is neither born nor does It die. It did not originate from anything, nor
did anything originate from It. It is birthless, eternal, undecaying, and
ancient.” Mā’s discourse on the true absence of death reflects thus Hindu
sacred writings but also the thought of other Hindu masters, like Swami
Vivekananda: “There is no change whatsoever in the soul—Infinite,
Absolute, Eternal, Knowledge, Bliss, and Existence. Neither can there
be birth or death for the soul. Dying, and being born, reincarnation, and
going to heaven, cannot be for the soul. These are different appearances,
different mirages, different dreams.”11
During many pilgrimages throughout India, in this Advaitic spirit Mā
affirmed her continual presence to devotees who bewailed her departure:

Why do you say I am going away? I am your little child and am

always with you. Remember this, that I am always with you. I am
not asking you to hold your breath, to sit up straight, to purify your-
selves. Just as you are, I am with you. A child stays with his parents,
whatever they may be like.12
114 When a Goddess Dies

And to those who wished to leave her presence for one reason or another,
she also said, “You may want to banish this body from your mind. But this
body won’t leave you for a single day—it does not and never will leave your
thought. Whoever has once been drawn to love this body will never suc-
ceed in wiping out its impression even despite hundreds of attempts. This
body rest and shall remain in [her] memory for all times.”13 This reminds
us of the case of Atmananda, a Western disciple who, on numerous occa-
sions, wanted to leave Mā due to the difficulty of living as an untouchable
in Mā’s ashrams, but who then remembered some of Mā’s words: “You
are mine wherever you go” and “Where will you go? There is no place
where I am not.”14 These statements thus reveal Mā’s thought regarding
her omnipresence beyond time and space, beyond death (mṛtyu) and birth
(jāti). Mā declared throughout her life that she was always there, “like the
atma, I will always be with you,” thus showing that her body is in itself as
illusory as death: “Here, there is no question of a body. You see a body, but
there is no body.”15 Mā’s discourse is thus marked by a profound kinship
with the sacred texts of the Hindu tradition, as this Upaniṣad reveals: “He
goes from death to death, who sees difference, as it were, in It. It should
be realised in one form only, (for) It is unknowable and eternal. The Self
is taintless, beyond the (subtle) ether, birthless, infinite and constant.”16
For the guru, then, death is nothing but a simple passage, that of the
river Vaitarni, also called the “Styx of the Hindus” by Herbert,17 and thus
implies no fundamental change, as Coomaraswamy specifies:

Death in samādhi changes nothing essential. Of their condition there-

after little more can be said than that they are. They are certainly not
annihilated, for not only is the annihilation of anything real a meta-
physical impossibility, but it is explicit that “Never have I not been, or
hast thou not been, or ever shall not be” [Bhagavadgītā, II, 12].18

This view of death is reflected in the designation of death in the Hindu tra-
dition. Hindus say that the deceased “left his body” (sharīr chorā) or “aban-
doned his body,” so as to emphasize that the death of the body does not at
all mean death itself, the physical shell representing nothing more than
an old dress that is taken off, not be confused with the eternal and inde-
structible Self.19 Regarding this matter, Ramana Maharshi also said: “The
body is like a banana-leaf on which all kinds of delicious food have been
served. After we have eaten the food from it do we take the leaf and pre-
serve it? Do we not throw it away now that it has served its purpose?”20
 Death of the Guru 115

Figure 3.2 Room at the ashram of Kishenpur (Dehra Dun, north of Delhi), where
Mā left her body on August 27, 1982.
Source: Picture taken by French photographer Caroline Abitbol.

Thus, the guru’s death is considered to be a “departure” and not a

definitive death. In this respect, there are a certain number of terms and
of expressions to evoke this departure. Hinduism generally designates
the death of a great sage with the term mahāsamādhi,21 or great samādhi,
the samādhi, or state of total illumination, representing in Eliade a sort
of inner ecstasy, when the realized being completes a “withdrawal from
time” and joins this “eternal present,” this “nunc stans.”22 The death of a
great spiritual being is also termed dehānta, “the end of the body,” to dif-
ferentiate from the term mṛtyu, which represents a more global term that
points to the belief that even subtle bodies disappear. We should state as
well that in certain cases, the sage has reached the “attainment of mukti,”
that is to say liberation. In Mā Ānandamayī’s case, it would nevertheless
be inadequate to use the latter expression in discussing her death, if one
takes into account her followers’ belief that she was born liberated, having
thus nothing to obtain and nothing to attain. Similarly, one can sometimes
116 When a Goddess Dies

call the death of the sage as brahmalina, which means the disappearance
of the sainted being into Brahman, or antardhana, that is to say invisibility,
for as the Hindu tradition holds, realized beings have followed an alchem-
ical process (rasayāna) on their path toward supreme liberation and can
dissolve directly into the ether (ākāṣa) after their death. This tradition of
the body’s dissolution, well known in the Tibetan tradition (body of light),
is also found among many great sages of the Hindu tradition. It’s notably
the case with Kabir or Dattatreya, but also with more contemporary saints
like Swami Rama. Again, in speaking of death, one speaks of absorption.
Ramana Maharshi also employed this term in speaking of his mother’s
departure after he had led her to the final liberation:

When someone said that Mother had passed away, Bhagavan cor-
rected, “No, she did not pass away, she was absorbed”; “There is no
pollution. Let us now eat.” There was no need for any purificatory rites
as Mother has not died but has become universal. The unique power
and filial love of Bhagavan alone made Mother’s liberation possible.23

There are also many vernacular terms to designate the death of an enlight-
ened being. Among them, one often finds the expressions of liṅgaikya,
which means “union with the liṅgam,” as well as the expression śivaikya
“absorption in Śiva,”24 as with the Vīraśaivas. It is important to note that this
view of death as a departure and not as an end is found among Mā’s Indian
devotees as well as her Western followers. If we sometimes used the word
“tomb” in the course of an interview, the devotees would consistently return
to the use of the term “samādhi” to emphasize the absence of death in the
case of Mā. Upon mentioning the subject of this study, a French follower
also suggested that the expression of postmortem cult should be replaced by
a totally new and innovative expression, a “postcorpus cult!”

Decline of the Guru’s Body

Toward the end of the year 1981, Mā’s health began to deteriorate and she
ate nothing but an extremely reduced liquid diet. The worsening of her state
of health finally resulted in her death on August 27, 1982, a Friday, like
Jesus’, some remarked. Mā left her body in her small room in her ashram
at Kishenpur, near Dehra Dun, around eight o’clock at night, repeating the
mantra of Śiva in its inverse form, Śivāya Namah. A funeral procession from
 Death of the Guru 117

Dehra Dun to Kankhal took place and Mā’s body was placed in the samādhi
of the Kankhal ashram on the 29th of the same month, after many disciples,
including the Prime Minister Indira Gandhi, had taken the last darśana of
Mā. Atmananda describes the last weeks preceding Mā’s departure:

Mâ was not well and barely spoke. She was always lying down, as
she couldn’t sit up. There was always someone around her. We
often massaged her because she was growing cold. But she took
no medication. The doctor who cared for her practiced Ayurvedic
medicine. He could come to Mâ’s quarters day and night, I think
and, from then on, Mataji no longer vomited. But her respiration
became more and more difficult. It was very painful!25

Despite her weak state of health, Mā nevertheless continued to give daily

darśana to the residents of the ashram as well as a weekly darśana to those
outside the ashram:

For us, during the last weeks, the darshan took place once a day. But
for the people outside, it wasn’t more than once a week. Mâ had
decided that it would be Sunday, at six o’clock, and for only a half an
hour. Many people came. They practiced pranam and thus could see
her a little. It was very good. Mâ didn’t disappear brutally. No! She
got us used to this idea, little by little.26

In fact it seems that, for her followers, Mā had wished to accustom them
gradually to her departure, as Atmananda implies:

When we went to see her during the darshan, she was often turned
to the other side and we could only see her back. As she wasn’t
eating and was weakening, a side had become . . . how should
I say . . . Well, she couldn’t hold herself up on this side. We could
only rarely see her face. But I think that she wanted that for us, to
accustom ourselves to not seeing her anymore.27

Thus, this slow death was desired by Mā, as the devotees interviewed
on the subject also think: “She let herself die. It took time. She was sick
for a longtime, as if she wanted people to get used to it, to see that she
was losing her light.” Atmananda describes her progressive retreat from
118 When a Goddess Dies

this light, from this radiance: “She laughed! She was full of joy. But at
the end, no longer. It was over. She was always radiant. So radiant. She
radiated. Always. Always. But the last weeks, there was no longer this
radiance.”28
Despite the decline in Mā’s radiance, it seems that for some of her
devotees, her presence was more and more strongly felt as her departure
approached, as Atmananda affirms:

You know, when I sat before her room, I noticed and felt that, the more
her body weakened, the more her presence became strong, more and
more strong. I was standing above her and I felt this immense pres-
ence. I didn’t want to look at her anymore because her face wasn’t like
it was before. But her Presence was so strong, so strong.29

These comments reflect the assertions of the Skandapurāṇa, which hold

that the liberated being, on the hour of death, transmits to disciples a
part of his beneficial energy (punya).30 Regarding this transmission of
energy from Mā at her death, some of Mā’s devotees believe that she had
transferred her energy to her closest disciples, as the testimony of this fol-
lower demonstrates: “I think Mā has transferred lots of energy in Swami
Bhaskarānanda. Asking Swamiji is like asking Mā. If Mā wants to tell me
something, she will tell through Swamiji.”
This reminds us of the belief that holds that Ramakrishna had trans-
mitted, just before leaving his body, his śakti to his disciple Narendra, who
would later be known under the name Swami Vivekananda:

Towards the very end, only two weeks before he died, Ramakrishna
called Narendra to his side and in an ecstatic state transmitted his
mystical energies into him. Afterwards, Narendra claims, his body
was so charged that, when he asked another disciple to touch it,
the disciple received a palpable shock (Śriśrirāmakṛṣṇakathāmṛta
3.274.20).31

There is thus this belief, among some of Mā’s followers, that she had
passed some of her energy to her closest disciples.
Mā’s death, far from being a sudden and rapid event, was on the
contrary slow and progressive. If we refer to the theory of three phases
(preliminary, liminary, postliminary) of which Van Gennep speaks in
this work on the concept of the rite of passage,32 the period preceding
 Death of the Guru 119

Figure 3.3 Swami Bhaskarānanda, early disciple of Mā Ānandamayī, was for many
years the secretary general of her organization. He passed away in April 2010.
Source: Photograph by Orianne Aymard.

Mā’s death corresponds to Van Gennep’s initial phase, the prelimi-

nary period in which the dying person is separated from the living.
According to Mā’s disciples, this phase was intentionally prolonged by
Mā so as to better prepare her followers for her departure. Similarly,
Mā’s death itself can be linked to Van Gennep’s liminary phase and
corresponds to the dying saint’s entry into death. This marginal phase
is accompanied by a reinforcement of the communitas ties among the
community’s members, with a great solidarity and brotherhood being
felt among them.
Although there is no real mention of miraculous events surround-
ing Mā’s death, either in her followers’ comments or in writings on
Mā, some followers share anecdotes that reveal that there was a mys-
terious aura around Mā’s death. Among these anecdotes, one follower
speaks of a shooting star that was glimpsed above Mount Arunachala
at the time of Mā’s death.33 In this mysterious atmosphere, some cite
the example of the health crisis of Mother Krishnabai, which was said
120 When a Goddess Dies

to have been directly related to Mā’s departure, as this Western man, a

long-time devotee of Mā, explained:

Swami Ramdas’s grandson said to us a story. Mother Krishnabai was

very sick the night when Mā passed away, in ’82. Then, she said some-
thing: “One half of my strength has left this world. Tomorrow, you will
come to know.” The next day, they could read in the newspapers the
departure of Mā Ānandamayī. . . . They are trying to teach us that we
shouldn’t individualize views of the divine into a specific shape or form.

Among her followers, there are thus a number of beliefs surrounding

Mā’s death. These beliefs attribute the slowness of her death to Mā herself, as
in preparing her followers, she had voluntarily slowed her departure; they also
evoke the transmission of Mā’s energy to her close disciples. These beliefs do
not however seem to result in miraculous signs around Mā’s departure.

Reception of the Guru’s Death

Mā’s death was received in different ways by her devotees, ranging from a
serene acceptance to despair. The general tendency however was for devo-
tees to experience great sadness. For many, Mā’s departure was inconceiv-
able and the announcement of her death was seen as a tragedy, a true
shock, as this Indian male devotee tells:

On the 16th of August, I met her. Mā was very sick. I asked Mā,
“please recover from this.” I thought that she would recover
because she said “accha” [good]. I thought that she was giving me
the word that she wouldn’t go. So, I couldn’t think that Mā could
pass away. And when I learnt the news of her departure from the
paper, I couldn’t believe it. So, I cried, I cried and cried, like a child.
I never cried like that for anybody else.

It seems that very few of her disciples were ready to face her departure, as
the following comments show:

We were not prepared for that.

I don’t think anyone thought it was possible.
We never contemplated this issue.
 Death of the Guru 121

The attitude of disciples toward Mā’s departure thus seems to correspond

completely to the description Edgar Morin gives of reception of death:

It’s more the forever-new stupor that provokes the consciousness of

the ineluctability of death. Everyone could state like Goethe that the
death of someone close is always “incredible and paradoxical,” “an
impossibility that suddenly is changed in reality” (Eckermann); and
this appears like an accident, a punishment, an error, an unreality.. .
Naturally blind then to death, man is ceaselessly forced to relearn
it. The trauma of death is precisely the eruption of real death, the
consciousness of death, at the heart of this blindness.34

In this context, we are reminded of the attitude of the Mother of

Pondicherry’s disciples who, in the years following the death of Sri
Aurobindo, did not think that she was also going to leave her body; or also
of the behavior of Ramakrishna’s disciples toward their master’s death,
behavior that resembles in many ways that of Mā’s disciples shortly before
she died:

All he could do was pronounce that Ramakrishna’s cancer was in

fact incurable (JV[4]‌, 144).35 From his perspective, there was no
hope. But the disciples continued to hope anyway, some of them
going so far as to believe that the Master was actually feigning his
illness for some hidden purpose. He would surely recover, they
claimed, when that purpose was fulfilled. A suffering god was more
than they could take. Denial seemed the best way out.36

Swami Vijayānanda, like others, preferred to deny Mā’s death until its
arrival:

When I saw Mā for the last time, at Dehra Dun, she was lying
down, very sick. You couldn’t go into her room. Me, she called me.
I entered into her room. I sat next to her. I looked at her. From a
medical point of view, you could see that she was almost done. But,
as I had known her for a long time, I knew that, sometimes, when
she was sick, she seemed to be dying. And then, she would get up
and walk away! We thought that she was going to do the same thing.
When I left, I stayed a long time at the door, looking at her. Maybe a
half hour or less, I don’t know. You don’t feel the time pass in these
122 When a Goddess Dies

things. She looked at me very intensely. In her look, she mentally

transmitted, “Don’t worry, everything is fine.” That was the mes-
sage that she sent to me. Me, I understood, everything was fine for
her. When I returned to Kankhal, I said to people, don’t worry, Mā
will be there for the Durgā pūjā. And then, later, I learned that she
was dead. Later, I interpreted, “For you, everything will be fine.”

If many devotees did not envision the possibility of Mā’s departure, others
on the contrary had no illusions regarding her imminent death during the
last weeks of her life, as Atmananda specifies:

The last day, it was a very big celebration: Radha-ashtami, the day of
Radha’s birth. Do you know Radha? She was Krishna’s wife. We had
asked for advice from the appropriate people. Some astrologists had
said that this day was very fatal. And one of them, known to be par-
ticularly skilled, had told us that if Mā could live beyond this day, she
could remain on earth for several more years. But we realized that
Mataji’s state was only getting worse. It was then the 26th of August,
1982. . . . We knew that she would not stay on earth. Personally,
I believe that I was under no illusions. She had become so weak the
last days, that those who cared for her had to work in pairs to turn
her over. So it was so painful for me to see her like that. There was
no longer this extraordinary radiance that had been there before.37

Followers went so far as to dream of Mā definitively leaving her body

shortly before her mahāsamādhi. This is notably the case of this swami
who sensed Mā’s immediate departure with a revelatory dream:

Two days before mahāsamādhi, I had a dream that Mā had left her
body. Suddenly, I said “no, no Mā, you cannot go.” I became emotional.
Suddenly, Mā rose from her bed and came to me. I said, “Mā, you are
leaving?” She said, “No, no, I am not leaving.” I told her: “Who will
answer my questions? Even if someone answers my questions, I will
not believe. What will happen?” And she said, “Remember one thing.
If a question comes in mind, it means that ego has come. It is only ego
who raises the question.” When I woke up, I lost my voice. I couldn’t
speak anymore. Mauna came naturally. After two days, I got the mes-
sage that Mā has left her body. I had the last darśana in Kankhal.
 Death of the Guru 123

And so, if some devotees did not expect Mā’s mahāsamādhi, others
“sensed” Mā’s approaching departure.
Following Mā’s departure, the whole of her community was plunged
into complete pain. Although Mā had always affirmed that death must die
and she had insisted her not having a body would never be an obstacle
between herself and her devotees, her disciples had great trouble accept-
ing her departure and experienced it as an incommensurable loss, as the
following testimonies show:

Losing Mā was losing everything.

I openly cried in front of everybody. I thought I lost something.
There is no word to express what I felt.
We were all very upset. We took it for granted that she would always
be there. You know, we didn’t realize how valuable it was to have
her around.
It was a great shock for me, my family and all of my friends who
were close to Mā. I was not accepting this.
All the close devotees of Mā, all the ashram people, for the first few
years were completely lost, though Mā had trained us definitely to
find her within.

One of Mā’s brahmacārins, sent by her to Mount Kailash during the same
period, even tried to end his life in learning of the news:

When I learned of it, it was the greatest shock of my life. It was

when I returned from the pilgrimage from Mount Kailash, we
had just crossed the Chinese border and had entered into Indian
territory, a soldier who escorted pilgrims told us the news. At the
beginning, I couldn’t believe it. The soldier said that it had been
announced on the National Indian Radio the evening of August 27,
1982. It seemed to me that the sky had fallen on my head. My mind
was paralyzed, in a state of shock. One thing that I remember, it’s
that I wanted to kill myself by jumping from a cliff in the moun-
tains. One of the older monks of our ashram coming up behind me
saw me and saved me from suicide.38

Shortly after, this same brahmacārin who wanted to put an end to his
time on earth was designated pūjāri of the samādhi. During an interview
124 When a Goddess Dies

conducted with him, now a swami, he described the difficulty of his

position:

Naturally, we were used to do pūjā when Mā was in her physical form.

Mā was in front of you at that time when you did pūjā. And after that,
you have just the samādhi, a platform. And you have to think that Mā is
here, in the platform. So, it was very painful for me. Gradually, we had
to think, at least, I cannot see Mā but Mā is there, her body is physically
there, inside the stone. Then, gradually, it came up. I was feeling bad
actually, but in any case, we had to do that and I had to do that.

This feeling of loss felt by Mā’s community returns us, several decades
earlier, to the departure of Sarada Devi, also perceived by her disciples as
the Divine Mother:

Her mahāsamādhi has cast a deep gloom over the hearts of all devo-
tees, and has created a void which will never be filled, until perhaps
it pleases the Divine Mother to incarnate Herself once more. To all
those who personally knew her, the loss is terrible, and their only
consolation is in the thought that such personages are born once in
an age through the Divine Will, that they play their part, and that
when the play is over they are once more gathered to the Primal
Source whence they came. And we know that wherever else such
souls may be, the devotees’ heart is their best throne, and we are to
seek there for the Presence of the Holy Mother.39

Mā’s departure thus led to profound disturbance within her commu-

nity, and particularly for those who were in regular physical contact with
her. As she had become the object of intense “sociality” for them, Mā’s
departure provoked a sort of social crisis.40 For most devotees, her death
even paralleled a parental loss. One of the disciples interviewed said to
us that “Mā was like an extended family.” This recalls the comments of
André Rousseau, who states that death is initially the death of someone
that occupies a place in relationships of kinship.41
Although difficult to accept, Mā’s death was nevertheless perceived by
some as a sort of liberation for her, as this Western man tells:

I felt that there was such a deterioration of the situation in the ash-
ram. I felt that no one was doing what Mā wanted them to do. This
 Death of the Guru 125

kind of dark energy had descended on the ashram, with Mā’s illness.
Mā was withdrawing. A lot of weird things were going on in the ash-
ram. People were freaking out. They were worrying about what was
going to happen to them when Mā is no longer. There were a lot of
power struggles, who is going to control which ashram. There were
a lot of petty stupid things going on. I thought it was so bad, but in
a way, I thought that maybe, it’s better for Mā to leave, that she has
to do with this impossible situation. I don’t know if you can say it’s
better for Mā to leave. It’s a kind of release in a way. I was aware that
everything was falling apart around her. That was how I saw it. I think
other people saw it that way too. You could feel this energy, this sort
of dark energy that was sort of closing everything down, including
Mā. Many many things I could say, which I won’t say about all that.

The state of Mā’s health seriously deteriorating, disciples also saw in her depar-
ture a way to abbreviate her physical suffering, although others affirm that she
did not suffer. This view of Mā’s death as a liberation has much in common
with what devotees of Mother Krishnabai say about her departure. Because
Mother Krishnabai was believed by some of her devotees to have been the
object of black magic, as some of her disciples say, the announcement of her
death was perceived by them as a way to free her from the load burdening her.
It also seems that Mā’s departure was easier to endure for foreigners,
as this German woman disciple says:

I was in Basel, the Swiss town, at that time, together with my husband.
I got this message on the phone. This was very peculiar. It didn’t feel
real, but I think that for Western devotees who had not been in such
close physical contact, it was different anyhow. We had to accept more
distance compared to Indian devotees. So, we were trained in a way
[laughs] to focus more on the inner quality. So, this inner quality was
not lost. And the funny thing was, it was as if she didn’t give so much
time to mourn or to be sad. She gave us so much spiritual work, in
terms of making new books about her, making satsaṅgas. We couldn’t
be too sad because she gave us so much work which was centred on her.
The work came from inward and outward, by itself. We couldn’t be sad.
She was quite alive after that because we did this intense work for her.

Another Western disciple also told us of his reaction to the announcement

of Mā’s death: “It didn’t seem to have much effect on me; I was being
126 When a Goddess Dies

weaned off of personal contact. And also I was in England. So, that was
not too bad.”
Some Westerners also evoke the rules of purity and the language
barrier as an aid in detaching themselves from Mā’s physical form;
“The lack of comprehension of Hindi and of Bengali, the distance and
the rules of separation imposed by Mā’s entourage were factors that
helped me not to attach myself to her body.”42 In addition to the lan-
guage barrier, the brahminical rules and the distance between India
and the West, the Vedantic orientation (meaning non-dualism) of
Western devotees certainly also contributed to a greater detachment
on the part of Western devotees regarding Mā’s departure. Western
devotees are generally much more inclined, in their relationship with
Mā, to a type of Vedantic relationship, that is to say less personal and
less emotional than in bhakti. While being profound, this Vedantic
relationship is accompanied by a less personal attachment toward
the form of the master. This could also explain why Mā’s death was
easier to accept for her foreign devotees. It thus seems that there
were different attitudes among Westerners and Indians toward Mā’s
death. This contrast of attitudes between Indian and Western devo-
tees is also noted in the comments of a foreign woman interviewed
at Kankhal:

I was amazed when I heard that some swamis got depressed, even
Atmananda was wondering, “Didn’t they understand the nature
of Mā that they keep so much to the physical body?” No, it was
not like this. . . . Here (in India), people, they grow up in such a
devotional, religious atmosphere; it is in your blood. In the West,
you have sometimes so many adverse circumstances that you had
to develop a real strength to keep up this devotion. At the same
time, it’s grace. If you have succeeded to keep up this bound even
in these material circumstances, there is this strength that cannot
be lost so easily.

Thus, the difference in reaction to Mā’s death between Westerners and

Indians was principally due to several factors. Because of these different
factors, it was less difficult for Westerners to accept Mā’s departure.
Regarding new devotees, Mā’s departure was nowhere near as impact-
ful as it was to the followers who knew her, as this Western woman
says: “It doesn’t mean as much as I am sure it means to all of the people
 Death of the Guru 127

who were with her.” Having always known Mā in a “disincarnated” form,

new followers do not feel a lack, a nostalgia toward her physical presence,
even if some of them confess that they would have liked to meet her, as
this French woman says:

I cannot say that I miss her physical presence, as I didn’t know her
in her physical body. My relationship with her was always of this
nature, that is to say, with her samādhi or in her ashrams. I haven’t
had a relationship with her; I am not like some people. Me, I don’t
have such a relationship as I didn’t know her. . . . On the other hand,
I essentially think that it was a great opportunity to meet her in her
body, I would have liked it, and I think that only could have helped
my practice.

Other new disciples also affirm that they are content not to have known
Mā during this period, as they would have had a hard time dealing with
her physical suffering and her later departure. An early disciple of Mā’s, a
Western man, admits that devotees who never met Mā during her lifetime
are almost fortunate to have avoided the pain of her departure:

Not only me but most of the people around here were really
depressed for the first four or five years. Everybody there was
depressed. So, undoubtedly, on that level, new devotees are almost
lucky. In my case, I went to the very highest level and just fell off the
cliff all together. And then, I had to climb, back up again.

Thus, the period following Mā’s death can be compared to Van Gennep’s
postliminal period, which consists of a period of reincorporating the
deceased person into his or her new status.43 What must be done is to
accept the new state of the saint, as Hertz describes:

We cannot bring ourselves to consider the deceased as dead straight

away: he is too much part of our substance, we have to put too
much of ourselves into him, and participation in the same social
life create ties which are not to be severed in one day. The “factual
evidence” is assailed by a contrary flood of memories and images,
of desires and hopes. The evidence imposes itself gradually and it
is not until the end of this prolonged conflict that we give in and
believe in the separation as something real.44
128 When a Goddess Dies

Although it is now more than thirty years after Mā’s departure, some devo-
tees still feel this loss like a painful event, as the following excerpts from
an Indian male disciple, an early devotee of Mā’s, emphasize:

I don’t want to think of this event. I always avoid this. We do not

like that. Mā is always alive for me, all the time. For bhakta, her
departure is not a good experience. Yes, we lost a great person-
ality . . . I am not saying that the body is not important. It is very
important for us, very important. Even yesterday, I didn’t want to
watch the movie of Mā.

It nevertheless seems that Mā’s devotees are finally no longer going

through the grieving process and have integrated Mā into her new status
as deceased, as demonstrated by the comments of this swami, who during
a retreat evoked his reconciliation with Mā’s departure:

That took me a long time, but now, I feel that I love Mā in the same
way as I did when she was in her physical form. If I claim to love
Mā I should love her words too. She said: ‘Remember, wherever you
may be, at every instant, this body is constantly watching you; but
you don’t want to see me, should I be there?’ This statement of Mā
brought me great consolation and I was penetrated with the convic-
tion that Mā was always with me.45

This conviction is shared by the group of devotees who today affirm the
absence of death in Mā:

To me, there is no death of Mā, there is no end.

Mā never left us.
She was never lost to us.
I don’t feel that she had gone from this world. She is everywhere.
Mā is here and there. She is watching everything, every aspect
of our life. Mā is always there. Even when I leave this world, Mā
will be with me. And definitely, she will be with me in another
birth.

To conclude, there appears a clear distinction between Mā’s view of

death, a vision tinged with detachment, or even a certain indifference,
and the manner in which her devotees reacted to her death. The grief
 Death of the Guru 129

and the despair present in the devotee’s reaction starkly contrasts with
Mā’s position regarding death, a position that one could summarize in
the simple affirmation that death must die. The despondency and great
sadness of her followers seem in reality to be clearly tied to the almost
symbiotic relationship they had with Mā, perceived above all as their
mother. Despite Mā’s non-dual teaching of the true absence of death
and of the unity of all things, the large majority of followers experienced
Mā’s death as a true rupture, an irreparable loss, or even as an aban-
donment. As we have seen, it nevertheless seems that her death was
more easily accepted by Westerners, as compared to Indians. As a whole,
the new devotees seem to be untouched by an evocation of Mā’s death,
thus revealing a major distinction between them and early devotees, and
notably Indians.

Toward a Return of the Guru?

Here we examine the beliefs attached to the postmortem identity of the
guru, in this case Mā Ānandamayī. For the majority of disciples, Mā is
perceived to be totally merged with everything, as this swami states: “After
Her death, She has become all pervading” or again as this devotee empha-
sizes on the subject of saints: “They are really enlightened people, and
after leaving their body, their aura is there. The believer has to feel it, has
to believe it. Mā is there in our mind, in your heart.” Others speak of
“omnipresence” to describe Mā’s posthumous identity, but also of the
“ocean of existence,” of “satcitānanda.” Swami Vijayānanda, for his part,
evokes an identification of Mā with the divine: “Now that Mā left her phys-
ical body, She is completely identified with the divine power,”46 and also
speaks of an “omnipresent consciousness” to describe Mā’s state since
her departure: “I am in contact with Mā as an omnipresent and formless
Consciousness, but not as possessing a subtle body.”47
If Mā is totally identifiable with the One, some nevertheless accept the
vestige of a subtle embodiment of hers. A new male disciple from France
speaks of his own experience regarding this topic:

From a dual point of view, from a samsaric point of view, I think

that it’s over, there is nothing left, there is no more future. From an
ethereal point of view, or from what we call the body of Glory, it is
evident that the person who sent me the śaktipāta, it was something
of a formal nature. There was a presence. I think that there is a
130 When a Goddess Dies

divine body, a body of light that was individualized. I think that the
word body of light is the most appropriate.

Mā would also speak of the existence of this subtle body after death:

The ethereal body also perishes. All the same supermen

(mahāpuruśa) quite often assume special forms. This is due to their
inherent disposition. Yet, some even after assuming a particular
form can remain immersed in Supreme Being. Again, the simulta-
neous existence in a formlessness is also possible.48

Many female gurus interviewed by June McDaniel affirm that they main-
tain a relationship with their deceased guru who lives on in a subtle body.49
This returns us to the revelations of the Holy Mother Sarada Devi, who
affirms that her husband, Ramakrishna, had announced to her, in a post-
humous apparition, that he would continue to live on in a subtle body for
three centuries: “When the Master passed away, I also wanted to go. He
appeared before me and said: ‘No, you must remain here. There are many
things to be done.’ He said that he would live for three hundred years in
a subtle body, in the hearts of devotees.”50 If Mā is today identifiable with
the Everything, with the formless, some of her devotees hold that she can
also assume a certain form, such as a subtle body.
It is also interesting to consider the question of Mā’s return to earth.
Three approaches are possible here. Mā might return first as an individual
soul (jīva) in a human body. In the Hindu tradition, there is the belief that
the master’s personal soul can reincarnate itself after his or her death in
another body. Regarding this point, we could mention the case of Sathya
Sai Baba, who affirmed that he was the reincarnation of the very popular
Shirdi Sai Baba51 and who announced his future incarnation in the body of
a certain Prem Sai.52 There is also the case of Meher Baba who is believed
to have incarnated in different times.53 Ramakrishna also predicted that
he would be again incarnated in the body of a monk a hundred years after
his death. If Mā, for her part, always affirmed that she had no past lives
and that she would have no future ones, some nonetheless believe in the
possibility of a new incarnation of her in future, as this Indian woman,
an early devotee of Mā’s states: “Mā has to come back. Whether she will
come back in this form or not, that I am not sure, but she will come back.
She as a ‘she’ or ‘he,’ whatever.” Others, on the contrary, do not believe in
a possible return of Mā on earth, whether it be in the body that they knew
 Death of the Guru 131

or in another body: “It’s over. We don’t want to backtrack. No, no, no, she
will not return.” “Personal Mā” can no longer return: “I feel that there
were certain souls which were destined to come in contact with her. Now,
it’s finished.”
Second, we can consider the possibility of Mā’s return from an imper-
sonal perspective, a return as avatar. Pierre Feuga, author of many books
on the Hindu tradition, and notably on the Tantric tradition, sheds some
light on this subject:

If we sometimes affirm that some of these realized sages “return”

or redescend onto earth in the form of an avatâra, by that we don’t
mean a return of the individual soul, as these sages, strictly speak-
ing, no longer have that. It’s much more an impersonal principle
that is cyclically manifested, for a determined mission, each time
that the spiritual consciousness of humanity is obscured.54

Thus, there is the possibility as a spiritual principle and not as a particular

soul.55 Some devotees evoke the possibility of a return of this spiritual prin-
ciple that we here call “Mā,” as this Western man, a new devotee of Mā’s:

I think that ‘that’ will not even be the same person, as in the way
that we represent her. It’s impossible. For me, it’s impossible that
she would return in the same form, but she could return in other
forms. Yes, why not, the divine in the past was manifested in many
forms, Kṛṣṇa, Jesus. She can return. It’s the divine, it’s not physi-
cally Mā. The Divine can be manifested when it wants.

Swami Vijayānanda, for his part, also affirmed that it is possible that
the divine principle, which he defines as an “omnipresent mass of
Consciousness–Bliss,” could reincarnate itself in a body to reply to a call:

Mā says that she came among us because that was a call that had
attracted her to our plane. We suppose that a group of spiritually
developed people who had an intense devotion for the feminine
aspect of the Divine had launched this call; but in fact, where did
she come from? It should be understood that these things cannot be
conceived through the mental. However, schematically, we can say
that there exists an omnipresent mass of Consciousness–Bliss that
132 When a Goddess Dies

has neither form nor place but which is the support and the base
of everything that exists. Modern learned people approach it when
they speak of the “unified field” which is at the base of all atoms,
molecules, etc. . . . Thus, what appeared to us in the physical form
of Mā was in a way a sort of crystallization of this Omnipresent,
crystallization allowing us to enter more easily into contact with
the Supreme. The physical form was removed from our visual field,
but the Supreme of which She was the crystallization is always the
same. He (or She) will always respond to our call if we make it
with sufficiently intense devotion. Of course, the majority of peo-
ple cannot enter into contact with the Formless and need a visual
support. For those who have been touched by the splendor of the
divine apparition of Mā Ānandamayī (even if they have not person-
ally met her), a photo, the reading of a book or a meditation before
her samādhi (tomb) can produce the intensity necessary for the call
to be effective.56

As another disciple, a new Indian female devotee, says, this call has to
be intense enough for the spiritual principle to take form: “That depends
on the present devotees, whether they are dedicated, whether they are
devoted. If they call with that perfection, then, she can come over again.
But that depends on us, on the next generation, on the devotees.” The
intensity of the devotee’s call seems thus to constitute a determining fac-
tor in the descent of the divine principle on the earth, as this other com-
mentary from an early Indian male devotee demonstrates:

The question, “Mā, why have you come?”, the answer was that the
collective prayers manifested themselves in this body, that’s what
she is. I believe that if you have a desire that is so strong, it will take
a physical form. I am convinced but I have no basis. I cannot prove
it. If you think very, very strongly about something, this takes form.

In addition, others think that this spiritual principle, formerly incarnated

in the person of Mā is to be found today in Amma, the female guru that
many perceive today as the Divine Mother, as Mā Ānandamayī was. A new
Indian male devotee explains: “I think that Mā has already come back
in a body. I read the biography of Ammachi and there are many similar
things between Mā and Ammachi.” Regarding the question of whether
 Death of the Guru 133

Mā could return to earth, another male devotee, an early disciple from

England, similarly responded: “Why, is she not already back? Have you
met Ammachi? I think that she is not an ordinary person.” Although this
is clearly not possible (at least on the personal mode, i.e. the return of an
individual soul) given that Amma was born in 1953, when Mā was 57 years
old, we observe some noteworthy similarities in the personalities of these
two female gurus, especially in relation to their perceived incarnation as
Kālī and their authority independent of affiliation to a religious order.57
Finally, the question of Mā’s potential return to earth can also be
addressed using the principles of Advaita Vedānta. For some devotees,
among whom the Advaitic conception takes precedence, one cannot speak
of coming or of a return of Mā on earth since she has always been there, as
the following two commentaries show: “Mā is there. There is no question
of coming back on earth” or also: “Mā is with me. So, I don’t think of Mā
coming down in another body.” These are similar to the comments of Mā
who, regarding avatars, says this: “There is no coming and no going. All
are Atma. There is no question of an Avatar descending into the world. He
is always there, but takes shape for the ‘bhakta’.”58
On the same subject, Mā also made the following comments:

In the realm of phenomena there is much differentiation, such as

“above” and “below”. But There—what is and what is not? Where
ascent and descent can still be spoken of, what will you call such a
state? Must you not admit that various directions have remained?
If you speak of descent and ascent, it is implied that there must
be a place to descend to; but whither can He descend? To Himself
alone of course. Ascending and descending are one and the same
thing, and He who ascends, is He who descends, and the acts of
ascending and descending are also He. Although you speak of
Divine Descent (Avatāran), He surely does not become divided.
You see fire flare up here and there, but this does not affect its
unity: fire as fire is eternal. This is how you should under-stand
it. No simile is ever complete. He who descends, whence He
descends, and whither—all are one. There is nothing whatsoever
outside of THAT. A QUESTION: If the Real remains what it is,
what then do ascent and descent mean? MATAJI: What you say rep-
resents a particular viewpoint of the world. Where the Ultimate,
the Supreme is, the question you ask is impossible. On a certain
plane, descent and ascent exist. It is you who say: “God descends”.
134 When a Goddess Dies

On the other hand, there is no such thing as descent: where He is,

there He remains, and all possibilities are contained in Him. To
understand (A play upon words: bhoja means ‘to understand’, as
well as ‘burden’.) intellectually—which means to ‘stand under’,
in other words, to be burdened by mental conceptions—prevents
one from grasping the Truth.59

Thus, the question of “descent” or of “coming” at a certain level is not

asked. The words of this new disciple, an English woman, dovetail nicely
with Mā’s comments:

I think it’s a bit irrelevant. It doesn’t matter. I mean whatever. She

(Mā) could or she couldn’t. There is that thing that whenever there
is a need, then, an incarnation will come. But I just don’t feel that
she actually has gone anywhere. That’s the problem. I think that
she is still around. I don’t know about her being manifested. I only
know about her in an unmanifested state. As far as I feel, she is
here all the time. So, the question doesn’t seem important to me.

There are then three manners of envisioning Mā’s return to earth,

according to whether one perceives Mā from a personal or impersonal
point of view, or if one places her on the plane of non-duality. These
diverse opinions on the question nevertheless remain limited for some
who perceive in this line of questioning nothing but an intellectual exer-
cise: “It is very difficult to say. We have no basis of saying. Basically, it’s
only an intellectual exercise. It won’t serve any purpose. It doesn’t matter.”
And for some followers, it is not possible to respond to this question. One
cannot make predictions about beings like Mā: “A spirit like Mā, or like
Shivananda, we cannot predict anything about them.”
If the diversity of beliefs tied to Mā’s posthumous identity are revealing
of the absence of a dogmatic authority in the Hindu tradition, above all it
shows us that the question of a posthumous future for Mā does not seem
to constitute an “issue” for the people currently in charge of her cult.

Death of the Guru to the Devotee

If Mā was that which her devotees say she was, that is to say an incarnation
of the divinity on earth (avatar), a being that has exceeded death, a being
 Death of the Guru 135

bestowed with superhuman powers, capable of miraculous healing, why

did she leave? Far from being specific to Mā, this question generally arises
among disciples following the death of their spiritual master. Alexandra
David-Neel notes this incomprehension stemming from the death of a
Hindu master:

Common traditions want the great yogis to be inaccessible to sick-

ness. These eminent individuals leave our world at the moment
they choose, without physical deterioration: they do not succumb to
an involuntary problem. Now, Sri Aurobindo suffered from a renal
problem that resulted in a fatal uremia attack. The famous yogi
Ramakrishna is dead from cancer of the throat and another guru,
that I will mention later, died from cancer in his arm. These are the
facts that bother the convictions of some Indians (it would be more
precise to say some Hindus, as Buddhists have never maintained
the idea that spiritual perfection rendered the saint unsusceptible
to physical ills). The Buddha died from sickness (probably dysen-
tery) at the age of 81.60

This question tied to the death of the master has also been present in the
mind of some of Mā’s devotees, as this excerpt of an interview with a new
male disciple from France reveals:

At the beginning, I asked myself this question, which led to me

doubting in my sādhanā. Why did she leave? If she’s an avatar,
why did she die like everyone else? In addition, she died at a time
when there was much less spiritual presence outside, that’s what
Madou said, that it was somber, it was sad. She turned her head
away to die.

And so, it seems important to examine the meaning of the guru’s depar-
ture in the eyes of her devotees, for, Mā’s posthumous representation and
her cult after her death depends in some ways on the interpretation of her
death by her followers.

Powers of the Guru over Death

Before addressing the possible meanings of the guru’s departure, it is nec-
essary to describe the powers over death recognized in the guru, so as to
136 When a Goddess Dies

better understand what motivated the guru to cast off his or her mortal
coil. For, if the guru controls death, why did he or she leave?
Gurus are generally recognized as possessing certain supernatural
powers (siddhis) over life and death. One of their most notable powers is
to predict their own death.61 Shirdi Sai Baba is said to have predicted his
death and to have even envisioned the site of his future tomb. Other great
sages, feeling their death approaching, have also decided to initiate their
postmortem cult. This is notably the case of Jnanananda of Tirukovilur, the
guru of Father Henri le Saux, who, on his last birthday, blessed his statue,
around which today his followers gather. Concerning Mā Ānandamayī,
certain signs led some disciples to believe that Mā already knew the hour
and exact location of her death. Indicating a tree that used to occupy the
place of her tomb, she had said to one of her disciples at Kankhal: “One
day, this body will lie there.”62
Gurus are also said to be able to choose the moment they leave their
body, as may have been the case with Swami Vivekananda, who voluntarily
left his body while meditating, or also with Sri Aurobindo whose death is
described by the Mother: “He told me that the world was not ready (that He
told me). He told me that He was leaving deliberately because it was ‘nec-
essary.’ ”63 We could also cite the case of a lesser known sage, Tyagara, who
apparently foresaw his last day on earth64 or that of the young Marathi poet
saint, Jnaneshwar, still venerated at his samādhi at Alandi, near Pune.65
He is said to have decided the moment of his own death and to have sat
in his tomb in the lotus position in leaving his body. It is interesting to
note that some moments are more favorable than others for leaving the
body.66 Swami Purushatamananda, a hermit living next to Rishikesh, in
the cave of Vasiṣṭa on the banks of the Ganges, left his body in 1961 on the
day of Mahāśivarātri, the great day of Śiva, the archetypal God of death.67
The saint Thevar, whose samādhi is found in Tamil Nadu, not far from
Madurai, died on his birthday, a revealing sign for some of the sanctity of
the figure.68 And so, sages are often renowned for seeing and even control-
ling their own death.
Regarding Mā Ānandamayī, nothing in writing would indicate that
Mā had deliberately decided on the hour of her own death. However, for
devotees, it would not be surprising if Mā had herself decided the exact
moment of her departure. Mā would have been able to prolong her life
if she had wanted to, according to her disciples. One is reminded of the
years 1939 and 1940, during which Mā had developed a generalized cancer
and surely would have died, had she not healed herself in a single night.69
 Death of the Guru 137

There are many situations in which Mā was extremely sick and, from a
day to the next, she would recuperate instantaneously, leaving doctors in
complete incomprehension:

Her diseases discouraged all doctors. Their diagnoses were con-

stantly questioned due to symptoms that from day to day were con-
tradictory. She recovered her health in a dazzling way. Her pulse
from one moment to another would accelerate and then be barely
perceptible. Her temperature varied considerably. No doctor dared
to prescribe her medicine (whether they were allopathic, homeo-
pathic or ayurvedic). The rare times when it was tried, the sickness
only became worse. She said: “Diseases are beings like you. I do not
send you away when you come to me. Why would I make an excep-
tion with them? This is also His game.”70

Thus, according to her disciples, Mā had control over her own death.
Some masters, and notably those in the Siddha tradition,71 were also said
to have the power of being immortal.72 This explains the names given to
some masters like Babaji, who is often called the eternal guru or the eter-
nal Baba who appears at certain times, in particular during Kumbhamelā.
One of Mā’s disciples also confided in us that she had hoped to meet him
at Kumbhamelā in the 1970s, and that she instead met Mā for the first
time. Regarding physical immortality, Mā also affirmed this:

One method is to increase the duration of one man’s life by tak-

ing a period from another’s. Then there is also a method by which
the prolongation of a man’s span of life can be effected without
deducting the period from someone else’s life. Yogis who are able
to use their powers in this way do exist; where the power to create
is at the Yogi’s command, it obviously is beyond natural laws. . . . In
the supreme state everything is possible as well as impossible. To
say “this or that has never happened” is merely to speak from the
worldly point of view. If the body has to be retained in one and the
same state, this too can be done and is being done.73

However, there is no mention among disciples of a physically immortal

Mā who appears on certain occasions, although disciples testify to having
had posthumous visions of Mā in flesh and blood.
138 When a Goddess Dies

If everything is possible in the supreme state, as Mā specifies, it is not

unusual to hear of this return from death to life among great spiritual
beings.74 According to the yogi Yogananda, an enlightened master has the
ability to return a body to life, that is to say, to reanimate his own corpse.75
The most famous case concerns Shirdi Sai Baba whose body is said to
have returned to life three days after his death in 1886, an event that inci-
dentally initiated the spreading of the Shirdi mission.76 We should specify
that this phenomenon of the reanimation of a corpse is something com-
mon in the yogic circles in India. Ramatirtha is said to have met many
monks in the Himalayas capable of plunging themselves in a state of
apparent death over periods of six months.77 And so, these phenomena
of natural reanimation, to distinguish them from symbolic death, such
as the voyage of shamans in the world of the dead, is also found in these
charismatic personages called saints. Some siddhas are also known for
their power to bring the dead back to life, like Siddha Hadi, from the Dom
cast, those who cremate bodies, who is said to have brought life back to
these corpses by touching their feet.78 In Mā’s case, there are testimonies
of her having reanimated individual bodies considered to be dead. Mā
herself never announced an eventual return of this type.
Thus the gurus are generally recognized, in the Hindu tradition, as
beings who have control over death, and notably over their own death. For
disciples, there is no doubt that Mā had complete mastery over death, as
different situations in which she accomplished the impossible reveal; that
is to say she vanquished physical death, as our previous examples have dem-
onstrated. But if this belief in Mā’s supernatural powers over death validates
her charisma and reinforces her sanctity, Mā’s death itself challenges these
beliefs. It seems necessary then to turn to devotees’ view of this death. How
do followers justify the departure of an enlightened being who had control
over death?

Natural Death and the Call to the Formless

Asked about the reasons for Mā’s death, disciples give a number of explana-
tions. The first and most common is in relation to Mā’s desire to follow the
natural course of things and to not call on her power (siddhi) to prolong her
life on earth, as the following commentaries of different devotees emphasize:

I felt that Mā just allowed the normal way of things to happen to

her physical body.
All the saints do not want to break the natural rules.
 Death of the Guru 139

That would go against the spirit of all of nature. Nature is created

by her.
Though Mā had control over her body, she had those powers, this is
nature, each one has to go when time comes, and that, it happens
naturally.

Despite her superhuman capacities, Mā’s disciples hold that she did not
wish to intervene in the natural process of death, as this Indian woman,
an early devotee of Mā’s, explains here:

She decided herself to go. She let her body become weak. You know,
she got blind and they put glasses on her. She never paid attention to
her body. Everybody had to look after it. She never did anything. She
didn’t need to do anything. She was beyond all that. She let her body
grow old slowly. She didn’t have to do that. She could be a young girl
of sixteen, twenty, anytime. She could change her body. She could do
anything, of course. They are God incarnated. They can come and
go at will, do anything at will. But she let it be like a normal human
being but she was not a normal human being. You know, they put
glasses on her. Why would she need glasses? You see, things like that.

In the same context, another Indian female disciple, also an old devotee, adds:

She had a physical body. It had to go sometimes or the other. It is

never permanent a physical body. On a physical plane, the maxi-
mum life span is 80/90. She fulfilled those rules. She said, ok, the
body is 90, I am dropping it. It’s as simple as that. It is not a ques-
tion of old or young. She could have become younger but the limi-
tations were 90 years. Saints don’t do those things. They are not
there for miracles. God doesn’t do miracles. Miracles are done by
these so called God men because they want fame, name and power.
See, they get these siddhis. In sādhanā, you get all these powers.
They show this, and show that. They want to attract more people.
God doesn’t need people. He never shows all these miracles to you.
These people who have siddhis, they want to show you those things.
Those things are very temporary things. They have to make lots of
efforts to show you something which they call a miracle.

Thus, according to her disciples, Mā wanted to let nature take its course
in not calling on her supernatural powers to escape from death. This
140 When a Goddess Dies

perception of death is also found, in many ways, among Sri Aurobindo’s

disciples regarding their master’s death:

Then the “illness” took off at a gallop. He could have left his body,
like Mother, by a simple act of will: draw the breath above and leave
the garment behind. But He bore it right to the end, with all the
suffering and even the medical tortures, “without resorting to mira-
cles”—an honest work. “Why don’t you use your force and cure your-
self?” his secretary asked him. No, he replied in his tranquil, neutral,
indisputable voice. They did not want to believe their ears, they were
stunned. They repeated the question a second time: “But why?”—
Can’t explain, you won’t understand. Mother later told us: Each time
I entered his room, I saw him pulling down the supramental light.”79

Like Sri Aurobindo, Mā then accomplished this “honest work” by not

resorting to miracles to prolong her life or to suppress the suffering of
her body. Thus, for many devotees, Mā wished to leave according to the
natural course of things, having simply no kheyāla or divine inspiration of
healing, like Atmananda specifies:

Many mahatmas, saints, sages came to see her. They said to her,
‘Mā, you must rest. You aren’t doing well. You have to get better’.
But Mā invariably said ‘Kheyâla nahim bai’ (there is no Kheyâla).
You know, Mataji often said that. In the end, she had decided to
leave. She had Kheyâla.80

Regarding this topic, a Shankaracharya who had come to see Mā shortly

before her death is said to have affirmed that even Mā Ānandamayī must
endure the fruit of her karma. In response, Mā said: “In this body, there
is no karma. That which you see here, it’s ‘the call of the formless.’ ” And
so to explain Mā’s departure, many devotees today still evoke the call of
the non-manifested, the avyakta, and this absence of kheyāla to heal. This
natural death also points to Mā’s will to conform to tradition in dying
before her younger brother. To avoid breaking traditional rules in dying
after her young brother, twenty years her junior, she let herself die a few
months before his death, as Mā’s great-nephew explains:

My grandfather got liver problems. He was not meant to live long.

It cannot happen that my grandfather leaves before Mā, his sister,
 Death of the Guru 141

because Mā was much older than him. There was a twenty year gap
between Mā and my grandfather. It was like a mother/child rela-
tionship. He couldn’t leave before Mā. That’s again the tradition.
So, Mā finally left her body eight months before him.

Thus, it appears that Mā’s death was tied in a certain way to family destiny.
Another event reinforces this hypothesis of a direct link between Mā’s
departure and the destiny of her biological family. At the moment of Mā’s
death, her young great-nephew, at that time seriously ill with typhoid and
near death, was miraculously cured as he himself affirms:

During that period, I was very ill, I was suffering of typhoid. I was
unconscious for 3 days. The doctor said that I won’t survive. I was
at the last stage. The same night Mā left her body and, around
8h45, I believe, I got consciousness back. My family believes that
the last thing Mā did is to give me life. My parents believe this very
strongly. The doctor couldn’t believe what happened to me. Mā gave
life to me.

If we cannot prove that Mā would have given her life for her great-nephew,
it still appears that Mā’s destiny is strictly tied to her blood family. And so,
for some of her devotees, Mā’s death occurred in a natural way, without
a desire to counter nature’s laws. This absence of kheyāla on Mā’s part to
continue her existence beyond its natural course would then correspond
to Mā’s will to observe tradition in dying before her younger brother, at
the same time showing the existence of close familial ties between her and
her close relatives.

Death of an Avatar
Some of Mā’s disciples additionally frame her death as a departure that
marks the end of her mission as avatar, that is to say the incarnation of
divinity on earth, as this French woman, a new disciple, thinks:

I think that she came to accomplish something, a sort of mission,

and notably to put the Vedic texts back into practice, as in India,
we were coming out of colonialism, and so Hindus were not at
142 When a Goddess Dies

all proud of their traditions or their practices. And that’s a way to

explain why she was born into a family of brahmins. It was then
very important to put the Vedic texts, the texts of Shankaracharya,
back into the public mind. Maybe, at the end, she was asked to do
things that she had no desire to do and she did not come here for
that. And so she left. She surely had less desire, I don’t know how
to say, to extend the system of ashrams and all that . . . She came to
reestablish the dharma, as with all avatars. . . . I think, at any given
moment, she had done what she came here to do, and she was very
tired at the end, because, although she was an avatar, you neverthe-
less live in a physical body. I think that she did what she had to do.
She wanted to leave for a while, finally, that’s what her disciples say,
but she stayed for some who asked her to stay.

This reminds us of what Ramakrishna, on developing throat cancer, said

shortly before dying: “I’ve gone through this suffering because I fear the
abundant tears that you will shed when I leave you. But if you tell me
‘Enough with suffering—let your body leave,’ then I will withdraw.”81 In
the same way, Mā is said to have stayed longer in her body for a few of
her disciples who asked her to stay. And so like other avatars, Mā’s dis-
ciples say that she was destined to leave this terrestrial world, as this new
Indian male disciple also expresses: “Even Lord Rāma, Lord Kṛṣṇa, they
have come for certain periods. It is the same with Mother. But nothing was
impossible for her. If she wanted, she could have lived longer. She must
have thought that this is the right time to go.” Her divine game, her līlā
was over, as others say: “Her līlā was finished.”
If Mā, as an avatar, had to leave at the end of her mission, some devo-
tees nevertheless thought that she was going to live to be 125 years old
like Kṛṣṇa. This was notably the belief of the doctor who came to see Mā
on August 27, 1982, a few hours before she died. Regarding this matter,
Atmananda relates this:

When this lady [the doctor] told me, after having seen Mâ, that she
found her to be well, I was stupefied. “But that’s not possible!” I said,
“She seems to be doing so poorly!” “Not at all,” she responded, “the
Mother is doing well now.” She told me this because she was totally
persuaded that Mâ was going to live to 125 years old. . . . A lot of peo-
ple shared this conviction. Sri Krishna had lived to 125 years, many
of Mâ’s followers wanted to believe that it would be the same for
 Death of the Guru 143

her. As for me, I continued to say to the doctor: “I think all the same
that Mataji’s health is such that it is difficult for me to believe that
she’s doing well.”82

Ramakrishna apparently believed that he would disappear following the

recognition of his divinity, of his status as an avatar:

One of the most striking aspects of these final days was

Ramakrishna’s belief that he would disappear in death as soon as it
became known that he was an incarnation of God. As soon as the
secret of who he really was got out, the secret would have to be con-
cealed again. Accordingly, many times he was heard to say, “When
many people regard this a god and show faith and devotion, it will
immediately disappear” (Śriśrirāmakṛṣṇalīlāprasaṅga 5.11.5).83

No one in Mā’s community however seems to have held this belief. For
some of her devotees, Mā’s death could thus be considered as the final
chapter of her mission as avatar. In this sense, the death of the avatar,
of the Supreme Being, voluntarily comes to pass in order to awaken her
disciple’s consciousness to the true nature of existence. This sentiment of
separation and of loss so characteristic of Hindu Bhakti could have been
desired by Mā in a certain way, in order to reinforce the mystical call in the
devotee, as this swami specifies:

When she left, it just broke our heart. It was so horrible. But that
was to awake our self and make us realise we long for Mā. We
couldn’t long for an abstract idea of God, even for our soul, because
we were too dead inside. But then, we became attached to Mā. And
when she left, we’ll be longing for her. Mā was saying that’s the very
path. She would say the longing for God is itself the path for God.
The aspiration for God is itself a path. That’s the most important
thing. If you have the aspiration, everything will open up. If you
have the desire for God, it will be fulfilled. It was a divine longing.
Mā was God. There is no question about it. We are longing for not
a person. There was this being that we felt so close to who was
God. It woke up divine longing. So, this crying, this misery was
wonderful. It snapped people out from this world and out of their
complaisance, out of their sleep, the sleep of death. Mā brought
joy and she brought intentional sorrow to realise we are in foreign
144 When a Goddess Dies

land. We shouldn’t get so comfortable, thinking that this is home,

everything is fun. This is not. We’ll be broken up by death, the death
of our body, not the death of the soul.

Mā spoke of this type of separation as a road to accessing the Divine: “The

meaning of separation, let it be dissolved by devotion, or burn it with
knowledge. . . . So, you shall know your Self.”84 This returns us to the expe-
rience of Ramakrishna, who, after having lost his father, had seen his mys-
tical aspirations reinforced by aspects of a depression.85 As Clément and
Kakar specify: “The mystical path is also then a way to diminish the agony
of separation, to weaken the pain of loss, to reduce the sadness of grief.”86
And so, for some, like Atmananda, Mā’s departure occurred in some ways
in order to help them overcome their attachment to the world of appear-
ances and to awaken them to their true nature which is the Self:

Perfection clothes itself with a physical body like Anandamayee

Ma’s in order to seduce us mortals whose perceptions are based
on the physical senses. It uses physical attraction to captivate the
senses and lure them into the fire of truth. Once we have become
irrevocably attached to Her, She disappears and becomes ‘That’—
our innermost Self—the ONE.87

Death of the Guru as Absence of Devotion

One of the other reasons given by disciples to justify Mā’s death is the lack
of devotees’ obedience toward Mā, as obedience plays a central role in the
master/disciple relationship. It seems that Mā repeated many times that
people no longer needed her as they didn’t perform that which she recom-
mended they do, as this early and very close disciple of Mā’s says: “People
were not obeying Her.” Mā’s departure is justified by a number of devotees
as Mā’s response to the indifference of her disciples before the instruc-
tions she had given them, as this Indian male follower, a new devotee,
explains:

There was a period in Mā’s life when she used to eat on one grain
of rice. Since she is God, she could have delivered herself. But to
be very frank with you, at that time, there were discrepancies going
on in ashram. There were some elements in the ashram, who were
 Death of the Guru 145

not listening to Mā’s instructions. So, at one point of time, Mā felt

that the time has come to leave her body to make them realise that
enough is enough.

Others also evoke the failure of disciples as one of Mā’s reasons for leaving
this world: “Mā wished to leave this world. Mā on her own left her body.
Mā was very upset. Mā had many disciples. She gave so much to them.
But on the spiritual side, they failed. Mā told me so many times, ‘there is
not a single person eligible to be sādhu.’ ” This is close to the Mother of
Pondicherry’s comments concerning Sri Aurobindo’s departure: “The lack
of the earth’s receptivity and the behavior of Sri Aurobindo’s disciples are largely
responsible for what happened to his body.” Satprem adds that “this was even
more true of Mother’s disciples. And She left.”88
This reported lack of obedience among Mā’s disciples can be linked
to their lack of devotion and of purity. A number of disciples recall Mā’s
departure as due to this absence of fervor and of transparence among
Mā’s followers: “Maybe, we did mistakes in worshipping her, we were not
enough devoted” or “maybe, we were not pure enough.” For Mā, who was
very sensitive to the vibrations of her environment, the absence of a pure
and devotional spirit among her disciples would have contributed to her
departure, as this brahmacārini explains:

Mā took this form and came down for us. And what did she say?
“The body is there for you, play with it or throw it away. It’s up to
you how you want to treat this body.” In her younger days, when
the body was younger, people who came to Mā, came with a very
pure bhāva, purity they had in their heart, devotion they had, sincer-
ity they had. They were going to Mā because they loved Mā. They
wanted to be with her. Those vibrations and that bhāva reflected on
Mā. Mā was like a sponge. That sponge was absorbing whatever
was thrown at her because the body was meant for us. We are the
care takers of that body. We are taking care of that body with pure
devotion and love. Towards the end of her life, people were sceptic.
People came to criticize. People came with not a pure bhāva. Mā
was still a sponge. So, the body was withdrawing. Mā never suf-
fered . . . Mā say: “Do I say no to a disease that comes in my body? Do
I say no to you people who enter the room? Why would I say no to
people who are giving bad vibrations? Everybody is giving and this
sponge is absorbing. I am not throwing anything. Whoever walks
146 When a Goddess Dies

in with whatever problem, Mā has taken it, finished, that body has
taken it.”

Mā had essentially always affirmed that true nourishment lies in the atti-
tude of the devotee, as Atmananda mentions here:

Sometimes, Mataji told us, “I eat for you, because if I didn’t, you
wouldn’t have prasāda and you would be very disappointed. It’s why
I eat a little. But my true food is your attitude. If you constantly
think of God and lead a pure life, that is food!” She often told us
that.89

As Mā had descended from a very sacred line through her ancestors, her
body, for her disciples, could only be a totally pure body, as Atmananda
also explains in the reconstruction of Mā’s past:

She was a unique and unparalleled incarnation of the Divinity. . . . Her

ancestors, for many generations, had been very saintly, and lived
like the rishis in a state of great purity. It seems that this was nec-
essary to produce a body so extraordinary. By that, I want to say
that, for this Divine Incarnation, the body can only arise from a
line formed by numerous generations of pure and saintly beings.
Her mother was a great saint. She never experienced, even from
her childhood, the least feeling of anger. I feel that Mâ’s relatives
did not come to the world to undergo the consequences of their
karma, but only to produce this particular body. Also, it seems that
it was of an immaculate conception. Mâ said, ‘My father was like
a sannyâsin for some time before my birth.’90 Mâ’s body could not
support gross vibrations. She always said, when in a state of samâ-
dhi one noticed that her pulsations and her respiratory movements
stopped: “If you want to keep this body, you must repeat the Name
of God ceaselessly. It’s your purity that nourishes me. This body has
no need for ordinary food.” That’s why it was absolutely necessary
for Mâ to be surrounded by people leading very strict lives. From
whence came her segregation.91

To illustrate Mā’s purity, her disciple Atmananda additionally refers to Sri

Aurobindo. He would stay alone in his room for a number of years for
this same reason, and only certain people had the right to come see him.
 Death of the Guru 147

In the same spirit, Ramana Maharshi permanently inhabited the sacred

location of the Tiruvanamalai (Arunachala) and no one was able to touch
him. Atmananda also adds something interesting regarding Mā and her
body: “I am convinced that her body could not have handled the material-
ist atmosphere of Europe or of America. She is everywhere, always, and
you yourself feel her Presence. But Her Body had to be protected. Mā was
also in good health at the time of ‘Samyam Vratā’92 when three to five hun-
dred people performed a sâdhanâ.”93 Thus, the lack of purity among Mā’s
disciples at the end of her life would explain, according to her followers,
the reasons for her leaving.
This absence of purity touches upon Mā’s disciples’ comments regard-
ing the excess of karma among devotees for Mā to eliminate. In the Hindu
tradition, the guru is said to have the ability to burn away a part of his or
her disciples’ karma. In this context, diseases would constitute the “diges-
tion phase” of this karma and death, a sign of the surplus of karma to
eliminate, a surplus that would end in “engulfing” the master himself.94
The case of Ramakrishna and his throat cancer speaks to this principle in
explaining the master’s death.95 Similarly to other great beings, it is also
said that Mā had this ability to neutralize the karma of her disciples.96
Some interviews of Mā’s disciples conducted by Lisa Hallstrom for her
study on Mā’s life in fact mention Mā’s ability to eliminate the karma of
her disciples.97 Arnaud Desjardins gives the following explanation of this
matter:

In Christian language, Mā Ānandamayī was “born without sin”.

She came directly from within the Absolute. There is not a “soul”
(jiva) that crossed the path of reincarnations, but a new soul, born
immediately from God and which, always conscious that she and
God were one, didn’t need to wake up to her true nature. She nei-
ther knew the descending ladder of involution, nor the ascending
ladder of evolution. She was born “virgin of all corruption”, of all
traces of ignorance and all limination. Hindus accept that, outside
of individual karma, there exists also a karma of Humanity, Mā
Ānandamayī was also free from that. It’s this absence of all forms of
karma which permitted her to take upon herself not the “sins of the
world” but at least a large part of the sins of those who were close
to her, of their karma. And that seems to be especially true dur-
ing the nights when we celebrate the anniversary of her birth. That
this perfect Consciousness accepted sharing our imperfections is a
148 When a Goddess Dies

thing I think of often when I observe Mā Ānandamayī. She opened

herself to influences she could have freed herself from and partici-
pates, for example, in our physical pains and in our maladies, so
that this will not always be the case.98

Mā essentially recognized the possibility of taking on the suffering of oth-

ers, taking on their karma as the following comments from an unknown
disciple show:

The sages can relieve the suffering of others. They can take onto
themselves the suffering or even split them up among other people,
so as to diminish the suffering of the unhappy. It is also possible for
a sage, by their remarkable grace, to deliver someone from all suf-
fering. The sage can bring the person to the Divine Life that is his
true Self. But such cases are very rare. For suffering accomplishes
the purification (But how, someone asks, to distribute suffering?
That seems totally unjust). No, there is no bad in that. The sages
redistribute these fragments of suffering among those who are
happy to share them. (Why, someone asks, should I allow a sage to
endure my suffering and to carry my cross?) Now this is well said.
This is to speak like a disciple. It’s better to handle your own suf-
fering. But sometimes they can become too heavy for someone, so
that all he desires is to know how to get rid of them. For me, this is
done automatically. I’ve stated that this body becomes charged with
the ills of others. Once, I went to see a sick person who suffered
from dysentery. On returning, I was struck with the same illness.
And that lasted twelve hours. Another time, this was the case with
the fever of someone else. We thought that I was having an attack
of malaria and they wanted to make me take medicine. I refused as
I knew at what moment the fever would break, which it did.99

Mā’s capacity to take on the suffering of others, and thus to destroy their
karma, is recognized among her disciples, so much so that her closest dis-
ciple, Didi, is said to have died wanting to relieve Mā from this adoption of
karma, as Atmananda says:

Didi died at Varanasi. Mâ then said: “The suffering and sickness

of Didi were not the consequences of a karma.” So? What was the
 Death of the Guru 149

meaning of all of this suffering? There is an explanation: Mâ often

said that the suffering of men can be lessened if some accept shar-
ing the weight. And Mâ would often take on a great part. We think
that that’s the reason Didi suffered so much. It’s possible that to
relieve and maybe save Mâ’s physical life, she took onto herself a
large part of this load.100

Atmananda again says this regarding Mā’s ability to assume a portion of

her disciple’s karmic baggage:

Sometimes I feel that the Guru has to take some limitations on

Himself in order to provide the circumstances that will eradicate
the disciple’s karma. It is we who make Her seem imperfect and
then we doubt. But that one sentence She said: “What I do, I do for
myself,” cuts out all arguments. As long as we see the many, we can-
not possibly judge Her who is the One.101

This is similar to the comments of Sarada Devi, who affirmed that she
assumed a portion of her devotees’ sins after she had awarded their ini-
tiation: “The power of the teacher enters into the disciple, and the power
of the disciple enters into the teacher. That is why, when I initiate and
accept the sins of the disciples, I fall sick. It is extremely difficult to be a
teacher.”102
Thus, today, many disciples attribute Mā’s departure to an “overdose”
from the taking on of her devotees’ karma, an overdose that is said to
have finally led her to leave her body. An early and very close disciple of
Mā’s even goes so far as to compare Mā’s death to Christ’s, who died on
the cross to save humanity, in this way returning us to the theology of the
Redemption in Christianity. Thus, to some devotees, Mā’s sickness and
death are but evident signs of her extreme compassion.
For others however it is vain to search for reasons for Mā’s departure.
Conjecturing about the motivations that pushed Mā to leave her body is
not considered worthy of a true disciple, a disciple who loves Mā, as this
swami emphasizes:

This is not the question of a person who loves Mā. That shouldn’t
be. Why means doubt. If you put “why” in between you and your
beloved, doubt comes. “Why” is the greatest hindrance to love.
150 When a Goddess Dies

There should not be “why”. There is no “why” for Mā. There is

no “why” for Mā. Mā, it happened, that’s all. Accept it. Mā is more
intelligent than I. She thought it better. I never asked why Mā sent
me away when she left her body. There is no why. She wanted it.
She wanted me to be away, I was away. There is no why, that’s all.
There is no why in love. This question never happens to me, why
Mā did it. She is free. She enjoys absolute freedom. What she did, it
is for the better. So there is no why.

In addition, this questioning about Mā’s departure originates in a false

path, as this French man, a new disciple, affirms:

In fact, it was a misconception . . . in the beginning, there was a con-

fusion between the spiritual Mā and the physical Mā. Thus, a dis-
tinction needs to be made. For me, there is an eternal Mā, eternally
present who can be represented by her body, her images, her teach-
ings but who does not depend on this. These questions on Mā’s
departure, I asked them myself in the beginning. But after, these
questions dissolved through making this distinction by experience.

Thus, different ways of conceiving of Mā’s death can be witnessed

among her disciples: a natural death without any will on Mā’s part to
call on her siddhis (power) to prolong her physical existence, a death tied
to the end of Mā’s mission as avatar, a death provoked by the absence
of devotion among the devotees, and finally Mā’s taking on an overdose
of karma. With the exception of rare individuals who refuse to question
Mā’s death, or for whom it removes nothing of her eternal character,
among followers there is then a system of different beliefs that legiti-
mize her death. This discursive machinery evolves in order to justify a
death that is at its foundation impossible and thus inconceivable, Mā
being for her followers an immortal being, located beyond death. From
the construction of this religious discourse emerges then a necessity on
the part of followers to give a meaning to a death that otherwise would
seem absurd.
It has been critical then to investigate the system of meaning con-
structed by Mā’s devotees following her death, a death above all expe-
rienced mainly by many devotees, both as an irremediable loss and
as an unbearable separation. In this search for meaning thus appears
 Death of the Guru 151

the need to legitimize Mā’s death by the establishment of a discursive

mechanism.
If Mā’s death has not changed devotees’ belief in her divinity, mean-
ing that Mā is immortal, then, what is the impact of Mā’s physical
absence on her cult and what is exactly the devotees’ experience of Mā’s
presence?
 4

Presence of the Guru

Incarnation and Presence of the Guru

This chapter examines the importance of the guru’s physical presence for his
or her followers. What role does the incarnated presence of the guru play in
his or her postmortem cult? To what extent is the guru’s presence indispens-
able at the level of the master/disciple relationship? In this context I cite Mā’s
words on the importance of this incarnated presence, and then I examine the
contrary arguments that support the nonessential character of the master’s
physicality. In this respect, the concept of inner guru becomes central.

The Living Guru, a Necessity?

The Hindu tradition, and notably the yogic tradition, generally recog-
nizes the necessity of a living guru for the spiritual quest,1 for as Charlotte
Vaudeville specifies, “to be without a visible guru (nirguru) is not respect-
able in the Hindu tradition as a whole since it is nearly universally
admitted that a man cannot achieve salvation without a proper initiation
imparted by a human guru.”2 This insistence on the living guru’s pres-
ence on the path of liberation principally values two things. As Bugault
notes, an autodidact working by himself or herself, would risk becoming
an “ego-didact.”3 Additionally, it would be extremely difficult for the spiri-
tual seeker to surmount the fear associated with the loss of the ego in the
final process to supreme liberation. The quest of the living guru repre-
sents then a central aspect of the Hindu tradition, as David Miller affirms:

The Hindu, in all ages, swears his allegiance to a living guru whom
he has chosen, and at the death of that guru, he probably will turn
 Presence of the Guru 153

Figure 4.1 Mā Ānandamayī: “A state exists where the distinction between dual-
ity and non-duality has no place. . . . But where the Brahman is, the One-without-
a-second, nothing else can possibly exist. You separate duality from non-duality
because you are identified with the body.”
Source: Picture belonging to the collection of the photographer Sadanand; now in the pos-
session of Neeta Mehta, also called Swami Nityānanda.

to another one in order to fulfill the spiritual bond that he has lost.
The quest for the living charismatic guru is an unending one that
the Hindu usually undertakes alone.4

Thus, the presence of a living master should not be replaced by the sterile
cult of statues and of relics. The Hindu tradition is generally suspicious
of those who consider themselves disciples of a guru whom they’ve never
met in the body. Meeting a guru in a dream, in meditation, or in photos
could constitute the beginning of a relationship, but it is far from being
considered complete, as Jacques Vigne notes on this subject: “You must
be close to the guru for a period of time for work to be done: to polish an
object, there must be contact between it and the sandpaper.”5 Similarly,
Vigne adds this:
154 When a Goddess Dies

To follow a spiritual master does not consist, in my opinion, in

joining an international organization and hanging a portrait of the
leader on the wall. This would be to fall back into a pattern of classic
religious functioning, where one centers his devotion on someone
he has never seen but whom he tries to make present in his interior.
A personal relationship with a spiritual master is almost indispens-
able, especially at the beginning.6

The sweet eyes of a statue or the smile of a photo should not then be sub-
stitutes for the force of a relationship with a living guru. Without a living
guru, there would be no exchanges, no litmus tests, no confrontation with
the guru, or proof of sacrifice. The human guru appears then central for
any person who wants to progress on the path of spiritual liberation, as
the Muṇḍaka Upaniṣad affirms: “Having well scrutinized the worlds build
by rituals, a brāhmin should naturally grow indifferent to them; the not-
made is never attained through made-up means; for the sake of attaining
that (the not-made), let him go, fuel in hand, to a guru.”7 Mā was one of the
rare exceptions to this rule, as the near majority of great spiritual masters
in the Hindu tradition also themselves had a human guru. Regarding this
subject, the saint Ramdas speaks of Ramana Maharshi, who, it is said, had
attained liberation without the aid of a living guru: “They say that Râmana
Maharshi must have had a guru in a past life. But Ramdas did not use this
argument. Before Râmana left his house he had to have had contact with
a great saint who lived not far from him. A simple contact must have had
the spark spring forth that was within him and that made him progress
towards the Realization.”8 Aurobindo is also said to have had the aid of a
human guru in guiding him towards his first experience of nirvāṇa.
Although Mā never had a living guru, she nevertheless affirmed that
the physical presence of a guru was necessary:

By virtue of the Guru’s power everything becomes possible; there-

fore seek a Guru. Meanwhile, since all names are His Name, all
forms His Form, select one of them and keep it with you as your
constant companion. . . . So long as you have not found a Guru,
adhere to the name or form of Him that appeals to you most, and
ceaselessly pray that He may reveal Himself to you as the Sadguru.9

The human guru seems particularly important for the spiritual seeker
to help him focus on the interior, as Mā affirms: “The guru who is God
 Presence of the Guru 155

or the incarnated Self, works on the interior. . . . And so is he both on the

exterior and the interior.”10 Swami Vijayānanda speaks, in this context, of
an awakening of the inner guru with the help of the external guru and
adds that the physical guru marks in some ways the change of direction
from human love to a divine love.11 The relationship of the disciple with
the human guru would then be first of a personal sort, transforming pro-
gressively into a more impersonal relationship, more turned toward the
Divine. This returns us to another of Swami Vijayānanda’s commentar-
ies concerning this personal and impersonal aspect of his relationship
with Mā:

Mā once told me, in private, “This body is an appearance, I am

omnipresent,” and so she is always there. . . . There was a personal
relationship, an affection. At first, it hurt me a lot that she left as
there was no longer this personal relationship, of friendship, but
from the point of view of a guru, that changed nothing. It’s the
personal relationship that changed . . . I think that she is always
present. You know, from the moment that is omnipresent, she is
in me. In the beginning, you need a physical form, but after, you
identify with the omnipresent Divine. Mā’s body is a crystallization,
but I almost don’t see Mā as a person now. I always, let it be under-
stood, have a photo in my room that I speak with. In reality, I think
she is omnipresent.

The presence of the spiritual master thus shows itself to be indispensable

up to a certain point, for, as discussed below, this presence would not
always be a necessity.

Toward a Disembodied Presence of the Guru

If the Hindu tradition generally affirms the necessity of a living guru,
there are nevertheless some who assert that a human guru is not neces-
sary. Concerning this, René Guénon speaks of the presence of a spiritual
influence that would not necessarily require the presence of an individual
to be transmitted.12 The guru’s role can then be played, in a certain way, by
this disembodied influence, that is in reality the inner guru, this interior-
ized and non-materialized aspect of the exterior guru, who is not sepa-
rated from the Self and who never dies.
156 When a Goddess Dies

This idea that the physical presence of the living guru is not essential is
found in the discourse of some spiritual masters. Concerning this point,
Jacques Vigne recounts an anecdote reflecting this thought:

One day, visitors came to see his master [the master of Nani Mâ] and
confided to him that they were very drawn to Ramana Maharshi,
but that unfortunately, they couldn’t take him as their guru because
he was dead. Mastaram Baba burst out laughing and told them: “If
you still believe that the guru is limited to the body! If you feel him,
concentrate yourself completely on Ramana Maharshi, sit yourself
before his photo, meditate day after day on his teaching and he will
truly become your guru.”13

This tendency to associate the guru with a physical body, with a person,
is roundly rejected by Rivière, who condemns the attitude of Westerners
who materialize everything and attach such a great importance to the
physical body.14
If Mā advocated for the presence of a human guru on the spiritual
path, she nevertheless did not exclude its absence, as she affirms here:

There are seekers after Truth who are bent upon proceeding
without a Guru because along their line of approach emphasis
is laid on self-dependence and reliance on one’s own effort. If
one goes to the root of the matter it will be seen that in the case
of a person who, prompted by intense aspiration, does sadhana
relying on his own strength, the Supreme Being reveals Himself
in a special way through the intensity of that self-exertion. This
being so, is there any justification, from any point of view, for
the raising of objections against such self-reliance? All that can
be said or questioned in this respect lies within the confines of
human thinking. Whereas there exists a state where everything
is possible.
Thus the line of approach that is through dependence on one’s
own strength and capacity is, like other approaches, but a function-
ing of the One Power. Without doubt the very power of the Guru
can operate in a special way through this self-reliance, so that there
will be no need for any outer teaching. While some aspirants may
depend on outer teaching, why should not others be able to receive
guidance from within without the aid of the spoken word? Why
 Presence of the Guru 157

should not this be possible since even the dense veil of human
ignorance can be destroyed? In such cases the Guru’s teaching has
done its work from within.15

In addition, Mā considered it to be a sin to confine the guru to a human

body, the guru being above all interior:

Yes, prema, love for God, is a way. But what the world calls “love”
is moha [delusion]. There is no true love between individuals.
How can one get pure love from one who is not pure, who is lim-
ited by selfish egoicity and possessiveness? People come to me
and say: “My love for such and such a person is real love, not
worldly love.” But they are deceiving themselves. Moha invariably
is love for that which is mortal and therefore leads to death. If you
can’t get the object of your love, you want to kill it or die your-
self. Whereas love for God, “prema” leads to the death of death, to
Immortality. For this reason it is said that to regard the Guru as
limited to a human body is a sin. The Guru has to be considered
as God.
I know a woman who wanted to commit suicide when her Guru
died. I said to her: “Does a Guru die? Because he has left the body
it does not mean that the Guru is dead. The Guru is everywhere
and never leaves his disciple. If you want to take your life because
he has passed away, it shows that you love him as a person, not as
a Guru.”16

This then explains the reason she did not like people to become too
attached to her physical presence: “Only flies can follow this body every-
where it goes, but they do not receive illumination for all that.”17
Although early devotees miss Mā’s physical presence, it seems that
today her physical presence is not indispensable in their sādhanā, as they
do not feel the necessity to direct themselves to another master, another
sadguru, as the following Indian woman, an early devotee of Mā’s, affirms:

Mā is my friend, philosopher, guide, everything. I am sitting on

her lap. Why would I want anybody else? . . . I don’t want to go to
anyone. Mā is with me. Why should I go? When I have a pot of gold
in my house, why should I run after bracelet, anything else? This is
gold. This is Bhagavan. Don’t you think that we are lucky? I think
158 When a Goddess Dies

Figure 4.2 Mā Ānandamayī: “Only flies can follow this body everywhere it goes,
but they do not receive illumination for all that.”
Source: Picture belonging to the collection of the photographer Sadanand; now in the pos-
session of Neeta Mehta, also called Swami Nityānanda.

we are absolutely special and lucky to have met Mā. There is noth-
ing else. What more do you want?

Another Indian woman, also an early disciple, also confirms that they do
not feel the necessity, since Mā’s departure, to turn toward another exte-
rior master:

Once you have been to Mā, you don’t need to go anywhere else.
I don’t have to go anywhere. . . . She is always there, she is always
there. And now, you don’t see anything else. Mā is everywhere,
everywhere, I don’t need to see anybody. She is everybody. She is
 Presence of the Guru 159

in anybody. Mā is the only thing I should think of. There is nothing

else in the world left.

Some evoke the role of memory, as does this swami who insists on the non-
necessity of meeting the master exteriorly in experiencing his presence:

Does it matter whether you meet a person physically or not? It

doesn’t. Just think of your own life. I am giving you a silly example,
don’t mind. Most of the fans of the great heroes, they never had the
chance to meet their heroes. Still, they feel a strong affinity. They
can die for their heroes. If this is possible, why not with Mā? What
do you need to establish a strong relation? And relation is not physi-
cal. Relation is always mental. So, new devotees cannot say that they
don’t have memory of Mā, that they don’t have interaction with Mā.
Memory means, a simple definition, you interacted with an object
of the world, it has its impressions in you, it remains always active
and this is called memory. How can I say that I am still with Mā? Mā
is not physically there. Now, their positions and my positions are
same. I am missing Mā physically, but still I feel I am carrying Mā
with me because I live with my memory, that’s all. Memory never
dies. It’s the same, my position and their position.

This monk’s comments are related to the idea that holds the memory to
constitute the basis of all approach to the true. And so, by the intermediary
of memory, Mā’s physical absence would not constitute an obstacle to liv-
ing in her presence, as this monk assures: “If I say that Mā is everywhere,
it is some theoretical thing but I am sure that Mā is within me, because
Mā’s memories are in me and I am always carrying my memories. So long
as I live, Mā will be there.”
New devotees would certainly have liked to have met Mā in her life-
time, but in general do not appear to accord an important place to her
physical presence, as this Western woman declares:

I like being around saints. I like it very much. It feels good, I like
the energy of Amma, for example, but it doesn’t feel necessary
because it’s all happening inside anyway, that I have to more and
more trust. I just have to trust that everything is leading me in
the right way. It feels so much that everything is just happening
160 When a Goddess Dies

in the right way, what need do I have to look for anything? I don’t
feel that I have, since my whole experience has been that she [Mā]
has come to me really when I needed it. Why would I start look-
ing, for what, I don’t know.

This Indian woman, a new disciple, affirms the same thing; she says she
has never felt the desire or the necessity to speak to a living master, as for
her, photos and statues of Mā are totally sufficient:

I feel that she is here. Why should I go to some other place? I feel
that she is above all. She is the one who has brought me in this
world. She is the one who has given me this voice to sing. I feel that
she is doing everything. Everything is predestined. But I never felt
to visit any living saint. I am seeing her photograph, her statue, her
idol. Why should I go somewhere else?

In the same line, some new disciples mention Mā’s presence as an inner
guru, declaring that they thus do not need a physically incarnated master,
as this man from France says:

I don’t need that. I have Mā! There was a moment when I really
needed a physical master for specific answers. I looked everywhere
for a physical master. I went to see Amma, I went to see all of those
people. Useless, it didn’t help me at all. That brought me noth-
ing. I saw Karunamayi, I helped her come to France. I saw Amma
many times. It’s Mā. It’s this quality of grace that I found nowhere.
Nowhere. . . . But I had many upagurus (secondary masters), but the
master, the inner master, who is the sadguru, it’s her. It’s still her.
I had Tibetan masters who led me to very fine states of conscious-
ness. I am truly very grateful to them. They led me to states of con-
sciousness that I hadn’t suspected were possible. These are like
upagurus, emanations from Mā, aids. Even if they knew to lead me
to these states, I do not see the same quality of divinity, of grace that
is Mā Ānandamayī, who is much more fulfilling. It’s more holistic,
it’s a totality of spiritual functions, not only a state of consciousness.
It’s a totality. It’s why I say that there is an extension, a surplus
of the Mother’s grace itself, for you feel that she is both specific
and total.
 Presence of the Guru 161

Thus, the sadguru’s physical presence, which is nothing other than

the inner master, does not reveal itself to be necessarily indispensable
for the disciple, as he can always receive the concrete aid of living mas-
ters called secondary gurus or upagurus, complementing the action of the
inner master. The testimony of this disciple then recalls in some ways
that which the Hindu tradition says concerning upaguru and sadguru, for
as Jean Herbert says, the Hindu tradition accepts the existence of second-
ary gurus who come to be associated with the work of the sadguru, the
principal guru: “Beside the sadguru with whom the disciple forms these
remarkably tight ties (sadguru), it is also possible, for the Hindu, to receive
a complementary teaching from other people, who are then for him ‘sec-
ondary’ gurus (upa-guru).”18 The inner guru, however, would have to be
regularly reactivated, as this same disciple implies here:

The inner guru, there are moments when it needs to be awoken

and to be led to the surface of the person, of the presence, and that
is done by Mā, either in invoking her, in looking at a photo of her,
in entering her samādhi, in speaking with people who are in con-
tact with her. This reactivates the inner guru who puts these func-
tions back in place. To help my sick mother, I was not well, I was
not centered, I needed to do something. Whereas normally, when
I am well, it’s there. Things do themselves, there’s no need to make
efforts. But as I am still far from being awoken, there are efforts to
make. When I make efforts, that relaunches the presence, the inner
guru. There is a flow that passes and that immediately arranges
things, after working.

This awakening of the interior corresponds to what Jung calls the pro-
cess of individuation that leads to the realization of the Self, of the ātman,
which is neither individualizable nor incorporable. Vivekananda also
speaks about “super-imposition” to define what recovers the Self, or also
what prevents the inner guru from re-emerging. For Swami Vijayānanda,
it is not a question of progression, but simply of pulling away the veil con-
cealing the inner guru:

The inner guru is the sadguru (or God) and there is no question of
evolution but simply of progressively removing the impurities that
deform the sadguru. The inner Guru guides you well in the spiri-
tual life as in the material life.19
162 When a Goddess Dies

To be connected to Mā as an inner guru would be a return then to becom-

ing conscious of the Self, of the Divine, as “God is above all and ultimately
the antaryāmin, the inner master. He who resides in our own heart and
who is none other than the very essence of our personality.”20
And so, as shown throughout these interviews, the physical presence
of the master, here being Mā, is not an absolute necessity for either early
or new devotees. For a large portion of followers, Mā’s physical absence
is not an obstacle to the inner quest or to their relationship with Mā.
Swami Kedarnath specifies that for him, Mā’s physical absence does not
represent a limitation, as Mā continues to perform her role as guru in
innumerable forms:

The knowledge of her real nature came to me with her first darśana.
Though I was attracted to her body and wanted to see her again and
again, still, I felt that Mā is not only this body. Mā is everything. So
when she left her body, it made no difference, except that I couldn’t
ask her questions, get normal guidance. I didn’t feel that she has
left. The feeling was that she is still here, in every form. The rela-
tion was not broken. It is still there. Previously, I found her in a
body, now, I find her in a big body. Everything is her manifestation.
No questions are arousing whether she is here or not. Nothing like
that. She is appearing in every form. She was in one form. Now, she
is in innumerable forms.

Swami Bhaskarānanda also affirmed that Mā is not limited to a physical

body and that she is always present: “She is not bound by the physical
form of the body. . . . She is ever with me.” These comments are probably
close to Mā’s own words, which maintain that the true guru would not
“leave” the devotee, as the Guru is the Everything:

There can be no question about it, no “taking” and no “leaving” as

the Guru is the Self. If he is not, he may show you a path but he can-
not take you right to your goal, to enlightenment, because he is not
there himself. You may make someone your Guru and then leave
him, but in this case I say you have never had a Guru. The true Guru
cannot be left. He is the Guru by his nature and he naturally fulfills
all that is lacking in the disciple. As the flower gives its fragrance
naturally, so the Guru gives diksha—by sight or hearing or touch or
teaching or mantra or even without any of these, just because he is
 Presence of the Guru 163

the Guru. The flower does not make an effort to give its fragrance,
it does not say: “Come and smell me.” It is there. Whoever comes
near it will enjoy the scent. As ripe fruit falls from the tree and is
picked up by man or eaten by the birds, so the Guru is all that is
needed for those who are his own, whoever they may be.21

If some of Mā’s devotees do not seem to be affected in their sādhanā

by the physical absence of their spiritual master, many of them affirm the
need to be in the company of living saints (satsaṅga), something also that
Mā herself recommended. Retreats, celebrations, teachings, and others
become then occasions for devotees to benefit from the presence of living
saints. The coming of beings like these can be a sort of aid on the path that
leads to liberation, as this new disciple, a French woman, affirms:

I do not know who is liberated, enlightened but I sense that there

are people who are much farther along than me on the path. To
share something with these people, even to receive their teaching.
It’s like food. We need it. I am on the path, so anything that can help
me, because alone, it’s not possible. . . . To go see the family, to go
see the older brothers of the family. It’s my spiritual big brother. Me,
I do not consider myself yet to be a spiritual adult [laughs]. . . . I don’t
look for a physical guru, I mostly have what I need. It’s the company.

Participating in these types of retreats, in other teachings not directly tied

to Mā, for some devotees, does not seem to contradict their personal rela-
tionship with Mā, as the testimony of this Western woman, an early fol-
lower, demonstrates:

Mā herself said that whatever brings you closer to God, you should
use. So I always felt that Mā is the foundation and on that founda-
tion, different rooms could be built. So I was always opened to other
teachings when I felt that they were not contradicting Mā and that
I could learn from them. In ’99, for example, I met a Sufi teacher,
Arina Treedy. She also had seen Mā three times. She said that she
was completely without ego. . . . Mā remained but certain aspects
that I had to learn presented themselves in the form of teachings
also. . . . I always see Amma when she comes. But it’s not always
the same. Mā said, “Try to see your guru everywhere.” So I con-
centrate on this. And so there is no contradiction. Mā for me is not
164 When a Goddess Dies

only this physical Mā, whom you can see on the photo, who lived
from 1896 to 1982. I think that Maharishi Mahesh Yogi said that we
are mistaken if we take the guru as a historical person or a form.
The guru is actually a state of consciousness. We make this state of
consciousness very small if we limit it to a certain age, to a certain
country, or a certain form. So I focus on this divine consciousness.

The company of other sages, even outside of Mā’s community, does not
then seem to be an obstacle to the spiritual path of some devotees. If the
company of saints (satsaṅga) is important for Mā’s devotees, this never-
theless is reduced and limited by a number of them, who only swear by
introspection in Mā, as this Indian man, an early devotee of Mā’s does:

The physical presence of the guru is very important. It is good if you

can have it, but it is not absolutely necessary. . . . Mā always insisted
on satsaṅga, the company of saints, but there are very few people
who are helpful. So there is no need now. Everything is inside.
There is nothing outside. Mā will give us everything.

All told, it seems that there is no absolute response concerning the

necessity of having a human guru, as the following comments of Swami
Vijayānanda reveal:

If you really have intense faith, someone will appear to you in order
to represent Mā, if a physical form is necessary. You know, the guru
in reality is the supreme Divine. It’s he who takes care of you. When
you need a physical form, he sends it to you. There is only one sole
guru, it’s the supreme Divine. All other physical gurus, these are
channels of the supreme Divine.

This is also what this early disciple, a Western woman, thinks:

It’s a difficult question. It cannot be generalized. I think, if you are

very strong and very one pointed, you may not need a physical guru
and if you have the deep faith that Mā will send you an answer in
your life itself, maybe you don’t need a guru. And if do you need,
he or they will come. You will feel it. You won’t feel it as opposed to
Mā. I think it’s not so much a matter of conscious choice, it’s the
inward focus or direction, what you want, and what you believe in.
 Presence of the Guru 165

Then, you do your steps, and you are opened, and life will give you
what you need.

This question of the physical presence of a guru is thus complex and very
relative, for, if the exterior rests on the interior, reciprocally, there is no
interior without an exterior.
Although the Hindu tradition then generally affirms the necessity of
a human guru on the path to liberation, it does not however seem to be
always indispensable. Early devotees miss Mā’s physical presence, but for
them, it is not strictly speaking a necessity as the inner guru is at work.
Beyond this discourse, there may be a desire on the part of early devotees
to legitimize Mā’s departure, to make of this death a favorable event, to
give it meaning. And as one would expect, the position of new devotees
regarding Mā’s incarnated presence shows the nonessential character of
the master’s presence. For both types of devotees, however, the living pres-
ence of a secondary master (upaguru) and the company of sages (satsaṅga)
seem to be of great importance to their sādhanā.

Disembodiment and Direct Access to the Absolute

The absence of Mā’s body today seems to present a number of advantages in
the eyes of devotees. One of them would first be a greater detachment from
Mā’s physical form, a detachment that renders interior contact with Mā and
the Absolute easier, as this French woman, a new follower of Mā’s, affirms:

As I like abstraction, the fact that she is not humanly present disal-
lows me from having a human relationship. I can enter into this rela-
tion with the absolute, precisely because she is not present. . . . Up
until now, if I have an experience of God, it’s not in seeing Mā, but
knowing that she is the Divine Mother. But above all, I don’t need to
see her in a body for her to be the Divine Mother. . . . Me, I can only
accept a conception of the ultimate . . . I think that through this sort
of disembodied cult, it is this desire to join an absolute.

It seems that the absence of Mā’s body helps devotees to connect with
their Inner Self, to concentrate themselves on the unmanifested aspect
of the Divine, that is to say on the aspect of God not defined by qualities
(guṇa), as this disciple also says: “It’s easier to identify her with God,
with the Divine, or to the Divine Mother, it’s much easier, that, it’s a clear
166 When a Goddess Dies

advantage.” This nirguṇa bhakti, that is to say, this devotion to God with-
out qualities, seems then to suit a number of disciples, who see in this
path of the formless a way to access Mā, the Divine, in this way joining
the words of the Muṇḍaka Upaniṣad: “As flowing rivers, casting off their
names and forms, disappear in the ocean, even so does the awakened
one, freed from name and form, attain the effulgent Puruṣa, higher than
the highest.”22 To know Mā during her lifetime would have essentially
represented, for some, a diversion, as this English woman devotee states:

I would probably just be following her around all the time and then
she would need to push me away because I would not want to go.
I have to work with where I am. It just seems right about how it
is. . . . At the beginning, of course, I did feel “oh I have not seen her
in her body,” but now, it doesn’t mean anything really. I just think it
might have been a distraction for me.

In this sense, many devotees today feel closer to Mā due to the very fact
that they look more to her non-limited, unconfined aspect. Some go so far as
affirming that it is now easier to communicate with Mā in the absence of the
innumerable brahmacārinis (renunciants who had made a vow of celibacy)
who surrounded Mā in her lifetime: “Mā has ways to communicate with
me, much better than when she was alive. When she was alive, I couldn’t
get close to her. There were six circles of women around her. Being a man,
I couldn’t get close to her.” The fact that many disciples feel closer to Mā since
her departure returns us, in some ways, to what Milarepa, one of the greatest
spiritual masters of Tibet from the eleventh and twelfth centuries had said
in leaving the house of his master Marpa, to live alone in a cave: “Now, I can
begin to finally be continually with my guru.” Far from the physical pres-
ence of his master and the agitations of life in a community, it was easier for
Milarepa to focus on the presence of the master within himself. This is also
what Nanima, a saint who lives on the banks of the Ganges, affirmed when
she told us that she felt her guru to be much more present since his death,
as she had ceased to limit her master to his physical body. There is an awak-
ening of the inner guru in the devotee, an awakening that may have been
facilitated by Mā’s departure, as one of Mā’s early disciples affirms:

Over the years, I have come to experience Mā very differently. When

I was with Mā, she was an external person to me, like I said, it was
 Presence of the Guru 167

wonderful, just divine. It was something totally unique. But still,

she was something external to me in one sense, although I felt con-
nected with her. But I found over the years, there is this saying that
the guru grows inside of you through dīkṣā, and really this is true.
I felt Mā being more and more awake inside of me, more present.
Now I feel Mā as close as my own breath. Before, she was close, but
it was always as an external object. Now, she is like in the self of my
self. She grows in meditation. And now, I meditate a lot. This pres-
ence within you grows. Now, I feel that even in small matters, Mā is
doing everything. I can’t even give examples. Mā is just taking care
of everything, to the minus details. The more I kind of give myself
to her, the more she does it. It is not just a philosophical concept,
it is really a reality. I think that all who were with Mā found it. We
don’t feel separated from Mā.

Although a number of devotees today claim to have easier and more

direct contact with Mā since her departure, this opinion however is not
shared by other devotees. Some, on the contrary, recognize that they have
had more difficulty communicating with Mā since her mahāsamādhi. If
it used to be possible to directly pose questions to Mā, today followers
must make an inner effort in order to ask her anything: “Today, we have
to focus on our heart to question Mā.” Contact is more difficult, as Swami
Vijayānanda specifies:

When Mā was present in her physical body, she was not identified
with this body but with the supreme Divine; now that this body is
gone from our presence, the supreme Divine, that is to say the real
Mā who is omnipresent, is always the same. But, from our point
of view, contact is more difficult as you must be receptive and you
must call out to her.23

Mā’s departure is not then perceived by everyone as facilitating more

direct access with Mā. In this context, some devotees speak to a less
refined feeling in Mā’s physical absence, recalling the comments of
Frembgen concerning the postmortem cult of the Sufi saint Majzub
Mama Ji Sarkar at his tomb. These comments confirm that knowing
and experiencing the sage in his lifetime, feeling his personal mag-
netism, touching his body, exchanging visual and verbal contact with
him, creates a quality of emotions and of presence difficult to feel in his
168 When a Goddess Dies

physical absence.24 Devotees, early or new, feel Mā’s absence to a type of

measurement of their sādhanā, as this disciple who never met Mā while
she was alive expresses: “I think that it is a big disadvantage. I need to
have a form. . . . I would have liked to meet her. It would have made a
big difference.”
Even though a number of devotees do not envisage Mā’s postmor-
tem cult as a way of more easily accessing her and the Absolute, on
the whole, devotees perceive Mā’s absence as a more direct way to
knowledge.

The Postmortem Cult, Supporting Reflection on Death

The postmortem cult also represents a form of reflection on death, as
meditating on the deceased master, can lead the devotee to awaken to the
ephemeral consciousness of existence, and thus to anticipate his or her
own death. In meditating on the guru’s departure, the follower learns to
die to the world, to die to ego. This turns meditation on the guru’s death
into an efficient instrument to attain supreme liberation. The postmor-
tem cult of the guru constitutes then a form of victory over death, where
“death conquers death” to use the words of the Bengali poet Ramprasad.
This recalls the comments of Mā Ānandamayī, who affirmed that “death
must die” and who insisted on the importance of preparing yourself for
death: “So long as there is coming and going there will be birth and death.
He who is jubilant at the birth of a child must be prepared for tears of grief
at the time of death. While everything in life is uncertain, it is an undeni-
able truth that every man must die. To end this ceaseless coming and going
there is only one expedient: the realization of the one Supreme Being.”25
Evoking a passage from the Mahābharata, she also has this to say:

People asked Arjuna, the hero of the Mahābharata, what was

the most extraordinary thing that he had ever encountered. He
responded: “Everywhere man sees death but he thinks he will not
die.” If man was afraid of death at every instant, he could not continue
to live. And yet, for people who meditate, every day is a way of dying.
Death itself is a form of death and every day, in the oral traditions,
masters explain that death represents the death of the greedy ego.26

To meditate on death also leads to rendering it inoffensive and incapable

of inspiring fear,27 as this new female disciple of Mā’s affirms: “It helps
 Presence of the Guru 169

me. My death has nothing to do with Mā’s as I am far from being enlight-
ened, from being at that stage. But it helps me to meditate on death, on
time, and, of course, on the fear of death. It helps us to liberate ourselves
from this fear of death.”
This idea of meditation on death seems to be present among Mā’s dev-
otees, who conceive of the postmortem cult as an aid to reflection on death,
as the following French man, a new devotee, emphasizes:

This comes back to the Buddhist idea, that everything is imperma-

nent, that death is imminent, that it can happen at any time, that
everything is transitory. When you remember that the master was
there and that he is no longer there now, that brings us back to our
own death. If Mā, she left, then us, it’s certain.

The postmortem cult then reinforces the meditation on death that is

already present in the guru/śiṣya relationship during the lifetime of the
master, as affirms Ram Alexander, an early disciple of Mā’s who helped
publish Atmananda’s diary, now entitled Death Must Die:

Aside from the great difficulty of finding a qualified Guru, very few
are prepared to undergo the rigors such a relationship demands—
the sine qua non of which is the journey beyond death, the death
of the ego. From the point of view of the individual mind this is the
same as physical death and the disciple must have complete faith
in the Guru in order to successfully make this transition. This ego
death entails abandoning all of one’s beliefs and concepts that make
up one’s passionately held idea of who one is.28

This reminds us of the figure of St. Benoît who incited monks to constantly
keep in mind the presence of death, mortem cotidie ante oculos suspectam
habere, or of the Latin expression memento mori, “remind yourself that you
are mortal.” The permanent memory of death constitutes then a sort of prep-
aration for the birth into a superior way of being, to the spiritual life, for if
memory constitutes a tool of liberation, forgetting conversely signifies death.
In referring to religious traditions besides Hinduism, Mā also affirmed
this regarding the death of death:

He who yearns for God will find Him and for the man who found
Him, death dies. You must turn your gaze towards the vision of
170 When a Goddess Dies

God that is the death of death and force yourself to maintain a mind
continually absorbed with activities and practices that can prepare
you for such a vision. Speaking of death, the Bible tells us: “Learn
to die so that you can begin to live.” And the Koran: “Die (learn to
disengage your immortal mind from your mortal body) before the
hour of your demise.”29

And so, Mā’s postmortem cult can offer a way to liberate oneself from these
repeating deaths in the cycle of saṃsāra (punarmṛtyu), as a path toward
immortality. To meditate on Mā’s departure and thus on her omnipresence,
as a result, comes to be a way of conquering death, similar to the profound
meaning of the following words found in the Bṛhad Araṇyaka Upaniṣad.

From the Unreal lead us to the Real,

From Darkness lead us unto Light,
From Death lead us to Immortality.
Reach us through and through ourself,
And evermore protect us,
O Thou Terrible, from ignorance,
By Thy sweet compassionate face.

The Postmortem Cult as an Intermediary Stage

The postmortem cult can also be envisioned as a sort of preparation or
preamble to the cult to a living guru. A person who is used to following a
cult to a guru of the past will have less difficulty in establishing a relation-
ship with a living guru. This is notably the case with some followers of the
Ramakrishna Mission of Kerala who, after having venerated the deceased
guru Ramakrishna for many years, turned toward the living guru Māta
Amṛtānandamayī (who today also lives in Kerala) and became her disci-
ples. Ramdas additionally affirmed that it is possible to adopt a deceased
master while waiting to find a living one:

He who really wants to have a guru can find one. Until then, he can
fix his faith on a saint of the past, considering him to be his guru. If
later, the seeker meets a master and wants to be initiated by him, he
should consider him as the incarnation of the saint and let himself
be guided by him. All gurus are one.30
 Presence of the Guru 171

Thus the postmortem cult to Mā Ānandamayī could also constitute a sort

of initiation into the cult of the guru before turning toward a living master.
This ease in passing from a ritualized cult to a cult dedicated to a living
being additionally emphasizes the flexibility and vitality of Hinduism.
The postmortem cult can also serve as an intermediary, transitional step
while waiting for a successor. For example, the followers of the religious
movement of the Radhasoamis of Soamibagh continue, in the middle of
this interregnum, to venerate their deceased master while waiting for the
dhara, this subtle current, to manifest itself in a successor.31 In the case
where the transfer of devotion for the old guru to a new guru is not possible
for the devotee, the postmortem cult can also be presented as an alternative.

Independence and Responsibility in the

Postmortem Cult
Another positive aspect of the death of the guru is the greater sense of
responsibility that it invites on the part of the devotee, as this French man,
a new disciple of Mā’s, declares:

When the physical master is there and does not want to come see
us, there are sometimes emotional breakdowns, there are emo-
tions, there are psychological complications that there are not when
he is not there. You are more responsible for yourself. You are in
front of yourself, there is no one who is there, you must get along
by yourself. It’s like when you leave a child alone. He becomes an
adult. In nature’s Yoga, in life’s Yoga, there are rites of passage.
These are necessary, the passage from adolescence to adulthood,
from adulthood to spiritual maturity, it is necessary. It’s the law of
nature, Yoga is nature. From one side, it’s easier to be responsible
for yourself when the master is not there. Because I saw many peo-
ple who followed Mā in a bit of an addicted way, as psychological
dependence and she had to respond. That becomes complicated.
And then, there is dependence on the physical place. When a mas-
ter is there, you are dependent on the place where he is. You need
him, you call him, you have to come see him. When he is not there,
there is more of a need for him. You are responsible to yourself.

But, if Mā’s physical absence implies a greater independence and a cer-

tain responsibility, this can also lead the devotee to lose his or her way,
172 When a Goddess Dies

particularly when exposed to the temptations in the West, as this German

woman, an early devotee of Mā’s, tells here:

The fact that she is not in her body, in one way, it can make you
more independent, strong, and free. On the other hand, I feel that
she gives you quite a scope of experiments and experiments always
have the risk that you can lose yourself [laughs]. And I feel that she
is a permissive mother. She lets her children experiment quite a
lot. I can only trust that she keeps us like a dog lined [laughs]. This
is very easy in the West to get lost. You have such a vastness of
information and spiritual paths. If you are clever, you can combine
everything and justify everything. So, this can be quite an obstacle.
And the freedom in personal life also. In the West, you are more
concerned with your relationship, while in India, once you get mar-
ried, that’s it. In the West, you can experiment endlessly. You can
change every half a year and you get so lost, and you have to work
so much psychologically to remain intact [laughs]. I would be happy
if Mā would be there in physical form, for a certain kind of protec-
tion. But on the other hand, as Eckhart Tolle said, if you have three
times a separation in your relationships, he says that you advance
more quickly than staying in an ashram. So I don’t know if this is
a new wisdom [laughs]. I have no idea. This may be the modern
kind of initiation. I didn’t get this confirmed. I only pray to Mā that
she keeps an eye on me. I think she knows about the paths and
the ways. I don’t think that she is sitting personally on a cloud, in
heaven, watching you. It’s like a certain presence which you are
related to and which is protecting you, I hope.

Thus, Mā’s absence may involve the risk of losing your way on the path,
and in particular among Westerners, as this powerful mirror that was
Mā while she was alive is today more passive, as the following early male
disciple says:

I really like to do sādhanā and I know how to do that. And that

sādhanā is based on nothing but the relationship with Mā and on
finding Mā within, this whole energetic exchange between you and
the guru, like that. But the thing with Mā’s physical presence, as
the physical presence of the saint is something extraordinary. And
although you can theorize on how everything is one, that you can
 Presence of the Guru 173

find it within, the reality of the saint is unbelievable. There is this

amazing generator of spiritual energy. To be in their presence is to
be in a deep spiritual state effortlessly. You don’t have to try. Say you
make a big mistake in your sādhanā, you can just go and sit with
Mā. Maybe Mā would pretend to be very angry at you. Maybe, she
won’t look at you for two weeks. And you wanna die because she
won’t look at you. She would make you feel horrible. I will never
do that again. But then, everything would be ok again. Then, the
energy structure would be totally back in place. But without that
physical presence, you are on your own. If you make some mis-
takes, you may have to spend a few life times, well, maybe not a few
life times. . . . You don’t have that powerful mirror, this generator. In
that sense, you definitely miss this presence.

These comments on the absence of a powerful mirror since Mā’s death

echo, in a sense, the words of Swami Vijayānanda, who, evoked Mā’s
less direct action since her death, “Before, when Mā was in her physi-
cal body, she could awaken someone tepid, someone who didn’t have a
strong desire,”32 which is apparently no longer the case, as the devotee’s
desire must be much more intense for a real transformation to take place.
Jacques Vigne, in the same way, speaks of a less radical transformation
produced in the devotee since Mā’s departure:

It is possible for an inner work to happen around this samādhi. The

difference from the time when she was living in her body is that
then, she could turn over complete unbelievers “like a crepe,” peo-
ple who were not at all interested in interiority, and awaken them to
this world. Thanks to her śakti, to her energy, she could transform
them from one day to the next. Now, it’s more unusual. The trans-
formation is made progressively, but there is undeniably a work of
transmutation.33

If the postmortem cult thus presents a number of advantages and can

sometimes serve as a transitional stage while waiting for a living guru, it
also signifies, for the devotee, a greater difficulty in communicating with
the guru and the risk of losing one’s way on the path due to the absence
of this “powerful mirror” that is Mā’s incarnated form. Two tendencies
emerge here, one being the tendency to experience the master’s absence
as an opportunity to find the guru inside, and the other being the tendency
174 When a Goddess Dies

to affirm that inner progress is slower in the absence of the physical guru
and that there is an elevated risk of the follower’s falling from grace.
To conclude, it seems important to return again to the devotee’s need
to give a meaning to Mā’s death by making it into a beneficial event. But
although the absence of the incarnated master encourages old devotees in
their quest for truth, it is questionable as to whether it can draw many new
devotees, as they seem much less numerous than early devotees at this time.
The success of postmortem cults may not match that of cults to living gurus,
like Amma, who draws millions of followers around her. If the absence of
the incarnated guru appears to be a positive factor for early devotees and a
minority of new devotees, it may not rival the guru’s physical presence.

Experiencing the Posthumous Presence of the Guru

This section exclusively addresses the experiential dimension of religion,
which James would also qualify as “first hand religion,” to distinguish it
from “second hand” religion that designates the institutional side of reli-
gion. For James, true religion essentially resides in experience, in emotion,
and, to some extent, in the body,34 and not in institutions, discourse, and
different formulations.35 Whereas James seems to be strictly concerned
with “religious sentiments” or “religious feelings” to the neglect of social
and institutional factors, Carrette, though, argues that James’s theory in
The Varieties is actually too caught up in social and cognitive analysis.36
First of all, I should specify what I mean by experience. For the purpose
of this study, I will adopt Panikkar’s definition regarding the experience of
God.37 For Panikkar, experience has four dimensions:

(1) Experience in itself, that is to say, “immediate” experience;

(2) The memory of this moment, which allows us to speak of this experi-
ence. The memory should however not be confused with the immedi-
ate experience;
(3) The interpretation of this experience, which is directly tied to the lived
experience, to memory, and to language;
(4) Its reception, its inscription into a given cultural world.

The experiential aspect of this study on Mā’s devotees concerns then

memory and the interpretation of their experience, an experience which is
inscribed in the Hindu world as well as in the Western world.
 Presence of the Guru 175

Religious experience, which Rudolf Otto defines as nostalgia for the

divine, arises from the otherness, from the ganz andere, the “wholly
other,” that is to say from that which comes from elsewhere, from that
which is totally different. The experience of Mā is in fact radically differ-
ent from anything one would experience in the ordinary, suggesting the
appearance of an unexpected new reality. In a sense, this is similar to
Arnaud Desjardins’s comments regarding Mā: “What does the presence
of a being so totally other among us mean?”38 Since Mā’s departure, it
seems that her presence continues to manifest itself according to the
character of this “totally other,” that is beyond all comprehension, all
understanding. Belonging to the domain of the totally other, the fol-
lower’s religious experience is therefore difficult to describe. In addi-
tion, as it arises from the private sphere, it belongs to the domain of the
intimate as the following disciple says: “to describe this spiritual state,
that too, it’s something very intimate, private. It’s in the realm of grace,
in the dimension of the ānanda. It encapsulates, it awakens. It’s in the
realm of awareness. It’s in the realm of the experiential.” It is then nec-
essary to specify that a description of religious experience cannot, in its
totality, translate the lived experience.
Despite the difficulty of translating the devotee’s religious experience
in its totality, I shall here try to describe it. What is this “presence” that
devotees experience as a part of their posthumous devotion to Mā?

Presence of the Guru

The posthumous experience of the guru cannot be spoken of without call-
ing on the fundamental idea of presence, which constitutes the basis of
darśana.39 According to Champion and Hervieu-Léger, presence may be
defined as the “feeling of an omnipresence that is found everywhere at
the same time, but which is neither interior nor exterior. This presence
is experienced as being sacred or divine.”40 In this respect, William James
speaks of a strong conviction induced by this feeling of presence, much
stronger than that of a logical reasoning. He specifies that, for the person
who experiences it, there is a true perception.41 In the same vein, André
Godin emphasizes that this is not a presence in which one simply believes
but a presence that one experiences in the most mysterious way.42 And so
the experience of presence as hierophany constitutes the foundation of
religious experience, through which the partitioning of the world of the
sacred and of the profane takes place.43 This “spirituality of presence,”44 in
176 When a Goddess Dies

the words of Isambert, is found in the experience of many of Mā’s devo-

tees, who evoke their experience of Mā by employing the word “presence.”
Although today, the majority of Mā’s devotees refer to the word “presence”
to talk about their posthumous experience of Mā, this was also the case
during Mā’s lifetime, as evident in the written testimonies of early dis-
ciples like Atmananda:

What I perceive of Her is surely not She, but only a tiny glimpse of
a fragment of Her. If I think of Her as a PRESENCE beyond that
perceived by the senses it has certainly a greater reality than Her
physical form and is not subject to Her physical nearness but rather
to the capacity of my mind to remain in that PRESENCE, which
I have experienced through Her again and again.45

The experience (Erlebnis) felt by the group of Mā’s devotees is then inter-
preted as a hic et nunc presence of Mā, Erlebnis meaning here that the sacred
is able to be experienced. It nonetheless seems important to specify that this
sacred experience of presence may be located well beyond the ephemeral
and changing aspect of emotions, as affirms Vergote, who criticizes James
for not having sufficiently explored the experiences of the mystics: “The
mystics see the ‘night of the feelings’ as a crucial test enabling them to
purify their faith and only then to achieve that mystical experience of the
divine presence, beyond all the trembling of the emotions and the oscil-
lations of feeling.”46 Although religion resides in feelings for James, and
Hindu bhakti emphasizes emotion (i.e., longing in separation as shown in
the Vaiśṇava experience), the mystic experience may in fact be separated
from the emotional, which it looks to eliminate. Emotions, by virtue of their
transient and ephemeral nature, would tend in some religious orientations
within Hinduism, to be eradicated and not cultivated, as advocated by texts,
for example, like the Yoga Sūtra (Yoga Sūtra 1.2-citta-vṛitti-nirodha).47
Thus, the religious experience of Mā’s devotees is manifested as an
immediate presence, a presence that many often qualify as non-dual.
Panikkar additionally says this on this topic:

It’s not the claimed “presence of God” as the prae-essentia of a Being

before us, but a more interior, more personal experience, not as if
we were moved by another, but conscious that the source of our
actions and the ultimate subject of our being belongs to this infinite
sea that we call God.48
 Presence of the Guru 177

Figure 4.3 Mā Ānandamayī in the Varanasi ashram.

Source: Picture taken by English photographer Richard Lannoy.

Mā’s devotees recall this non-dual experience of Mā’s presence, as the fol-
lowing early disciple, an Indian man, implies: “Mā is with me. I am not
alone. I have her help. She is with me. I am doing nothing. She is acting
through me. I don’t know how all these things are flowing out. Mā is talk-
ing. It is not me.” From this observation, certain questions arise: Who
experiences what? And, thus, what is the place of the personal “I” in Mā’s
devotees’ religious experience?
If the experience of Mā’s presence is often portrayed as a non-dual
experience, it can also appear in the form of duality, and even in a physical
aspect, as the testimony of this disciple shows: “I feel sometimes that Mā
is touching me. There is no physical form but I feel something. I feel that
she is present.” Another disciple, a French woman, a new devotee, speaks
of Mā’s caress on her cheek:

There is something very very sweet with Mā. When I think of her,
she manifests herself in a physical way very often, always the same
thing, it’s a sweet caress of the cheek. It’s splendid. I know that it’s
her. The brush of a caress always on the left cheek. I don’t know
why but I know that it’s Mā, without a shadow of a doubt.
178 When a Goddess Dies

Thus, religious experience can be manifested in a physical way. In this

context, I will speak of “physicality of the experience of the sacred.”49
In addition, if one speaks of Mā as a “presence,” one can also define
her as an absence, for, as Marcel Gauchet would say, the sacred is spe-
cifically the presence of absence.50 On this matter Mā said: “Even in the
situation “without God,” there is only God. Everything is He. You are in
this situation where God is presence experienced as absence. Contemplate
that which is present even under the guise of absence.”51 For devotees,
Mā can be defined as an absence too, as this new disciple says: “I see
both in her a sort of absence that may be a presence because, for me,
Mā is everywhere, she is there.” Absence can thus be transformed into a
concrete experience of God. Because Mā is perceived by some devotees
as an incarnation of the goddess Kālī, as her Bengali epithet “Living Kālī”
implies, she is also said to have the tendency to bless by her absence, for as
Kinsley notes, Kālī constitutes the goddess par excellence who blesses only
by her absence.52 To meet Mā is then to meet her as “presence-absence,”
for, in the end, there can be no presence without absence, as there can be
no form without a void. Mā reveals this in the following comments: “Form
is in reality empty. To realize this brings liberation from form. The world
is revealed to be empty, ready to disappear into the Great Void. The void
is the very nature of manifestation; it is thus the form!”53 If Mā is felt as
absence/presence, she is also then felt as form/emptiness, recalling the
statements of a French woman, a new devotee of Mā’s:

Mā is truly that which engenders the everything, it’s the Divine

Mother in all senses, that is to say that which both engenders every-
thing and is everywhere, in the least blade of grass, and at the same
time, that which could give birth to it. She can be inside and could
give birth to it. It’s above every thing, and also with its two forms, the
manifestation and the non-manifested. It’s very important to have
these two ideas and to juxtapose these two ideas in permanence.
Me, I found that magnificent, the form. I like beauty. I like harmony.
And then, the human relationship, that’s form as well. I obviously
like eternity, if I didn’t, I would not be on this path. For me, the
Divine Mother, it’s both, it’s at the same time the manifestation, the
mahāmāyā and it’s also eternity, beyond that which you can imagine.

If Mā is also revealed in absence, some devotees do not hesitate how-

ever to test her presence, as the testimony of this Indian woman, a new
 Presence of the Guru 179

disciple, shows: “Once, I tested her whether she is present or not. I told
Mā: ‘I want to see if you are present or not. The same māla [set of prayer
beads] that you have on the picture, I want it on my neck.’ Ten minutes
later, the pūjāri came and gave me one māla. Sometimes, I am testing her
to see if she is there. I am naughty also [laughs].” Here is also the testi-
mony of another disciple, an Indian woman, an early devotee of Mā’s, who
tells of her first real experience of Mā after her death:

Finally, I entered the samādhi. I sat over there and I started a con-
versation with Mā, within myself: “Today, I have a little bit of sense
of what you are, a little bit, with my limitations. I am missing you
so much because you are just not there. I need that physical body.
Whom can I talk to? Today, I have come back as a child. If you have
accepted me, pick up that lotus flower on your samādhi and give it
to me. Show me that you heard me.” I just said that. Then, I shut
my eyes and I went into meditation. I don’t know what was happen-
ing around. I was spaced out. One lady from the samādhi comes to
me with the lotus. She drops the lotus in my duppatā. When the
lotus dropped, I remember my entire conversation with Mā. Again,
I started crying like a fountain. And I am gone. I don’t know where.
That experience, I don’t want to name anything. I woke up two
hours after. The kīrtana was over, everybody had left the samādhi.
I looked at everything around me. I didn’t know where I was. I had
lost my identity completely. Only when I came back, I realized that
I am here. And what happened to me in these two hours, I have no
clue. This is my first experience after Mā left her body.

Thus, the experiences of Mā that devotees recount are first of all defined
by a “presence,” a presence that both can be felt on the dual plane but also
on that of non-duality. This experience of Mā is additionally perceived by
her devotees as an ecstatic one, as subsequent testimonies suggest.

An Ecstatic Experience
Religious experience is often presented as an experience of moving past
something, as a union with something infinitely greater. William James
defines the religious experience as the possibility of feeling the union with
something greater than our personality and of finding in this union a pro-
found tranquility. This experience of moving past human consciousness
180 When a Goddess Dies

is in a way related to the “oceanic feeling” of Freud, which corresponds to

a particular state of consciousness in which the mind, the consciousness,
goes through a kind of fusion with the cosmos.54 In this vein, Acquaviva
notes that the religious experience always appears as a peak experience,
completely filling up the individual consciousness.55 Antoine Vergote also
speaks of the religious experience as an expansion of the human being,
as the sensation and the taste of the infinite.56 This aspect of religious
experience seems to also be found in many ways among Mā’s devotees
who perceive their experience of Mā as a union with everything, with the
infinite: “Because Mā, to me, is everything, and this is not only a sarcastic
belief, I have experienced Mā that way. Beyond Mā, there is nothing.” The
experience of the Divine appears then as this awareness that in ourselves
we are without beginning and without end.57
As James affirms, this feeling of union with something that is beyond
us is accompanied by a tranquility, by a feeling of assurance, of deliver-
ance. Experience leads to the disappearance of all tension, of all anxiety
and makes way for a feeling of profound peace, of complete harmony and
joy. According to many testimonies, Mā’s devotees seem to feel this state
of grace in their experience of Mā. Some speak of a sweetness tied to Mā’s
presence: “Mā’s presence, it’s something very subtle, very evanescent and
very sweet. Probably, I must need this sweetness since it’s what I search
for.” Others define Mā’s presence as “very subtle, transcendental, very ten-
der as a flower” but also as “full of love, subtleness, tenderness, alertness,
devotion, surrender.” Some even go so far as to describe this state of grace
associated with Mā’s presence as a “surplus of ānanda (bliss),” as the tes-
timony of this French man, a new devotee of Mā’s, shows:

In the beginning, it was something much stronger than a maternal

relationship, than a romantic relationship with a woman. It was a
relationship a bit on the order of grace, something good, sweet, like
manna, something that fills you, and nourishes you. Maybe one feels
that before birth, in a prenatal state. It’s possible, I don’t know. But it’s
what I felt, it’s this type of goodness, of love that can bring you every-
thing. This quality of love, there is no word to define it. It’s something
that is supernatural. It’s not a free ānanda when one attains realiza-
tion. There is a mixture, as if there was a special grace that detached
itself from ānanda. It’s a surplus of ānanda, a surplus of grace that
is granted to you to progress, to advance, to defeat obstacles. It’s a
surplus of grace. So, when I see these things, when this happens to
 Presence of the Guru 181

me, there is an aura that comes, of sometimes hundreds of meters

that is recognized by the environment. People who are around this
aura, who are surrounded by this aura, feel happy, in a world of joy.
It’s not normal. It’s a very special ānanda. It’s a radiance. It’s incred-
ible. Even the people who have nothing to do with spirituality feel it.
They feel good, happy, suddenly. I’m sitting in a Parisian café, with
no religious emblem, and all of a sudden, there is this grace and you
see that people are well, happy. When I sense Mā’s presence, there is
a radiance, this surplus of grace radiates around and leads to joy, to
peace that makes itself known, which is experienced by other people
present, whomever they are. It’s incredible. It’s a force.

The same disciple adds that with time, his “anandic” [blissful] experience
of Mā has become more interior:

The first experiences were exterior, and as I progressed, they

became interior. It’s as if that passed into the interior. It’s a very inti-
mate domain, it’s not so appropriate to speak of it, it’s very secret.
In the beginning, there was this surplus of grace. I insist on that.
As if it were Mā Ānandamayī in the flesh before you, who radi-
ated from you. But as you continue, she brings you this realization.
Thus, the closer you come to the realization, the less there is this
phenomenon of bringing this surplus of grace necessary to lead
you. These phenomena diminish on the exterior and are ampli-
fied on the interior. You are no longer a small individual. . . . There
is this presence. . . . What presence, by the way? It became a spiri-
tual presence. It’s no longer Mā. Before, there was this surplus of
grace that people called Mā. But once this surplus of grace has done
its work . . . a surplus of grace, it’s something that comes from the
ānanda if you like. An ānanda, it’s like a sky, a free space. It’s some-
thing that comes from the heart of the ānanda, from this anandic
space. It’s a secret, it’s a heart, another quality of ānanda, another
thing, very personal, which is detached, that brings you this surplus
to help to lead you to a state but once that state was acquired, there
is no need, that would be a useless loss. So, it returns in this cen-
ter. . . . It’s not finished. There are levels. And I am very happy.

The experience of the sacred is additionally an experience outside time, in

this “now of eternity,” nunc aeternitati to use an expression of the Christian
182 When a Goddess Dies

mystics. Concerning mystic experience, Françoise Champion speaks of

a feeling of atemporality: “[the mystic experience] is feeling-certainty of
the fundamental unity of the Real, a feeling of atemporality.”58 Mā’s pres-
ence is experienced among devotees as the feeling of being outside of all
temporality. Only the immediate, hic et nunc presence of Mā exists. This
resembles the experience that Christians can have of Jesus today:

The experience is not a memory; the experience is that which comes

to us and transforms us. This experience can certainly be founded
on an updated memory, in which case there is a memory broadcast
by previous generations.
If the Christ was only a historic person, the experience of the
Christian is reduced to living the memory of his life, sent through
the memory that has been conserved of him. In this case, experts
have the maximum authority and Christianity is reduced to being
a religion of a Book. But the experience of Jesus for the Christian is
the experience of Jesus resurrected, that is to say living, hic et nunc,
yesterday, today and forever. . . . The act of faith actualizes this expe-
rience of the ineffable.59

As with Jesus, one can thus speak of the experience of Mā as a transhis-

toric experience. Due to its atemporal character, religious experience is
placed then beyond the intelligible as it relates to eternity. This evasive
aspect of religious experience that is atemporal and eternal is by definition
permeated with a mysterious feeling or of anyad-eva, which constitutes
the central religious sentiment.60
And so, experience of Mā can be seen as an ecstatic experience, where
the follower is completely immersed in this feeling of ānanda, of supreme
beatitude, where time has no hold. In addition, this experience is accom-
panied by a profound transformation in the disciple and generally occurs
in an unexpected and synchronic way.

A Transformative, Unexpected and Synchronic

Experience
Religious experience then represents in a certain way an experience of
profound transformation, of rebirth, involving a life change. Mā’s devo-
tees experience in fact the presence of Mā as a profoundly transformative
 Presence of the Guru 183

experience. This is notably the case with this Indian woman, an early dis-
ciple of Mā’s, who, well after Mā’s death, experienced great changes in
herself, changes that she attributed to Mā:

It was just not possible that I would change. She changed my

whole life . . . I was a very different person before, I told you. The
day she changed me and made me this, since that day, all my atti-
tude towards materialistic things in life just faded away. Those val-
ues have gone for me. When those values go, automatically you
realize that the body is also futile. You’re dressing up the body all
day, you’re putting on make up. . . . Those interests have suddenly
gone, completely gone out of the window. Then, what is the body?
Today, everybody tells me when I walk around, even in the ashram,
you’re so attractive, and you’re so beautiful, look at the glow on your
face. . . . I say it has nothing to do with the body. It is all Mā. Because
she is here. It reflects. Your thoughts, your mind, your attitude,
everything reflect. Your face is a mirror. Whatever you see, it’s all
because of Mā. Because I am eating, breathing, sleeping, I do noth-
ing but Mā. It will reflect.

The transformation undergone by this devotee, following her interior

encounter with Mā, can be related, in a certain way, to a true conversion.
Other followers, like this Indian man, an early disciple of Mā’s, also speak
of revelations that cause true transformations:

On one or two occasions, there were some revelations. Revelations

actually convince you more than anybody can do. We all have prob-
lems in our life. Revelations convince you somehow that these
problems are very small things, that you must see the big picture.
Of course, when you wake up, you are confronted with the prob-
lems again, but then, you think about it. So, they bring a transfor-
mation which is very difficult to bring out. They have the purposes
to transform you, which is very difficult to do. You can read, listen
to lectures, you can have experiences but still, you don’t change. Mā
has a way of changing you for the better.

Thus, devotees’ experience of Mā are said to lead to true changes, making

this experience a sacred one, a real one, bringing, as William James says, a
new wave of life, a “rejuvenation.” It is also accompanied by a detachment
184 When a Goddess Dies

toward things of this world, as the following Western woman, a new

devotee, says:

I seek the realization, that is to see God and I feel that sometimes she
helps me. That is manifested through a presence. For example, my
last trip to Paris was very very different from everything that I had
lived in Paris. Despite the pollution, despite the beings with low
energy, wherever I was, whether these were chic neighborhoods,
livelier, or working class, I always felt myself to be in an aura. As
if all that, it didn’t reach me anymore at all. I saw everything. That
took a distance. Even, that didn’t reach me. In the metro, it’s not
particularly a place to feel yourself surrounded by an aura.

Still in relation to Mā, an Indian man compares himself in this respect

to a lotus flower growing out of the mud, which nothing can reach: “My
situation is like a lotus flower. I am living in society, but nothing is
touching me.”
From these testimonies, it is clear that religious experience for Mā’s dev-
otees is synonymous with profound transformation. This seems to resonate
with James’s comments on the transformative role of experience. Quoting
Vivekananda, he notes the following in a discussion on the Hindu tradition:

The Vedantists say that one may stumble into superconsciousness

sporadically, without the previous discipline, but it is then impure.
Their test of its purity, like our test of religion’s value, is empirical: its
fruits must be good for life. When a man comes out of Samadhi,
they assure us that he remains “enlightened, a sage, a prophet, a
saint, his whole character changed, his life changed, illumined.”61

Another trait of religious experience that is found among devotees is tied

to its unexpected character, to amazement. In fact, according to Otto,
astonishment exclusively arises from the numinous.62 The religious expe-
rience that one lives (Erlebnis) is related then to the unexpected and would
erupt in the subject’s life instantaneously and immediately. Mā’s devotees
perceive their experience of Mā always as a sudden and surprising experi-
ence, as this Western woman, a new follower, explains:

Spiritual teaching surprises us a lot all the time, and Mā’s teach-
ing in particular. In Mā’s teaching, I feel like when you expect
 Presence of the Guru 185

something, she will surprise you, well the teaching will surprise
you, not at all like you expected it, not at all like you foresaw it.

And so, the religious experience of Mā’s followers is founded on the

new and the immediate. This recalls the comments of Panikkar on the
subject of experience of the Divine:

One of the phenomenological traits of God is to be novel and, for

us, always surprising. If I didn’t fear being too paradoxical (without
further explanations), I would say that the ability to be surprised
and to admire is almost a condition for the experience of God—
which will not be confined in either physical form or metaphysical
form. The God of the past is a simple “construction” of the mind
and is not the “living God.”63

Panikkar’s thought then seems to reflect the experience felt by Mā’s devo-
tees. Through their devotion to her, devotees experience Mā as novelty, as
the unexpected.
The experience of Mā’s presence can also be defined by its quality of
“synchronicity,” a concept articulated by Jung. Devotees often speak of
synchronic events while talking about Mā, as the following French man, a
new follower, affirms: “Nothing but synchronicity, everywhere. Whether it
be a book that you open, whether it be a person that you meet, an ill that
comes to us, a visible problem. A visible obstacle.” In the same context,
some devotees also recall the many coincidences related to their experi-
ence with Mā, as this swami:

I feel that she, very directly, will make events happen that are for
my benefits, to teach me things. Coincidences are sometimes too
extreme. Sometimes, five different people will tell me in different
ways the same thing. This is the point; this is the point, wake up!
Even in difficulties too. Two weeks before my saṃnyāsa, I got so
sick. There was no doctor. I nearly died, but I had this spiritual
experience. Mā was so close. I could see Mā telling me “how much
can you take?” It was a forced malaria. It was a totally spiritual expe-
rience. I felt Mā was so close. The dīkṣā was coming up. And I know
my mind was so impure. She was trying to burn as much as pos-
sible so that I can receive more. At the same time, I was like in bliss
and pain. When you are sick, there is no romance.
186 When a Goddess Dies

This devotee’s testimony seems to echo the belief that the spiritual master
sends maladies that he or she then heals. In addition, it seems that expe-
rience of Mā in the form of synchronic events was also present in Mā’s
lifetime, as this testimony of Arnaud Desjardins suggests: “Whatever
the number of those who turn towards her at the same time, it seems
that these conditions are always best for each. Everyone has the impres-
sion that, during the weeks that have just gone by, Mataji consecrated all
her interest to them and organized all these events of life at the ashram
around them and around that which would best teach them.”64 Despite
Mā’s departure then, the experience of her synchronistic presence seems
to be accessible to this day.
The posthumous experience of Mā can thus be defined above all as a
“presence,” a presence also felt by the followers from the time when Mā
was incarnated in a body. This presence is manifested both on a dual, and
notably physical plane, but also on a non-dual plane, making of the devo-
tee a channel for Mā, as it were. But, if the posthumous experience of Mā
is characterized by a presence, it is also manifested by an absence, mak-
ing the posthumous experience of Mā, then, a paradoxical one, in which
contraries meet. The posthumous experience of Mā is again defined by
its ecstatic character, in which the devotee feels a profound beatitude
(ānanda) and where time does not exist, as well as by its regenerative,
unexpected, and synchronic character.
According to different statements by early disciples, their experiences
of Mā after her death do not seem to differ significantly from experiences
of Mā while alive. Interviews with new devotees also do not show a major
difference compared to early devotees with regard to the quality of their
experiences. Although they did not know Mā in a body, they do experience
her presence.

Dreams, Visions, Guidance

Dreams
In the Hindu tradition, the dream holds an important place and, as the
“mirror of reality,”65 it is believed that it sometimes delivers real mes-
sages.66 Devotees generally consider dreaming of a saint, and especially
of one’s own master, to be a very significant thing. If these dreams are
produced when the guru is alive, they also take place after his or her
mahāsamādhi, reassuring the devotees of the omnipresence and the
 Presence of the Guru 187

omnipotence of their master. On this matter, one speaks of a posthu-

mous darśana of the guru in dreams. According to the tradition of the
Radhasoamis, for example, every true disciple will receive the darśana
of their guru upon the master’s death.67 In this context, the guru may
also manifest him or herself in a dream after his or her death to request
a posthumous cult.68 If Weinberger speaks of the “psychology of ances-
tors” to recall the intervention of Manes in dreams to ask for a cult,69
I may, in the same way, speak here of the “psychology of gurus.” Within
Mā’s community, there are many anecdotes on this subject. For example,
shortly after Mā’s mahāsamādhi, one of the brahmacārinis at the ashram
at Kankhal forgot to leave a glass of water for Mā in what used to be her
room. The following night, she apparently dreamt that Mā asked her for
a glass of water.
If, among devotees, dreams of saints are particularly frequent at his or
her death, they also persist many years afterwards, even centuries after-
wards. Shirdi Sai Baba, to cite one of the best known, is said to continue
to manifest himself in dreams nearly a century after his death among his
devotees, often to guide them.70 In the same way, after her departure, Mā is
said to continue to manifest herself among the majority of her devotees.71
Early disciples note, however, a decrease in these dreams since her death.
This is notably the case with Swami Vijayānanda who expressed this con-
cerning dreams of Mā:

When I was with Mā, I practically always dreamed of Mā. I don’t

think that there was a day when I didn’t dream of Mā. Then, after
she had left her body, it became less frequent. And now, I dream of
her, but less often. There were very varied dreams. Some dreams
were banal, and some dreams had great significance. Those, I still
remember them, the others, I forgot them immediately.

Dreams of Mā are also present among new disciples. This is the case with
this Western woman, for example, who had a dream of Mā twenty-five
years before having heard of her:

When I think back, I had a very very strong dream of Mā twenty-five

years ago and I didn’t know who it was. What happened was
that I had a still-born baby and I was very very unhappy. When
I look back in my diaries, about four days after I had the labour,
I had this really really powerful dream in the night. I went to
188 When a Goddess Dies

this Indian lady, and she was sitting, and there she was, and she
was just so kind and loving. And she told me I had to go through
the labour again but I had to go through the labour with joyful-
ness this time. So, I laid down and I had all this pain again, and
not only in the reality but also in the awakening reality, but this
time, it felt fine. I had this experience and that changed the flavor
of the morning, something was all right about this experience,
something positive came out because of this vision. Years passed
and I forgot about this dream. I just had another boy. All through
the childhood, I had no other vision, no other spiritual experience
or whatsoever. I was fifty in year 2000 when the spiritual thing
started to happen again. Mā was just kind of letting that part of
life just go on, having children, or whatever, and so, it was time
to move into the next stage. And then I remembered again about
this lady, and the minute I remembered it, I just knew it was Mā.
It was obviously Mā.

If Mā, in the devotee’s dream, can take on a form different from her usual
one (saguṇa), such as the form of a deity, she can also be without form
(nirguṇa), as this French man, a new disciple, who recounts one of his
dreams suggests:

Mā and myself were at the entrance of a temple. Then, all of

a sudden, Mā, who was with me, disappeared, then, she was
no longer around me. There were people washing their feet,
their hands, in these basins to prepare to enter into the temple.
I entered into the temple. I looked around everywhere for Mā.
I descended into a room in the basement. I was told Mā was
there. I open a door and I find Mā’s figure carpeting the walls.
But where is she? Then, after, another room. Then nothing.
Emptiness. That, it was one of the dreams I remember, but I’ve
had so many of them.

Mā’s devotees often perceive these dreams as a way for Mā to communi-

cate a message to them, to guide them. This is the case with this Indian
woman, an early disciple, who affirmed having received instructions
directly from Mā in her dreams, when she found herself in a difficult
and dangerous position: “Every time, every day, Mā would come in my
dreams and would give me instructions. In dreams, at night, while I am
 Presence of the Guru 189

Figure 4.4 Mā Ānandamayī’s blessing with her hand

Atmananda: “What I perceive of Her is surely not She, but only a tiny glimpse of
a fragment of Her. If I think of Her as a PRESENCE beyond that perceived by the
senses it has certainly a greater reality than Her physical form and is not subject
to Her physical nearness but rather to the capacity of my mind to remain in that
PRESENCE, which I have experienced through Her again and again.”
Source: Picture belonging to the collection of the photographer Sadanand; now in the pos-
session of Neeta Mehta, also called Swami Nityānanda.

sleeping. She would say, don’t do this, don’t do this. Every day, every day,
she was coming. That’s the time Mā saved me.” This same disciple addi-
tionally speaks of the importance of these dreams that are not ordinary
dreams:

The fact that Mā comes is a very big thing. She doesn’t come that
often to people. The fact that she comes is absolutely fantastical.
After that, if she gives you a message, it’s even better. In that par-
ticular aspect, when we say we saw Mā, we are actually jumping our
190 When a Goddess Dies

consciousness to that level where Mā is. So, you are actually relat-
ing to her. Actually, it is not a dream. And, then, she is giving you
instructions. It’s so true for me. It couldn’t be more true than this
world that is existing. That is more of a reality than this is.

It is interesting to consider the origin of these dreams of Mā. Responses

to this question are diverse. The following French woman, a new devotee
of Mā’s, offers different hypotheses:

I do not think that it is my imagination. Let’s say that there are many
hypotheses. Either, it’s Mā who comes to see me, or it’s also a sort
of memory that would be placed somewhere in the universe and
which is awoken at that moment. A memory, she came to this earth,
she left memories. All these places where she came have memories
of her. Even if you’re not there, you can receive a memory of some
places, even of a stone, of an object. And even if I am in Paris, for
example, I can very well have a memory that comes to me from
Varanasi or from Kankhal. . . . There is also a third hypothesis, it’s a
collective unconscious, I think. And then, the fourth, it’s the source
of life. In the work of the Advaita Vedānta, you are connected to the
Self, to what is beyond the me, to what is our source of life. And,
in this source of life, does there not exist also a sort of well where
some realized beings live, and particularly those who have chosen
to? Does this source of life that would be a bit like our inner guru,
would it not be connected to Mā?

And so, the origin of dreams, according to this disciple, could stem from
these four elements cited above. Regarding the origin of dreams in mem-
ory, one of Mā’s swamis adds this:

The root of your dreams is the memory you are carrying within you,
the impressions you are carrying within you. Dreams come from
within, from the memory. We call this memory saṃskāra in our
Indian spirituality. So, these are the manifestations of memories,
of saṃskāra, that’s why dreams come. You saw Mā in dreams. It
doesn’t mean that Mā came. Mā’s saṃskāra was there within you,
in your subconscious mind, in the depth of your mental layers of
consciousness. It comes out as a dream. That’s all. Mā never comes
in dreams.
 Presence of the Guru 191

Figure 4.5 Swami Vijayānanda: “No, Ma Anandamayi was not a human person.
She was not a human being! She was, that is without a doubt, an Incarnation of
the Divinity.”
Source: Picture belonging to the collection of the photographer Sadanand; now in the pos-
session of Neeta Mehta, also called Swami Nityānanda.

If dreams have some importance for the majority of Mā’s devotees,

they are nevertheless not essential for their sādhanā, as this Indian man,
a long-time devotee of Mā’s, specifies: “When I have a dream of Mā, that
makes me feel happy. But from the beginning, I am not depending on
these things. My aim is to achieve Mā or God. The only important thing
for me is to live always in the presence of Mā.” In a way, this recalls Mā’s
words that affirmed the reality of dreams, thus showing that you must not
be attached to them: “All sorts of things can be seen in dreams: those that
depend on the mental but also those that were not thoughts but which
happened in the past or which will happen in the future. In any case,
everything that happens belongs to the realm of dreams.”72
192 When a Goddess Dies

Visions
Visions also constitute another type of extraordinary reality experienced
by devotees. It is not rare to hear of posthumous visions of the guru after
his or her death, and there are many examples of them. For example,
there is the case of Sarada Devi who is said to have seen her spouse,
Ramakrishna, appear shortly after his death73 or the case of Indira Devi,
a classical dancer and poetess, who met the saint Mirabai numerous
times in her visions.74 Ma Jaya, the American guru, also had visions of
different saints during her sādhanā, as did Neem Karoli Baba or Swami
Nityananda,75 and Chandra Swami received the darśana of different
deceased masters, like Ramana Maharshi, of whom he had never heard
before.76 The best known cases of visions of deceased saints in India how-
ever are attributed to Shirdi Sai Baba, who seems to regularly manifest
himself to many individuals.77
If apparitions of Mā seem to have been particularly present just after
her departure, they still occur today, more than thirty years after her pass-
ing, to early and new devotees, but also to people who have never heard
of Mā. During an interview, an Indian disciple, an early devotee of Mā’s,
related that his son, who was 7 years old at the time and had never heard of
Mā before, with the exception of seeing a photo of her in his father’s office,
recalled the presence of a woman at his hospital bedside. The young boy
described this woman like the woman he saw in the photo of Mā.
If, in these visions, Mā generally appears as she is known to have
been, a woman with long black hair, it seems that she also appears in
other forms. Some speak for example of visions of Mā in the form of a
young girl. One of the ashram’s pūjāris relates the sudden appearance
and instantaneous disappearance in the sādhu kutira of a small girl asking
him for prasāda that he had failed to give during the pūjā at Mā’s samādhi.
Others, like this French man, a new devotee of Mā’s, also relate visions of
Mā in a luminous form:

I saw her not in a physical form but in a glorious form. Not physical.
There was not the appearance with her hair. It was not like that. It’s
difficult to describe. There was something like a form, but a lumi-
nous one, not really visible. It was here but not in a physical aspect
like we knew her, with the hair and all that, the head. It was nothing
like that. But it was the quality. This form emanated the same qual-
ity. Also, I received a beam in the middle of my forehead. It was at
my apartment in Paris during my sādhanā. I threw myself onto the
 Presence of the Guru 193

bed and I said “take me.” Bam. Incredible, incredible. After, every
day, it started again, it started again.

This is also the case of another disciple, a Western woman, who saw Mā in
the form of a luminous silhouette: “Three years ago, I was in the middle
of something really difficult. One day, I was sitting on my bed in my room
and I felt her presence before me. It was really a silhouette of white light
and without a shadow of a doubt, it was Mā. It was she who came to my
rescue.”
Some spaces are said to be more favorable to appearances of Mā, nota-
bly Mā’s samādhi, a favored place for apparitions. The different pūjāris in
charge of the pūjā at the samādhi seem have been witnesses of supernatu-
ral appearances. One of the pūjāris had a vision of Mā in person, sitting
inside a mosquito net during a morning pūjā at the samādhi. Another
pūjāri also speaks of having glimpsed a shadow in the samādhi very
early in the morning, when it was closed and no one could have entered
apart from himself. It also seems that the young boys of Mā’s school at
Kankhal (Vidyapeeth School) are predisposed to having visions of Mā, as a
brahmacārini at the ashram in Kankhal states. Thus, it seems that visions
of Mā appear especially at her samādhi, making this place a space particu-
larly favorable for this type of contact with Mā.
For the majority of devotees, visions are true benedictions and many
of them ardently wish Mā would manifest herself to them in this way, like
the following Indian woman, a new devotee of Mā’s: “I do feel her pres-
ence but I would like visions of her. I am sure she will bless me with that.
Maybe, I am not ready right now. Maybe something is lacking in me.”
For some, visions are perceived as a true sign of spiritual progress, as the
expression of a connection with the master as this Indian woman, an early
devotee says: “Visions? No, I am not in that high stage. Some people are
in such a stage that they can see Mā. I am in a very low stage.” For Swami
Vijayānanda, this pertains to a psychic disposition that some people pos-
sess: “There are people who are psychics, who have real visions. There
are people like that, psychic people.” If for some, visions are a sign of
grace, others however do not find them important at all, as the following
Indian man, an early devotee of Mā’s says: “Vision? That is not very impor-
tant. I don’t know what you mean by visions. Visions are only your own
saṃskāra, it comes from your own imagination. Since Mā is everywhere,
if you wish, you can see everything as Mā only. It is out of your own desire
that you are creating Mā.”
194 When a Goddess Dies

Thus, for some devotees, Mā continues to manifest herself in the

form of visions. This recalls what a devotee of Mā, Anil Ganguli, affirmed
regarding Mā: “Mā lives on a double plane, one visible from the exterior
and the other from the interior.”78

Guidance
The guru’s presence can also manifest itself as guidance. Some devotees
of a guru speak of a subtle communication with the deceased guru, of an
inner voice that guides them, that shows them the path to follow. In this
regard, Aurobindo confirmed that it is possible for the dead to communi-
cate with the living: “It is perfectly possible for the dead, or I should say
the departed, as they are not dead, who are still in neighboring regions,
to enter into communication with the living.”79 In this context, we can
cite, for example, the case of Śrī Mā of Kāmakkhya, who is said to have
been guided from within by the deceased saint Ramakrishna to leave for
America80 so as to share a spiritual teaching there.
According to interviews, it is clear that, since Mā’s departure, her devo-
tees strongly feel her presence in the form of guidance protecting them
and supporting them in their spiritual path (sādhanā). Some recall a force
watching over their life, like this Indian man, a new devotee of Mā’s:

I feel all the time Mā’s force surrounding me, if I do something

wrong or something good. All the time, I feel this force. All the
time, I feel somebody overseeing me, from the top, in every-
thing. I am very conscious about that, all the time. Whatever
I do, she is overseeing me. Not only me, my entire family. She is
overseeing us.

This force comes to guide the devotee at the right time, as this French
woman, a new disciple, affirms:

I know that I am in a good place. I sense that it’s she who leads,
that I’ve not let go of the thread, that I’m going in the right direc-
tion. . . . It’s amazing, it’s as if she pulls back and she advances when
it’s necessary. It’s as if she lets you go as far as you can. You are
there to perform sādhanā, to purify yourself. She accompanies you.
But when there is truly a need for a helping hand, she shows her-
self, she is there . . . it’s she who is over my entire spiritual path. It’s
she who surrounds everything, who’s in charge [laughs].
 Presence of the Guru 195

For devotees, Mā takes care of them at all levels, as this Indian man, an
early devotee, says:

Mā is taking care of every possible need of a person. It’s not only

spiritual. The purpose of the guru is to protect your sādhanā. That’s
the only purpose of the guru. That means that whatever comes
in the way of your sādhanā, she has to take care of it. Sometimes
things happen in life that disturb your sādhanā. To that extent, they
get involved in your material affairs . . . Mā puts you on the way. This
kind of things happened to me many times.

In this respect, Mā is sometimes described by her devotees as a “solution

personified,” for the devotee’s difficult situations end by resolving them-
selves in invoking her aid: “Mā is called sometimes ‘the solution personi-
fied,’ because she is the Ultimate.” It seems then that Mā comes to help
her devotees in crisis situations, as this Indian male follower, an early
devotee, says: “Whenever I feel helpless, I do tend to fall back on Mā and
ask her for proper solution and I feel that I find some way out to convert
the situation, to overcome the situation, the frustration.” Mā’s guidance
can additionally occur in all sorts of forms: “She can come in any body,
including yours. Whenever I have an enquiry, she sends me a person to
answer to my questions, to show me the path.” In a similar way, Warrier
notes that Amma’s devotees see evidence of her protection in times of cri-
sis, when the miraculous appears to prevent them from harm.81 Regarding
Amma, it is interesting to note that some of Mā’s disciples, today close to
the living guru Mā Amṛtānandamayī (Amma), consider Mā to have guided
them toward Amma after her departure.
Many devotees consider themselves to be instruments of Mā, as chan-
nels of this force, as the following testimony from an Indian brahmacārini
shows: “I never thought of writing a book on Mā. I never liked to study.
I don’t know how Mā made me do this. . . . You won’t believe. Sometimes,
the words were coming out for the translation. I opened the dictionary
and it comes right. Mā dictated.” Another brahmacārini, in charge of the
samādhi’s maintenance, similarly adds: “Mā is making [me] do all this
work.” Devotees perceive themselves then to be instruments of Mā, to be
her tools.
And so, devotees today feel the presence of Mā in the form of an inner
force that guides them in their lives, testifying to a recognition of this
phenomenon, as this Indian woman, a new devotee of Mā’s, affirms: “I
196 When a Goddess Dies

pray to her that whatever is good for me, you do that. Till date, whatever
has happened to me, I feel that I have got more than enough. That’s what
I feel. I don’t know what will happen in the future. I am happy with what
I have got. I am oversatisfied. I feel that Mā is always there.” Some even
hope that Mā will continue to guide them in their future life: “I think she
has taken my hand and that she is leading me on the spiritual path, in this
birth, and also next birth.”
On the basis of numerous interviews, I can confirm a continuity of
experience of Mā since her death among new and old devotees. These
experiences differ little from such experiences occurring while Mā was
alive. The idea of “presence” represents the leading thread. Devotees con-
sistently return to the guru’s presence, a presence that they also define as
an absence. This experience of presence is portrayed as an ecstatic experi-
ence, in which this feeling of beatitude, of ānanda, surrounds them and
leads them beyond time. The religious experience of followers additionally
allows a profound transformation in the disciple and because of its unex-
pected and synchronic character is characterized as astonishing. These
experiences notably occur in dreams, visions, and can additionally mani-
fest themselves as a sort of interior guidance. And if for some early fol-
lowers, these experiences declined in intensity and are less frequent since
Mā’s death, this is not the case for all. Many followers on the contrary per-
ceive Mā’s physical absence as a sort of catalyst for their sādhanā, helping
them make contact with their inner guru.
If there exists a continuity in Mā’s cult from an experiential point of
view, other factors however are to be considered in terms of the cult’s sus-
tainability. So as to complete this study, it now seems essential to examine
the institutional aspect of Mā’s postmortem cult.
 5

Sustainability of the Postmortem Cult

Routinization and the Organization

Using Weber’s theory, I address here the process of routinization, this
passage from the extraordinary to the ordinary, by which charisma tries
to resist its decline after the departure of the charismatic leader through
structuring and institutionalization. I discuss the case of Mā and of her
“official” organization, the Shree Shree Anandamayee Sangha, but I also
consider a less orthodox lineage that continues to grow and spread Mā’s
teachings and legacy. What is the future of the guru’s charisma, and par-
ticular Mā’s charisma, after death? How does the organization manage
the loss of charisma involved in the guru’s disappearance, notably with
problems of succession and management? The Weberian ideas of char-
ismatic and bureaucratic domination, of Sect and of Church, and of reli-
gious administration are used in this study going forward. References
to Bourdieu’s writings on Weber, to Habermas on the concept of public
sphere, as well as to Lindholm on charisma, are useful in this regard.
I also present diverse opinions of Mā’s followers and analyze them, so as
to question my initial hypothesis regarding the central role of institution
in the cult’s perpetuation.

Charisma and Routinization

To many, the guru represents the archetypical charismatic figure. He
or she is the very incarnation of “charisma” which, according to Weber,
is “a certain quality of an individual personality by virtue of which he
is considered extraordinary and treated as endowed with supernatural,
superhuman, or at least specifically exceptional powers or qualities.”1 Mā
198 When a Goddess Dies

Figure 5.1 Mā Ānandamayī: “This entire universe is my house. I am in my own

house even when seeming to be roaming from place to place.”
Source: Picture belonging to the collection of the photographer Sadanand; now in the pos-
session of Neeta Mehta, also called Swami Nityānanda.

Ānandamayī represents this type of charismatic figure defined by Weber.

She was and remains for her devotees the incarnation of God on earth
and so is the object of total devotion (bhakti). Mā’s performance of mira-
cles also comes to legitimize her domination over her devotees. As they
consider these miracles to belong to the realm of the extraordinary, their
dominated status is reinforced, as they accept being guided by Mā.
The charismatic authority of the religious leader, which occurs in the con-
text of hiatus often revealing a period of crisis, is assured by the will of those
who believe in him or her. This complete confidence in the person of the guru
constitutes the very basis of charismatic legitimacy and is located in the act of
“recognition.”2 Whether it is understood or not, Mā’s speech in this context
becomes an authoritative speech due to the legitimacy given to the leader.
Specifically, Mā talks in a legitimate situation, that is to say, in Bourdieu’s
 Sustainability of the Postmortem Cult 199

terms, before “legitimate receptors.”3 This also recalls Lindholm’s conviction

that whatever the charismatic leader says is right, because “the leader says it,”4
and Gauchet’s on Jesus’ discourse, that there is what Jesus said, and there is
what his discourse conveyed, which is far beyond its immediate content due
to the position he occupies.5 And so, in breaking the routine order so as to
develop a more rational order, according to Weber, Mā Ānandamayī can be
considered to have the authority of a prophet. Weber’s theory then paradoxi-
cally makes of the charismatic figure a factor of rupture of established order
but also of its reconstruction into a more efficient form.
Charisma, by its very nature, which arises from the exceptional and
innovative, is limited however in that it cannot endure, as the excep-
tional cannot arise from the commonplace or routine, but rather from
the ephemeral.6 For Weber, charismatic authority, which takes its strength
from the power of rupture, in fact only can be observed statu nascendi, at
the time of its emergence, that is to say at the very moment of rupture. It is
thereafter destined to lose some of its purity, as well as its quality of being
extraordinary and uncommon, so as to transform itself to endure either
through traditionalization, legalization (rationalization), or both at once.7
The routinization of charisma also refers to the terms “banalization”
and “conventionalization.” There is a transformation of the religious
movement of Sect into Church. If, during Mā’s time, her movement was
closer to a Sect, which is defined by Weber as a voluntary association of
believers more or less in breach of the social environment and in which
there is a type of charismatic religious authority practiced,8 it is today
closer to a Church, that is to say an institutionalized community, accompa-
nied by a rationalized and a specialized religious body, which is essentially
characterized by the separation of charisma from the person and its reat-
tachment to the institution.9
And so, according to Weber, all charisma that succeeds in enduring
must undergo routinization.10 Through routinization, there is necessarily
a passage from the extraordinary to the ordinary, from the exceptional to
the repetitive, or as Lindholm says, from the visionary to the bureaucrat,
from the prophet to the priest.11 This process is related in this sense to
that which Bastide calls the passage of “experienced religion,” “living reli-
gion” to “administered religion,” “preserved religion,”12 a contrast that one
also finds among other authors who display a “religion with two gears” or
with two “levels” as Henri Desroche terms it.13 If Henri Bergson speaks
of “dynamic religion” (open) and of “static religion” (closed),14 William
James, for his part, evokes “first hand religion,” that is that of religious
200 When a Goddess Dies

experience, “original” and “powerful,”15 and a “second hand religion,”

which is no more than its derivative. This passage to institutional religion
inevitably leads to a weakening of the original experience, as Françoise
Champion and Danièle Hervieu-Léger state:

Entering into the long term, groups witness the fraying of this par-
ticular exaltation belonging to its foundational times; there are still
the practical necessities of the daily, ordinary management: the
always delicate question of regulating power within the community,
the control over economic survival, the formalization of relations
between sexes and generations, the determination of conditions for
entering and leaving the group, etc.16

And so, religious movements have always expressed this tension between
the original effervescence tied to the direct experience of this charismatic
force belonging to the religious leader and the routine of the institution
and of bureaucratic domination. In this way, Mā’s movement does not
seem to be an exception to the rule.
This euphemization of the original experience linked to the transfor-
mation of Mā Ānandamayī’s charismatic domination seems to have taken
place within her saṅgha, as the following Western man, an early disciple,
suggests: “Whenever this big institution rises up, the spirituality falls
down. See, the Self Realization Fellowship of Yogananda. He was such a great
master. But the institution became so rigid. All these rules. The saṅgha is
the same way. It becomes so institutionalized. They think they own Mā.”
Far from being unique, these sentiments regarding the decrease of
spiritual principle tied to the leader’s departure were repeated during
many interviews with Mā’s followers. And for many of them, this spiritual
weakening is reflected in the flawed character of the organization. Many
speak of a bureaucratic and institutionalized character of the movement,
as does this Western man, an early devotee of Mā’s: “They have a very
heavy organizational arrangement. Anytime you want to do something,
you have this board of directors and meetings. They are fighting among
themselves, they disagree all the time. It is very heavily institutionalized.
It binds you.” Another Westerner, an early male devotee of Mā says:

Mā is an unbelievable being, an extraordinary, beautiful spiritual

being. But so far, after twenty-five years, the organization has been
 Sustainability of the Postmortem Cult 201

a total failure. You can underline that, you can quote me, I want to
stress that point. And every devotee who is honest will agree with
me. What would be the future? Will she become very well known,
inspiring thousands of people or will she be totally forgotten. Who
knows? In her life time, she was very famous. It is not that they
don’t have money. . . . Anything you try to do with the saṅgha is
caught in huge bureaucracy. And maybe, that will change but not
tomorrow [laughs].

Another Western female disciple adds:

Personally, I think that Mā came with a mission for her lifetime and
after, it will wither away; it will diminish little by little. I think that it
will wilt afterwards. All that we have of her; it’s still her. Her teaching
is magnificent, a true wonder. But at the level of saṅgha and of the
organization, slowly, that will diminish. Unless someone wakes up
and takes everything back, but really, I don’t see that really happening.
Maybe the young generation will take it all back up again, and reuse
everything that happened with her, her teaching, her videos, her life,
her ashrams, the testimonies of those who were with her, to revive it.
Well, I don’t know. Look, Ramana Maharshi, he left, he left. Of course,
there is still his presence, his teaching. But that’s nothing like a physi-
cal guru, because we have a human body, it’s the first tool we have.

And so, according to diverse testimonies, Mā’s departure is for her

devotees a synonym for decline. The charismatic objectives that were prev-
alent in Mā’s time seem to be progressively weakened and removed from
charismatic sources in favor of the banal and of daily life. Trigano would
speak of an “attenuation of charismatic goals” as well as of a “removal
from charismatic sources”:

In daily life, these charismatic goals can be weakened and removed

from charismatic sources. Sometimes they stay there, buried. Thus,
in all institutions are left (even without appearances thereof) the
“last ends” in whose service they had been created and which con-
tinue to orient the action of the organization’s members.17

In a sense, this returns us to the statements of Meher Baba regarding

the disappearance of the religious leader. He refers here to the death
202 When a Goddess Dies

of a prophet and of the decline of spirituality within the religious

organization:

The prophets lay down certain rules and regulations to help the
masses lead better lives and to incline them towards God. Gradually
these rules become the tenets of an organized religion, but the ide-
alistic spirit and motive force which prevail during the founder’s
lifetime, disappear gradually after his death. That is why organi-
zations cannot bring spiritual truth nearer and why true religion
is always a personal concern. Religious organizations become like
archaeological departments trying to resuscitate the past.18

Thus, this spiritual effervescence associated with the presence of someone

charismatic like Mā Ānandamayī seems to decline after the mahāsamādhi
of the religious leader, in favor of the legalist religion that governs daily
life. The disappearance of the leader’s charismatic presence is translated
into different levels, notably into the level of the exercise of power.
Like all new religious organizations that look to manage the loss of
charisma due to the departure of the charismatic authority,19 Mā’s orga-
nization is the object of internal conflicts and conceals within it intense
competition. This reality confirms Mann’s work on the spaces of cults,
when he emphasizes that the quest of those benefitting from a cult can
sometimes bring about ferocious competition: “The spiritual and material
resources of the shrine create an arena where powerful local interests con-
verge, which constantly conflict with each other. Benefits associated with
the shrine thus generate intense competition over their control.”20 On the
subject of these conflicts within religious institutions, Panikkar addition-
ally recalls what the medieval age called regnum dissimilitudinis, that is to
say the realm of dissimilarity (divine), of disharmony. Mā’s organization
is located then in this regnum dissimilitudinis by the numerous conflicts of
which it is the object, including the problems of succession.
The question of succession is an important one, if not the essential one,
which comes into play after the death of the charismatic leader, in this case
Mā, as this succession, or lack thereof, can dictate the future of the charis-
matic movement. The absence of successor or the non-recognition thereof
by followers can essentially lead to the movement’s break-up in the long or
short term. There generally exists in the Hindu tradition two types of suc-
cession: a biological one (binduparamparā or transmission through semen)
that corresponds to transmission of hereditary charisma and a spiritual
 Sustainability of the Postmortem Cult 203

succession (natparamparā or transmission through sound). From this

succession, numerous quarrels often result, something which the guru
Govind Singh avoided in discontinuing the spiritual line of the Sikh tradi-
tion at the tenth guru and in affirming that only the sacred texts are the
guru, thus making a canon the charismatic center of the Sikh community.21
In the way of other spiritual masters like Shirdi Sai Baba, Mā
Ānandamayī never designated a successor. Many followers, however, con-
sidered Swami Bhaskarānanda as a sort of continuation of Mā. Swami
Bhaskarānanda, who was charged with initiations and who was the secre-
tary general of the saṅgha, was perceived by some followers as being “one”
with Mā, as these different testimonies show:

Whatever Swami Bhaskarānanda tells me to do, I follow his instruc-

tions. I feel that all is coming from her.
I feel that he is a true form of Mother . . . I feel that it is Mā in
his body.
Mā is behind Swamiji always, that’s it. So, Mā and Swamiji, for me,
it’s like one.
Swami Bhaskarānanda is one with Mā.

The testimonies of devotees are numerous on this subject. For exam-

ple, an Indian man, an early disciple, gives even more detail on Swami
Bhaskarānanda and his identification with Mā:

Swami Bhaskarānanda exhibits the same traits as Mā to me, many

traits that I observed. I spent a lot of time with him. I was close from
him physically. I traveled with him. There are lots of traits which are
common. I really feel the presence of Mā in Swamiji. It happened
that he started talking like Mā also. Mā’s style of talking was that
many times, she didn’t use a lot of words. The sentences were not
complete. It was not perfect grammar. Even, he talks like that. With
him, I feel that he exactly knows. Lots of my questions got answered
before I ask them. I got used to it so much that the last two, three
years, I haven’t asked him any spiritual questions, it’s all about
material things, where are you going, is the eating all right, etc.,
because all these subtle things got answered. The answers reveal
themselves and doubts disappear. That’s the best thing a guru can
do, make you independent. For me, Mā and Swamiji, they are both
the same to me. There is no difference.
204 When a Goddess Dies

Thus, Swami Bhaskarānanda was identified to a certain point with Mā, in

the same way that the Mother was identified with Sri Aurobindo after his
death, as Alexandra David-Neel observed:

The prestige that the “Mother” had among the deceased instruc-
tor’s disciples is very great. Some of them declared that the latter is
always actively present at the ashram and that his Presence is totally
identified with the “Mother’s.” Of this attitude you can conclude
that disciples are disposed to give to the “Mother” the place of guru
that was occupied by Sri Aurobindo.22

Swami Bhaskarānanda then played the role of successor for some,

although he could not truly replace Mā’s physical presence. But since his
death in 2010, the number of conflicts regarding the saṅgha’s direction
has increased. Some feel that his departure may lead to the disintegra-
tion of Mā’s organization: “After Swami Bhaskarānanda, I don’t think the
organization will last many few years. I think it will break itself up. There
will be so much fighting, it will fall apart.” And so Mā’s official saṅgha is
threatened by a number of internal conflicts.
Related to Mā’s departure, there is the problem of the internal distribu-
tion of power between lay people and monks, notably in the choice of the
saṅgha’s president. To better understand the situation, it seems necessary
to briefly describe the manner in which the directing body of the saṅgha
is structured. The directive sphere of the saṅgha is formed by a governing
body, which is made up of forty-two members of both sexes. Lay members
(twenty-one) are elected by secret ballot by the assembly of the saṅgha and
religious members (brahmacārins and monks living in the ashram) are
named, and not elected, by the governing body.23 Concerning religious
questions, there is a Sadhu Committee, made up of nine members chosen
by the organization’s most important monks and brahmacārins. All deci-
sions made by the Sadhu Committee must be approved by the Governing
body, which is the only one to have executive power.
Although Mā always expressed the importance of the organization
being run by a lay person, as she held that a monk should consecrate him-
self entirely to religious life, some swamis want Mā’s organization to be
managed entirely by monks, as this swami affirmed:

Of course, if it is a spiritual organization, spiritual guidance to the

people would be better given by the monks, this is normal. It is not
 Sustainability of the Postmortem Cult 205

that the householders cannot lead the people towards spirituality,

they can do that but this is very difficult for them, because they are
in the part time spirituality. They have other duties, other responsi-
bilities, other preoccupations, other commitments in their house-
hold. They cannot have their full time devotion. But we don’t have
any other things. We have full time devotion in pursuit of spiritual-
ity. So, in my opinion, they can guide better. But not ‘the monks’
should run the organization, the ‘right monks’ should be there. The
right monks.

A certain tension between monks and laypeople exists then with regard
to the saṅgha’s governance, revealing a competition between clerks and
laypeople to control the goods of salvation. Recently, however, a monk,
Swami Nirvānānanda, was designated as the president of the saṅgha.
If the disappearance of the charismatic person is thus expressed in
conflicts and in power struggles, it also can result in a total lack of orga-
nization. Since Mā’s death, the saṅgha is essentially found in an advanced
state of dysfunction, as the following critiques from a long-time devotee
of Mā reveal:

The organization is quasi dysfunctional. In twenty-five years after

her death, almost all the books are out of print in all the languages,
Hindi, Bengali, and English. Very few books are available. If you
try to order a book, you will never get it. They have no ability.
There are just incredibly dysfunctional, so realistically dysfunc-
tional. . . . Mā was such an extraordinary being and her life is quite
amazing. Only a very small amount has been translated. . . . The
ashram, the organization, has failed completely. We have to go to a
nearly dark side of metaphysics to even speculate on what the hell
is going on here. . . . The organization is just extraordinary bureau-
cratic stagnation. They don’t want to be bothered with anything.

If some speak of dysfunction, others evoke a feeling of complete self-

indulgence and an absence of discipline since Mā’s departure, as this
German woman specifies:

If you go here in the office, sometimes, nobody is there, or they

don’t speak English. You see, you could arrange things very differ-
ently. They could organize some guidance of the ashram and they
206 When a Goddess Dies

could tell you about Mā. They could transmit this fire. This idea
doesn’t come to them. Maybe, they have the feeling that they pos-
sess Mā, as a Bengali family.

Some suggest that the absence of efficiency in the management of the

organization may be linked to individualism and pride developed since
Mā’s departure, as this Indian man declares: “Everybody is doing his own
thing” or this Indian woman: “I feel that after Mā has left, the things over
here have quite changed. Pride has come. Everybody is feeling superior. If
you believe in Mā completely, injustice and pride should be removed.” It
appears then that there is serious disorganization within the saṅgha since
Mā’s departure. In this respect, an early disciple, an Indian woman, testi-
fies to this absence of organization within the saṅgha today:

The organization of Mā is very poor, very poor, compared to all other

ashrams, other organizations in India. Lots should be changed.
The accommodation, the food, the whole organization should be
changed. They should pay more attention to all people who are
coming. You know, I would like something well organized.

In regard to the loss of charisma linked to Mā’s departure, there is a type

of formalism in the cult itself, as, for example the following interview with
a French male new disciple reveals:

I find Mā’s cult a little surly, a little too set in its ways, sometimes
a bit sad. There is a sadness. It’s cacophonic, there are bells in the
morning that hide, that conceal, that deform the chants of devotees,
of children singing. It’s not very harmonious. The people who prac-
tice are not enlightened. It’s sadder, more routine. It’s far from Mā
Ānandamayī. For me, that hinders me from seeing these rites. In
silence, it’s better . . . the cult will become rigid, automatic, routine,
I think. As the masters who knew Mā will disappear, you will have
less and less direct contact. The cult will become very routine, more
and more religious and sectarian. There will certainly be business
done under the table, or this may already be happening.

Far from being unique, the comments of this disciple are shared by other
devotees who also state that they feel a moroseness and a certain dishar-
mony in Mā’s cult today.
 Sustainability of the Postmortem Cult 207

Finally, this impoverishment of the original experience linked to the

institutionalization of Mā’s cult is accompanied by a rigidity and a lack
of openness within the saṅgha itself. Followers admit the necessity to be
open to the exterior and to accept changes, as this Indian woman, an early
devotee, explains:

Radically, everything has to be changed, radically, radically, it has to

be changed. Better people should come in. Younger thinking peo-
ple should be come in. You can’t be so dogmatic about your view.
You cannot be taking Mā’s name and say things that are very conve-
nient to you. Then, you are just doing monopoly, dictatorship. We
don’t want things like that. We want a nice thinking group, minded
people who are there only to promote and further Mā’s activities.
Now, it is not the case. They are comfortable with their own posi-
tion right now. They want positions in the office. That is not a way
to run a saṅgha. You have to have that love for Mā and want to share
it with people. Then you will attract more people to the saṅgha. And
you will attract better people. . . . They have to be better minded with
younger people, who want to have this radical change. But if you
just stick to the old rate, ok, they are comfortable in their positions.
They don’t want any change.

This lack of openness toward “the other” and the tendency to cling
to old ways of functioning is reflected particularly in the saṅgha’s posi-
tion toward Westerners. This contrasts with Swami Kedarnath’s position,
a close disciple of Mā and the founder of a parallel organization dedi-
cated to Mā (see below). In this regard, a new disciple, a Western woman,
affirms:

I think the saṅgha of Mā is dying. It’s dying. I think the part of

Indore and Omkareshwar that Swami Kedarnath runs is not dying,
it’s going the other way, but the rest of it is dying. Kedar Baba is
freer, much less orthodox, and more opened to foreigners and to
women, everything. Saṅgha is just killing itself because of its rigid-
ity. But I think that Mā knew that, I don’t think there is a problem
about it. I am not interested.

This opinion seems to be shared by a large portion of devotees, as this

excerpt from an interview with a French man, a new devotee, shows: “They
208 When a Goddess Dies

are afraid of foreigners. . . . They don’t want to share. They are not happy
the outside is coming here.” Some disciples suggest that the ashram at
Kankhal, which represents in many ways the heart of Mā’s cult, could
become a center of international teaching, as this new male devotee
explains:

That we better teach the dharma, international languages. That this

be a more universal, lively center. That there should be schools of
teaching, that there should be a school of teaching the Sanskrit
languages to everyone, on the Tantra, on Hinduism, on the Vedas.
That this would open, that it would change, that this would become
lively, it’s not lively, aside from her, that’s all.

Others also speak of the importance of inviting people in from the out-
side, such as monks from other organizations, scholars, professors, and
so on: “We should invite more people. . . . Scholars coming should be prop-
erly treated.” Thus, in the opinion of a majority of devotees, there exists
today a true lack of openness and evident rigidity within Mā’s saṅgha.
This distortion of the original experience of Mā’s influence that
comes as a result of the rationalization of Mā’s cult since her departure is
expressed today in power issues (i.e., the question of succession, division
between laypeople and monks). Thus does the death of the charismatic
figure represent at once the true challenge of and to formalization. Swami
Bhaskarānanda, who demonstrated certain traits belonging to Weber’s
charismatic figure, may have revived the saṅgha for a time by infusing
it with new energy, as this early disciple, a Western man, says: “Swami
Bhaskarānanda has succeeded in the last few years in inspiring a lot of
people, after a long time of stagnation. He has created some new energy,
since the last four, five years.” However, it nevertheless seems that the
future of the organization today is compromised by the departure of
the monk.

Future of the Guru’s Organization

For a large number of devotees, the future of Mā’s organization appears
very fragile and uncertain, as this early follower, an Indian woman,
declares: “I don’t know how it will be. Now, at the hand of the present
people, the organization is not going well.” Many followers see a cult in
decline: “The cult, I see it in the middle of declining. I don’t necessarily
 Sustainability of the Postmortem Cult 209

have reasons for saying that, but it’s my view. I find that, more and more,
it’s coming apart at the seams.” The future of Mā’s cult and of her orga-
nization then seems to be threatened if these declarations are accepted as
accurate. But, if some deplore this state of affairs, others do not seem to
be strongly affected, showing even a certain disinterest toward the future
of Mā’s organization, as the following Indian male devotee clearly sug-
gests: “I never bother about saṅgha. My interest is only in Mā,” or as this
monk’s statements also reveal:

There are two points. If you are a sādhaka, a spiritual aspirant, you
must focus your attention to Mā, and Mā only. Organization has
nothing to do. If you see from the social point of view, you need
a change according to your suitability. . . . As for me, whether I am
within the organization, whether the organization is running well
or running badly, it matters little for me as long as I consider myself
as a sādhaka. I see my involvement in the organization as a kind
of duty. This is reciprocation. They give me shelter. I put some
efforts. The duty has been entrusted. So, I am carrying on with it.
But I have no mission with the organization. My only mission is to
be with Mā. This is the main thing. I was entrusted with some duty,
so I am doing it. But this is not my goal. My goal is not to run the
organization. My goal is to live my life with Mā, that’s all.

And so, some laypeople and some monks demonstrate disinterest toward
the organization, as only their relationship with Mā is important. It seems
that this disinterest in the saṅgha is also much more present among Western
followers, as this interview with a Western woman, a new devotee, reveals:

I don’t know anything about the organization. I understood that

there were cabals but I’m not really in the know. And I am not in
the know in that I’m not interested because I don’t care. It’s like
every organization once it becomes terrestrial. There are quarrels.
Me, I really have nothing to say. I don’t know it.

A French woman, a new follower, also told us of her disinterest toward the
saṅgha’s affairs:

Me, I don’t know if it shouldn’t decline, I don’t know anything.

Maybe it has to decline. Me, I only know that I’ve got nothing to
210 When a Goddess Dies

do with it. That, it’s clear and simple. It’s not me, in France, for
example, who will call people around. I sense that it’s more my job
to do sādhanā in order to advance. Mā, it’s the Divine Mother, she
knows what she’s going to do. It’s not me who will decide what has
to be done for Mā’s saṅgha. InshaMa!

As evident in these statements, this disinterest toward Mā’s saṅgha is

accompanied by some resignation with respect to the destiny of the orga-
nization, which, in the end, would only depend on Mā, as these other
interviews reveal: “Organization, saṅgha, I am not much interested. I feel
that whatever is happening, it is Mā’s wish. Mā will decide,” or also, “Quite
frankly, I don’t foresee anything for the organization. I have no desire.
Everything will be arranged by Mā. Whatever she does, whatever happens,
it is Mā’s work, it is fine for me. I accept it blindly.” According to these dev-
otees, everything seems already predestined, “Everything is predestined, it
may be or not be”, all this being but one manifestation of the divine game,
of its līlā: “Now, what I see, it’s the game, it’s the līlā of Kṛṣṇa.”
A majority of devotees interviewed seem then to manifest some
detachment with regard to the saṅgha’s future. This detachment could
reflect Mā’s attitude toward the saṅgha. Similarly to other great beings like
Ramakrishna or Shirdi Sai Baba, Mā did not show the slightest interest
in establishing and promoting an organization in her name. If an organi-
zation was created and if Mā finally decided to pay attention to it, it was
precisely to avoid risks of corruption, as Swami Vijayānanda says:

The saṅgha, in the beginning, she didn’t want to deal with it, but
when it became so big and important, there was a danger of corrup-
tion, the danger of people putting money in their pockets. So, she
took care of it. We didn’t do anything without asking her. When she
said something, it was final. But from the monetary point of view,
she didn’t want to deal with it.

This goes against the idea that the avatar-guru is to set up an institution
to fulfill his or her earthy mission.24 The lack of interest of Mā vis-à-vis
institutions shows, on the contrary, that the creation of an organization is
not a prerequisite for the avatar’s completion of his or her life objectives.
Although both Amma and Sathya Sai Baba established their own institu-
tions, this does not appear to be a necessary step toward a guru-avatar’s
legitimization.
 Sustainability of the Postmortem Cult 211

And so, far from encouraging the creation of an organization, Mā

on the contrary showed a certain disinterest, even reticence toward this
initiative. The absence of directives given by Mā concerning the saṅgha
after her departure and the fact that she gave some money to each of her
monks so they could be independent from the organization for the rest
of their lives,25 additionally demonstrate Mā’s disinterest in the saṅgha.
Her attitude can in part explain the indifference of some of her devotees
toward the organization today. And like Mā, who condemned advertise-
ment and had “no such kheyāla [spontaneous impulse of the Divine Will]
of publicity,” as one of the devotees put it, followers today feel the same
way, orienting themselves more toward non-action and putting the saṅgha
in the hands of Mā: “Mā does her own propaganda wonderfully.” These
devotees’ disinterest in the future of the saṅgha could also have a more
esoteric explanation, as this interview with an early male disciple of Mā’s,
a Westerner, reveals:

I was talking to a swami of the Ramakrishna Mission. He said that

when an avatar comes to earth, they have a particular mission, they
have a particular power with them but they also have a dormant
power within them. When they leave their body, it slowly begins to
unfold. Ramakrishna has been gone for more than one hundred
years but only now, his power is beginning really to unfold. If you
look now at the influence of Ramakrishna Mission, and if you see
the life of Ramakrishna, he never left Dakṣinesvāra. Vivekananda
was preparing the work. Mā has a śakti that has not unfolded yet.
Mā’s presence has to come. More people will come to Mā.

This lack of interest for Mā’s saṅgha could then also be explained by this
conviction that, once Mā’s śakti or energy is deployed, her cult and her
organization will be more active.

The Organization and its Outgrowths

If the large majority of religious movements, such as that of the
Radhasoamis, end in division after the death of their founder, Mā’s move-
ment does not seem to be an exception to this rule, as is demonstrated by
the creation of a new sampradāya (spiritual line) in the 1990s by Swami
Kedarnath. Swami Kedarnath first had the darśan of Mā in Kankhal in 1976
and, with the permission of his previous guru, Swami Avadhutananda,
212 When a Goddess Dies

from whom he got his saṃnyāsa lineage, he received dikśa from her.
After his initiation, he lived in Mā’s ashram in Vrindavan but his first
guru requested him to return to his ashram to look after its governance.
Mā gave permission for him to return to his former guru’s ashram but
told him, in the presence of other swamis and close devotees, that spiri-
tually he belonged only to her. This event led Swami Kedarnath in later
years to not only supervise the running of Swamiji’s ashrams (which he
still supervises to this day), but to independently establish two ashrams
in the name of Ānandamayī Mā and create a separate Trust, the Sri Sri
Mata Anandamayi Peeth Trust, which included Swami Bhaskarānanda,
the general secretary of the Shree Shree Anandamayee Sangha. These
two ashrams are located in Madhya Pradesh, in the cities of Indore26 and
Omkareshwar, on the banks of the Narmada River. A school was also estab-
lished in Omkareshwar, where more than five hundred children receive
a K–12 education as well as a spiritual education focused on Mā’s teach-
ings.27 A successor by the name of Swami Guruśarānanda has already
been designated by Swami Kedarnath to assure the maintenance of this
new sampradāya.
Swami Guruśarānanda came to Swami Kedarnath as a 10-year-old boy.
Seeing his spiritual potential, Swami Kedarnath taught him Yoga and
many subjects. He then asked his father to “give him” one of his sons,
namely Sarvameet, who he renamed Gurumit, which means “friend of
the Guru.” He later named him Guruśarānanda, which means, “The Bliss
of Taking Refuge in the Guru.” Swami Guruśarānanda completed his
studies and under Baba’s guidance obtained a doctorate (Ph.D.) in the
philosophy of the Upaniṣads. He serves today as principal of the ashram
school in Omkareshwar and is responsible for the daily running of the
Omkareshwar Ashram.
Swami Kedarnath’s sampradāya is devoted to the spreading of Mā’s
message and each year organizes a camp (śivira) destined to make Mā
and her teachings known, as one of the swamis of this sampradāya
explained to us:

Actually, we feel that the best way to spread Mā’s teaching is what
we call the śivira camp. It looks like the Samyam Saptah but it is
exclusively concentrated on Mā. We read Mā’s words. We do medi-
tation upon the different things Mā said. We pass the all day trying
to hold this concept that all is God. It is a really Mā-centered event.
We did it for one day, another one for three days. We haven’t done
 Sustainability of the Postmortem Cult 213

Figure 5.2 Mā Ānandamayī: “People talk and marvel about those who renounce
the world, but in actual fact it is you yourself who have renounced everything.
What is this ‘everything’? God! Leaving Him aside, everyone is literally practicing
supreme renunciation.”
Source: Picture belonging to the collection of the photographer Sadanand; now in the pos-
session of Neeta Mehta, also called Swami Nityānanda.

it for a week yet. People come to this camp to learn about Mā. They
hear Mā’s words and they find a practical way to apply in daily life,
because otherwise, it’s useless. If we just read philosophy and it
doesn’t change you, there is no point. I think it is going to be a
major thing in spreading Mā’s words and teachings.

This sampradāya’s commitment to spreading Mā’s message seems to

manifest itself in its growing interest in the West, as demonstrated by the
annual concert and workshop tours across Europe by two of the organiza-
tion’s swamis, Swami Guruśarānanda and Swami Mangalananda. These
tours are designed to gather funds for financing a school at Omkareshwar
as well as to spread Mā’s teachings to the West.
If Mā’s devotees within the Shree Shree Anandamayee Sangha respect
Swami Kedarnath, especially for his philosophical writings,28 there is nev-
ertheless criticism of his sampradāya. Some of the administrative members
214 When a Goddess Dies

Figure 5.3 Swami Guruśarānanda (left) and Swami Mangalananda (right), with
Swami Kedarnath (in the middle).
Source: Swami Mangalananda; picture taken by the swami.

of Mā’s organization accuse Swami Kedarnath of using Mā’s name for

personal gain, and some even don’t want to know anything about this
sampradāya: “Who is separated from Mā, I have no reason to know them
[and I add: “not from Mā, from Mā’s organization”]. It’s ok, whatever. To
me, Mā and Mā’s organization are the most important.” These administra-
tive members actually removed from the website the information related
to Indore and Omkareshwar’s ashrams. They tried to prevent Swami
Kedarnath from publishing his six volumes on Mā’s teaching under the
pretext that the information belongs to the Shree Shree Anandamayee
Sangha. With the support of Swami Bhaskarānanda, these books did even-
tually get published. From some actions taken against Swami Kedarnath’s
sampradāya, there appears to be a dispute that Bourdieu would call the
monopoly of the exercise of religious power. At the level of high religious
authorities, there thus exists some rivalry between this Church that repre-
sents Mā’s official saṅgha and the sampradāya of Swami Kedarnath, which
here resembles the Sect.
 Sustainability of the Postmortem Cult 215

This split reminds us of Habermas’s building on Weber in drawing a

distinction between the “representational” and the “critical,” as he refers,
for example, to Europe prior the eighteenth century.29 While Mā’s “offi-
cial” organization, dominated by its orthodox followers, can be seen as
a representational community, a kind of feudal authority, which seeks to
be the only one to represent Mā and to keep other parties away, Swami
Kedarnath’s sampradāya, similarly, can be referred to as the critical one,
pertaining to a liberal model of the public sphere (Öffentlichkeit), that is
to say, a culture characterized by dialogue and the breakdown of religious
hegemony.
Other members of Mā’s official saṅgha additionally demonstrate indif-
ference toward this new sampradāya, as the following swami does:

It is their way. They must have thought it right, that is why they did
this sampradāya. But my Mā is a frameless Mā. I never think of put-
ting Mā in a particular frame. Mother has no religion. Why place
Mā in a particular sampradāya? Swami Kedarnath must have some
points and these points are unknown to me.

Mā’s devotees on the whole though show some enthusiasm for this
sampradāya. A large number of the saṅgha’s devotees have in addition
already visited the ashrams of Omkareshwar and Indore. This enthusiasm
is essentially tied to the work carried out by Swami Kedarnath on Mā’s
philosophy, but above all, to this open spirit present within this new move-
ment, which does not seem to accord a fundamental importance to brah-
minical rules of purity, notably toward foreigners. Swami Mangalananda,
an American devotee of Mā who has lived in Omkareshwar since 2001, is
the best example of this openness.
In the early 1970s, Swami Mangalananda went to India to meet with Mā.
There, he received mantra initiation from Mā and traveled all over North
India with her during the years 1973 and 1974. Returning to the United
States, he moved into an ashram run by a devotee of Mā and also lived in a
Christian Monastery for some time. In 2001, Swami Bhaskarānanda sent
him to Omkareshwar to continue his sādhanā and to help start the school
there. He received saṃnyāsa dīkṣā and has lived in Omkareshwar now for
twelve years.
And so, as with every Church phenomenon, Mā’s organization has
experienced a rupture, appearing in the creation of Swami Kedarnath’s
216 When a Goddess Dies

sampradāya, which parallels in a way the history of Christianity, as Trigano

observes:

All prophetic sects that succeed tend in fact to become a church, a

hierarchical institution of orthodoxy. This is what explains why all
church phenomena ineluctably engender a new prophetic rupture
and religious reform. . . . And so on, until the end. In history you
find the following sequence: Protestantism, to reconstitute itself
again, makes on Catholicism Christianity’s operation on Judaism.
Without talking about the exponential fission of protestant churches
one after the other, after the advent of Protestantism.30

This phenomenon of fission in churches seems then to have taken place

within Mā’s saṅgha, as the appearance of a new sampradāya reveals. For
some, the future of Mā’s cult lies in the development of this sampradāya,
which offers much greater freedom, notably with respect to rules of brah-
minical orthodoxy.

Community, Ashrams, and Orthodoxy

What is the role of ashrams and the community in the perpetuation of
the cult of the guru? To respond to this question, I base this study on the
many interviews conducted throughout my research and on field work
in ashrams. I also discuss the question of the pertinence of brahminical
rules of orthodoxy within Mā’s community and its vast network of ash-
rams, notably through works of the Western disciple Atmananda but also
via interviews. I distinguish here between the views of Westerns and those
of Indians.

Community and Continuity of the Cult

It seems that the continuity of the cult of the guru after death is directly
linked to the maintenance of his or her community. As Parita Mukta speci-
fies in her study on Mirabai, the community first of all represents a way to
keep the saint’s memory alive.31 The community holds a primordial place
in Mā’s posthumous cult, in the sense that it permits a reactualization of
Mā’s presence through her memory. The great annual celebrations, which
gather together the lay and monastic communities, in this way, represent a
means to reinforce the community’s ties and to perpetuate Mā’s memory.
 Sustainability of the Postmortem Cult 217

The community also plays an important role at the level of experience.

Not only does the exchange of experiences within the community consti-
tute a way to reinforce followers’ faith and to enrich their own individual
experiences, it also permits the validation of an experience. And so, the
community represents a central element in the cult’s sustainability, nour-
ishing the follower’s faith through exchanges with the members of the
community. The community also leads the devotee to new experiences that
would not be imaginable for the lone follower and confers on their reli-
gious experience a framework into which experiences can take on greater
meaning. In this regard, James, according to Taylor, undervalues the role of
religious community in giving birth to religious experience, as Taylor spec-
ifies here: “What James can’t seem to accommodate is the phenomenon of
collective religious life, which is not just the result of (individual) religious
connections, but which in some sense constitutes or is that connection.”32
Finally, the community facilitates the perpetuation of the cult of the
religious leader after his or her death by its role in the maintenance of
religious identity, which would prove to be difficult without a continuous
interaction between believers. By his or her inclusion in this community,
the devotee recognizes his or her role in the transmission of this religious
identity and, by the same token, contributes to some continuity on the part
of the cult. This may return us to the idea of “sacred community” recalled
by Van der Leeuw regarding the religious veneration of the dead.33
Although the raison d’être of the community is the living guru, it still has
a critical role to play after the death of the guru. It may be, however, that Mā
did not particularly desire the continuation of the community after her death.
Although Ramakrishna’s sole instruction on his death in 1886 was for his dev-
otees to remain together,34 Mā, on the contrary, gave no directions but rather
gave to each of her monks some money so as to allow them to live indepen-
dently, showing the flexibility that Hindu monasticism offers.35 Mā did not
then especially insist on the survival of her community after her departure.
According to many interviews with Mā’s devotees, opinions seem
to be divided concerning the community. For some, there is no doubt
that the community constitutes a source of spiritual support, notably
permitting them to exchange experiences and to reinforce their faith in
Mā. Devotees, which are sometimes called gurubhais (brothers in the
guru) and gurubahins (sisters in the guru), generally gather together
once or twice a month on the occasion of satsaṅgas to chant and to per-
form rituals and collective meditation, as well as on the occasion of the
large annual celebrations like Mā’s birthday or Gurupūrṇimā. An early
218 When a Goddess Dies

disciple of Mā’s, an Indian man, told us of the central place that Mā’s
community holds for him:

It is important for me. . . . Mā is in everyone. Someone who is think-

ing of Mā, who is talking about Mā, who is doing anything for Mā,
this person, is very very important to me in my life. For me, doing
something for devotees of Mā, this is doing something for Mā. It is
a kind of service for Mā.

For new disciples, the community also plays an important role, facilitat-
ing contact with devotees who knew Mā, as this new follower, an Indian
woman, affirms:

I just believe that it is very good to be in a group where people have

similar interests, similar vibrations. That also helps, rather than
being in a social group. . . . I get more from the devotees who met
Mā because they have witnessed many things. Those devotees who
have been with her for so many years, they have so many things
with her. I like to be in this atmosphere and meet people, who have
similar interest, and who have Mā as their guru.

In addition, some speak of positive vibrations arising from contact with

Mā’s devotees: “You are getting positive vibes from that.” And others also
evoke the structural role that the community plays in their sādhanā: “Until
I really realize That, it provides some kind of structure, I suppose, some
containment for what is happening, some external kind of something, a
frame, something like that.”
If many followers recognize the largely beneficial role of the com-
munity in the continuation of the cult, others nevertheless hold a more
reserved opinion on its role. They notably speak of the risk of becoming
removed from Mā’s teaching through the contacts between members of
the community, as this French woman, a new devotee, affirms: “Yes, I like
to talk about Mā, but this really has to be in Mā’s way. Because, afterwards,
there’s a sort of projection of images on the person. Yes, in fact, it supports
devotion, but you have to be careful.” Another follower, also a Western
female, early devotee, confided in us:

I enjoy being in the company of devotees who have been around

Mā, in whom I can feel close connection. The danger of coming
 Sustainability of the Postmortem Cult 219

afterwards, after Mā’s mahāsamādhi, is that, sometimes people are

more bound to a certain swami than to Mā, or they construct a little
bit their own Mā as she was. There is a difference between these
old devotees and new devotees. But new devotees can also be open
and very innocent. And, sometimes, I don’t have the inclination
to be with certain devotees of Mā at all. Sometimes, I prefer to be
with devotees of other gurus. This cannot be generalized. Really, it
depends also on the person’s attitude, on the individual seeker. This
is not so dependent on Mā.

While granting the beneficial role of the community, some devotees thus
give importance to remaining strictly with Mā’s teaching and being wary of
creating a new Mā. And if other followers generally recognize the essential
place of the community in their spiritual path, they nevertheless deplore
the lack of vitality, the inability to evolve within Mā’s community since her
departure, as this French woman, a new devotee explains:

The cave, it’s not for me. The saṅgha plays a big role. For me, it’s a
circle. I do nothing but take, there are exchanges, and moments of
sādhanā that you share and which, in my opinion, propel me for-
ward and which correspond to what I need for my sādhanā. . . . For
me, there isn’t much to do at Kankhal. I get bored a bit because
here, there is no saṅgha. Me, I like to be with people, to study
together, to chant together. Here, it’s specifically for Indians. And
then, Westerners, well people with whom communication is easier
as we have the same way of thinking, here, there isn’t that, except
when you come to the international center, you can always meet
people like you. But that doesn’t work, you stay two, three, five days,
and that’s all. I’ve lived in an ashram for a long time and I like the
ashram life. Here, you don’t even have the right to enter the ash-
ram.36 You can’t be there. That’s all. When Mā was around, it must
have been different. Those who had the courage to hold on, there
was Mā.

Finally, there are those for whom the community does not assume, at
least now, particular importance in their eyes, as is the case with this fol-
lower: “to participate in the saṅgha, in meetings, discussions, yes, but not
all the time, because there are many things I prefer to do alone. For the
moment, I don’t need that. I am fine alone.” Others speak of the declining
220 When a Goddess Dies

importance the community holds in their lives, like this English woman,
a new devotee:

I go to satsaṅga, but I feel as time is going on, it is becoming less

important and I am feeling like I am happier doing my own prac-
tice and carrying on my own. I find [it] a little bit alarming though
because I am much much less interested in leading a social life,
so I am losing touch with a lot of people, because they are all busy
doing their own things. I am not finding that very attractive any-
more, I am just finding myself wanting meditating as much as
I can. I meditate now five hours per day.

And so, opinions on the community’s importance are diverse among

devotees. If some perceive the community to be an aid to their sādhanā,
others see it more as an obstacle, revealing some tension between the
individual and the community.

The Ashrams of the Guru’s Saṅgha

As Alexandra David-Neel specifies, the death of the master is generally
associated with the disappearance of his or her ashrams: “A list of ash-
rams may be extended indefinitely. There are hundreds in India, small
and large whose existence, often ephemeral, ends with the death of their
founder.”37 In the same way, Ma Indira Devi affirmed in her letters that
there could not really be ashrams after the death of the master:

An Indian Guru is not just the Head of the Institution or Monastery,

he is the institution. In the former case one goes to a certain
Monastery or takes to an order and then loves the Head of the place,
but in the latter, ones goes to the Guru and resides in the Ashram
because of him. There can be no Ashram, properly speaking, after
the passing of the Guru. The disciples may stay on in the Ashram
building for the sake of convenience, but that is all.38

If one believes these different statements, the departure of the guru would
be accompanied, then, by the disappearance of his or her ashrams. And
yet, if some, like Swami Vijayānanda thought that Mā’s ashrams were
going to disappear as soon as she left, this does not seem to be the case: “In
the beginning, I thought that everything was going to rapidly disintegrate.
 Sustainability of the Postmortem Cult 221

But not at all in fact. There is still a lot of activity, of movement.”39 Thus,
despite Mā’s departure, the ashrams of her saṅgha are still around, and
so, it seems important to examine the role of these ashrams today and
the necessity of keeping them up. Before addressing these points, a brief
return to the past, notably Mā’s attitude toward the question of ashrams,
seems however to be necessary.
Mā never wanted ashrams and said as much: “This body does not found
ashrams. There, where there is no tension, there is an ashram.”40 Mā also
affirmed this regarding ashrams: “This entire universe is my house. I am
in my own house even when seeming to be roaming from place to place.”41
This cannot but remind us also of Mā’s comments to Arnaud Desjardins,
the French writer and film director, when he was preparing to leave India
and return to France:

Mā Ānandamayī often declared and repeated to me when I had

twice told her goodbye on returning to Paris: that she is never far,
the entire world is her ashram . . . she repeated this many times,
with an unspeakable love: “No boundaries, no boundaries, Paris
Ashram, Paris Ashram, Ek: One, Ek: One.”42

And so Mā never desired ashrams, as for her, the world is her ashram.
Considering the insistence of her disciples, she eventually ceded to their
wishes and ashrams were constructed across India. In this context, it is
interesting to note that the day after the first ashram’s inauguration, the
Ramna ashram at Dhaka in 1929, Mā left for Dehra Dun in the Himalayas,
to the great disappointment of her devotees at Dhaka. And later, when
other ashrams for Mā were established in India, Mā began to decline to
visit the ashram, preferring to stay elsewhere. It seems then that Mā never
attributed great importance to the saṅgha’s ashrams.
On Mā’s death, the saṅgha counted in total twenty-six ashrams. With
the creation of such a network of ashrams, Mā then represents an excep-
tion to the history of India, as this was the greatest number of ashrams
at that time constructed for a woman.43 Although today, it is common for
female gurus to found their own movement and have their own ashrams,
as is the case with Amma and Gurumayi, this institutionalization of the
cult of a female guru was inconceivable before Mā’s time.
More than thirty years after Mā’s departure, these ashrams still exist. And,
if Mā never really desired their construction, followers nevertheless seem
to attribute great importance to the preservation of these sacred spaces. In
222 When a Goddess Dies

addition to facilitating the gathering of devotees, and bringing material com-

modities to its residents, Mā’s ashrams are said to be favored places for con-
tacting her, due to the subtle vibrations that she is said to have left during her
many stays, as this close disciple of Mā’s, an Indian woman, explains here:

If you visit any ashram, you will find something special. When Mā
was in her body, I didn’t realise how special these places are. It didn’t
come into my mind. Mā was the attraction. But now, when I visit
those ashrams, I feel so strongly these high spiritual vibrations.
People should visit the ashrams of Mā. No doubt that a person who
visits a place leaves some vibrations. It is the same with Mā. In the
case of Mā’s ashrams, all spots are special. If you go there and sit
for some time, meditate there, you will feel the vibrations. For that
reason, those ashrams should be maintained.

Some even speak of a special presence associated with these places in

which Mā stayed: “The places where Mā has been, yes, there is a special
presence,” and, in this context, others recall a memory of the place: “she
came to this earth, she left memories. All these places where she was have
memories of her.” And so, it would be important to conserve these ashrams
due to the subtle presence that Mā is said to have left during her stays.
At a more symbolic level, ashrams are also important to the preserva-
tion of Mā’s cult, as an early disciple of Mā’s, an Indian man, affirms
regarding Mā’s first ashram at Dhaka: “Siddheshwari, to me, it is a
very important place for the future, one of the very few places that will
unite the world.” Finally, if the old adage that the ashram represents the
guru’s physical body holds, then Mā’s ashrams should be maintained, as
Ramakrishna’s disciples also affirm regarding their math (monastic insti-
tution): “This Math represents the physical body of Shri Ramakrishna. He
is always present in this institution. The injunction of the whole Math is
the injunction of Shri Ramakrishna. One who worships it, worships him
as well. And one who disregards it, disregards our Lord.”44
It seems then for devotees that it is necessary to conserve Mā’s ashrams,
so as to assure the continuity of her cult. However, despite this desire, only
some ashrams are active today. Many ashrams are almost uninhabited, as
this early disciple of Mā’s, a Western man, affirms:

So many of the saṅgha ashrams now just go down. Maybe two or

three people living and nothing happens. This ashram, in Bhimpura,
 Sustainability of the Postmortem Cult 223

is very busy, very alive, very active. In Vindhyachal, no one there.

Even in Varanasi, there are just two or three people in a huge ash-
ram. I have been many times to Bhimpura ashram. There is always
some kind of events happening here. This is a very active, a very
good ashram, but so many of the saṅgha’s ashrams are so empty.

This neglect of the large majority of the saṅgha’s ashrams may be associ-
ated with a sort of resignation, as these comments from an Indian woman,
a new follower, suggest: “I tell Mā, ‘It is your duty to protect these ash-
rams. You have brought us over here.’ So, this depends on Mā. Everything
depends on Mā.”
Although devotees seem to care about Mā’s ashrams, only a few of
these ashrams are really lively today. Only the ashram at Bhimpura (where
Swami Bhaskarānanda used to live), the ashram at Kankhal, and the ash-
ram at Calcutta (where the majority of Mā’s community is found) still
seem to be relatively active, at least during celebrations in honor of Mā.

Orthodoxy and Sustainability of the Cult

An essential question must be asked regarding the perpetuation of Mā’s
cult after her death, that is, the relevance of maintaining rules of purity in
Mā’s ashrams. These traditional rules of purity, called Jhuṭā or that which
is dirty and inappropriate, have for thousands of years been observed by
the brahminical orthodoxy, serving as a kind of propaedeutic, of prepara-
tion to mystical life.45 This orthodoxy, contested by Sufism and Buddhism,
as well as by Tantric Hinduism, was adopted by Mā following a meeting
she had with the pandit Gopinath Kaviraj. While Mā, at the beginning,
did not follow the purity rules, there was an increasing pressure on her to
do so. Finally, one day, she said, “Whoever is coming today will decide.”
That day pandit Gopinath Kaviraj came right after her statement and told
Mā that rules of caste should be maintained in the Kālī Yuga to form a
barrier against immorality. Although Mā opted for these rules, Swami
Vijayānanda maintained that Mā was not attached to a particular system,
as she always said, Jo Ho Jay, “Whatever has to happen, will happen.” For
him, Mā would definitely have adapted herself if she had been born in the
West.46
In relation to caste rules, devotees also mention Mā’s desire to allow
everyone to come together and to stay in her ashrams. The non-observance
of these rules of purity would have then constituted a major obstacle for
224 When a Goddess Dies

orthodox brahmins and would have prevented them from coming to Mā.47
Despite the establishment of these rules, it is nevertheless interesting to
notice that Mā did not really respect these rules of purity, revealing a cer-
tain lack of concern for such customs. Atmananda reports what Mā told
her regarding these rules as, “What are these rules to me? I have eaten the
leavings of a dog.”48 Although Mā approved these rules, she never really
adopted them and even allowed herself to openly transgress them. In this
context, transgression appears to be a way of affirming Mā’s authority as
spiritual leader, as Mā was the only person with the power to authorize the
observation of these brahminical rules within her community. Defying
rules of pollution regarding the untouchable status of foreigners, as well
as the impurity associated with menstruation, she invited a menstruating
Westerner to sit next to her. Jean-Claude Marol tells us of this anecdote in
one of his books on Mā:

A charming French older woman confided in me how when she

was younger, she visited Mā, but didn’t dare to approach her, as
she was menstruating at the time. She didn’t hide this fact from
the Brahmins in Mā’s entourage. As they considered her to be
impure, they asked her to come back another day! However, Mā
Ānandamayī, sensing the ruckus in the room, asked the young
woman to come sit at her side; she cleared her a large place on her
immaculate couch.49

Atmananda also testifies to Mā’s attitudes towards brahminical purity:

She told me there are different rules in every ashram and that nei-
ther through eating alone or with others does one get God realiza-
tion. She told me to throw away all disturbing thoughts that come
into my mind. She does not seem very interested in those rules, but
seems to want people to observe them so that those who choose to
be orthodox may also feel free to come to Her.50

Melita Maschmann, a German writer who lived near Mā for some time,
testifies to her non-observance of these rules of purity:

Obviously she herself is not endangered by my vibrations, like

the āśramites, because she allowed me to put my chain I wore for
years around her neck, and she often touches me. This may be the
 Sustainability of the Postmortem Cult 225

reason why I do not have this feeling of ‘ambiguity’ in relation to

her. She also respects the rules concerning the food, not because
she is afraid of becoming impure, but out of consideration for her
orthodox followers.51

Thus, if Mā, in consideration to her orthodox devotees, followed these rules

of purity, she is said to have never really embraced them and was never
upset by their non-observance, as the previous testimonies show.52 In real-
ity, for Mā, “purity is an attitude of the mind.”53 She also said: “Actually
purity means truth, that which is. Whatever helps you to come nearer to
that Reality, towards the realization of Truth, may be called pure and what-
ever retards that is impure.”54
Because of these rules of purity, many Westerners speak of the dif-
ficulty during Mā’s time of truly integrating into these ashrams. Arnaud
Desjardins, who stayed many times near Mā, talks about this traditional
Hindu society governed by this spirit of segregation towards foreigners, or
“outsiders.” Adding to this segregated environment the language barrier,
he writes:

It’s not at all easy for a foreigner to stay in an ashram where Mā

Ānandamayī is. He has no place in traditional Hindu society that
surrounds him and numerous barriers are raised, making access to
her room often difficult. Finally, knowing probably neither Hindi
nor Bengali beyond how to say milk, water, rice and sleep, he is
condemned to never understand a word of the questions posed to
Mā Ānandamayī, nor the answers she gives, nor what is chanted,
what is read, the commentaries given to what was read. What the
devil then are we going to do in this hell and why did I return three
times to her side, twice 18 months apart and for stays of several
weeks each time?55

According to this testimony, it seems that Mā’s presence largely com-

pensated for the inconveniences linked with the untouchable status of
the foreigner. Atmananda, who lived for decades in Mā’s ashrams, also
speaks of her ability to handle her status as a pariah thanks to Mā’s
presence:

It’s thanks to her that we could handle it. As to what concerned

me, there was also the conviction, in light of other experiences
226 When a Goddess Dies

I had had near other sages, like Krishnamurti and even Ramana
Maharshi, that there was no one in the world comparable to Mâ
Ânandamayî. If there had been someone comparable, I would
have left the ashram right away. But there wasn’t. So, I couldn’t
leave Mâ.56

Atmananda seems to have been greatly affected by these purity rules in

the ashrams, as can be perceived in her posthumously published journal
entitled Death Must Die:

Today I heard that the three ashram brahmacharinis (nuns) could

not eat yesterday because I was sitting in the same room and the
Brahmanical rules prohibit them from eating under the same roof
with non Hindus. I again got violently upset and decided that I can-
not remain in such a place. I must stay by myself and think this out.
My faith is gone. If I cannot understand these inhuman rules, then
how can I trust Her entirely?57 . . .
Yesterday there was a series of incidents that made me feel
very bitter about those rules. All the accumulated insults came to a
head and I burst out with everything to Didi and cried. Then I ran
away and sat under a tree. Meanwhile Mother was searching for
me and called me to Her as soon as I came back. In the morning
She had already asked me to follow Her to Almora after some days;
but meanwhile I had decided to go away, as I felt so bad about the
so-called ‘Hindu Dharma’.58

Atmananda even speaks of the cruelty of Hindu dharma:

I know now how cruel this so-called Hindu dharma has become
due to complete abuse of its ancient principles. No doubt this is
responsible for much of India’s bad karma. Yesterday there was
a problem over the ‘rules’ that upset me very much and I was
imprudent enough to tell one of the sadhus here that obviously
only Brahmins were made by God, and all others by the devil.
He evidently did not like it. Later I told Girinda that I could now
see why the British Raj could endure so long here and that it
was well deserved. He did not like this at all. So I am, as always,
standing in my own way and creating difficulties. I must not talk
to other.59
 Sustainability of the Postmortem Cult 227

Figure 5.4 Mā Ānandamayī at Patal Devi temple (Almora). In 1937 her pilgrim-
age to Mount Kailash began from this place.
Source: Photograph courtesy of Shree Shree Anandamayee Sangha.

Conscious of the difficulty of Westerners in accepting these rules, Mā

is said to have taken advantage of this situation to “work” on them, as
Atmananda testifies to:

Made a big scene with Mother because of the ‘rules’, but Her verdict
was: “As long you have desires you will have suffering. If you go some-
where else you will have other difficulties. You can’t get peace as long
as there is desire. Bear these things laughingly like Haridas who fol-
lowed Sri Chaitanya in spite of all the difficulties, refusing to have any
special privileges for himself. But Chaitanya took him to his heart and
embraced him. If you contemplate God, the desires will go.”60

Far from considering her Western devotees as victims of untouchability, Mā

seemed to consider these brahminical rules to be a way to diminish their egos.
228 When a Goddess Dies

The brahminical rules in most of Mā’s traditional ashrams (I do not

include Indore and Omkareshwar ashrams, which do not abide by the
orthodox rules) still seem to weigh on the majority of Westerners today,
who must eat separately from Indians and be housed outside the ashram.
It is not permitted for Westerners to eat with Indians and it is necessary
to have an individual cup, so that Hindus, and especially brahmins, can
avoid any polluting contact. This reminds us of another of Atmananda’s
remarks fifty years earlier: “How can I make her ashram my home when
people have to bathe if they wash my cup? Today this trend of thought
continued. In my mind I wrote Her a letter saying these things. All this
makes me conscious that I am European and cannot and do not want to
be a Hindu.”61 Interviews with foreign devotees of Mā also speak of the
mistrust of some Indians toward foreigners, as this Western woman, a
new devotee, states regarding the Samyam Saptah of Kankhal:

At Kankhal, we are bogeymen, we are bogeymen! There are some

Indians who hate Westerners. The majority, they are charming.
There are rules, they let you know gently. But there are a hand-
ful of Indians who hate Westerners; there are times when they
insult you. . . . When there is the Samyam Saptah at Kankhal, it’s
all of Northern India who comes, it’s not Kankhal. There are all of
those from Delhi, from Gujarat who come here. Thus, it’s really the
saṅgha in general. They are really strictly orthodox.

The orthodox sensibility seems then to be truly disturbed by the pres-

ence of Westerners. But, to assure the continuity of the cult, this orthodoxy,
for some, no longer has its place, as this new devotee, a Western man, states:

There must be many more points of contact between foreigners

and Hindus. There is a barrier between foreigners and Hindus.
With respect to Mā, there must be a universal, exemplary teaching,
in practice as well, that is shown. As she was universal, she talked
about Jesus, the Buddha as well as Kṛṣṇa, for her teaching to also
pertain to foreigners. To open up a bit, to accept speaking with a
foreigner, so that he is not regarded with a critical eye from the
moment he arrives in the samādhi, that people not grimace.

A larger sense of openness toward foreigners, and thus a laxity or even a

suppression of brahminical rules of purity within Mā’s ashrams appears
 Sustainability of the Postmortem Cult 229

then to be necessary, according to this disciple, to assure the cult’s

future. This opinion seems to be shared by other Western disciples, as
this German woman, an early disciple, for whom the attitude of Indians
toward Westerners has detrimental consequences:

The big mistake was that they were so very afraid of Western influ-
ence that they didn’t allow us to be helpful for their aims. If you com-
pare to Ramana Maharshi ashram, Shivananda ashram, or Amma’s
ashram, everything is so lively, the samādhi, the ashram. . . . Here,
it is getting so few people. It is a pity I think. There are old forces
which want to keep the new and with it, also the good ways. It’s get-
ting older and older. There are less and less people here. I think that
Westerners will have to take over at one point. They are trying to
keep the Westerners outside. In Mā’s time, when she was alive, you
had to overcome certain obstacles to be near her. People around her
were not always very supportive. I didn’t mind. I thought it is their
problems. So there were never so many Westerners around. These
orthodox, brahminical forces were quite strong. Some swamis, they
have become so opened now, I think. Swami Nirgunānanda, for
example, he drunk from a normal cup in my home, he didn’t have
his own cup. I think that they are seeing the necessity of things to
be changed, to be more opened, even in term of materials. It could
be so well organized if they would invite the Westerners to come
with opened arms. You can live here, come, we show you how to
do pūjā, come, we show you how to play kīrtana. There would be so
many people who would be interested. They would even be willing
to learn and observe certain rules of purity, or whatever. But, in a
way, you feel that they treat you as if you come from a different star
and you don’t understand anything.

The discriminatory attitude of orthodox Hindus toward Westerners in

Mā’s ashrams is heavily criticized by other Westerns, who vigorously con-
demn the Bengali orthodox brahmins’ supremacy, as shown, for example,
by the comment of this Western man, an early disciple:

I think the approach of the saṅgha is really wrong. These rules

are actually driving people away from Mā. See, Mā kept the ortho-
dox rules during her life and people asked her about it. She said
230 When a Goddess Dies

that’s because many orthodox brahmins wouldn’t be able to come.

In comparison, there are very few foreigners, and unfortunately,
they have to suffer but more people are benefiting, because more
people have access. But things have changed now. They are hold-
ing onto these theoretical rules which have no place anymore, all
these orthodox rules. Many of Mā’s ashrams are run by these east
Bengalis brahmins who are orthodox at the point of being supersti-
tious. In Gujarat, they say that they have broken up the Bengali slav-
ery. Here (Bhimpura ashram), they don’t have all these rules. Well,
they try to keep the rules as much as they can, they keep the rules of
the saṅgha, but they don’t have the attitude, the bad attitude towards
foreigners. They are much more open here. Like in Varanasi, these
places around, they are run almost exclusively by Bengalis. This
attitude has no place in the future, in spreading Mā’s name.

Thus, for a large number of Westerners, these brahminical rules no lon-

ger have a place within Mā’s organization and can only hinder the devel-
opment of Mā’s cult. However, a small number of Westerners admit the
necessity of retaining the brahminical rules so as to remain as close as
possible to Mā’s directions, as the following testimony from a French
woman, a new devotee, shows:

I don’t know if they should change the rules. Me, I think that what
is most important is to stay close to what Mā wanted, to her way of
doing pūjās, the rituals, to what she wanted to teach and the instruc-
tions she wanted to give. And, in fact, these principle directions are
to stay as close as possible to the dharma. To preserve a memory,
yes, but not any memory, not in any way you like. There can be
changes, and as long as these changes do not bring Mā’s thought
into play, why not. I think that you have to respect the tradition that
Mā established. I think that, at a given moment, there are some
things that she held to, and which seemed a bit strange to us, like
the brahminical rules. Maybe it’s necessary to spread the dharma,
maybe [laughs], I don’t know. But, in any case, there was definitely
a reason. And, for that matter, why would she have been born in a
brahminical environment? It’s not she that chose to respect brah-
minical rules. She herself ate fish. In Bengal, everyone eats fish.
Her husband Bholanāth was a heavy smoker. One day, she asked
herself, is it necessary? She had a day of kheyāla, an inspiration.
 Sustainability of the Postmortem Cult 231

The first to come will give us rules and it’s a pandit that came. If you
accept Mā, I think that you must be confident in many things, even
if you don’t understand everything.

Finally, there are some Westerners who are relatively indifferent to these
rules, for whom these rules do not present real obstacles. Jacques Vigne
speaks of his experience regarding this matter:

For some Westerners, these rules have constituted a gigantic obsta-

cle. I must say that for the eighteen years that I have been associ-
ated with Mā’s ashrams, in part with the main ashram at Kankhal,
in Hardwar, these rules have not at all posed problems for me. It
takes a few weeks to get used to, but in fact many of them are com-
mon to monastic disciplines that you may find among Christians
or Buddhists.62

These rules, far from being bothersome, may thus for some devotees con-
stitute a form of discipline belonging to some monastic religious tradi-
tions. A new English disciple also recalls her indifference toward these
rules, which do not seem to unreasonably affect her spiritual path:

I don’t feel a foreigner to myself, and that’s what counts. They may
see me as a foreigner, but that doesn’t bother me because I know
that I need to have some access to the places at the moment, like
here, in Bhimpura, and whatever. They can get on with doing their
own things. It really doesn’t bother me what they do. I don’t mind to
be a foreigner because I don’t want to be part of their culture. I am
not an Indian.

Demonstrating disinterest for all these rules, this disciple then declares
that she does not feel herself to be a foreigner in this segregated envi-
ronment. For others, these rules may even represent a positive element
in their sādhanā. This status as foreigners, as “outcasts,” leads them to a
kind of inner renunciation necessary for an authentic spiritual path. The
experience of being a Westerner in Mā’s ashrams can in this sense be tied
to what the Fathers of the Desert called the xeniteia, that is to say, the life
abroad. This practice of isolation in a foreign land was recommended for
liberation from the conditionings of society. Thus, through this sort of
imposed xeniteia, Mā’s Western devotees would learn to perceive Mā’s cult
232 When a Goddess Dies

from another angle, to take advantage of this singular pleasure of being

a foreigner. Far from being a hindrance to Mā’s cult, this sort of exclu-
sion imposed on foreigners in her ashrams may, on the contrary, become
a positive thing, in the sense that it privileges the “inner cult,” as some
Western devotees affirm.
In addition, it is interesting to enquire into the attitude of Indians
toward these rules of purity. Some Indians demonstrate absolute disap-
proval of this orthodoxy that affects not only Westerners but also monks
who wish to travel to the West, as the following comment from this early
disciple, an Indian man, shows:

The traditional organization has something against foreign-

ers and our sādhus going to foreign countries, both ways. Now,
they want to restrict that. I am against this. My argument is
that if a sādhu cannot go to other country than India, then,
what about Kailash? They cannot go to China? Mā was born in
Bangladesh, a foreign country. Can’t we go to see Mā’s birth
place? And Mā was born in Bangladesh and it was a part of
Pakistan before. We are far from sanātana dharma. It’s a
Muslim country. And today, they would not happily welcome
anybody who comes from a Muslim country. Mā was Pakistani
actually, not Indian. The other argument that I give is that Mā
always referred to the scripture. Lord Rāma went outside the
country. We give a lot of examples. Look, Mā always welcomed
all foreigners. Look at Swami Vijayānanda. Look at Atmananda.
Look at Ram Alexander. Mā gave him a room in the ashram of
Kankhal. He stayed seven years there. This is manmade. Mā
respected the sentiments of everybody, including foreigners.
But Mā didn’t want to hurt the sentiments of the brahmins and
she didn’t want to hurt the sentiments of foreigners either. It’s
not one at the expense of the others. For Mā, there was no dif-
ference. Everybody is equal to Mā. The situation is unfortunate.
Organizations go up and down. It’s going through a very low
phase right now [laughs].

In relation to traveling overseas for orthodox brahmin gurus, there are

now, as Copeman and Ikegame remark, various ways for them to extend
their presence on a global scale as media technologies have become more
available to reach devotees.63
 Sustainability of the Postmortem Cult 233

Other Indian devotees, despite their desire to see these rules disappear,
also think that they are destined to last due to a strong presence of ortho-
dox brahmins in Mā’s ashrams, as this Indian woman, an early disciple,
explains:

These rules are going to be there. Nothing is going to change that.

There are old thinking people already existing. Mā never used
to change somebody’s thinking. If you were born in a particular
saṃskāra, or a particular family, she never tried to change that.
Within your parameters, you live and think. If somebody says I can-
not eat with foreigners, ok, we have to respect his view. Mā used to
say that she is respecting that. I am not asking you to change. As far
as the foreigners are concerned, for Mā, everybody is her child. This
is exactly what Swami Nirgunānanda and Swami Bhaskarānanda
are saying. They don’t have any problem in sitting and eating with
you. They are beyond that. They are beyond those limitations,
whereas these people come from a very limited thinking. That is
how it is going in the ashram. They are orthodox in their thinking.
They have not advanced spiritually in that way. The moment you
advance spiritually, you realize that this, itself, is a limitation on
your path. It is putting a limitation and you are not growing.

Other Indians, while not really according importance to these rules of

purity themselves, nonetheless speak of the necessity of preserving tradi-
tion, as this Indian man, an early devotee: “Rules should not change. Mā’s
tradition shouldn’t change. Whoever has the saṃskāra will understand
and accept these rules.”
Some Indians demonstrate detachment or even a sort of fatalism
regarding this question of orthodox rules, leaving all responsibility in
Mā’s hands, as this Indian man, an early disciple of Mā’s:

If I want to invite foreigners to go to ashrams, I may not do well

because they may lose interest tomorrow. But if Mā wants the for-
eigners to come, there will be no foreigner, we’ll be all one. Maybe,
that day is coming. Why don’t we wait for that day? If I invite you
and don’t treat you well, the way it should be, you will lose inter-
est. But if Mā is inviting you one day, we’ll all dance together in
the name of Mā. And that day will definitely come. So if men cre-
ate organizations, there is difficulty. But if Mā creates, it is flow
234 When a Goddess Dies

less. The word “foreigner” will not be there. Then, everybody will
embrace each other, and dance and dance. There won’t be any for-
eigner. Why hurry? It is going to come.

Finally, there are Indians who categorically refuse the least change in the
rules present in Mā’s ashrams and who are completely convinced of their
validity. Being myself a foreign woman and thus a polluting agent, it was
obviously not possible for me to discuss this with these types of devotees.
Thus, these interviews present diverse opinions concerning the future
of brahminical rules installed in the ashrams of Mā’s saṅgha.64 On the
whole, it appears that a greater flexibility with regard to these purity rules
may be necessary for the large majority of devotees interviewed, Indians
as well as foreigners, so as to assure the continuity of Mā’s cult.65 As the
superior authorities of Mā’s saṅgha are disinclined to make these changes
today, it seems however that brahminical rules are destined to last and that
Westerners will for the time immediately to come be forced to take on the
role of pollutant, a role described perfectly here by Douglas:

A polluting person is always in the wrong. He has developed some

wrong condition or simply crossed some line which should not have
been crossed and this displacement unleashes danger for some-
one. Bringing pollution, unlike sorcery and witchcraft, is a capacity
which men share with animals, for pollution is not always set off by
humans. Pollution can be committed intentionally, but intention is
irrelevant to its effect—it is more likely to happen inadvertently.66

The rigidity of brahminical orthodoxy within Mā’s ashrams in the long

term, however, might place Mā’s cult in peril, for as James specifies, when
a religion becomes an orthodoxy, it loses forever its interiority. But as fate
would have it, despite this strong discrimination toward Westerners, it
nevertheless seems today that some Indians envisage the future of Mā’s
cult to be in the West, as Swami Kedarnath suggests: “I feel that Mā’s
work will start from foreign lands, from there it will start. That’s why
more foreign people are coming and getting more interested.” This, in a
sense, recalls the comments of Atmananda some decades earlier: “I am
persuaded that it’s the West, much more than India, that will spread Mâ
Anandamayi’s teaching. It’s a universal teaching that can suit everyone.”67
There exist then some tensions within Mā’s community regarding
the preservation of brahminical rules. Mā’s saṅgha is split between two
 Sustainability of the Postmortem Cult 235

directions. On the one hand, many want to enlarge her movement, nota-
bly to an international audience, which necessarily would require both
letting go of these rules and a rupture with the tradition of the group’s
founder. On the other hand, others desire a preservation of brahminical
orthodoxy, which is ineluctably associated with exclusion and which ham-
pers the cult’s expansion. Mā’s saṅgha is located then in the middle of this
dilemma between “authenticity” and “dirtying,” between “atrophy” and
“expansion.”

Hagiography and Perpetuation of the Cult

As hagiography represents an essential way of perpetuating the guru’s
cult after his or her death, it seems important to cast some light on this
subject. Lee Novetzke’s work on the saint Namdev, in this regard, is par-
ticularly interesting, as it examines how Namdev’s life and literary produc-
tion have been assimilated into the way religious communities in India
remember the saint.
I shall first of all attempt to demonstrate the role of hagiography as a
sort of amplification of devotion, then I will concentrate on the question of
death in hagiography, the true challenge of hagiography.

Hagiography, a Form of Devotion

If, as Wilson affirms, the cult influences literature, the inverse is also true.
Literature, and especially hagiography, can influence the posthumous
future of sainted beings by making it enter into the “collective memory
and space of the cult,” as Albert specifies.68 The literary heritage at the
death of great sages, and notably the hagiographic heritage is then of
utmost importance.69 I must then define here hagiography and its func-
tions, and show the role that this type of literature plays in the perpetua-
tion of Mā’s cult after her death.
For the great majority of academics, the term “hagiography,” which
designates writings related to saints, has a strong Christian connotation
and should be exclusively applied to Christian saints, the term of “sacred
biography” being preferred for other religious traditions.70 Since hagi-
ography presents the same objectives, structure, and literary processes
as sacred biography, I will nevertheless use the term “hagiography.”
Hagiography, far from looking to present a historic picture of the saint,
236 When a Goddess Dies

actually arises from religious discourse. In fact, according to Reynolds

and Capps, hagiography does not aim to give a portrait resembling its
subject71 so much as to eulogize the saint. Thus as Stewart states, it
would be inappropriate to question the historic accuracy of such a docu-
ment, as this would deny the very nature of this type of document, which
above all is based on religious belief.72 Although hagiography sometimes
presents historic aspects of the saint’s life, there is often a discrepancy
between the historic reality and the portrait given by the hagiography.73
And if for some Hindus, history, synonymous with māyā (illusion),74 has
no tangible existence, this is even truer in the eyes of hagiographers.
As Bader notes, the first objective of hagiography then is not to relate
historic aspects of a religious subject so much as to establish the figure
in the sphere of the sacred (hagios), which for hagiography constitutes
the “truth.”75
And so, hagiography, whether it presents the saint from a historic
angle or not, above all aims to glorify the saint and to promote his or her
cult. Far from playing the role of a historian or a biographer, the hagiogra-
pher looks to essentially attract new devotees by stimulating their devotion
toward the saint. In addition, hagiography is for Tulpule a manifestation
of bhakti and represents, according to the hagiographer Mahipati, a way to
find the company of saints or satsaṅga.76 Wilson also speaks of hagiogra-
phy as a form of prayer, while Rinehart speaks of it as a way to remember
the saint.77 By the same token, Mallison refers to hagiography as a “con-
tagion of the good” when it involves memorizing stories of the saint.78
Hagiography can often relate examples of piety, of perfection, furnishing
the readers with models for their own behavior.79 Thus the term hagiogra-
phy should only be applied to writings aimed at inspiring devotion toward
the saint. In glorifying the saint, hagiography, in this sense, constitutes
the key instrument of promotion.80
In the Hindu tradition, one of the most efficient ways to glorify the saint
and to encourage devotion to them notably consists in describing them as
the incarnation of a divinity, as an avatar, who came to earth to accomplish
a specific mission so as to reestablish dharma.81 The saint Shankaracharya
is, for example, represented by the majority of hagiographers as the avatar
of Śiva. The case of Shankaracharya, the archetypical promoter of Advaita
Vedānta, is however paradoxical as little place is accorded to devotion in
his hagiographies, although the stated goal of hagiography is to awaken
devotion to the saint. Regarding this matter, Jonathan Bader speaks of
austere devotion to express this paradox.82
 Sustainability of the Postmortem Cult 237

In the numerous writings concerning Mā Ānandamayī, she is por-

trayed as an avatar, an incarnation of the divine, as Miller and Young also
observe in their study on Mā’s hagiography.83 The purity of Mā’s ancestral
line, being brahmin and including numerous pandits and satīs, the divine
conception of Mā, announced to her mother Mokṣada Sundari by the
appearance of gods and goddesses in her dreams, as well as the extraor-
dinary nature of her painless birth are only a few of a series of signs indi-
cating Mā’s divine nature from birth.84 An exceptionally gifted student,85
already in possession of some siddhis, hagiographers emphasize that Mā
had a divine character since childhood. Hagiographers also do not hesitate
to emphasize the sage’s natural beauty so as to confirm her belonging to
the world of the gods.
Another aspect of the avatar’s pattern in the hagiographic tradition is
the conviction that the events of his or her life are simply reflections of
a divine play (līlā). The avatar is portrayed by his or her hagiographers
as a simple social individual, but whose real nature far exceeds reality.
The avatar’s enlightenment belongs to the divine sphere of the game, to
the līlā, and, for hagiographers, has nothing in common with a true inte-
rior transformation, but has everything to do with the will of the avatar
to reveal his or her true identity to the beings who surround them.86 Mā
Ānandamayī is such an avatar figure, “disguised” during the early stages
of her life. During her childhood she was taken for a simpleton because of
her frequent states of absorption, then perceived by her husband and his
circle as a woman under the influence of evil spirits; her true divine nature
was only noticed by an exorcist who, not at all seeing a possessed woman,
saw in her the Divine Mother, Devī. This was later confirmed by Mā who
responded to the question of “who is she?” with “Purṇabrahmanarayanan”
(God in all his fullness). The sādhanā that Mā practiced for many years is
described in this context as being a part of God’s game, of God’s līlā.
Hagiography’s emphasis on the extraordinary also constitutes another
way of glorifying the guru. If the tomb of Sai Baba of Shirdi is today one of
the most popular tīrthas (places of pilgrimage) in all of India, this is princi-
pally due to publications revealing him as a performer of miracles. The pres-
ence of miracles is an important element in hagiography as it contributes
to confirming the guru’s sanctity. The place of miracles in hagiographies
of a holy being increase as years pass.87 As in writings on Mā Ānandamayī,
however, miracles are important. Miracles from Mā’s time are described
therein, as well as miracles that occurred after her mahāsamādhi, show-
ing then the omnipresence of the guru that goes beyond death. These
238 When a Goddess Dies

miracles could constitute not only miraculous healings but also reanima-
tion of deceased bodies, accidents avoided, and so on.
In exalting the figure of Mā Ānandamayī, hagiographers represent
then instruments of charismatic renewal and permit readers to have new
experiences. Hagiography therefore constitutes a way to compensate for
the loss of charisma caused by Mā’s departure.

Death as a Challenge to Hagiography

Here, I must examine the guru’s death in hagiographic narratives and
show the role thereof in sustaining the cult. The future representation of
the guru and, thus, the future of the cult will in fact largely depend upon
the way that his or her death is treated in the hagiographies. As Rinehart
specifies, the guru’s death constitutes quite rightly a true challenge for
hagiographers, in the sense that it greatly influences the manner in which
the devotee perceives the master.88
If it is sometimes difficult to determine the date of a guru’s death, as he
or she is essentially perceived as being beyond time, beyond this cycle of
earth and rebirth (saṃsāra), this does not seem to be necessarily the case
with all gurus. In Mā Ānandamayī’s case, her date of death, August 27,
1982, is mentioned in the majority of writings on her life. The atemporal
character of Mā, however, is constantly stressed throughout her hagiogra-
phies, for, as Arnaud Desjardins said, to insert her into the narrow frame
of the twentieth century would limit her. In fact, Mā was clearly beyond
time or the limits of history.89
It is common to observe disparities in the narratives relating a guru’s
death. For example, in different writings about the Bengali saint Chaitanya,
there are essentially different versions of his death, ranging from an infec-
tion of his feet to a sudden disappearance in a temple either in Jagannath
or in Gopinath, or even a disappearance into the sea.90 This is also the case
with Mirabai, whose hagiographic narratives and oral traditions relate dif-
ferent types of deaths,91 or even that of a lesser known saint, the Siddha
Ratannath, of whom frescos at the monastery of Caughera in Nepal recall
both his death by evaporation and the burial of his body in a samādhi at
Bhatinda.92 This divergence in writings relating to the saint’s death in real-
ity reveals the hagiographer’s desire to emphasize a precise point, to send
a message. All hagiographic narrative tends to serve a particular purpose.
In the case of Mirabai, for example, one of the versions of her death finds
Mirabai melting into the image of Kṛṣṇa. There is clearly a negation of the
 Sustainability of the Postmortem Cult 239

bhakti ideal of remaining in eternal relation with the divine and a desire
on the part of the author to emphasize the Advaitic concept of non-duality.
Regarding Mā Ānandamayī, narratives on her death seem, on the con-
trary, homogeneous, as they do not present notable contradictions. There
are then no controversies regarding writings on her death, as there are in
Chaitanya’s case, where some texts, and notably the text relating his death
as due to an infection of the feet, are considered heretical by the most
orthodox of his followers.93
In addition, it is important to examine the place of the miraculous
within hagiographies relating to a sage’s death, as it is often accompa-
nied by miraculous events. Lalla was said to dematerialize into fire,
Shankaracharya to have fused with Śiva’s liṅgam, and Kabir’s body to have
been transformed into a garland of flowers following quarrels between his
Hindu and Muslim disciples concerning the funerary rites of their mas-
ter. In the same way, Tukaram is said to have suddenly vanished before
his disciples when he was in the middle of a state of mystical ecstasy,94
and Janabai to have died at the same moment as her master Namdev.95
The miraculous or semi-miraculous is also said to take the form of sud-
den changes in weather patterns, signs of the body’s incorruptibility, and
so on. If, in the case of Mā Ānandamayī, no sign of a miraculous death
seems to be mentioned in writings dedicated to her, her hagiographers
nonetheless imply, by virtue of their insistence on the miracles performed
throughout her life, that Mā would have been able to maintain her life on
earth longer if she had so desired.
Similarly to Bengali Vaiśṇava orthodoxy’s position on Chaitanya’s
death, it is unsuitable to mention death when speaking of Mā. How could
God die?96 A close reading of the writings relating Mā’s death reveals that
there is only mention of her “departure,” of the “death of her body,” of
“mahāsamādhi,” of the “end of her līlā on earth,” and so on. To speak of
Mā’s “death” would amount to negating her true nature as eternal reality.
It is thus important for the hagiographer to emphasize the lack of death of
a guru, as for example the writings of this disciple for the 100th anniver-
sary of Mā’s birthday show: “Mā’s mahāsamādhi is a phenomenon of the
physical world. Mā is eternal. She exists as a brilliant flame within us. We
need the perception to see Her. Her fragrant presence is always with us.”97
Thus, for the hagiographer, there is a desire to stress the absence of real
death for Mā, who is eternal and beyond death.
This hagiographic tendency to emphasize the absence of true death for
Mā is also reflected in the hagiographer’s insistence on Mā’s continued
240 When a Goddess Dies

presence beyond death. In this respect, people mention the living pres-
ence or even the magic presence which is manifested in guidance, in pro-
tection, or in visions and dreams, as this excerpt essentially shows:

Since Mā’s passing from this world, devotees continue to have

experiences of Her unfailing protection and guidance. Her living
Presence has been seen many times by devotees in visions and
dreams. Many people who weren’t able to meet Mā in Her physical
body still feel the warmth and attraction of Her magical Presence
when they turn to Her in prayer. The transcriptions of Mā’s words
and teachings are eternally relevant and enlivening. Mā has told us,
“It cannot be that anybody, anywhere is not My very own. I am with
you at all times.” JAYA MĀ.98

Hagiographers also go so far as to note the deliberate usage of the

present tense in their writings, so as to underline Mā’s continued
presence, as is the case here in another extract from a book called Ma
Anandamayee: Embodiment of India’s Spiritual and Cultural Heritage, edited
for the centennial of Mā’s birthday: “To conclude, Mā Anandamayee is
Herself A Source of Indian culture and spirituality. I deliberately use the
present tense, for, She despite having left Her physical body, is still pres-
ent, in subtlety. Only we need to be receptive, have faith and positive atti-
tude.”99 This passage is additionally given in bold typeface, thus revealing
the emphasis the hagiographer places on this precise point. Some hagiog-
raphers also note the absence of death for Mā by giving their books reveal-
ing titles, as is the case with two volumes entitled “I am ever with you.”100
The hagiographer constantly looks then to display the real lack of death for
Mā in his writings on her.
Mā’s immortal presence is also emphasized hagiographically by the
numerous references to the attraction of new devotees: “They and many
more new devotees who did not see Mā earlier are coming now to the
Samādhi Mandir in Kankhal, Hardwar. The new comers are drawn to Mā
just by seeing Her picture or by seeing Her in a dream or vision and in
some cases by reading and hearing about Her from others.”101 Mā’s physi-
cal absence, far from being presented by hagiographers as an obstacle, can
even be described as a way to become closer to Mā: “There are beings who
are close, so close that sometimes it takes decades to understand them.
Sometimes, even you have to wait until you can no longer meet them to
understand this proximity.”102
 Sustainability of the Postmortem Cult 241

Thus, throughout the vast majority of writings on Mā, there is a per-

manent weight given by the hagiographers to the absence of real death for
Mā, which also contributes to reinforcing Mā’s cult. The use of the avatar
motif and the insistence on the master’s continued presence after his or
her death represent then two important tools in the sustainability of the
cult through hagiography.

Initiation and Continuity of the Cult

The last part of this study looks to the initiation process as a way of per-
petuating the cult. First, I turn toward initiation in its formal form, show-
ing its function, and the manner in which it unfolds in the Shree Shree
Anandamayee Sangha. In this context, the question of hereditary trans-
mission is also addressed, notably using an interview conducted with one
of Mā’s family members. Second, I examine the formal initiation of the
cult. The central concept of śaktipāta, or transmission of śakti, constitutes
the support of my discussion.

Formal Initiation and Hereditary Transmission

One of the important aspects of the cult’s sustainability is initiation, or
dīkṣā. Initiation, that which the Brāhmaṇa refer to as a point of access
to the sacred,103 can be defined as the communication of an energy, of a
vibration, of an influx to the initiated, or as the transmission of a spiritual
influence that is said to be necessary with regards to the work of spiritual
purification. This process of purification refers to the dissolution of the
ego, which Mircea Eliade also terms a mystic death. Initiation generally
involves the transmission and support of a mantra, whose function is to
convey spiritual force (śakti), and is said to require belonging to a tra-
ditional organization, so as to permit a continuous transmission of the
spiritual influence over the course of generations. Yvan Amar speaks on
this subject of the “precious store” of spiritual tradition.104 The role of the
initiator, in this context, is not without importance to the efficiency of the
initiation, as it should be performed by an individual possessing certain
qualities specific to a spiritual master.
So as to address the question of continuity of initiation after Mā’s depar-
ture, it is first of all necessary to return to a discussion of the initiation
process during her lifetime.105 As Mā never received a formal initiation,
242 When a Goddess Dies

and never introduced herself as a guru, although she played that role in
many respects, she almost never then gave a formal initiation as such. If
it happened that Mā gave a mantra to a person, she nevertheless affirmed
to the initiated persons that she was not their guru. She also said that
“certain mantras have indeed emanated from these lips and others have
accepted them. Therefore in one way or another the mantra has indeed
been bestowed.”106 Swami Nirgunānanda speaks of this paradox:

Of course, I was initiated but Mâ is not my guru. The first mantra

that I got was from Mâ and not from a guru. My mantras of ini-
tiation are different from the mantra I received from Mâ. While
giving me the mantra, she said: “This is not your initiation and
this body is not your guru.” She also added, “This body never asks
anyone to take the dikshâ and never refuses when someone asks it
of her.” As for me, I needed a mantra and I got it before the formal
initiation.
[When then have you taken the dikshâ?]
Mâ asked me to take it.
[Did Mâ then not contradict herself?]
In appearance, you could have that impression. In fact, I was also
shocked when Mâ asked me to take the dikshâ. But afterwards,
my doubts were cleared. One day, she called me and said: “Your
initiation is set for tomorrow morning before dawn.” I was totally
shocked to hear her say that. I thought I would never have dikshâ.
That made me suffer to think that Mâ had contradicted herself.
I was overcome with emotion and started crying. She asked me
the cause of this pitiful state. I told her, “Mâ, as you said that the
dikshâ is given only to him who asks for it, it happens that I, I am
totally satisfied with my mantra. I received it from your lips and
I’ve never wanted a dikshâ from you. That shatters me to see that
you are going against what you told me in the past.” She said: “Do
you really know what is hidden in the depths of your spirit?” Mâ
explained to me then that I wanted this initiation at the bottom of
my heart but that I had not realized it.107

For initiations, it was then common that Mā’s mother, Didimā, herself
conferred initiation on the follower in Mā’s presence. A disciple con-
fided to us that, following her initiation by Didimā, Mā herself affirmed
that Didimā was her guru. After Didimā’s death, the role of initiator was
 Sustainability of the Postmortem Cult 243

given to some swamis of the Shree Shree Anandamayee Sangha, includ-

ing Swami Bhaskarānanda. And since Mā’s mahāsamādhi, only some
swamis chosen by the saṅgha’s committee are in charge of initiation,
Swami Bhaskarānanda being the head initiator until his recent death.108
Considered as a guru by many of Mā’s devotees, Swami Bhaskarānanda
affirmed this regarding dīkṣā: “We don’t think that we are masters, we
are Mā’s instruments.” Similarly to other religious orders, such as
Ramakrishna’s, swamis of the saṅgha are to specify, during each initia-
tion, that the initiation is completed in the guru’s name, Mā’s name here.
The formal initiation is accompanied by rituals and the person to be
initiated is to choose an iṣṭa (elected divinity) through which to venerate
Mā. A new name is generally given to the devotee by the swami respon-
sible for the initiation. In Mā’s time, she could give a name directly to the
initiated person, but she would also ask the people, or the initiated him-
self, what name he should have.
For many devotees, the power of the initiation does not seem to be
affected by Mā’s departure, as the subtle connection (śukṣuma) still con-
tinues to be established for the believer without Mā’s physical presence
(sthūla).109 Whether the initiation was conferred before or after Mā’s depar-
ture, its influence tends to remain the same, as the following early devo-
tee, an Indian sir, who received initiation after Mā’s death shows:

After dīkṣā, my life changed completely. Lots of changes took place,

in my attitude, in my thinking. Few years later I realized that it
was the only thing missing in my life but I didn’t know. If I knew,
I would have asked. Sometimes, things are missing but you don’t
know what is missing. After few years, after this, I felt very peace-
ful, very powerful. All good things were happening inside. This was
the only thing which was missing. From then on, it has been a very
beautiful journey.

Thus, despite Mā’s departure, spiritual influence continues to be trans-

mitted, through the intermediary of a religious body composed by swamis
chosen by the saṅgha.
Regarding formal initiation, there is also an initiation of a biological
kind, that is to say a hereditary transmission of spiritual principle by mem-
bers of Mā’s family. From Didimā, the first guru of Mā’s spiritual line, the
spiritual flow is said to have been transmitted to Didimā’s son, that is to
say to Mā’s younger brother who is said to have transmitted it in kind to
244 When a Goddess Dies

his first son, Mā’s nephew. Although he is not really in charge of formal
initiations today, Mā’s nephew’s ability to transmit śaktipāta is recognized,
as Mā herself confirmed. There is then a hereditary propagation of spiri-
tual flow within Mā’s family, a flow said to have been transmitted from a
woman, Didimā, to a man, Mā’s nephew. During an interview with Mā’s
great-nephew, he fleshed out the details of this hereditary transmission:

In Hindu tradition, that is always [the] guru’s family who gives dīkṣā
traditionally. My grand-grand mother was the guru. Mā is never
the guru. It is Didimā who is the guru. Swami Bhaskarānanda is
a disciple of my grand-grand mother. This principle of delivering
dīkṣā runs in the family. My grand-grand mother gave dīkṣā. My
grand father gave dīkṣā, to few people. Mā gave him the chakra. Mā
gave him the instrument. My father also gives dīkṣā to very selected
people. He is very selective. There must be a special connection, a
special bond between the guru and the disciple. You cannot give
dīkṣā to anybody. . . . The guru is always a mediator. My father gives
dīkṣā. He has the instrument. It runs in the family.

There is then a biological line through which this dīkṣā is transmitted

from generation to generation. The perpetuation of the cult is today then
assured, not only by a specific religious body but also by a type of biologi-
cal line originating in Mā’s mother, Didimā. It is nevertheless important
to specify that this biological transmission is extremely minor compared
to the transmission completed by the religious body, which carries out
the vast majority of formal initiations. If the initiating system is today
dominated by Mā’s monks, it is however possible for members of Mā’s
family to play in the future a more important role in this transmission.
The appearance of a charismatic figure within Mā’s family could reverse
the management of this good of salvation that initiation represents.

Informal Initiation
There also is an informal type of dīkṣā, which, although not formally rec-
ognized, plays a role among devotees. This informal initiation differs
from formal initiation, in that it is not accompanied with a ceremony and
does not necessitate the physical presence (sthūla) of the guru. For Swami
Vijayānanda, this informal initiation, which is always interior, is the real
 Sustainability of the Postmortem Cult 245

initiation, that is t0 say the real transmission of power, the śaktidāna: “The
śaktidāna, the transmission of power, which is in fact the real initiation,
can be given in many ways, for example through contact, sparśadīkṣā,
through a look, dṛṣṭidīkṣā and even at a distance.”110 These explanations
regarding the initiation recall the comments of Alexandra David-Neel who
affirmed that, the more important the initiation, the less they are sur-
rounded with liturgic pomp.111
In this context, some devotees affirm that they have received an inte-
rior initiation from Mā, and notably in a dream.112 If Mā affirmed the pos-
sibility of this type of experience and if this was not uncommon during
her own time, as interviews with early devotees as well as their written tes-
timony reveal, this type of initiation today continues to occur despite Mā’s
death. The devotee who has experienced it can sometimes receive a con-
firmation of his mantra from one of the swamis, often a swami in charge
of initiation.113 This inner initiation, that is to say the true transmission
or śaktipāta, can also take place through looking at a photo, for, if gurus
have the ability while alive to transmit śakti through their gaze, this type of
transmission continues after their mahānirvāṇa,114 through the intermedi-
ary of their photos, which are considered to be filled with life and power.
And so, far from being carried out only in formal initiation, the conti-
nuity of Mā’s cult may also be maintained through informal initiations,
which despite their marginal character, contribute to reinforcing the disci-
ple’s faith in the guru. We can also, in this context, ask about the relevance
of the formal initiation that, for Atmananda, is in reality nothing more
than a way of compensating for the lack of confidence in Mā’s presence:

You know, it’s us that lack confidence. This is why we need to be

comforted by different things like dīkṣā (initiation) and other cer-
emonies. But Mâ is there. If we have confidence in her, if we avoid
involving ourselves too much in other things, for the mind then
would be scattered, if we can concentrate ourselves on Her pres-
ence, be really conscious of it, then we will not need anything else
anymore. We must have confidence in her word.115

This would explain the reason that some of Mā’s devotees do not necessar-
ily feel the need to receive a formal initiation, as the following Indian early
male devotee confirms: “To become a bhakta, a devotee to somebody, it is
246 When a Goddess Dies

not necessary to take dīkṣā.” In addition to formal initiation, the continu-

ity of Mā’s cult seems to be assured through informal initiation, which for
some has as much, if not more, importance that a simple formal initiation.
Initiation then constitutes a central way of maintaining the guru’s cult
after his or her death, not only in its formal dimension, where the follower
receives officially a mantra, but also in its informal dimension. This aspect
of the cult thus constitutes an essential tool for the postmortem cult of the
guru, along with rituals, relics, or hagiography.
 Conclusion

Calling on concepts of religious experiences and institutionalization,

this study explores a little examined aspect of the Hindu tradition, the cult
of gurus after their death (mahāsamādhi), particularly the cult of relics.
Regarding the question of the impact of the master’s death on his or her
cult, a central question in this study, I have offered several perspectives
as a part of my research on the postmortem cult of the Bengali religious
figure Mā Ānandamayī (1896–1982). Because of the richness of data col-
lected, this study may provide a platform for further research, especially
with respect to the religious experience of the faithful, a complex and mul-
tifaceted phenomenon, as well as to the Westernization of the worship of
Hindu gurus.
Considered to be the last of the great representatives of the Hindu
Renaissance initiated by Ramakrishna, Mā Ānandamayī, called the
“Human Kālī” in Bengal, is seen as an emblematic figure of female reli-
gious leadership. As a self-initiated spiritual master who dictated the
terms of her own sanctity through her self-initiation, Mā Ānandamayī was
a prominent charismatic figure within a society where only rarely would
a woman receive the authority to be a spiritual guide. Through the mag-
nitude of her religious movement and her vast network of ashrams—an
unprecedented phenomenon for a woman in India—as well as through
the establishment of reforms aimed at promoting women’s religious
equality, Mā Ānandamayī marks a major transformation in the landscape
of Hindu guruship. As an exceptional being, Mā Ānandamayī is today the
object of a cult at her tomb, a cult generally reserved for male gurus, and
in a few cases to some women venerated in relation to a male guru. Within
a male-dominated cult of relics, Mā represents then a powerful figure.
In answer to the question of the impact of the guru’s death on his
or her cult, it is possible, in Mā’s case, to discern some diminution in
her cult since her death, most notably in the decline in the number of
248 C onclusion

Figure C.1 Mā Ānandamayī: “Why do you say I am going away? I am your little
child and am always with you. Remember this, that I am always with you.”
Source: Picture belonging to the collection of the photographer Sadanand; now in the pos-
session of Neeta Mehta, also called Swami Nityānanda.

Mā’s devotees. There is no doubt that the number of devotees is well

inferior to that at Mā’s time, as can be seen in the weak presence of
new devotees compared to early ones. This trend of Mā’s cult to decline
after her death may come first of all from the Hindus’ preference for a
living guru.

A Competition between Living and Dead Gurus

Through numerous interviews made with the devotees of Mā, I have
observed a continuation of experiences of Mā’s presence since her
mahāsamādhi, both among former devotees who have “walked” with Mā
in her lifetime and among new devotees. Although photos, books, and vid-
eos of Mā play an important role in the emergence of these experiences,
the relics, though not essential for the vast majority of devotees, also have
 Conclusion 249

Figure C.2 Tomb (samādhi) of Swami Vijayānanda in Père Lachaise Cemetery

in Paris, qualified by the ambassador of France in India (2010) as “a miracu-
lous tomb.” One day, in Benares, Mā asked Swami Vijayānanda, “Vijayānanda,
what do you want to do with your body?”He said: “Mā, it does not matter for me.
This body may be burnt or put into Jhal-samādhi [immersed in the Ganges River].
She jumped up and replied with great force: “No Vijayānanda. This body has done
so many tapasya [ascetic practices], it is a sacred body. It should be neither burned
nor put into Jhal-Samādhi!”
Source: Picture taken by French devotee Béatrice Abitbol.

an important role in the continuity of experiences. They lead the faithful to

overcome their fear of death and discover their ultimate nature.
On a par with experiences of Mā during her lifetime, the experiences
after her death are characterized by the same feeling of presence, on both
250 C onc lusion

dual and non-dual planes, as well as a sensation of ecstasy, close to the oce-
anic feeling mentioned by Freud, through which the follower is touched
in his or her inner being by a profound beatitude (ānanda) and loses all
concept of time. The regenerating experience of receiving dreams, guid-
ance, or visions of Mā also coincides with the experiences of Mā’s devotees
in her own time. In this respect, Mā’s followers sometimes mention the
central role of the inner guru, which becomes a substitute for the physi-
cal presence of the master, recalling Mā’s statements that never ceased to
affirm this: “Detach yourself from the physical appearance of the master.
The guru is in you.”1
Despite the persistence of experiences and the benefits brought to the
practicing devotee (sādhaka) by the postmortem cult, such as a greater
interiorization, an easier contact with the inner guru, a more direct access
to the non-manifested (nirguṇi), a greater independence, or even a deeper
reflection on death, one cannot but recognize that there is not at this time
a sufficient renewal of devotees to maintain Mā’s cult as said before the
time of her death over a quarter of a century ago. As we have said, one of
the reasons may lie in the tendency within Hinduism to privilege direct
contact with the guru more than contact with an invisible being never
met in person. The incarnated presence of the guru permits in fact an
easier communication with the follower and a lesser risk of straying from
the path.
The postmortem cult is engaged in a sort of competition specific to
the logic of market economics, in which living and deceased gurus com-
pete for devotees. In the context of the pluralism of gurus, dead and alive,
Bourdieu would speak of the “market economy of salvation goods” to
describe this rivalry associated with the cult of gurus. In the “market-like
conditions of modern life,”2 to use Habermas’s words, religion, indeed, is
subject of intense competition. Thus Mā Ānandamayī’s cult is the object
of great competition with deceased gurus, but above all with living gurus.
Among the first are the special figures of Shirdi Sai Baba, whose success
is mainly related to his ties to both the Hindu and Muslim traditions,
Ramana Maharshi, who has his samādhi in Southern India, Ramakrishna
whose relics are at Belur Math (Calcutta), and recently, Sathya Sai Baba,
who now has his samādhi in Puttaparthi.3 Among the living gurus, there
is no doubt that the international popularity of Amṛtānandamayī Mā
far exceeds that of Mā Ānandamayī at this time. Known as Amma and
regarded as an incarnation of the Divine Mother as was Mā Ānandamayī,
she brings together millions of followers worldwide. Gurumayi, who
 Conclusion 251

currently lives in the United States, is after Amma the most popular living
female guru today. Although Mā was the best known female guru in India
while she was alive, her popularity today must compete with the presence
of living gurus like Amma or Gurumayi. The postmortem cult of the guru
is then found to be party to customer satisfaction or a “market of supply
and demand,” a demand which manifestly favors a living presence of a
guru. The faithful, in fact, may find the cult of the living guru more attrac-
tive than the postmortem one, as it is more immediate and filled with
more power and excitement.
As a reflection of this competition between living and dead gurus, a
“migration” of devotees of the deceased guru such as Mā to a living one
is possible. If, in Mā’s case, a move among her devotees to a living guru
may have taken place since her mahāsamādhi, this move is now even
more likely with the departure of Mā’s key monks. These include Swami
Bhaskarānanda, who was in charge of initiations, Swami Vijayānanda, who
was considered as a guru for many Westerners, and Swami Śivānanda,
surprisingly all deceased during the same month, in April 2010, a few
days apart.4 The disappearance of these important monks, regarded as the
living presence of Mā, may indeed accelerate the decline of Mā’s cult. This
may discourage the advent of new devotees and encourage the migration
of old and new devotees to living figures such as Amma. Perhaps in prepa-
ration for his own departure and to provide some guidance and support to
his disciples in the future, Swami Vijayānanda advised some devotees to
see Amma, whom he also considered to be an incarnation of the Divine
Mother, like Mā.
The living presence of the guru, however, is not the only factor in the
continuation of the cult. The institution also plays a key role.

The Institution, a Marketing Agency

The decline of the postmortem cult of a guru is also directly tied to the
decline of the religious institution responsible for this cult. Following the
inevitable routinization of the guru’s cult after his or her death, the passage
from the numinous order to the administrative order of affairs, from the
extraordinary to the routine or the ordinary, the religious institution sees
its role grow considerably, holding a prime place in the continuation of the
cult. The role that the religious institution, this “marketing agency,” plays
in the cult can however be altered when the gap between the institution’s
252 C onc lusion

activities and the spiritual principles at its foundation becomes too wide,
leading then to a decline of the cult.
The diminishment of Mā’s cult after her death seems to be signifi-
cantly associated with the decline of its religious institution, the Shree
Shree Anandamayee Sangha, originally founded to promote and safe-
guard Mā’s teaching. As in the case of many other organizations founded
by charismatic leaders, such as the Siddha Yoga organization or the Hare
Krishna movement,5 this decline can mainly be seen through conflicts
of power, such as observed in the designation of a successor to direct the
saṅgha or in the distribution of power between lay people and monks. As
Timothy Miller observed from various studies on postcharismatic move-
ments,6 these conflicts, however painful and destructive they may be, con-
stitute a normal process for the great majority of organizations and do
not necessarily lead to a fatal conclusion, although some movements do
die. These power struggles and this dogmatizing, though “normal,” may
persuade some to agree with James’s undervaluing of institutions, as he
explains here:

A survey of history shows us, as a rule, religious geniuses attract

disciples, and produce groups of sympathizers. When these groups
get strong enough to organize themselves, they become ecclesiasti-
cal institutions with corporate ambitions of their own. The spirit of
politics and the lust of dogmatic rule are then apt to enter and to
contaminate the originally innocent thing.7

Within the cult of Ānandamayī Mā, in addition to these struggles, we

also observe a total lack of management (i.e., delay in publications, trans-
lations), a disinterest on the part of the community (i.e., neglect of ash-
rams), a cult rigidity (i.e., excessive formalism), and finally, an increased
distancing from “the other,” as evidenced by the strict maintenance of
brahminic rules imposed upon Westerners, who may feel ostracized by
the community vis-à-vis meals, lodging, and rituals.
No doubt that the institution’s current dysfunction is mainly due to
the presence of an older generation of brahmin Bengali Hindus, who
for various reasons seem to have difficulty accepting this routinization,
this setting up of a routine structure. This has put them in a position
of mourning the loss of their situation of origin, when Mā was present.
Resistant to change, they do not seem to see the need to undertake the
necessary actions to ensure the continuity of the cult (better management
 Conclusion 253

of ashrams, publications, translations, loosening of the orthodoxy). There

is thus a tension between, on the one hand, the older Indian devotees who
continue to live in the past, when the role of the institution and of the
organization was secondary compared to the charismatic presence of Mā,
and, on the other hand, the new and Western devotees, who realize the
importance of effective actions at the institutional levels.
Mā’s cult is therefore currently undergoing this routinization process,
which will be completed only after the disappearance of the older genera-
tion of Indian devotees. Two options, then, present themselves. First, the
cult could continue to fade with the deterioration of its institution and
Mā’s movement could remain a declining movement, which perhaps
would not be contrary to Mā’s will, as she desired neither organization
nor ashram and she certainly never adopted a marketing attitude. As she
left no successor or instructions at her departure, except for dispensing
money to her monks so that they could choose to live independently of the
institution or not, could this decline be a normal thing and perhaps even
desirable? Didn’t Mā actually encourage the decrease of this organization,
as one of her devotees pointed out to me?
The second option would necessitate an appropriation of the organiza-
tion by the new generation with the arrival of a charismatic figure that can
breathe new life into this organization and to the cult as a whole, as Swami
Bhaskarānanda, one of Mā’s closest disciples, had done for a while. In
the absence of such a person, the future of Mā’s organization seems very
unclear, as many devotees suggest. For others, the future of the cult may
even be assured by another organization, the Sri Sri Mata Anandamayi
Peeth Trust, founded in the 1990s by a close follower of Mā’s, Swami
Kedarnath, which already has two ashrams (Indore and Omkareshwar)
open to Westerners.
Swami Kedarnath, whose successor, Swami Guruśarānanda, has
already been designated, and his new sampradāya could stand as a guar-
antee that a charismatic renewal will insure the survival of Mā’s cult. It
would then compete with the official saṅgha for what Bourdieu calls the
“monopoly of management of the goods of salvation.”8 This dynamic orga-
nization publishes new books on Mā, runs a school where 500 children
get to know Mā’s life and teachings, is establishing new liturgies,9 and is
currently building a retreat center dedicated to Mā in Dharamsala. The
non-observance of orthodox brahminical rules also represents one of the
traits of charismatic renewal within this sampradāya, leading to a greater
openness and a wide propagation of Mā’s teaching to the lower castes and
254 C onc lusion

to the West. This can be seen, for example, in the travel to the West that
the two main swamis, the American Swami Mangalananda and Swami
Guruśarānanda, accomplish each year to spread Mā’s teachings and raise
funds for Mā’s school in Omkareshwar.

A Difficult Transition
The issue of the death of the guru, and the necessary loss of charisma
associated with it, represents a real issue for modern Hinduism. It is
interesting to consider the figure of Sathya Sai Baba, the guru and ava-
tar known for his many miracles, who presented himself throughout
his life as a reincarnation of Shirdi Sai Baba, absorbing in some ways
the charisma of the earlier saint. He died on April 24, 2011, at the age
of 84 years, after a cardiac arrest, and left behind not only tens of mil-
lions of devotees across the world but also astronomical sums of money
and a colossal amount of property evaluated at between $9 and $30
billion. His holdings include ashrams, educational institutions, hospi-
tals, schools, and universities. After a ceremony attended by 500,000
people, including the highest dignitaries of India, the body of Sathya
Sai Baba, was buried in a white marble tomb, in his main ashram in
Puttaparthi. With no designated successor, as with Mā’s cult, we may
wonder about the future of his cult. The brahminical orthodoxy, very
powerful in Mā’s ashrams, is not present within the organization of Sai
Baba and is therefore unlikely to hinder the development of the cult.
Other factors however can affect the newly postmortem cult. Given the
huge sums of money and the great number of properties to manage,
what will be the risk of corruption and power struggles? How will the
organization of Sathya Sai Baba, the Sri Sathya Sai Central Trust, man-
age the cult?
As the religious leader died recently, it is still too early to tell. Today’s
evidence suggests however a difficult transition, as shown for example
by the disappearance of sums of money, and this questions the abil-
ity of members of the organization to manage the cult and its organi-
zation in all its dimensions, including the financial ones. It remains
to be seen if Sathya Sai Baba will reincarnate in eight years after his
death like he predicted in the person of a certain Prem Sai, who, maybe,
would come and regain control of the organization. Similar to Shirdi Sai
Baba, Prem Sai Baba stands for the continuation of Sathya Sai Baba or,
 Conclusion 255

in Weberian terms, for an institutionalization of his charisma, inserting

himself within a chain of remembering typical of the religious traditions
in South Asia.
As in the case of other gurus, the departure of the religious leader initi-
ates a difficult transition at different levels, and demonstrates the impor-
tance and complexity of transmission, which affects both India and the
West. In the case of Muktananda or Shree Rajneesh,10 the transmission
was easier though as these gurus were open to the West.

Toward a Westernization of the Cult

When it comes to the potential for the Westernization of Mā’s cult, it
seems relevant to return to the brahminical rules within the Shree Shree
Anandamayee Sangha, Mā’s “official” organization. These rules, which
were described as inhuman by Atmananda, an Austrian woman and close
disciple of Mā, may have been originally a way to reinvigorate the Hindu
tradition, the sanātana dharma. However, today, in a globalized world,
with the economic and social transformations that India is experiencing,
the presence of these rules constitutes a major obstacle to the expansion
of Mā’s movement. This attachment to brahminical rules of purity by a
small number of devotees within the Shree Shree Anandamayee Sangha
reflects, for a large number of Indian and Western devotees, something
that keeps potential devotees away.
Obviously, Mā’s movement has been unable to keep up with the
ever-changing realities of modern India. Incapable of reconciling with
the requirements of Indian modernity, the movement has been in decline
since Mā’s departure. This differs with other devotional movements, such
as the movement of the living guru Mā Amṛtānandamayī (Amma), which
has integrated the new imperatives of Indian society.11 Although Amma is
a living guru, and therefore is more likely to attract devotees, her institu-
tion’s relative openness and freedom of expression plays an essential role
in the success of her movement.
In spite of the orthodoxy in Mā’s ashrams, we observe however an
expansion of Mā’s cult in the West, with the very recent emergence of a
new cult revolving around the French monk Swami Vijayānanda, one of
Mā’s closest disciples. Coming to India in the early 1950s, at the age of
36 to find a guru, the French doctor met Mā in Benares on February 1951.
Following this meeting, he never left India and lived in the ashrams of Mā
256 Conclusion

until his death, April 5, 2010. Despite Mā’s words that Swami Vijayānanda’s
body should not be cremated but interred, orthodox brahmins refused
however to welcome his tomb in Kankhal as he is a foreigner and there-
fore impure.12 Swami Vijayānanda’s body was repatriated to France a few
days after his death,13 then placed in a tomb in Père Lachaise cemetery.
Parallel to the veneration of Mā, or through it, Swami Vijayānanda is now
the subject of veneration, acting as a sort of bridge between East and West.
This East–West connection reminds us somehow of the “Pondicherry
tandem,” Sri Aurobindo and the Mother, whom Aurobindo had recog-
nized as his Tantric śakti, his feminine force on earth. While roles are
reversed here, with Vijayānanda as the Mother (both French) and Mā as
Aurobindo, the East–West dialectic is also present.
Another example of Mā’s cult becoming increasingly international
can be seen in the growth of the more inclusive movement of Swami
Kedarnath, simply called Kedar Baba by his devotees. Kedar Baba annu-
ally sends his two ambassadors, Swami Guruśarānanda and Swami
Mangalananda, to Europe and America to sing Mā’s praises and offer
teachings on all aspects of Mā’s sādhanā (spiritual discipline) and on its
place within sanātana dharma (the eternal law, the Hindu tradition). The
Indian religious phenomenon of Mā’s cult then has branched out into the
West through the growing number of devotees in Europe and America
who meditate daily before a picture of Mā or at Père Lachaise where they
gather to chant her name. Globalization is also religious!
Clearly, this East–West connection highlights some dissension between
the Indian orthodoxy and the Western orthopraxy, between purity and lib-
eralization, and between exclusivity and inclusivity.

Conclusion
Based on the particular case of Ānandamayī Mā, it is important to conclude
this study by enumerating the factors or the conditions required for a cult
to survive and be revitalized after the death of the guru. Despite a renewal
of experience by followers who continue to perceive Mā as an incarnation
of the divinity and to feel her presence despite her death, the postmortem
cult of Mā appears to be fragile and uncertain. While the decline of her
cult may lie in the inclination of Hindus for a living presence of the guru,
the dominant reason seems to be directly connected with the institution
and its willingness or not to change and share outside of family and caste.
 Conclusion 257

The cult of Mā may then continue decreasing or even disappear with the
decline of its religious institution, for, if the memory and the relics of a
guru who just passed away are held tightly by an exclusive Hindu com-
munity, his or her memory may not endure or survive.
A parallel though contrasting example is the postmortem cult of the
movement of the Hindu guru Neem Karoli Baba, also called Maharaji by
his followers, where we can see clearly the conditions underlying the suc-
cess of his cult. Neem Karoli Baba, a popular charismatic figure whom
his devotees believed was an incarnation of Hanumān, died in India in
1973, only a few years before Mā. Although he was a man, which certainly
helped him to be recognized during his lifetime as a guru in the Indian
society, his cult after his death, contrary to Mā’s cult, continued to grow,
especially in America.
The success of Neem Karoli Baba’s cult, in fact, may be directly
linked to the openness of its institution, to its inclusivity. As Mā,
Maharaji never came to the West but foreigners were openly welcomed
in his ashram and not subject to segregation due to purity rules. The
famous Harvard professor, Richard Alpert, later called Ram Dass, is one
of the best examples. Coming to India in the late 1960s to meet with
Maharaji, he greatly contributed to spreading the teachings of Maharaji
in America, authoring very influential books such as Be Here Now. We
can also refer to the famous kirtan singers, Krishna Das, author of
Chants of a Lifetime, and Jai Uttal, who made Neem Karoli Baba famous
in the West.
The establishment and preservation of an institution that is open
to change, open to “the other,” appear then as the single most impor-
tant condition for the continuation of the cult of the guru after his or
her death. This calls into question James’s idea that the institution is
secondary to religious experience. Religious experience without insti-
tution, indeed, is tantamount to remaining within the transient, the
ephemeral sphere. The appearance of a charismatic leader/teacher,
such as Vivekananda for Ramakrishna’s movement14 or Ram Dass for
Neem Karoli Baba’s, who breathes enthusiasm into the community and
introduces changes necessary for the sustaining of the cult, is presented
as the most likely alternative to a continuation of the guru’s cult after
his or her death. A religious movement that stagnates and lacks dyna-
mism is destined to disappear.
Finally, while the guru’s cult after his or her death goes through
various institutional stages and is subject to a number of changes, for
258 Conc lusion

Figure C.3 Mā Ānandamayī: “I see the world as a garden. Men, animals, crea-
tures, plants, all have their appointed places. Each in its particularity enhances the
richness of the whole. All of you in your variety add to the wealth of the garden
and I enjoy multiplicity. I merely walk from one corner of the garden to the other.”
Source: Picture belonging to the collection of the photographer Sadanand; now in the pos-
session of Neeta Mehta, also called Swami Nityānanda.

better or for worse, this study highlights a major change in this sig-
nificant aspect of Hinduism. This is the appearance of a new mode of
veneration, that of the cult of a female guru at her tomb, which has been
initiated by the cult of Mā Ānandamayī, in so doing it reveals a turn-
ing point within Hinduism. In the context of globalization of religion
and the growing interest in Hindu holy figures in the West, especially
women gurus such as Amma, who travels around the world, Gurumayi
in the United States, or Mother Meera in Germany, the emergence of
such a cult is not without consequences. If in the future there is a devel-
opment of this type of cult among women gurus at their tomb, it could
well take place in the West. This study has, therefore, a global dimen-
sion and helps us to understand better how these key figures of Hindu
spirituality are redefining the religious.
 Conclusion 259

Figure C.4 The author with Swami Vijayānanda (beginning of January 2010)
 Notes

In t roduc t ion

1. Mircea Eliade, L’Inde (Paris: Editions de l’Herne, 1988), 155.

2. Gopinath Kaviraj, “Mother,” in Selected Writings of M. M. Gopinath Kaviraj,
edited by Gopinath Kaviraj (Varanasi: M. M. Gopinath Kaviraj Centenary
Celebrations Committee, 1990), 190.
3. One can refer for instance to the film documentary Ashrams of Arnaud
Desjardins on the guru pūjā performed on Mā. Arnaud Desjardins, Ashrams,
France, Alizé Diffusion, 2006, Dvd 35 + 20 mn.
4. Marie-Thérèse Charpentier, Indian Female Gurus in Contemporary
Hinduism: A Study of Central Aspects and Expressions of Their Religious Leadership
(Åbo: Åbo Akademi University Press, 2010).
5. James Frazer, The Golden Bough: A Study in Magic and Religion
(New York: Touchstone Press, 1995), 9; Mary Douglas, Purity and Danger: An
Analysis of Concepts of Pollution and Taboo (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul,
1966), 112.
6. Tulasi Srivinas, Winged Faith: Rethinking Globalisation and Religious Pluralism
through the Sathya Sai Movement (New York: Columbia University Press,
2010), 314–315; “Articles of Faith: Material Piety, Devotional Aesthetics and the
Construction of a Moral Economy in the Transnational Sathya Sai Movement,”
Visual Anthropology 25 (July 2012): 292–293.
7. Atmananda, Death Must Die: A Western Woman’s Life-Long Spiritual Quest in
India with Sri Anandamayee Ma, edited by Ram Alexander (Delhi: Indica Books,
2000); Bithika Mukerji, Life and Teaching of Sri Ma Anandamayi (A Bird on
the Wing) (Delhi: Sri Satguru Publications, 1998) and My Days with Sri Ma
Anandamayi (Varanasi: Indica Books, 2002).
8. William James, The Varieties of Religious Experience (New York: Signet
Classic, 2003).
262 Notes

9. Rudolf Otto, Le Sacré: L’Élément non rationnel dans l’idée du divin et sa relation
avec le rationnel (Paris: Payot, 2001), 56–57.
10. As Lindholm notes, much has been done on charisma in the Western context
and fieldwork on charismatic movements in various cultural contexts is needed.
Referring to the 11th of September, he emphasizes the utility of these studies,
which do not have an academic purpose only. See Charles Lindholm, “Culture,
Charisma, and Consciousness: The Case of the Rajneeshee,” Ethos 30, no. 4
(2002): 373.
11. Max Weber, Sociologie des religions (Paris: Gallimard, 1996).
12. Jürgen Habermas, The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere (Cambridge,
MA: MIT Press, 1991).
13. Karen Pechilis, “The Female Guru: Guru, Gender, and the Path of Personal
Experience,” in The Guru in South Asia: New Interdisciplinary Perspectives, edited
by Jacob Copeman and Aya Ikegame (London: Routledge, 2012), 122.
14. Bhaiji, Mother as Revealed to Me (Kankhal: Shree Shree Anandamayee Sangha,
2004), 6.
15. Gopinath Kaviraj, “Mother Anandamayi,” in Mother as Seen by Her Devotees,
edited by Gopinath Kaviraj (Varanasi: Shree Shree Anandamayee Sangha,
1967), 169.
16. Pechilis, “The Female Guru,” 114; Maya Warrier, Hindu Selves in a Modern
World: Guru Faith in the Mata Amritanandamayi Mission (London: Routledge
Curzon, 2005), 4.
17. C. F. Keyes, “Charisma: From Social Life to Sacred Biography,” in Charisma and
Sacred Biography, edited by M. A. Williams (Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1982), 2.
18. This differs largely with the attitude of most gurus, like Sathya Sai Baba, who
used to demonstrate openly his magical powers to devotees and perform mira-
cles, referring to them as his “visiting cards,” his “calling cards,” or also as “love
transactions.” Mā Ānandamayī’s miracles were said to be more subtle, less
exhibited in public. See Tulasi Srivinas, Winged Faith: Rethinking Globalisation
and Religious Pluralism through the Sathya Sai Movement (New York: Columbia
University Press, 2010), 187 and 286.
19. Arnaud Desjardins, Ashrams (Paris: Albin Michel, 1982), 190.
20. Ibid., 74.
21. Ibid., 91.
22. This message of condolence was left by Indira Gandhi at the ashram in Kankhal.
23. As Cornille notes, avatars are generally male. Mā Ānandamayī is an exception
to the rule. See Catherine Cornille, “Mother Meera, Avatar,” in The Graceful
Guru: Hindu Female Gurus in India and the United States, edited by Karen
Pechilis (New York: Oxford University Press, 2004), 134.
24. Richard Lannoy, Anandamayi: Her Life and Wisdom (Rockport, MA: Element
Books Ltd, 1996).
 Notes 263

25. Atmananda, Death Must Die: A Western Woman’s Life-Long Spiritual Quest
in India with Sri Anandamayee Ma, edited by Ram Alexander (Delhi: Indica,
2000), 405. Saṃsāra means the action of passing (from one state to another),
transmigration, the cycle of lives and deaths, and finally the world this entails.
26. Words of Sri Anandamayi Ma, translated by Atmananda (Kankhal: Shree Shree
Anandamayee Sangha, 2001), 158; see also Jean-Claude Marol, La Saturée de joie
Anandamayi (Paris: Dervy, 2001), 77.
27. Words of Sri Anandamayi Ma, 145.
28. Atmananda, Death Must Die, 440.
29. Ibid., 41.
30. R. Chattopadhyaya, “Sri Anandamayee Ma: Mother of Eternal Bliss,” in
Gurus, Godmen and Good People, edited by Khushwant Singh (Bombay: Orient
Longman, 1975), 19. On the monist tradition of Advaita, see Louis Gardet and
Olivier Lacombe, L’Expérience du soi (Paris: Desclée de Brouwer, 1981).
31. Marol, La Saturée de joie Anandamayi, 178.
32. Atmananda, Death Must Die, 478.
33. Tulasi Srivinas, “Relics of Faith: Fleshly Desires, Ascetic Disciplines and
Devotional Affect in the Transnational Sathya Sai Movement,” in Handbook of
Body Studies, edited by Bryan S. Turner (London: Routledge, 2012).
34. Words of Sri Anandamayi Ma, 61.
35. Words of Sri Anandamayi Ma, 123.
36. Desjardins, Ashrams, 200.
37. Words of Sri Anandamayi Ma, 132.
38. The term “adualism” was suggested by Raimon Panikkar in a letter he wrote to
Jacques Vigne. See Jacques Vigne, La Mystique du silence (Paris: Albin Michel,
2003), 86.
39. Desjardins, Ashrams, 80. See also the very end of the interview “Arnaud
Desjardins talks about his experiences with Ma Anandamayi,” while he speaks
of the silence as the best way to talk about Mā, http://www.youtube.com/
watch?v=eMF0qInj0hk.
40. See Joel D. Mlecko, “The Guru in Hindu Tradition,” Numen 29, no. 1 (July
1982): 33–61.
41. Karen Pechilis, “Gurumayi, the Play of Sakti and Guru,” in Pechilis, ed., The
Graceful Guru, 222; see also “The Female Guru,” 114 and 123.
42. André Couture, “La Geste krishnaïte et les études hagiographiques modernes,”
in Constructions hagiographiques dans le monde indien: Entre mythe et histoire,
edited by Françoise Mallison (Paris: Librairie Honoré Champion, 2001), 16.
43. Guy Bugault, “La Relation maître disciple en Inde,” in Maître et disciples dans les
traditions religieuses, edited by Michel Meslin (Paris: Cerf, 1990), 25.
44. Lisa L. Hallstrom, “Anandamayi Ma, the Bliss-Filled Divine Mother,” in Pechilis,
ed., The Graceful Guru, 88; Lisa L. Hallstrom, Mother of Bliss: Ānandamayī Mā
(New York: Oxford University Press, 1999), 128.
264 Notes

45. Lawrence A. Babb, Redemptive Encounters (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University
of California Press, 1986), 147; Srivinas, Winged Faith, 66.
46. Jacob Copeman and Aya Ikegame, “The Multifarious Guru: An Introduction,”
in Copeman and Ikegame, eds., The Guru in South Asia.
47. John Stratton Hawley, “Morality beyond Morality in the Lives of Three Hindu
Saints,” in Saints and Virtues, edited by John Stratton Hawley (Berkeley and Los
Angeles: University of California Press, 1988).
48. André Padoux, “Le Sage hindou: Renonçant ou surhomme?” in Les Sagesses du
monde, edited by Gilbert Gadoffre (Paris: Editions Universitaires, 1991), 113–114.
49. Katherine Young and Lily Miller, “Sacred Biography and the Restructuring
of Society: A Study of Anandamayi Ma, Lady-Saint of Modern Hinduism,” in
Boeings and Bullock-Carts, Vol. 2, edited by Dhirendra K. Vajpeyi (Delhi: Chanakya
Publications, 1990), 133.
50. Bharati Dhingra, Visages de Ma Anandamayi (Paris: Cerf, 1981), 22–23.
51. Rachel F. McDermott, “Epilogue: The Western Kālī,” in Devī: Goddesses of
India, edited by John Stratton Hawley and Donna M. Wulff (Berkeley and Los
Angeles: University of California Press, 1996), 285; Sarah Caldwell, “Margins
at the Center: Tracing Kālī through Time, Space, and Culture,” Encountering
Kālī: In the Margins, at the Center, in the West, edited by Rachel Fell McDermott
and Jeffrey J. Kripal (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California
Press, 2003), 249; Jeffrey J. Kripal and Rachel F. McDermott, “Introducing
Kālī Studies,” in Encountering Kālī, 4; Jeffrey J. Kripal, “Why the Tāntrika Is a
Hero: Kālī in the Psychoanalytic Tradition,” in Encountering Kālī, 215. As Rachel
McDermott argues, however, the perception of Kālī in Bengal has been through
a sweetening process during the colonial period. Kālī was domesticated to trans-
form herself from a dangerous and violent goddess into a maternal goddess. See
Rachel McDermott, Mother of My Heart, Daughter of My Dreams: Transformations
of Kālī and Umā in the Devotional Poetry of Bengal (New York: Oxford University
Press, 2001).
52. Kumar Dutta Gupta, “God as Love,” in Mother as Seen by Her Devotees, edited by
Gopinath Kaviraj (Varanasi: Shree Shree Anandamayee Sangha, 1967).
53. Dhingra, Visages de Ma Anandamayi, 52.
54. Atmananda, Death Must Die, 458.
55. Ibid., 170.
56. Dhingra, Visages de Ma Anandamayi, 51.
57. See David Kinsley, “ ‘Through the Looking Glass’: Divine Madness in the Hindu
Religious Tradition,” History of Religions 13, no. 4 (May 1974): 270–305.
58. June McDaniel, The Madness of the Saint: Ecstatic Religion in Bengal
(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1989), 219. By “ordinary madness” we
mean a madness that belongs to the world of the senses, to the terrestrial world,
to attachment, as the saint Lakṣmī Mā affirms: “There is a difference between
ordinary madness and divine madness. One who has seen Bhagavān and has
 Notes 265

become a madman loses all sense and is not conscious of his belongings. One
who becomes insane for other reasons always remains conscious of his belong-
ings. And one who has become mad by seeing Bhagavān can be easily distin-
guished. He will not concentrate on any worldly objects. He will forget even his
close relatives and think only about God.”
59. Mā Ānandamayī, Matri Vani, Vol. 2, translated by Atmananda, (Calcutta: Shree
Shree Anandamayee Charitable Society, 1982), 152.
60. Catherine Clément and Sudhir Kakar, La Folle et le saint (Paris: Seuil, 1993), 100.
61. Marine Carrin, “Saintes des villes et saintes des champs: La Spécificité fémi-
nine de la sainteté en Inde,” Terrain, no. 24 (March 1995): 117; Maya Warrier,
“Processes of Secularization in Contemporary India: Guru Faith in the Mata
Amritanandamayi Mission,” Modern Asian Studies 37, no. 1 (February 2003): 232.
In this regard, it is interesting to note that Mā’s devotees similarly tend to deny
a conscious choosing of Mā. This possibility of choosing seems to be present in
other religious traditions, like the Sufi tradition, where the seeker has the pos-
sibility to choose among various different Sufi saints. On this, see A. R. Saiyed,
“Saints and Dargahs in the Indian Subcontinent: A Review,” in Muslim Shrines
in India: Their Character, History and Significance, edited by Christian W. Troll
(New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2003), 244.
62. Brian Hutchinson, “The Divine-Human Figure in the Transmission of Religious
Tradition,” in A Sacred Thread: Modern Transmission of Hindu Traditions in India
and Abroad, edited by Raymond Brady Williams (Chambersburg, PA: Anima,
1992), 108.
63. Desjardins, Ashrams, 82.
64. Madou, A la rencontre de Ma Anandamayi: Entretiens avec Atmananda, http://
www.anandamayi.org/ashram/french/frmad1.htm.
65. Hugh Van Skyhawk, “A Note on Death and the Holy Man in South Asia,” in
Ways of Dying: Death and Its Meanings in South Asia, edited by Claus Peter
Zoller and Elisabeth Schömbucher (New Delhi: Manohar, 1999), 193; Landell
Samuel Mills, “The Hardware of Sanctity: Anthropomorphic Objects in
Bangladeshi Sufism,” in Embodying Charisma: Modernity, Locality and the
Performance of Emotion in Sufi Cults, edited by Pnina Werbner and Helene
Basu (London: Routledge, 1998), 39; and Katherine Ewing, “A Majzub and His
Mother: The Place of Sainthood in a Family’s Emotional Memory,” in Werbner
and Basu, eds., Embodying Charisma.
66. The word samādhi (tomb) is actually an abridged version of samādhisthāna, the
place (sthāna) where an ascetic who is claimed to have attained the highest state
of meditation (samādhi) is buried.
67. Translated as “The Postmortem Cult of Saints in the Hindu Tradition: Religious
Experiences and Institutionalization of the Cult of Mā Ānandamayī
(1896–1982).”
266 Notes

68. Andrée Fortin, “L’Observation participante: Au cœur de l’altérité,” in Les Méthodes

de la recherche qualitative, edited by Jean-Pierre Deslauriers (Québec: Presses de
l’Université du Québec, 1988), 23–33.
69. The Varanasi ashram also maintains Mā’s school for young girls, “Kaṇyapīţha,”
which surely represents the first school in India to educate female students
up to śāstri, that is to say the traditional studies in Sanskrit and religious
sciences.
70. Laurence Bardin, L’Analyse de contenu (Paris: Presses Universitaires de
France, 1977).
71. Charles Lindholm, “Prophets and Pirs: Charismatic Islam in the Middle East
and South Asia,” in Werbner and Basu, eds., Embodying Charisma.
72. If the state of jīvanmukta is generally recognized in the Hindu tradition, as
in the Advaita Vedānta of Shankaracharya (see Andrew Fort, “Introduction,”
in Living Liberation in Hindu Thought, edited by Andrew Fort and Patricia Y.
Mumme [Albany: State University of New York Press, 1996], as well as Lance
E. Nelson, “Living Liberation in Śankara and Classical Advaita,” in ibid.), some
religious traditions do not however admit its existence, refusing this state of
perfection in the terrestrial world. These schools of thought like the doctrine of
Ramanuja (viśiṣṭādvaita) do not envisage liberation until after death (see Kim
Skoog, “Is the Jīvanmukti State Possible? Ramanuja’s Perspective,” in Fort and
Mumme, eds., Living Liberation in Hindu Thought).
73. Pierre Centlivres and Anne-Marie Losonczy, “Introduction,” in Saints, sainteté
et martyre: La Fabrication de l’exemplarité, Actes du colloque de Neuchâtel, 27–28
November 1997 (Paris: Editions de la Maison des Sciences de l’Homme, 2001), 11.
Richard Kieckhefer and George Bond also examine the application of this term
with Christian connotations to other traditions like Hinduism in Sainthood: Its
Manifestations in World Religions (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of
California Press, 1988), pp. vii–xii; see also Françoise Mallison, “Introduction,”
in Constructions hagiographiques dans le monde indien: Entre mythe et histoire
(Paris: Librairie Honoré Champion, 2001), pp. x–xi; and Katherine Young,
“Introduction,” in Women Saints in World Religions, edited by Arvind Sharma
(Albany: State University of New York Press, 2000), 5–6.
74. Lynn Teskey Denton, Female Ascetics in Hinduism (Albany: State University of
New York Press, 2004), 140–141.
75. France Bhattacharya, “La Construction de la figure de l’homme-dieu selon
les deux principales hagiographies bengalies de Śrī Kṛṣṇa Caitanya,” in
Constructions hagiographiques dans le monde indien: Entre mythe et histoire, edited
by Françoise Mallison (Paris: Librairie Honoré Champion, 2001), 185.
76. Jean Rivière, Lettres de Bénarès (Paris: Albin Michel, 1982), 171.
77. Jean Filliozat and Louis Renou, L’Inde classique: Manuel des études indiennes, Vol.
1, (Paris: Payot, 1985), 661; Louis Dumont, “Le Renoncement dans les religions
de l’Inde,” Archives de Sociologie des Religions 7, no. 7 (January–June 1959): 64.
 Notes 267

78. Ursula M. Sharma, “The Immortal Cowherd and the Saintly Carrier: An Essay in
the Study of Cults,” in Sociology of Religion in India: Themes in Indian Sociology,
Vol. 3, edited by Rowena Robinson (New Delhi: Sage Publications, 2004), 150.
79. Warrier, “Processes of Secularization in Contemporary India,” 247; id., Hindu
Selves in a Modern World, 14.
80. Swami Vivekananda, Les Yogas pratiques (Paris: Albin Michel, 2005), 138.
81. Swami Vijayananda, Un français dans l’Himalaya: Itinéraire avec Mâ Ananda
Môyî (Lyon: Terre du Ciel, 1997), 157.
82. Charlotte Vaudeville, “Sant Mat: Santism as the Universal Path to Sanctity,” in
The Sants: Studies in a Devotional Tradition of India, edited by Karine Schomer
and W. H. McLeod (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1987), 27; see also Wendy
D. O’Flaherty, “The Interaction of Saguṇa and Nirguṇa Images of Deity,” in
Schomer and McLeod, eds., The Sants, 47.
83. Vivekananda, Les Yogas pratiques, 255.
84. Hallstrom, Mother of Bliss.
85. One can refer, for instance, to Talal Asad, who argues that secularism was used
as a tool to enforce some sort of colonial Christianity in most parts of the world.
86. On Yā tā, one may refer to Swami Kedarnath’s book An Introduction to Sri
Anandamayi Ma’s Philosophy of Absolute Cognition (Indore: Om Ma Sri Sri Mata
Anandamayi Peeth Trust, 2012).
87. Interview Arnaud Desjardins, part IV, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=
32J9B8hNzKM.
88. Interview Arnaud Desjardins, part V, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=
Mjz1xyDzR2I.

C h a p t er 1

1. Atmananda, Death Must Die: A Western Woman’s Life-Long Spiritual Quest in

India with Sri Anandamayee Ma, edited by Ram Alexander (Delhi: Indica Books,
2000), 161.
2. Jackie Assayag, Au Confluent de deux rivières: Musulmans et hindous dans le sud de
l’Inde (Paris: École Française d’Extrême Orient, 1995), 84.
3. Alexander Lipski, Life and Teaching of Śrī Ānandamayī Mā (Delhi: Motilal
Banarsidass, 2005), 22.
4. Assayag, Au confluent de deux rivières, 90.
5. Joachim Wach, Sociologie de la religion (Paris: Payot, 1995), 338.
6. Denis Vidal, “Des dieux face à leurs spécialistes: Conditions de la prêtrise
en Himachal Pradesh,” in Prêtrise, pouvoirs et autorité en Himalaya, edited
by Véronique Bouiller and Gérard Toffin (Paris: École des Hautes Études en
Sciences Sociales, 1989), 66.
268 Notes

7. On Indira Gandhi and her relationship with Mā Ānandamayī and other gurus,
see Christophe Jaffrelot, “The Political Guru: The Guru as Éminence Grise,”
in The Guru in South Asia: New Interdisciplinary Perspectives, edited by Jacob
Copeman and Aya Ikegame (London and New York: Routledge, 2012), 80–96.
Through the case of Indira Gandhi, Jaffrelot explores the role of gurus as politi-
cal counselors to politicians in the postcolonial India and shows how gurus can
legitimize or delegitimize the latter.
8. Gopinath Kaviraj was a devotee of Mā Ānandamayī but was also in contact with
a female guru in Benares called Shobama, who was considered as an incar-
nation of Kṛṣṇa. See Catherine Clémentin-Ojha, La Divinité conquise: Carrière
d’une Sainte (Nanterre: Société d’Ethnologie, 1990).
9. Atmananda, Death Must Die, 23.
10. Lawrence A. Babb, “Sathya Sai Baba’s Saintly Play,” in Saints and Virtues, edited
by John Stratton Hawley (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California
Press, 1988), 170.
11. Marc Gaborieau, “The Cult of Saints among the Muslims of Nepal and Northern
India,” in Saints and their Cults: Studies in Religious Sociology, Folklore and History,
edited by Stephen Wilson (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983), 303.
12. Lisa L. Hallstrom, Mother of Bliss: Ānandamayī Mā (1896–1982)
(New York: Oxford University Press, 1999).
13. For example, Aux Sources de la joie: Mâ Ananda Moyî, translated by Jean Herbert
(Paris: Albin Michel, 1996), a collection of Mā’s sayings translated into French
by Herbert from a book of Roy and Joshi, was first edited in 1943.
14. Atmananda was also the editor in chief of Ananda Varta, a sort of chronicle of
Mā published since 1952.
15. Charles Lindholm, Charisma (Cambridge, MA: Basil Blackwell, 1990), 82. On
disenchantment, see Jean-Louis Schlegel, “Le Réenchantement du monde et
la quête du sens de la vie dans les nouveaux mouvements religieux,” in Les
Spiritualités au carrefour du monde moderne (Paris: Centurion, 1994), 98.
16. Jürgen Habermas, The Theory of Communicative Action: The Critique of
Functionalist Reason, Vol. 2 (Oxford: Blackwell, 1987).
17. Mā affirmed that all relations generally came from a past life. See Amulya K. D.
Gupta, In Association with Sri Sri Ma Anandamayi, Vol. 1 (Calcutta: Shree Shree
Anandamayee Charitable Society, 1987), 45.
18. Jacques Vigne, L’Inde intérieure (Gordes: Editions du Relié, 2007), 154.
19. Surinder M. Bhardwaj, Hindu Places of Pilgrimage in India (Berkeley and Los
Angeles: University of California Press, 1973), 150.
20. Henri Chambert-Loir and Claude Guillot, “Indonésie,” in Le Culte des saints
dans le monde musulman, edited by Henri Chambert-Loir and Claude Guillot
(Paris: École Française d’Extrême Orient, 1995), 251.
21. On tīrtha, see André Padoux, Comprendre le tantrisme (Paris: Albin Michel,
2010), 233 and 243.
 Notes 269

22. Pascale Chaput, “Equivalences et equivoques: Le Culte des saints catholiques

au Kerala,” in Altérité et identité, edited by Jackie Assayag and Gille Tarabout
(Paris: École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales, 1997), 188.
23. Glenn E. Yocum, “The Coronation of a Guru: Charisma, Politics, and
Philosophy in Contemporary India,” A Sacred Thread: Modern Transmission
of Hindu Traditions in India and Abroad, edited by Raymond Brady Williams
(Chambersburg, PA: Anima, 1992), 84.
24. Quoted in Babb, “Sathya Sai Baba’s Saintly Play,” 178.
25. Pnina Werbner, “Langar: Pilgrimage, Sacred Exchange and Perpetual Sacrifice
in a Sufi Saint’s Lodge,” in Embodying Charisma: Modernity, Locality and the
Performance of Emotion in Sufi Cults, edited by Pnina Werbner and Helene Basu
(London: Routledge, 1998), 111.
26. Lawrence A. Babb, “Glancing: Visual Interaction in Hinduism,” Journal of
Anthropological Research 37, no. 4 (Winter 1981): 397.
27. Tulasi Srivinas, “Articles of Faith: Material Piety, Devotional Aesthetics and the
Construction of a Moral Economy in the Transnational Sathya Sai Movement,”
Visual Anthropology 25 (July 2012): 281.
28. Victor W. Turner, Le Phénomène rituel: Structure et anti-structure (Paris: Presses
Universitaires de France, 1969).
29. Surinder M. Bhardwaj, Hindu Places of Pilgrimage in India (Berkeley and Los
Angeles: University of California Press, 1973), 162.
30. Kathleen M. Erndl, Victory to the Mother: The Hindu Goddess of Northwest India
in Myth, Ritual, and Symbol (New York: Oxford University Press, 1993), 69.
31. Peter Brown, Le Culte des saints: Son essor et sa fonction dans la chrétienté latine
(Paris: Cerf, 1996), 114.
32. Pierre Bourdieu, “Le Langage autorisé: Note sur les conditions sociales de
l’efficacité du discours rituel,” Actes de recherche en Sciences Sociales 1, nos. 5–6
(November 1975): 188; François Isambert, Rite et efficacité symbolique: Essai
d’anthropologie sociologique (Paris: Cerf, 1979), 20.
33. Roger Caillois, L’Homme et le sacré (Paris: Gallimard, 1950), 212.
34. Frits Staal, “The Meaningless of Ritual,” Numen 26, no. 1 (June 1979): 11.
35. Danièle Hervieu-Léger, Le Pèlerin et le converti (Paris: Flammarion, 1999), 67.
36. Werner Gephart, “Memory and the Sacred: The Cult of Anniversaries and
Commemorative Rituals in the Light of the Elementary Forms,” in On
Durkheim’s Elementary Forms of Religious Life, edited by N. J. Allen, W. S. F.
Pickering, and W. Watts Miller (London: Routledge, 1998), 131.
37. See Raymond Jamous, “Faire, défaire et refaire les saints: Les Pir chez les Meo
d’Inde du Nord,” Terrain, no. 24 (March 1995): 43–56.
38. C. J. Fuller, The Camphor Flame: Popular Hinduism and Society in India
(Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2004), 73.
39. Thara Bhai, “Emergence of Shrines in Rural Tamil Nadu: A Study of Little
Traditions,” Sociology of Religion in India: Themes in Indian Sociology, Vol. 3,
edited by Rowena Robinson (New Delhi: Sage Publications, 2004), 170.
270 Notes

40. John A. Subhan, Sufism: Its Saints and Shrines (Lucknow: Lucknow Publishing
House, 1960), 1.
41. Jay Ma, no. 45, http://www.anandamayi.org/ashram/french/frdocs1.htm.
42. Swami Vijayananda, “Un chemin de joie,” unpublished.
43. Raimon Panikkar, L’Expérience de Dieu (Paris: Albin Michel, 1998), 189.
44. Rakṣabandhan, the celebration of brothers and sisters, corresponds to one of the
most popular celebrations in the Hindu tradition and continues to be celebrated
in Mā’s ashrams today despite her departure. From the time that Mā was still
present in her body, she placed in the hands of her disciples a bracelet in asking
them to protect her, defining herself through this act as their little sister. Today,
this religious tradition continues and Mā’s disciples continue to place a bracelet
in the hands of their spiritual sisters, making them their gurubahin.
45. Ululation is mostly practiced in the Eastern parts of India, such as Bengal.
During Hindu temple rituals and celebrations, women roll their tongues to
produce this special sound called the “ulu.”
46. Hugh Van Skyhawk, “A Note on Death and the Holy Man in South Asia,” in Ways
of Dying: Death and Its Meanings in South Asia (New Delhi: Manohar, 1999), 196.
47. Marc Gaborieau, “A Nineteenth-Century Indian ‘Wahhabi’ Tract against the
Cult of Muslim Saints: Al-Balagh al-Mubin,” in Muslim Shrines in India: Their
Character, History and Significance, edited by Christian W. Troll (New
Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2003), 210.
48. Pinto S. J. Desiderio, “The Mystery of the Nizamuddin Dargah,” in Troll, ed.,
Muslim Shrines in India, 123.
49. Arnaud Desjardins, Ashrams, France, Alizé Diffusion, 2006, Dvd 35 + 20mn.
50. The Kumbhamelā is one of the biggest pilgrimages in the world. In its big-
gest form (Mahākumbhamelā), it takes place every twelve years and in the
four following sacred locations Prāyāga (the Hindu name for Allahabad),
Uttaranchal, Hardwar (Uttar Pradesh), Ujjain (Madhya Pradesh), and Nasik
(Maharashtra). The saṅgha of Mā is not present in the Kumbhamelā of Ujjain
and Prāyāga.
51. Nāga Bābās are a shivaït sect of warrior ascetics. As indicated by their name,
they usually do not wear clothes, as the monks jaïna digambara (nonviolent).
Contrary to other sādhus, they tend to be vindictive and to get into conflict with
other sects. They even fought militarily against the Muslims and the British.
The Nāgas are often armed, though in a more symbolic way, with lances and
trident, a sign of Śiva.
52. Phyllis Granoff and Koichi Shinohara, eds., “Introduction,” in Images in Asian
Religions: Texts and Contexts (Vancouver, BC: UBC Press, 2004), 4; Richard H.
Davis, “Introduction: Miracles as Social Acts,” in Images, Miracles, and Authority
in Asian Religious Traditions (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1998), 16.
53. Jean Filliozat and Louis Renou, L’Inde classique, manuel des études indiennes, Vol.
1 (Paris: Payot, 1985), 575; see also André Padoux, Comprendre le tantrisme: Les
Sources hindoues (Paris: Albin Michel, 2010), 250–251.
 Notes 271

54. Gérard Colas, “The Competing Hermeneutics of Image Worship in Hinduism,”

in Granoff and Shinohara, eds., Images in Asian Religions, 167.
55. Phyllis Granoff, “Images and Their Ritual Use in Medieval India,” in Granoff
and Shinohara, eds., Images in Asian Religions, 22.
56. François Chenet, “L’Hindouisme, mystique des images ou traversée de
l’image?” in L’Image divine: Culte et méditation dans l’hindouisme: Etudes rassem-
blées par André Padoux (Paris: Editions du CNRS, 1990), 166.
57. Diana Eck, Darśan: Seeing the Divine in India (Chambersburg, PA: Anima Books,
1985), 45; see also Alain Daniélou, Mythes et Dieux de l’Inde: Le Polythéisme hin-
dou (Paris: Flammarion, 2001), 542.
58. Eck, Darśan, 45.
59. Catherine Clémentin-Ojha, “Image animée, image vivante: L’Image du culte
hindou,” in L’Image divine, 116.
60. Swami Nikhilananda (trans.) and Swami Adiswarananda (ed.), Sri Sarada
Devi: The Holy Mother (Woodstock, VT, Skylight Paths Publishing, 2004), 146–
147. On the belief that the living presence of Ramakrishna may be experienced
through photographs of him, see also Gwilym Beckerlegge, The Ramakrishna
Mission: The Making of a Modern Hindu Movement (New Delhi: Oxford University
Press, 2000), 127.
61. Daniel Gold, The Lord as Guru: Hindi Sants in North Indian Tradition
(New York: Oxford University Press, 1987), 179; Babb, Redemptive Encounters, 16.
62. Desjardins, Ashrams, 81.
63. Jean-Claude Schmitt, “Les Reliques et les images,” in Les Reliques, objets, cultes,
symbols: Actes du Colloque International de l’Université du Littoral-Côte d’Opale
(Turnhout, Belgium: Brepols, 1999), 152.
64. William Mazzarella, “Internet X-ray: E-Governance, Transparency, and the
Politics of Immediation in India,” Public Culture, no. 18 (2006): 496.
65. Gri gri is a kind of voodoo amulet, or talisman, which is believed to protect the
wearer from evil and to bring luck.
66. Gilles Tarabout, “Theology as History: Divine Images, Imagination, and Rituals
in India,” in Granoff and Shinohara, eds., Images in Asian Religions, 58.
67. In a very recent translation of Bhaiji’s journal, Mother Reveals Herself, Mā nar-
rates that Didimā was actually not present at her birth. Referring to Mā’s Prakāsh
(revelation), it is written that only Khurimā, the paternal aunt of Mā’s grand-
mother, was present at Mā’s birth, see Mother Reveals Herself (Varanasi: Pilgrims
Publishing, 2010), 4.

C h a p t er 2

1. Patrick Geary, Furta Sacra: Thefts of Relics in the Central Middle Ages
(Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1978), 32.
2. Gerardus Van Der Leeuw, La Religion dans son essence et ses manifestations
(Paris: Payot, 1955), 232.
272 Notes

3. Peter Brown, Le Culte des saints: Son essor et sa fonction dans la chrétienté latine
(Paris: Cerf, 1996); André Vauchez, La Sainteté en Occident aux derniers siècles
du Moyen Âge d’après les procès de canonisation et les documents hagiographiques
(Rome-Paris: École française de Rome, 1988).
4. Lindholm addresses the dilemma within Islam concerning the presence of
charismatic beings, gifted with superhuman powers. While, in theory, there
is no space in the egalitarian and individualistic religion of Islam for such
beings, in practice, there are charismatic beings who are considered endowed
with such powers and who are venerated. See Charles Lindholm, “Prophets
and Pirs: Charismatic Islam in the Middle East and South Asia,” in Embodying
Charisma: Modernity, Locality and the Performance of Emotion in Sufi Cults, edited
by Pnina Werbner and Helene Basu (London: Routledge, 1998), 209–233.
5. Catherine Servan-Schreiber, “Partage de sites et partage de textes: Un modèle
d’acculturation de l’Islam au Bihar,” in Altérité et Identité: Islam et Christianisme
en Inde, edited by Jackie Assayag and Gille Tarabout (Paris: École des Hautes
Études en Sciences Sociales, 1997), 163.
6. Nicole Hermann-Mascard, Les Reliques des saints: Formation coutumière d’un
droit, Société d’histoire du droit collection d’histoire institutionnelle et social
(Paris: Klincksieck, 1975), 42, cited in Pascale Chaput, “Equivalences et equi-
voques: Le Culte des saints catholiques au Kerala,” in Assayag and Tarabout,
eds., Altérité et Identité, 191.
7. Philippe George, “Les Reliques des saints: Un nouvel objet historique,” in Les
Reliques, objets, cultes, symboles (Turnhout, Belgium: Brepols, 1999), 230.
8. Kevin Trainor, Relics, Ritual and Representation in Buddhism
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 89.
9. Tulasi Srivinas, “Relics of Faith: Fleshly Desires, Ascetic Disciplines and
Devotional Affect in the Transnational Sathya Sai Movement,” in Handbook of
Body Studies, edited by Bryan S. Turner (London: Routledge Press, 2012), 292–
293; and Tulasi Srivinas, Winged Faith: Rethinking Globalisation and Religious
Pluralism through the Sathya Sai Movement (New York: Columbia University
Press, 2010), 314–315.
10. Jean Przylusky, “Le Partage des reliques du Buddha,” Mélanges chinois et boud-
dhiques (1935–1936), 353–354, cited in John S. Strong, Relics of the Buddha
(Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2004), 15.
11. Charles Malamoud, “Les Morts sans visage: Remarques sur l’idéologie
funéraire dans le Brahmanisme,” in La Mort, les morts dans les sociétés anciennes,
edited by Gherardo Gnoli and Jean-Pierre Vernant (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press; Paris: Editions de La Maison des Sciences de l’Homme,
1982), 441.
12. Monier Monier-Williams, Buddhism in its Connexion with Brahmanism and
Hinduism and in Its Contrast with Christianity (Varanasi: Chowkhamba Sanskrit
Series office, 1964), 495–496, cited in Strong, Relics of the Buddha, 15.
 Notes 273

13. Agehananda Bharati, “Pilgrimage in the Indian Tradition,” History of Religions 3,

no. 1 (Summer 1963): 152.
14. Johannes Bronkhorst, “Les Reliques dans les religions de l’Inde,” unpublished.
Regarding the movement of the śramaṇa, the author specifies that this name
can lead to confusion: “a śramaṇa is an ascetic, while all those who belong to the
śramaṇa movement were not. The expression is however useful to designate
the circles from which certain types of ascetics, including Buddhists, Jains, and
others, came from.”
15. Ibid.
16. R. L. Mishra, The Mortuary Monuments in Ancient and Medieval India (Delhi: B.
R. Pub. Corp, 1991), p. xiv.
17. On this subject, see Véronique Bouiller, “Samādhi et Dargāh,” in De l’Arabie
à l’Himalaya, edited by Véronique Bouiller and Catherine Servan-Schreiber
(Paris: Maisonneuve & Larose, 2004), 251–271.
18. Dominique-Sila Khan, “La Tradition de Rāmdev Pīr au Rajasthan: Acculturation
et syncrétisme,” in Assayag and Tarabout, eds., Altérité et identité, 122.
19. There was a dispute between the Muslim devotees of Shirdi Sai Baba and his
Hindu devotees concerning his burial’s place in Shirdi. Although Muslims
wanted his body to be buried in an open piece of land, it was interred in a
Hindu devotee’s building with a Kṛṣṇa image, completing the “Hinduization of
the saint.” On this see Antonio Rigopoulos, The Life and Teachings of Sai Baba
of Shirdi (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1993), 241. Despite this
Hinduization, there is still however a rich Sufi tradition surrounding Shirdi
Sai Baba.
20. The Sathya Sai Movement situates itself within the saintly traditions coming
from Hindu-Muslim syncretism. See Srivinas, Winged Faith, 117.
21. Jean-Claude Schmitt, “La Fabrique des saints,” Annales 39, no. 2 (March–April
1984): 291.
22. L. S. S. O’Malley, Popular Hinduism: The Religion of the Masses (Varanasi: Pilgrims
Publishing, 2000), 171–178.
23. Mircea Eliade, Images et symboles (Paris: Gallimard, 1979), 55; Roger Caillois,
L’Homme et le sacré (Paris: Gallimard, 1950), 69.
24. Brown, Le Culte des saints, 113.
25. Saligrama K. Ramachandra Rao, The Indian Temple: It’s [sic] Meaning
(Bangalore: IBH Prakashana, 1979), 15. One can also refer to Haberman’s excel-
lent book on tree worship in India, David L. Haberman, People Trees: Worship of
Trees in Northern India (New York: Oxford University Press, 2013).
26. Ibid., 78.
27. Jean-Claude Marol, La Saturée de joie Anandamayi (Paris: Dervy, 2001), 88.
28. Bharati Dhingra, Visages de Ma Anandamayi (Paris: Cerf, 1981), 72.
29. Christian Lee Novetzke, Religion and Public Memory (New York: Columbia
University Press, 2008), 143–144. Eknath stands for renewal in Marathi
274 Notes

literature and religious history. As Lee Novetzke writes, this is an initiation of

physical site and text as loci of public memory.
30. Mircea Eliade, L’Inde (Paris: Editions de l’Herne, 1988), 155.
31. Ibid., 150.
32. Madeleine Biardeau, L’Hindouisme: L’Anthropologie d’une civilisation
(Paris: Flammarion, 1995), 55.
33. Ucchiṣṭa usually means the leftovers, the food remnants. On ucchiṣṭa, see Hugh
B. Urban, The Power of Tantra: Religion, Sexuality, and the Politics of South Asian
Studies (London: I. B. Tauris, 2010), 112–113.
34. Mircea Eliade, Le Yoga: Immortalité et liberté (Paris: Payot, 1983), 304.
35. The Upaniṣad affirms that the prāṇa does not leave the saint’s body on their
death. During the saint’s mahāsamādhi the prāṇa merges into the sahaśrāṇa
chakra and does not leave the body. The case of Swami Nityananda, guru of
Swami Muktananda, from the line of Siddha, was said to be subjected to such a
phenomenon. Regarding this topic, see Swami Muktananda, Est-ce que la mort
existe réellement? (Paris: Saraswati, 1984), 45–46 and 50.
36. Arthur B. Keith, The Religion and Philosophy of the Veda and Upanishads
(Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1925), 417.
37. See Pandurang Vaman Kane, History of Dharmaśastra (Poona: Bhandarkar
Oriental Research Institute, 1973).
38. Keith, Religion and Philosophy of the Veda and Upanishads, 417.
39. Kathleen Iva Koppedrayer, The Sacred Presence of the Guru: The Velala Lineages of
Tiruvavatuturai, Dharmapuram, and Tiruppanantal (Ottawa: National Library of
Canada, 1991), 21.
40. See Catherine Weinberger-Thomas, Cendres d’immortalité (Paris: Seuil, 1996);
Stuart H. Blackburn, “Death and Deification: Folk Cults in Hinduism,” History
of Religions 24, no. 3 (February 1985): 255–274. On satī, see also Arvind Sharma,
Sati: Historical and Phenomenological Essays (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass,
2001).
41. C. J. Fuller, The Camphor Flame: Popular Hinduism and Society in India
(Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2004), 49; Weinberger-Thomas,
Cendres d’immortalité, 89; Paul Courtright, “Satī, Sacrifice, and Marriage,” in
From the Margins of Hindu Marriage: Essays on Gender, Religion, and Culture,
edited by Lindsey Harlan and Paul B. Courtright (New York: Oxford University
Press, 1995), 185. The Liberation Tigers of Tamoul Eelam of Sri Lanka (LTTE),
who appropriated the practice of interring their dead from the ascetics (looking
to elevate their partisans to the level of saints and establishing them in popu-
lar memory as “martyrs”), are included within the vīra’s group. See Cristiana
Natali, “Ériger des cimetières, construire l’identité: Pratiques funéraires et dis-
cours nationalistes chez les Tigres tamouls du Sri Lanka,” Frontières 18, no. 2
(Spring 2006): 19.
 Notes 275

42. Swarajya Gupta, Disposal of the Dead and Physical Types in Ancient India
(Delhi: Oriental Publishers, 1972), 11; Max-Jean Zins, “Rites publics et deuil
patriotique: Les Funérailles de la guerre indo-pakistanaise de 1999,” Archives de
Sciences Sociales des Religions, nos. 131–132 (July–December 2005): 84.
43. Kirin Narayan, Storytellers, Saints, and Scoundrels: Folk Narrative in Hindu
Religious Teaching (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1989), 184
and 186. Van der Veer, however, specifies that renouncers do not all perform
their own death rites, contrary to the belief of the popular Hindu imagination.
See Peter Van der Veer, Gods on Earth: The Management of Religious Experience
and Identity in a North Indian Pilgrimage Centre (London: Athlone Press, 1988).
44. In the case of Mā, who was not officially a saṃnyāsini, her burial, though, can-
not be explained in this way. Marcelle Saindon, “Le Rituel hindou de la créma-
tion,” in id., Cérémonies funéraires et post funéraires en Inde: La tradition derrière
les rites (Sainte-Foy: Presses de l’Université Laval, 2000), 92.
45. Charles Malamoud, Cooking the World: Ritual and Thought in Ancient India
(New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1996), 47–48.
46. Malamoud, “Les Morts sans visage,” 447; T. N. Madan, A l’opposé du renonce-
ment: Perplexités de la vie quotidienne hindoue (Paris: Editions de La Maison des
Sciences de l’Homme, 1990), 157. As Copeman notes, cremation actually rep-
resents some sort of “last-ditch renunciation,” substituting for householders’
failure to follow the last stage of life (āśrama). According to this brahmanic
concept, one should renounce social life toward the end of life and become a
wandering ascetic. See Jacob Copeman, “Cadaver Donation as Ascetic Practice
in India,” Social Analysis 50, no. 1 (Spring 2006): 103–126.
47. Malamoud, “Les Morts sans visage,” 447–448. According to Abbé Dubbois,
there exist beliefs that bits of coconut cracked on a dead sannyāsīn’s skull can
make barren women bear children. See Abbé J. A. Dubbois, Hindu Manners,
Customs and Ceremonies (Delhi: Oxford University Press, [1906] 1978), 538–541.
48. Michel Hulin, La Face cachée du temps (Paris: Fayard, 1985), 395.
49. Gian Giuseppe Filippi, Mṛtyu: Concept of Death in Indian Tradition—
Transformation of the Body & Funeral Rite (New Delhi: Printworld, 1996), 173.
50. Mark Juergensmeyer, “Saint Gandhi,” in Saints and Virtues, edited by John
Stratton Hawley (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press,
1988), 189.
51. Iqtidar H. Siddiqui, “The Early Chishti Dargahs,” in Muslim Shrines in
India: Their Character, History and Significance, edited by Christian W. Troll
(New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2003), 13.
52. Geary, Furta Sacra, 33–34.
53. Gregory Schopen, “Burial ‘ad sanctos’ and the Physical Presence of the Buddha
in Early Indian Buddhism: A Study in the Archaeology of Religions,” Religion
17, no. 3 (1987): 193.
276 Notes

54. Richard Nolane notes this on the subject of vampirism in Central Europe: “to
present an occasional resistance to decomposition was the best way to see your
body dismembered, decapitated and burned” (cited in id., Les Saints et leurs rel-
iques: Une histoire mouvementée [Beauport: Publications MNH; Paris: Anthropos,
2000], 90).
55. Sofia Boesch Gajano, “Reliques et pouvoirs,” in Les Reliques, objets, cultes, sym-
boles (Turnhout, Belgium: Brepols, 1999), 260.
56. See P. S. Rayanna, St Francis Xavier and His Shrine (Ranchi, India: Catholic
Press, 1964).
57. Jonathan Parry, “Sacrificial Death and the Necrophagous Ascetic,” in Death
and the Regeneration of Life, edited by Maurice Bloch and Jonathan Parry
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982), 96–97; Jonathan Parry, Death
in Banaras (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 260–261.
58. Alexandra David-Neel, L’Inde où j’ai vécu (Paris: Pocket, 1985), 248.
59. Satprem, Mother or the Divine Materialism (Paris: Institut de recherches évolu-
tives, 1979), 3–4.
60. Jacques Vigne gives supplementary specifications on the subject of the death of
Swami Ramatirtha: “It is interesting to note that, being a vedantin and reform-
ist, and thus fairly critical of rituals, he perished because of a ritual. Essentially,
the bath in the Ganges is one of the fundamental rituals of Hinduism. Must
we see a type of ‘return of karma’?” “A week later his body was seen floating
in the Ganges, next to a place where he had meditated, Shimalasu Udhyan, a
name which means ‘the garden of the Black one’, that is to say Kali. ‘Mother
Ganges returns her great follower, Râm’s body, to the people so that they may
give him the last rites. One claims with stupor that this body was intact. It was
seated in the position of samâdhi—in the lotus position—the two hands placed
on the feet one over the other, the back and the neck straight, the eyes closed
and the mouth open in a way that evoked the pronunciation of the Om [this
reminds us of the end of Zen master, who, in general, maintains the lotus posi-
tion while dying],’ ” cited by Jacques Vigne, trans., Râmatîrtha: Le Soleil du soi
(Paris: Accarias–L’originel, 2005), 39.
61. David-Neel, L’Inde où j’ai vécu, 247.
62. Régis Debray, Le Feu sacré: Fonction du religieux (Paris: Gallimard, 2005), 300.
63. Van Der Leeuw, La Religion dans son essence et ses manifestations, 231.
64. Catherine Grémion, “Les Saintes, victimes de leurs interprètes,” in Des Saints,
des justes, edited by Henriette Levillain (Paris: Autrement, 2000), 121.
65. Jean Przyluski, Le Paranirvana et les funérailles du Buddha (Paris: Imprimerie
nationale, 1920), 179–180, cited in Strong, Relics of the Buddha, 17.
66. Jürgen W. Frembgen, “The Majzub Mama Ji Sarkar: A Friend of God Moves
from One House to Another,” in Embodying Charisma: Modernity, Locality and
the Performance of Emotion in Sufi Cults, edited by Pnina Werbner and Helene
Basu (London: Routledge, 1998), 145.
 Notes 277

67. Leona M. Anderson, “Women in Hindu Tradition,” in Women and Religious

Traditions, edited by Leona M. Anderson and Pamela Dickey Young (Don Mills,
ON: Oxford University Press, 2004), 226.
68. Ibid. On female Hindu asceticism, one can also look at Antoinette DeNapoli,
“Beyond Brahmanical Asceticism: Recent and Emerging Models of Female
Hindu Asceticisms in South Asia,” Religion Compass 3, no. 5 (2009): 857–875,
where she discusses the text-based structural studies on asceticism and intro-
duces the recent scholarship on female Hindu asceticism that challenges the
brahminical textual model. From the same author, see as well “By the Sweetness
of the Tongue,” Asian Ethnology 68, no. 1 (2009): 81–109, which examines the
narratives themes that female Hindu sādhus emphasize in the construction of
their personal narratives and shows how they validate their identity as female
sādhus within what is viewed as a male-dominated tradition of renunciation.
Finally, one can also refer to the works of Clémentin-Ojha, Denton, Kandelwal,
Pechilis.
69. Vasudha Narayanan, “Brimming with Bhakti, Embodiments of Shakti: Devotees,
Deities, Performers, Reformers, and Other Women of Power in Hindu
Tradition,” in Feminism and World Religions, edited by Arvind Sharma and
Katherine K. Young (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1999), 37;
see also Anant Altekar, “Ideal and Position of Indian Women in Social Life,”
in Great Women of India, edited by Swami Madhavananda and Ramesh C.
Majumdar (Calcutta: Advaita Ashrama, 1997), 35.
70. Dennis Hudson, “Āṇṭāḷ Āḷvār: A Developing Hagiography,” Journal of Vaisnava
Studies 1, no. 2 (1993): 28.
71. See Catherine Clémentin-Ojha, La Divinité conquise: Carrière d’une sainte
(Nanterre, France: Société d’Ethnologie, 1990); and id., “The Tradition of
Female Gurus,” Manushi, no. 31 (November–December 1985): 2–8.
72. Karen Pechilis, “Introduction: Hindu Female Gurus in Historical and
Philosophical Context,” in The Graceful Guru: Hindu Female Gurus in India and
the United States (New York: Oxford University Press, 2004), 5–6; see also “The
Female Guru: Guru, Gender, and the Path of Personal Experience,” in The Guru
in South Asia: New Interdisciplinary Perspectives, edited by Jacob Copeman and
Aya Ikegame (London: Routledge, 2012), 114.
73. In the Advaitic tradition, liberation was generally destined for male
Brahmin saṃnyāsins. Regarding this, see Andrew Fort, Jīvanmukti in
Transformation: Embodied Liberation in Advaita and Neo-Vedanta (Albany: State
University of New York Press, 19980, 3.
74. This anecdote is not in the English edition of Bhaiji’s book, Mother as Revealed
to Me; it has not been translated into English. One can find this story, how-
ever, in the Hindi version of Bhaiji’s book, Matri Darshan (Calcutta: Shree Shree
Anandamayee Charitable Society, 1983).
278 Notes

75. Madhu Kishwar, “Introduction,” in Manushi, Tenth Anniversary Issue, Women

Bhakta Poets, nos. 50-52 (1989): 6.
76. Nancy E. Falk, “Shakti Ascending: Hindu Women, Politics, and Religious
Leadership during the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries,” in Religion in
Modern India, edited by Robert D. Baird (Delhi: Manohar, 2001), 298.
77. See David Kinsley, Tantric Visions of the Divine Feminine: The Ten Mahavidyas
(Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1997). It is interesting
to note that Aurobindo mentioned, in one of his letters, that Mirra Alfassa (the
Mother) was none other than his complementary side, his counterpart, “Mother
and I are one but in two bodies.” See Satprem, Mother or the Divine Materialism, 1.
78. A. R. Natarajan, Bhagavan Ramana & Mother (Bangalore: Ramana Maharshi
Center for Learning, 2002), 40–51; David M. Miller, “Karma, Rebirth and the
Contemporary Guru,” in Karma and Rebirth, edited by Ronald. W. Neufeldt
(Albany: State University of New York Press, 1986), 75. In this regard, the mother
of Sathya Sai Baba, Eashwaramma, was also buried and her samādhi is now a
place of worship of the Divine Mother for devotees of Sathya Sai Baba. The
samādhi of her son, however, is not located next to her Mother’s. See Srivinas,
Winged Faith, 352; and Smriti Srivinas, In the Presence of Sai Baba: Body, City and
Memory in a Global Religious Movement (Hyderabad: Orient Longman Private
Limited, 2008), 171.
79. Shashi B. Das Gupta, “Evolution of Mother Worship in India,” in Great
Women of India, edited by Swami Madhavananda and Ramesh C. Majumdar
(Calcutta: Advaita Ashrama, 1997), 76. On śakti pīṭha, see also André Padoux,
Comprendre le tantrisme: Les Sources hindoues (Paris: Albin Michel, 2010), 234–
235; as well as Urban, Power of Tantra, 31–37.
80. Thomas B. Coburn, “Consort of None, Śakti of All: The Vision of the
Devī-Māhātmya,” in The Divine Consort: Rādhā and the Goddesses of India,
edited by John Stratton Hawley and Donna M. Wulff (Berkeley and Los
Angeles: University of California Press, 1982), 154.
81. Roxanne K. Gupta, “Kālī Māyī: Myth and Reality in a Banaras Ghetto,” in
Encountering Kālī: In the Margins, at the Center, in the West, edited by Rachel
Fell McDermott and Jeffrey J. Kripal (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of
California Press, 2003), 139.
82. Fuller, The Camphor Flame, 46.
83. Frédérique Apfell Marglin, “Female Sexuality in the Hindu World,” in
Immaculate and Powerful: The Female in Sacred Image and Social Reality (Boston:
Beacon Press, 1985), 55, cited in John Stratton Hawley, “Prologue: The Goddess
in India,” in Devī: Goddesses of India, edited by John Stratton Hawley and Donna
M. Wulff (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1996), 14.
84. Jacob N. Kinnard, “The Field of the Buddha’s Presence,” Embodying the
Dharma: Buddhist Relic Veneration in Asia, edited by David Germano and Kevin
Trainor (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2004), 117.
 Notes 279

85. Assayag, Au confluent de deux rivières, 65; Lukas Werth, “The Saint Who
Disappeared,” in Modernity, Locality and the Performance of Emotion in Sufi Cults,
edited by Pnina Werbner and Helene Basu (London: Routledge, 1998), 80.
86. Thomas Head, personal communication, 1995, cited in John Strong, “Buddhist
Relics in Comparative Perspective: Beyond the Parallels,” in Germano and
Trainor, eds., Embodying the Dharma, 32.
87. Trainor, Relics, Ritual and Representation in Buddhism, 129.
88. André Bareau, “La Construction et le culte des stūpa d’après les Vinayapiṭaka,”
Bulletin de l’École Française d’Extrême-Orient 50 (1962): 269, cited in Bronkhorst,
“Les Reliques dans les religions de l’Inde.”
89. Strong, Relics of the Buddha, 4; on this subject, see also C. F. Keyes, “Death of
Two Buddhist Saints in Thailand,” in Charisma and Sacred Biography, edited by
M. A. Williams (Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1982), 172.
90. Elisabeth Schömbucher and Claus Peter Zoller, “Death and its Meaning in
South Asia,” in id., eds., Ways of Dying: Death and its Meanings in South Asia
(New Delhi: Manohar Publishers and Distributors, 1999), 20.
91. Swami Narasimha, Life of Sai Baba, Vol. 1 (Madras: All India Sai Samaj, 1976),
see the book’s back cover.
92. Melita Maschmann, Encountering Bliss: My Journey through India with
Ānandamayī Mā (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 2002), 9; see also Amulya K. D.
Gupta, In Association with Sri Sri Ma Anandamayi, Vol. 1 (Calcutta: Shree Shree
Anandamayee Charitable Society, 1987), 15.
93. Madou, A la rencontre de Ma Anandamayi: Entretiens avec Atmananda, http://
www.anandamayi.org/ashram/french/frmad1.htm.
94. Swami Vijayananda, Un français dans l’Himalaya: Itinéraire avec Mâ Ananda
Môyî (Lyon: Terre du Ciel, 1997), 132.
95. Mircea Eliade, Traité d’Histoire des Religions (Paris: Payot, 1968), 374–375.
96. Testimony by Martine Quentric-Seguy, Jay Ma, no. 45.
97. Pnina Werbner and Helene Basu, “The Embodiment of Charisma,” in Werbner
and Basu, eds., Embodying Charisma, 9.
98. Madou, A la rencontre de Ma Anandamayi; Jean-Claude Marol, En tout et pour
tout, (Thionville: Le Fennec, 1994), 15.
99. Hugh B. Urban, Tantra: Sex, Secrecy, Politics, and Power in the Study of Religion
(Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2003), 251–252;
Rachel McDermott, “Kālī’s New Frontiers: A Hindu Goddess on the Internet,”
in McDermott and Kripal, eds., Encountering Kālī, 30. On guruship and media
technologies, see also Jacob Copeman and Aya Ikegame, “The Multifarious
Guru,” in Copeman and Ikegame, eds., Guru in South Asia, 20, concerning the
guru’s “betrayal” by the same technologies that had facilitated the proliferation
of his “presence.”
100. On the concept of śakti, see Padoux, Comprendre le tantrisme; and Urban, Power
of Tantra, 21–22.
280 Notes

101. Marc Gaborieau, “Pouvoir et autorité des soufis dans l’Himalaya,” in Prêtrise,
pouvoirs et autorité en Himalaya, edited by Véronique Bouiller and Gérard Toffin
(Paris: École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales, 1989), 220 and 229.
102. Peter Brown, La Société et le sacré dans l’Antiquité tardive (Paris: Seuil, 1985), 96.
103. Charles White, “Swāmi Muktānanda and the Enlightenment through Śakti-pāt,”
History of Religions 13, no. 4 (May 1974): 318.
104. Jacques Vigne, L’Inde intérieure: Aspects du yoga, de l’hindouisme et du bouddhisme
(Gordes: Editions du Relié, 2007), 153.
105. Caillois, L’Homme et le sacré, 58.
106. Cited in Bernard Faure, La Mort dans les religions d’Asie (Paris: Flammarion,
1994), 91.
107. Assayag, Au confluent de deux rivières, 165.
108. Pierre Bourdieu, “Genèse et structure du champ religieux,” Revue française de
sociologie 12, no. 3 (July–September 1971): 304.
109. James Frazer, The Golden Bough: A Study in Magic and Religion
(New York: Touchstone Press, 1995), 9.
110. Mary Douglas, Purity and Danger: An Analysis of Concepts of Pollution and Taboo
(London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1966), 112.
111. Eric Geoffroy, “Proche-Orient,” in Le Culte des saints dans le monde musulman,
edited by Henri Chambert-Loir and Claude Guillot (Paris: École Française
d’Extrême Orient, 1995), 47.
112. Speaking on dargahs, Flueckiger notes that, in these environments, terms are
easily interchanged. The pir becomes a guru and Viśnu is seen as an early prophet
before Mohammad. See Joyce Flueckiger, In Amma’s Healing Room: Gender and
Vernacular Islam in South Asia (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2006).
113. Landell Samuel Mills, “The Hardware of Sanctity: Anthropomorphic Objects
in Bangladeshi Sufism,” in Werbner and Basu, eds., Embodying Charisma, 35
and 32.
114. Hugh Van Skyhawk, “A Note on Death and the Holy Man in South Asia,” in
Ways of Dying: Death and Its Meanings in South Asia (New Delhi: Manohar,
1999), 196.
115. Strong, “Buddhist Relics in Comparative Perspective,” 38.
116. Marc Gaborieau, “Inde,” in Chambert-Loir and Guillot, eds., Le Culte des saints
dans le monde musulman, 202.
117. Brown, Le Culte des saints, 105; Schmitt, “La Fabrique des saints,” 289.
118. Caillois, L’Homme et le sacré, 28.
119. Brown, Le Culte des saints, 105.
120. Bernard Faure, “Buddhist Relics and Japanese Regalia,” in Germano and
Trainor, eds., Embodying the Dharma, 97.
121. Mark Juergensmeyer, “The Radhasoami Revival of the Sant Tradition,” in The
Sants: Studies in a Devotional Tradition of India, edited by Karine Schomer and
W. H. McLeod (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1987), 342; Lawrence A. Babb,
 Notes 281

Redemptive Encounters: Three Modern Styles in the Hindu Tradition (Berkeley and
Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1986), 33.
122. Michel Kaplan, “De la dépouille à la relique: Formation du culte des saints à
Byzance du Vè au XIIè siècle,” in Les Reliques, objets, cultes, symboles (Turnhout,
Belgium: Brepols, 1999), 23.
123. Leo Schneiderman, “Ramakrishna: Personality and Social Factors in the Growth
of a Religious Movement,” Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion 8, no. 1
(Spring 1969): 68.
124. Henri Platelle, “Guibert de Nogent et le De pignoribus sanctorum: Richesses et
limites d’une critique médiévale des reliques,” in Les Reliques, objets, cultes, sym-
boles (Turnhout, Belgium: Brepols, 1999), 117.
125. Lawrence Babb, “Sathya Sai Baba’s Magic,” Anthropological Quarterly 56
(1983): 116–123.
126. Assayag, Au confluent de deux rivières, 84.
127. Tulasi Srivinas, “Articles of Faith: Material Piety, Devotional Aesthetics and the
Construction of a Moral Economy in the Transnational Sathya Sai Movement,”
Visual Anthropology 25 (July 2012): 290.
128. Kevin Trainor, “Introduction: Beyond Superstition,” in Germano and Trainor,
eds., Embodying the Dharma, 14.
129. Roger Bastide, Eléments de sociologie religieuse (Paris: Editions Stock, 1997), 97.
130. Caillois, L’Homme et le sacré, 25.
131. Jean-Claude Schmitt, “Les Reliques et les images,” in Les Reliques, objets, cultes,
symbols, 149.
132. Faure, La Mort dans les religions d’Asie, 97.
133. David Kinsley, “ ‘The Death That Conquers Death’: Dying to the World in
Medieval Hinduism,” in Religious Encounters with Death, edited by Frank E.
Reynolds and Earle H. Waugh (University Park: Pennsylvania State University
Press, 1977), 102.
134. Mathieu Boisvert, “Bouddhisme, contemplation et mort,” Frontières 7, no. 3
(Winter 1995): 34. This also reminds us of the Chöd Tibetan practice, known as
“cutting through the ego,” in which the adept symbolically offers the flesh of his
or her body in a form of gaṇacakra or tantric feast.
135. Purushottam Singh, Burial Practices in Ancient India (Varanasi: Prithivi
Prakashan, 1970), 178.
136. Schmitt, “Les Reliques et les images,” 150.
137. Weinberger-Thomas, Cendres d’immortalité, 130.
138. Edgar Morin, L’Homme et la mort (Paris: Seuil, 1970), 33.
139. Jackie Assayag, “Le Cadavre divin: Célébration de la mort chez les
Liṅgāyat-Vīraśaiva,” L’Homme 27, no. 103 (July–September 1987): 107–108.
140. Michel Meslin, L’Expérience humaine du divin (Paris: Cerf, 1988), 338.
141. Trainor, Relics, Ritual and Representation in Buddhism, 27.
282 Notes

142. Maurice Bloch and Jonathan Parry, Death and the Regeneration of Life
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982), 36.
143. I should however specify that a cult of ancestors does exist and non-renunciants
are memorialized at family altars through portraits and photos.
144. Malamoud, “Les Morts sans visage,” 446.
145. Ibid., 448.
146. Ibid., 449.
147. Mère Meera, Mère Meera: Réponses, Vol. 1, Edition Adilakshmi (n.d). Mother
Meera is somehow situated in the tradition of Sri Aurobindo. She teaches
mainly through silence. On Mother Meera, see Catherine Cornille, “Mother
Meera, Avatar,” The Graceful Guru: Hindu Female Gurus in India and the United
States, edited by Karen Pechilis (New York: Oxford University Press, 2004),
129–147.
148. Danièle Hervieu-Léger, La Religion pour mémoire (Paris: Cerf, 1993), 108.
149. Jack Goody, Representations and Contradictions: Ambivalence towards Images,
Theatre, Fiction, Relics and Sexuality (Oxford: Blackwell, 1997), 83, cited in
Strong, Relics of the Buddha, 18.
150. Alain Daniélou, Approche de l’hindouisme (Paris: Kailash, 2005), 21.
151. David Kinsley, “Kālī,” Encountering Kālī: In the Margins, at the Center, in the
West, edited by Rachel Fell McDermott and Jeffrey J. Kripal (Berkeley and Los
Angeles: University of California Press, 2003), 32; David Kinsley, “Kālī, Blood
and Death out of Place,” Devī: Goddesses of India, edited by John Stratton Hawley
and Donna M. Wulff (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press,
1996), 82.
152. David Kinsley, “Freedom from Death in the Worship of Kālī,” Numen 22, no.
3 (December 1975): 201; David Kinsley, The Sword and the Flute: Kālī and Kṛṣṇa
(Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1975), 114; Urban,
Tantra, 76–77.
153. Pierre Feuga, Cinq visages de la déesse (Paris: Le Mail, 1989), 119.
154. Shyam Ghosh, Hindu Concept of Life and Death (New Delhi: Munshiram
Manoharlal, 2002), 3; see also Bruce J. Long, “Death as a Necessity and a Gift
in Hindu Mythology,” in Religious Encounters with Death, edited by Frank E.
Reynolds and Earle H. Waugh (University Park: Pennsylvania State University
Press, 1977), 73–96.
155. From a psychoanalytical perspective, this reminds us of Spratt, who consid-
ers Kālī’s decapitating role as a return for the male devotee to an identifica-
tion with the mother and, ultimately, to a mystical regressus ad uterum. On
this, see Philip Spratt, Hindu Culture and Personality: A Psychoanalytic Study
(Bombay: Manaktalas, 1966). See also Jeffrey J. Kripal, “Re-membering a
Presence of Mythological Proportions: Psychoanalysis and Hinduism,” in
Religion and Psychology: Mapping the Terrain, edited by Diane Jonte-Pace and
William B. Parsons (London: Routledge, 2001).
 Notes 283

156. See Mircea Eliade, Initiation, rites et sociétés secrètes (Paris: Gallimard, 1959); and
Mircea Eliade, Le Sacré et le profane (Paris: Gallimard, 1965), 161.
157. Otto Rank, Le Traumatisme de la naissance, cited in Morin, L’Homme et la mort,
143–144.
158. Ysé Tardan-Masquelier, L’Hindouisme (Paris: Bayard, 1999), 205.
159. Filippi, Mṛtyu, 7–8.
160. The archetype of the Mother contains many aspects of a bipolar structure in
both a negative and positive sense. See David M. Wulff, “Prolegomenon to a
Psychology of the Goddess,” in The Divine Consort: Rādhā and the Goddesses of
India, edited by John Stratton Hawley and Donna Marie Wulff (Berkeley and
Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1982), 293.
161. Padoux, Comprendre le tantrisme, 246.
162. Madeleine Biardeau, “Devi: The Goddess in India,” in Asian Mythologies, com-
piled by Yves Bonnefoy and translated by Wendy Doniger (Chicago: University
of Chicago Press, 1993), 95.

C h a p t er 3

1. See Shree Shree Anandamayee Charitable Society, I Am Ever with You: Matri
Lila, Vol. 2 (Calcutta: Shree Shree Anandamayee Charitable Society, 1991), 57.
2. “Mataji Amara Vani,” Ananda Varta 4, no. 4 (1956): 314.
3. Bithika Mukerji, Life and Teaching of Sri Ma Anandamayi (A Bird on the Wing)
(Delhi: Sri Satguru Publications, 1998), 192; Bithika Mukerji, My Days with Sri
Ma Anandamayi (Varanasi: Indica Books, 2002), 85; Narayan Chaudhuri, That
Compassionate Touch of Ma Anandamayee (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1988), 114.
4. Jean Herbert and Josette Herbert, trans., L’Enseignement de Mâ Ananda Moyî
(Paris : Albin Michel, 1988), 326.
5. Swami Ramdas, Présence de Ram (Paris: Albin Michel, 1997), 321.
6. Arthur Osborne, Ramana Maharshi and the Path of Self-Knowledge (London: Rider,
1992), 185.
7. Jean-Claude Marol, Ma Anandamoyi: Vie en jeu (Paris: Accarias–L’Originel,
1995), 118.
8. Bhaiji, Mother as Revealed to Me (Kankhal: Shree Shree Anandamayee Sangha,
2004), 91.
9. Anil Ganguli, Anandamayi Ma’s Inscrutable Kheyāl (Calcutta: Shree Shree
Anandamayi Charitable Society, 1980), 24.
10. The Bhagavadgītā (ch. 2, 19–20), translated by S. Radhakrishnan (London: George
Allen & Unwin Ltd, 1971), 107.
11. The Complete Works of Swami Vivekenanda, Vol. 1 (Calcutta: Advaita Ashrama,
1964), 421, cited in George M. Williams, “Swami Vivekananda’s Conception of
Karma and Rebirth,” in Karma and Rebirth: Post Classical Developments, edited
by Ronald W. Neufeldt (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1986), 48.
284 Notes

12. Atmananda, Death Must Die: A Western Woman’s Life-Long Spiritual Quest in
India with Sri Anandamayee Ma, edited by Ram Alexander (Delhi: Indica Books,
2000), 496.
13. Anil Ganguli, Anandamayi Ma: The Mother Bliss-Incarnate (Calcutta: Eureka,
1983), 170.
14. Atmananda, Death Must Die, 383.
15. Madou, A la rencontre de Ma Anandamayi: Entretiens avec Atmananda, http://
www.anandamayi.org/ashram/french/frmad1.htm. This illusion of Mā’s body
is also found in the comments of Gopinath Kaviraj: “Mother’s body is no body
and Her mind is no mind in the ordinary connotation of terms. They are only
apparent and exist for the ignorant who are under māyā and unable to see
behind the veil.” See Gopinath Kaviraj, “Mother,” in Selected Writings of M. M.
Gopinath Kaviraj, edited by Gopinath Kaviraj (Varanasi: M. M. Gopinath Kaviraj
Centenary Celebrations Committee, 1990), 192.
16. The Bṛhadāranyaka Upaniṣad, with the commentary of Śankarācārya (4, 4, 19–
20) (Calcutta: Advaita Ashrama, 1965), 744–745.
17. Jean Herbert, Spiritualité hindoue (Paris: Albin Michel, 1972), 389.
18. Ananda K. Coomaraswamy, Hinduism and Buddhism (New York: Philosophical
Library, n.d.), 30.
19. Kirin Narayan, Storytellers, Saints, and Scoundrels: Folk Narrative in Hindu
Religious Teaching (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1989), 185.
20. Arthur Osborne, Ramana Maharshi and the Path of Self-Knowledge (London: Rider,
1992), 184.
21. To express the death of the saint, one can also say that the saint “took samādhi”
(samādhi liyā). See Narayan, Storytellers, Saints, and Scoundrels, 185.
22. Mircea Eliade, Images et symboles (Paris: Gallimard, 1979), 125 and 127.
23. A. R. Natarajan, Bhagavan Ramana & Mother (Bangalore: Ramana Maharshi
Center for Learning, 2002), 40.
24. Jackie Assayag, “Le cadavre divin: Célébration de la mort chez les
Liṅgāyat-Vīraśaiva (Inde du Sud).” L’Homme 27, no. 103 (July–September
1987): 106.
25. Madou, A la rencontre de Ma Anandamayi.
26. Ibid.
27. Ibid.
28. Ibid. Regarding Mā’s progressive retreat before her death, see Mukerji, My Days
with Sri Ma Anandamayi, 356.
29. Madou, A la rencontre de Ma Anandamayi.
30. Swami Mangalananda, “The Passing of a Saint: Sri Kishori Mataji,” unpublished.
31. Jeffrey J. Kripal, Kālī’s Child: The Mystical and the Erotic in the Life and Teachings
of Ramakrishna (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1998), 261.
32. See Arnold Van Gennep, Les Rites de passage (New York: Johnson Reprint, 1969).
33. Madou, A la rencontre de Ma Anandamayi.
 Notes 285

34. Edgar Morin, L’Homme et la mort (Paris: Seuil, 1970), 72–73.

35. Śriśrirāmakṛṣṇa Paramahamsadever Jivanavṛṭtānta, 144.
36. Kripal, Kālī’s Child, 254.
37. Madou, A la rencontre de Ma Anandamayi.
38. Pensée de l’Himalaya, http://www.anandamayi.org.
39. Nanda Mookerjee, Sri Sarada Devi: Consort of Sri Ramakrishna (Calcutta: Firma
KLM, 1978), 57.
40. On this subject, see Pnina Werbner and Helene Basu, “The Embodiment of
Charisma,” in Embodying Charisma: Modernity, Locality and the Performance
of Emotion in Sufi Cults, edited by Pnina Werbner and Helene Basu
(London: Routledge, 1998), 10.
41. André Rousseau, “Rites et discours religieux comme pratiques sociales,”
Maison-Dieu, no. 129 (1977): 118.
42. Jay Ma, no. 44.
43. See Van Gennep, Les Rites de passage.
44. Robert Hertz, Death and the Right Hand (London: Cohen & West, 2004), 81–82.
45. Pensée de l’Himalaya.
46. Vijayananda, “Un chemin de joie: Témoignages et réponses d’un disciple fran-
çais de Mâ Anandamayi,” unpublished.
47. Ibid.
48. Amulya K. D. Gupta, In Association with Sri Sri Ma Anandamayi, Vol. 3
(Calcutta: Shree Shree Anandamayee Charitable Society, 1987), 89–90.
49. June McDaniel, “Fusion of the Soul: Jayashri Ma and the Primordial Mother,”
in The Graceful Guru: Hindu Females Gurus in India and the United States, edited
by Karen Pechilis (New York: Oxford University Press, 2004), 122.
50. Mookerjee, Sri Sarada Devi, appendix 3.
51. D. A. Swallow, “Ashes and Powers: Myth, Rite and Miracle in an Indian
God-Man’s Cult,” Modern Asian Studies 16, no. 1 (1982): 135. Devotees of Shirdi
Sai Baba, however, do not necessarily recognize Sathya Sai Baba as the reincar-
nation of Shirdi Sai Baba.
52. Tulasi Srivinas, Winged Faith: Rethinking Globalisation and Religious Pluralism
through the Sathya Sai Movement (New York: Columbia University Press,
2010), 67.
53. Rao P. D. Sham, Five Contemporary Gurus in the Shirdi (Sai Baba) Tradition
(Madras: Christian Literature Society, 1972), 35.
54. Pierre Feuga, Cinq visages de la déesse (Paris: Le Mail, 1989), 103.
55. This simultaneous reference to the concepts of “individual soul” and “spiritual
principle” can be a source of confusion, in that it reveals some interchange-
ability of concepts. As we have specified on the subject of sanctity in the Hindu
tradition, the limit between the individual, who has a soul, and God is fluid. The
human being can thus both possess a soul (ātman) and be inseparable from
everything, the spiritual principle (Brahman).
286 Notes

56. Vijayananda, “Un chemin de joie.”

57. Maya Warrier, Hindu Selves in a Modern World: Guru Faith in the Mata
Amritanandamayi Mission (London: Routledge Curzon, 2005).
58. Atmananda, Death Must Die, 301.
59. Words of Sri Anandamayi Ma, 126–127.
60. Alexandra David-Neel, L’Inde où j’ai vécu (Paris: Pocket, 1985), 249. Along these
lines, one can think of the guru-avatar Sathya Sai Baba, whose knee and hip
surgery, a few years before his death, were questioned by his devotees. A debate
took place whether a divine being like him actually needs such a surgery. See
Srivinas, Winged Faith, 211–212. The same reaction took place among devotees
at the time of his death. Devotees hoped that “Swami would cure himself,”
that he “would decide to remain,” as in 1963, when he had a series of strokes,
while taking on, he affirmed, the illness of a devotee. See Tulasi Srivinas,
“Relics of Faith: Fleshly Desires, Ascetic Disciplines and Devotional Affect in
the Transnational Sathya Sai Movement.” Handbook of Body Studies, edited by
Bryan S. Turner (London: Routledge Press, 2012).
61. Narayan, Storytellers, Saints, and Scoundrels, 172, 178, and 184. This ability to
predict one’s own death is found in various religious traditions, such as Islam.
On this, one can refer for example to the work of Katherine Ewing on Sufi
saints in South Asia, “A Majzub and His Mother: The Place of Sainthood in a
Family’s Emotional Memory,” in Embodying Charisma: Modernity, Locality and
the Performance of Emotion in Sufi Cults, edited by Pnina Werbner and Helene
Basu. (London: Routledge, 1998), 160–184.
62. Interview with one Indian devotee (Aymard, 2013).
63. Satprem, Mother or the Divine Materialism (Paris: Institut de recherches évolu-
tives, 1979), 339.
64. W. J. Jackson, “A Life Becomes a Legend: Srī Tyāgarāja as Exemplar,” Journal of
the American Academy of Religion 60, no. 4 (Winter 1992): 732.
65. Jnaneshwar’s physical death is considered in a narrative called “samādhi” to
refer to the state of meditation the saint would maintain in his tomb in Alandi.
See Christian Lee Novetzke, Religion and Public Memory: A Cultural History of
Saint Namdev in India (New York: Columbia University Press, 2008), 42. On
Jnaneshwar’ samādhi, see as well Narayan, Storytellers, Saints, and Scoundrels,
185; and R. D. Ranade, Mysticism in India: The Poet-Saints of Maharashtra
(Albany: State University of New York Press, 1983), 34–35 and 43–44.
66. Jean Herbert, “Karma et mort dans l’hindouisme,” in La Mort est une autre nais-
sance, edited by Marc de Smedt (Paris: Albin Michel, 1989), 226.
67. See Swami Purushottamananda, Autobiography or the Story of Divine Compassion
(Vasishtha Guha, Tehri Garwal, Uttar Pradesh: Sri Purushottamananda Trust,
n.d.), 275.
68. Thara L. Bhai, 2004. “Emergence of Shrines in Rural Tamil Nadu: A Study
of Little Traditions,” in Sociology of Religion in India: Themes in Indian
 Notes 287

Sociology, Vol. 3, edited by Rowena Robinson (New Delhi: Sage Publications,

2004), 167.
69. Marol, Ma Anandamoyi: Vie en jeu, 110 (published in Hari Ram Joshi, Mā
Ānandamayī Līlā: Memoirs of Sri Hari Ram Joshi [Calcutta: Shree Shree
Anandamayee Charitable Society, 1981]).
70. Marol, Ma Anandamoyi: Vie en jeu, 109–110.
71. A Siddha (Siddha meaning perfect in Sanskrit) is one who has attained the
supreme goal and who is endowed with supernatural powers (siddhis). Siddha
also means the follower of Śiva in the Deccan, the alchemist of Tamil Nadu
(Sittar), the tantric Buddhist in Bengal (Mahasiddha and Siddhācārya), the alche-
mists of medieval India (Rasa Siddha), and the Nath Siddha in North India.
72. David Gordon White, “The Exemplary Life of Mastnāth: The Encapsulation
of Seven Hundred Years of Nāth Siddha Hagiography,” in Constructions hagi-
ographiques dans le monde indien: Entre mythe et histoire, edited by Françoise
Mallison (Paris: Librairie Honoré Champion, 2001), 140. See also Véronique
Bouiller, “Des prêtres du pouvoir: Les Yogis et la fonction royale,” in Prêtrise,
pouvoirs et autorité en Himalaya, edited by Véronique Bouiller and Gérard Toffin
(Paris: École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales, 1989).
73. “Mataji Amara Vani,” Ananda Varta, 313.
74. Helmuth Von Glasenapp, Immortality and Salvation in Indian Religions
(Calcutta: Susil Gupta India, 1963), 10.
75. See Paramahansa Yogananda, Autobiography of a Yogi (Los Angeles: Self-
Realization Fellowship, 1997).
76. Antonio Rigopoulos, The Life and Teachings of Sai Baba of Shirdi (Albany: State
University of New York Press, 1993), 93.
77. Jacques Vigne, Râmatîrtha: Le Soleil du soi, translated by Jacques Vigne
(Paris: Accarias–L’Originel, 2005), 79–80.
78. Jean M. Rivière, Lettres de Bénarès (Paris: Albin Michel, 1982), 176.
79. Satprem, Mother or the Divine Materialism, 331–332.
80. Madou, A la rencontre de Ma Anandamayi.
81. Christopher Isherwood, Ramakrishna and His Disciples (Calcutta: Advaita
Ashrama, 1965), 298.
82. Madou, A la rencontre de Ma Anandamayi.
83. Kripal, Kālī’s Child, 253.
84. Marol, Ma Anandamoyi: Vie en jeu, 39.
85. Catherine Clément and Sudhir Kakar, La Folle et le saint (Paris: Seuil, 1993), 145.
86. Ibid., 146.
87. Atmananda, Death Must Die, 215.
88. Satprem, Mother or the Divine Materialism, 337.
89. Madou, A la rencontre de Ma Anandamayi; on this subject, also see Gupta’s, In
Association with Sri Sri Ma Anandamayi, Vol. 1, 183, where Mā affirms to her
disciples that her body cannot be maintained except in wishing it well.
288 Notes

90. Excerpt from Gurupriya Devi’s Sri Sri Ma Anandamayi, Vol. 1 (Calcutta: Shree
Shree Anandamayee Charitable Society, 1986): “Mâ sometimes says: Before this
body appeared, my father had left his foyer. He had even slipped on his saffron
robe for a while and spent his days and nights singing God’s praise. This body
appeared during this phase of renunciation,” cited in Madou, A la rencontre de
Ma Anandamayi.
91. Madou, A la rencontre de Ma Anandamayi.
92. By the terms “Samyam Vratā,” Atmananda is referring to Samyam Saptah, the
retreat devoted to Mā that takes place every year.
93. Madou, A la rencontre de Ma Anandamayi.
94. Catherine Clémentin-Ojha, La Divinité conquise: Carrière d’une sainte (Nanterre,
France: Société d’Ethnologie, 1990), 181–182.
95. Ibid.
96. David M. Miller, “Karma, Rebirth and the Contemporary Guru,” in Karma and
Rebirth: Post Classical Developments, edited by Ronald. W. Neufeldt (Albany: State
University of New York Press, 1986), 67.
97. Lisa L. Hallstrom, Mother of Bliss: Ānandamayī Mā (1896–1982) (New York: Oxford
University Press, 1999), 117.
98. Arnaud Desjardins, Ashrams: Grands maîtres de l’Inde (Paris: Albin Michel,
1982), 90–91.
99. Bharati Dhingra, Visages de Ma Anandamayi (Paris: Cerf, 1981), 54–55.
100. Madou, A la rencontre de Ma Anandamayi.
101. Atmananda, Death Must Die, 474.
102. Swami Nikhilananda, trans., and Swami Adiswarananda, eds., Sri
Sarada Devi: The Holy Mother, Her Teachings and Conversations (New York
: Ramakrishna-Vivekananda Center of New York and Skylight Paths Publishing,
2004), 23.

C h a p t er 4

1. Daniel Gold, The Lord as Guru: Hindi Sants in North Indian Tradition
(New York: Oxford University Press, 1987), 108 and 159; Daniel Gold,
Comprehending the Guru: Toward a Grammar of Religious Perception (Atlanta,
GA: Scholars Press, 1988), 60.
2. Charlotte Vaudeville, “Sant Mat: Santism as the Universal Path to Sanctity,” in
The Sants: Studies in a Devotional Tradition of India, edited by Karine Schomer
and W. H. McLeod (New Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1987), 33–34.
3. Guy Bugault, “La Relation maître disciple en Inde,” in Maître et disciples dans les
traditions religieuses, edited by Michel Meslin (Paris: Cerf, 1990), 34.
4. David M. Miller, “The Divine Life Society Movement,” in Religion in Modern
India, edited by Robert D. Baird (Delhi: Manohar, 2001), 86.
5. Jacques Vigne, Le Maître et le thérapeute (Paris: Albin Michel, 1991), 138.
 Notes 289

6. Jacques Vigne, L’Inde intérieure: Aspects du yoga, de l’hindouisme et du bouddhisme

(Gordes: Editions du Relié, 2007), 221.
7. Muṇḍaka Upaniṣad (I.2.12), translated by Swami Muni Narayana Prasad (New
Delhi, DK: Printworld, 1998), 39.
8. Swami Ramdas, Entretiens de Hadeyah (Paris: Albin Michel, 1957), 204.
9. Words of Sri Anandamayi Ma, translated by Atmananda (Kankhal: Shree Shree
Anandamayee Sangha, 2001), 14; on the necessity of the guru, see also Amulya
K. D. Gupta, In Association with Sri Sri Ma Anandamayi, Vol. 3 (Calcutta: Shree
Shree Anandamayee Charitable Society, 1987), 54, where Mā affirms that the
presence of a guru is indispensable for the person who wants to be guided on
the path toward realization.
10. Bharati Dhingra, Visages de Ma Anandamayi (Paris: Cerf, 1981), 147.
11. Swami Vijayānanda, “Un chemin de joie. Témoignages et réponses d’un dis-
ciple français de Mâ Anandamayi” (n.d.).
12. René Guénon, Initiation et réalisation spirituelle (Paris: Editions Traditionnelles,
1982), 189.
13. Jacques Vigne, La Mystique du silence (Paris: Albin Michel, 2003), 25.
14. Jean M. Rivière, Lettres de Bénarès (Paris: Albin Michel, 1982), 182.
15. “Mataji Amara Vani,” Ananda Varta 4, no. 4 (1956): 315.
16. Atmananda, Death Must Die: A Western Woman’s Life-Long Spiritual Quest in
India with Sri Anandamayee Ma, edited by Ram Alexander (Delhi: Indica Books,
2000), 507; on the absence of the guru’s death, also see Mā’s words in Gupta,
In Association with Sri Sri Ma Anandamayi, Vol. 3, 193, where Mā affirms that the
guru cannot die, and that in this, the successive initiations of the disciple can
take place despite the physical absence of the guru.
17. Jean Herbert and Josette Herbert, trans., L’Enseignement de Mâ Ananda Moyî
(Paris: Albin Michel, 1988), 44.
18. Jean Herbert, Spiritualité hindoue (Paris: Albin Michel, 1972), 447.
19. Vijayānanda, “Un chemin de joie.”
20. Ibid., 19; see also Swami Vijayānanda, Un français dans l’Himalaya: Itinéraire
avec Mâ Ananda Môyî (Lyon: Terre du Ciel, 1997), 55.
21. Atmananda, Death Must Die, 452–453.
22. Muṇḍaka Upaniṣad (III.2.8), 123.
23. Vijayānanda, “Un chemin de joie.”
24. Jürgen W. Frembgen, “The Majzub Mama Ji Sarkar: A Friend of God Moves
from One House to Another,” in Embodying Charisma: Modernity, Locality and
the Performance of Emotion in Sufi Cults, edited by Pnina Werbner and Helene
Basu (London: Routledge, 1998), 156.
25. Sad Vani: A Collection of the Teaching of Sri Anandamayi Ma as Reported by
Bhaiji (Calcutta: Shree Shree Anandamayee Charitable Society, 2000), 53; see
also Jean Herbert, trans., Aux sources de la joie: Mâ Ananda Moyî (Paris: Albin
Michel, 1996), 79.
290 Notes

26. Dhingra, Visages de Ma Anandamayi, 102–103.

27. David Gordon White, “Ashes to Nectar: Death and Regeneration among the
Rasa Siddhas and Nāth Siddhas,” in The Living and the Dead: Social Dimensions
of Death in South Asian Religions, edited by Liz Wilson (Albany: State University
of New York Press, 2003), 13.
28. Atmananda, Death Must Die, 26.
29. Dhingra, Visages de Ma Anandamayi, 86.
30. Ramdas, Entretiens de Hadeyah, 105.
31. Gold, The Lord as Guru, 152–156.
32. Vijayānanda, “Un chemin de joie.”
33. Vigne, L’Inde intérieure, 154.
34. Jeremy Carrette, “Passionate Belief: William James, Emotion and Religious
Experience,” in id., ed., William James and the Varieties of Religious
Experience: A Centenary Celebration (London: Routledge, 2005), 85.
35. Charles Taylor, La Diversité de l’expérience religieuse aujourd’hui: William James
revisité (Saint-Laurent, QC: Bellarmin, 2003), 13; Jeremy Carrette, “William
James,” in The Oxford Handbook of Religion and Emotion, edited by John
Corrigan (New York: Oxford University Press, 2008), 422 and 432.
36. Carrette, “Passionate Belief,” 80.
37. Raimon Panikkar, L’Expérience de Dieu (Paris: Albin Michel, 1998), 39–40.
38. Arnaud Desjardins, Ashrams: Grands maîtres de l’Inde (Paris: Albin Michel,
1982), 78.
39. On darśana and religious experience, see June McDaniel, “Religious Experience
in Hindu Tradition,” Religion Compass 3, no. 1 (2009): 100–101.
40. Françoise Champion and Danièle Hervieu-Léger, De l’émotion en reli-
gion: Renouveaux et traditions (Paris: Le Centurion, 1990), 37.
41. William James, L’Expérience religieuse: Essai de psychologie descriptive (Paris: La
Bibliothèque de l’Homme, 1999), 103; see also Carrette, “William James,” 430.
42. André Godin, Psychologie des expériences religieuses: Le Désir et la réalité (Paris: Le
Centurion, 1986), 140–141.
43. Mircea Eliade, La Nostalgie des origines (Paris: Gallimard, 1971), 216.
44. François Isambert, Rite et efficacité symbolique: Essai d’anthropologie sociologique
(Paris: Cerf, 1979), 156.
45. Atmananda, Death Must Die, 430.
46. Antoine Vergote, Religion, Belief and Unbelief: A Psychological Study
(Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1996), 137.
47. Carrette observed, though, that James also believed to some extent that “mysti-
cal states” are actually separated from “definite sensible images.” See Carrette,
“Passionate Belief,” 86.
48. Panikkar, L’Expérience de Dieu, 214.
49. Sabino Samele Acquaviva, La Sociologie des religions: Problèmes et perspectives
(Paris: Cerf, 1994), 98.
 Notes 291

50. Marcel Gauchet, Le Désenchantement du monde (Paris: Gallimard, 1985), 399.

51. Jean-Claude Marol, La Saturée de joie Anandamayi (Paris: Dervy, 2001), 56.
52. David Kinsley, “Kālī, Blood and Death out of Place,” in Devī: Goddesses of
India, edited by John Stratton Hawley and Donna M. Wulff (Berkeley and Los
Angeles: University of California Press, 1996), 81.
53. Marol, La Saturée de joie Anandamayi, 150.
54. On this topic, see Dominique Bourdin, “Psychanalyse et religion: La Pensée
de Freud,” in La Religion: Unité et diversité, edited by Laurent Testot and
Jean-François Dortier (Auxerre: Sciences humaines éditions, 2005), 36.
55. Acquaviva, La Sociologie des religions, 97.
56. Antoine Vergote, Religion, foi, incroyance: Étude psychologique (Brussels: Mardaga
Pierre, 1995), 126.
57. Panikkar, L’Expérience de Dieu, 204.
58. Champion and Hervieu-Léger, De l’émotion en religion, 36. « Emotion or
émotion » ?
59. Panikkar, L’Expérience de Dieu, 109–110.
60. Rudolf Otto, Le Sacré: L’Élément non rationnel dans l’idée du divin et sa relation
avec le rationnel (Paris: Payot, 2001), 16.
61. William James, The Varieties of Religious Experience (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 2012), 306.
62. Otto, Le Sacré, 56.
63. Panikkar, L’Expérience de Dieu, 190.
64. Desjardins, Ashrams, 190.
65. W. Doniger O’Flaherty, Dreams, Illusion and Other Realities (Chicago: University
of Chicago Press, 1984).
66. Sudhir Kakar, Shamans, Mystics and Doctors: A Psychological Inquiry into India
and its Healing Traditions (New York: Knopf, 1982), 48.
67. Lawrence A. Babb, “Glancing: Visual Interaction in Hinduism,” Journal of
Anthropological Research 37, no. 4 (Winter 1981): 388.
68. The day after his death, Shirdi Sai Baba is said to have appeared in a dream to
one of his disciples, telling him: “Jog thinks I am dead. I am alive. Go and per-
form my morning ārati,” cited in Mani Sahukar, Sai Baba: The Saint of Shirdi
(Bombay: Somaiya Publications, 1971), 72.
69. Catherine Weinberger-Thomas, Cendres d’immortalité: La Crémation des veuves
en Inde (Paris: Seuil, 1996), 110.
70. Smriti Srinivas, “The Advent of the Avatar: The Urban Following of Sathya
Sai Baba and its Construction of Tradition,” in Charisma and Canon: The
Formation of Religious Identity in South Asia, edited by V. Dalmia, A. Malinar,
and M. Christof-Fuechsle (Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2001), 303; Antonio
Rigopoulos, The Life and Teachings of Sai Baba of Shirdi (Albany: State University
of New York Press, 1993), 243–244; Charles White, “Swāmi Muktānanda and the
Enlightenment through Śakti-pāt,” History of Religions 13, no. 4 (May 1974): 307.
292 Notes

71. In her study on Mā Anandāmayī, Lisa Hallstrom notes that, in the course of
her interviews with disciples who had known Mā in her lifetime, a number of
cases mentioned her apparition in dreams after Mā’s death. See Lisa Hallstrom,
Mother of Bliss: Ānandamayī Mā (1896–1982) (New York: Oxford University
Press, 1999), 123.
72. Dhingra, Visages de Ma Anandamayi, 140.
73. Swami Nirvedananda, “The Holy Mother,” in Great Women of India, edited by
Swami Madhavananda and Ramesh C. Majumdar (Calcutta: Advaita Ashrama,
1997), 502–503.
74. Dilip Kumar Roy and Indira Devi, Pilgrims of the Stars (Porthill, ID: Timeless
Books, 1985), 359.
75. Vasudha Narayanan, “Gurus and Goddesses, Deities and Devotees,” in The
Graceful Guru: Hindu Females Gurus in India and the United States, edited by
Karen Pechilis (New York: Oxford University Press, 2004), 157.
76. Swami Chandra, L’Art de la réalisation (Paris: Albin Michel, 1985), 15.
77. Sahukar, Sai Baba: The Saint of Shirdi, 73.
78. Dhingra, Visages de Ma Anandamayi, 16.
79. Shrî Aurobindo, Métaphysique et psychologie (Paris: Albin Michel, 1988), 243.
80. Loriliai Biernacki, “Shree Maa of Kamakkya,” in Pechilis, ed., The Graceful
Guru, 187.
81. Maya Warrier, “Processes of Secularization in Contemporary India: Guru Faith
in the Mata Amritanandamayi Mission,” Modern Asian Studies 37, no. 1 (February
2003): 235; and Maya Warrier, Hindu Selves in a Modern World: Guru Faith in the
Mata Amritanandamayi Mission (London: Routledge Curzon, 2005), 104.

C h a p t er 5

1. Max Weber, Economy and Society, Vol. 1 (New York: Bedminster Press, 1968),
241.
The Weberian concept of charisma, however, differs from Durkheim’s. Although
the latter one never used the word “charisma” itself, “charisma,” according to
his view, only appears in states of collective effervescence, where the individual
ego is dissolved into the group. Unlike Weber, charisma here is not so much
related to leadership, as Durkheim considers the charismatic leader to be more
like a representative of the collective ecstatic effervescence, of the energy of the
group. As for Freud, charisma has a more negative aspect compared to Weber
and Durkheim, as it is related both to hatred and attraction. In his understand-
ing, followers are not only bound by love.
2. Pierre Bourdieu, “Une interprétation de la théorie de la religion selon Max
Weber,” Archives Européenne de Sociologie 12, no. 1 (1971): 15; Charles Lindholm,
Charisma (Cambridge, MA: Basil Blackwell, 1990), 25.
 Notes 293

3. Pierre Bourdieu, “Le Langage autorisé: Note sur les conditions sociales de
l’efficacité du discours rituel,” Actes de recherche en Sciences Sociales 1, nos. 5–6
(November): 186–187.
4. Charles Lindholm, “Culture, Charisma, and Consciousness: The Case of the
Rajneeshee.” Ethos 30, no. 4 (2002): 358.
5. Marcel Gauchet, Le Désenchantement du monde (Paris: Gallimard, 1985), 230.
In a similar way, one can draw a parallel with legitimate objects given by char-
ismatic beings, to the extent that the most important thing for the devotee
is not the object itself, but what it means. See Charles White, “The Sāi Bābā
Movement: Approaches to the Study of Indian Saints,” Journal of Asian Studies
31, no. 4 (August 1972): 874.
6. Jean Séguy, “Max Weber et la sociologie historique des religions,” Archives
Sociologiques des Religions, no. 33 (January–June, 1972): 96; Lindholm, “Culture,
Charisma, and Consciousness,” 358.
7. Weber, Economy and Society, Vol. 1, 326.
8. Danièle Hervieu-Léger and Jean-Paul Willaime, “Max Weber,” in Sociologies et
religion (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 2001), 73.
9. Max Weber, Sociologie des religions (Paris: Gallimard, 1996), 251–252, cited in
Hervieu-Léger and Willaime, “Max Weber,” 73.
10. Julien Freund, “Le Charisme selon Max Weber,” Social Compass 23, no. 4 (1976):
391.
11. Lindholm, “Culture, Charisma, and Consciousness,” 359.
12. Roger Bastide, Les Amériques noires (Paris: Payot, 1967), 133.
13. Henri Desroche, “Retour à Durkheim? D’un texte peu connu à quelques
thèses méconnues,” Archives de Sociologie des Religions 27 (1969): 79–88,
cited in Françoise Champion and Danièle Hervieu-Léger, De l’émotion en reli-
gion: Renouveaux et traditions (Paris: Le Centurion, 1990), 221.
14. Henri Bergson, Les Deux Sources de la morale et de la religion (Paris: Presses
Universitaires de France, 1946).
15. Charles Taylor, La Diversité de l’expérience religieuse aujourd’hui: William James
revisité (Saint-Laurent, QB Bellarmin, 2003), 11.
16. Françoise Champion and Danièle Hervieu-Léger, De l’émotion en reli-
gion: Renouveaux et traditions (Paris: Le Centurion, 1990), 9.
17. Schmuel Trigano, Qu’est-ce que la religion? (Paris: Flammarion, 2001), 110.
18. Cited in Paul Brunton, A Search in Secret India (London: Rider, 2003), 49–50.
19. In this regard, see Irvin H. Collins, “The ‘Routinization of Charisma’ and
the Charismatic,” in The Hare Krishna Movement: The Postcharismatic Fate
of a Religious Transplant, edited by Edwin F. Bryant and Maria L. Ekstrand
(New York: Columbia University Press, 2004), 217.
20. E. A. Mann, “Religion, Money and Status: The Competition for Resources at the
Shrine of Shah Jamal, Aligarh,” in Muslim Shrines in India, edited by Christian
W. Troll (New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2003), 145.
294 Notes

21. Heinrich Von Stietencron, “Charisma and Canon: The Dynamics of

Legitimization and Innovation in Indian Religions,” in Charisma and
Canon: Essays on the Religious History of the Indian Subcontinent, edited by V.
Dalmia, A. Malinar, and M. Christof (New York: Oxford University Press,
2001), 25.
On this subject, see Jacob Copeman, “The Mimetic Guru: Tracing the Real in
Sikh-Dera Sacha Sauda Relations,” in The Guru in South Asia: New Interdisciplinary
Perspectives, edited by Jacob Copeman and Aya Ikegame (London: Routledge,
2012), where he explores the controversy in 2007 surrounding the alleged act of
imitation by one guru of the DSS devotional order (Dera Sacha Sauda) of Guru
Govind Singh, the last living Sikh Guru. Although the Sikh tradition strictly
forbids new dehdari (living gurus), the DSS proclaimed himself the successor
of Guru Govind Singh, provoking a scandal among the orthodox Sikhs.
Regarding the true/fake guru, Hinduism does not possess a recognized
decision-making body capable of differentiating between a true guru and a
false one. There are no rules on the matter permitting such a distinction, which
makes the process of differentiation between a true guru and a charlatan com-
plex, as Meena Kandelwal affirms. According to Copeman, however, one should
be cautious that the “really real gurus” may act in a fake way and pretend they
are the charlatans!
See Meena Kandelwal, Women in Ochre Robes (Albany: State University of
New York Press, 2004), 141. On the true guru and charlatans, Copeman, “The
Mimetic Guru,” 175. See also Kirin Narayan’s observations on stories of fake
gurus told by one who is himself a guru in Storytellers, Saints, and Scoundrels: Folk
Narrative in Hindu Religious Teaching (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania
Press, 1989).
22. Alexandra David-Neel, L’Inde où j’ai vécu (Paris: Pocket, 1985), 245. This also
returns us to the smārta community at Sringeri that sees in the present jag-
adguru (guru of the world) an incarnation of Shankaracharya. In this respect,
see William Cenkner, A Tradition of Teachers: Śankara and the Jagadgurus Today
(Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1983); see also Yoshitsugu Sawai, The Faith of
Ascetics and Lays Smārtas (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1992), 107.
23. We note that the Governing Body includes among its members a number of
women. It gathers together three times a year, and elects its president by major-
ity. For a while, this was Govind Narain, an important Indian civil servant
who was dispatched by the pandit Nehru in 1956 to negotiate the return of
Pondicherry to India, a return that occurred peaceably.
24. Maya Warrier, Hindu Selves in a Modern World: Guru Faith in the Mata
Amritanandamayi Mission (London: Routledge Curzon, 2005), 37.
25. Regarding the sum of money Mā left to her monks, we do not know if this
concerns all of her monks or only some of them, that is to say her closest
disciples. As we do not have supplementary information on this matter, we
 Notes 295

similarly do not know if there were tensions appearing between monks due
to this money.
26. The creation of the Indore ashram is imparted to a spontaneous revelation a
saint had while he was accompanying Swami Kedarnath in Indore. Pointing to
the future place of the Indore ashram (the land was actually belonging to the
India Legal court at that time), the saint would have told Swami Kedarnath that
an ashram dedicated to Mā should be started on that plot, as it was “written in
the higher worlds already.”
27. Mā came to Omkareshwar in 1940 and a small temple was constructed at the
place where she stayed. On the Ānandamayī Mā Omkareshwar Ashram School,
see http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vnfE_w2MVQY.
28. Swami Kedarnath wrote several books on Mā, especially eight volumes on her
teaching, titled Mā Ānandamayī Vachamāmrit (The Immortal Teachings of Mā
Ānandamayī) (Indore: Om Ma Śri Śri Mātā Ānandamayī Peeth Trust). He started
the book series in 2004 and continued through 2012. The other books (from the
same publisher) include Sri Sri Ma Anandamayi: A Guide to Meditation and
Understanding (2009); Sri Sri Ma Anandamayi: Divinity in Our Midst (2009);
and An Epilogue to Reality: The Autobiography of a Pilgrim Soul (which describes
Swami Kedarnath’s realization experience after he met Mā) (1985).
29. Jürgen Habermas, The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere (Cambridge,
MA: MIT Press, 1991).
30. Trigano, Qu’est-ce que la religion? 179.
31. Parita Mukta, Upholding the Common Life: The Community of Mirabai
(Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1989), 30.
32. Charles Taylor, Varieties of Religion Today: William James Revisited (Cambridge,
MA: Harvard University Press, 2002), 24.
33. Gerardus Van Der Leeuw, La Religion dans son essence et ses manifesta-
tions: Phénoménologie de la religion (Paris: Payot, 1955), 208.
34. George M. Williams, “The Ramakrishna Movement: A Study in Religious
Change,” in Religion in Modern India, edited by Robert D. Baird (Delhi: Manohar,
2001), 59.
35. David M. Miller and Dorothy C. Wertz, Hindu Monastic Life (Montreal,
QC: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 1976), 195–196.
36. It should be clarified that anyone can actually enter the Kankhal ashram (the
samādhi, the book store, etc.) but large parts of the ashram are strictly forbidden
to Westerners because of orthodox brahmin rules. For this reason, foreigners
are not allowed to eat and sleep there, so as to avoid polluting the place.
37. David-Neel, L’Inde où j’ai vécu, 253.
38. Dilip Kumar Roy and Indira Devi, The Flute Calls Still (Bombay: Bharatiya Vidya
Bhavan, 1982), 9.
39. Swami Vijayānanda, “Un chemin de joie: Témoignages et réponses d’un dis-
ciple français de Mâ Anandamayi.”
296 Notes

40. Bharati Dhingra, Visages de Ma Anandamayi (Paris: Cerf, 1981), 31.

41. Mā said this to Khan Bahadur Nazir-ud-din Alimed (Dacca University). See Raj
Sahib Akshoy Kumar Datta Gupta, “God as Love,” in Mother as Seen by Her
Devotees (Varanasi: Shree Shree Anandamayee Sangha, 1967).
42. Arnaud Desjardins, Ashrams: Grands maîtres de l’Inde (Paris: Albin Michel,
1982), 184.
43. Katherine Young and Lily Miller, “Sacred Biography and the Restructuring of
Society: A Study of Anandamayi Ma, Lady-Saint of Modern Hinduism,” Boeings
and Bullock-Carts, Vol. 2, edited by Dhirendra K. Vajpeyi (Delhi: Chanakya
Publications, 1990), 136–137.
44. The Ramakrishna Math and Mission Convention—1926, Belur, The Math, 1926,
31, cited in Williams, “The Ramakrishna Movement,” 70–71.
45. On a more esoteric level, Brahmins believe that these ancient rules regarding
rituals and caste purity, such as food restrictions (i.e., strict vegetarianism),
absence of contact with dirt (and consequently with foreigners who are con-
sidered to be polluting agents), conduct of specific meditation practice and
rituals, are meant to sustain the subtle energy field, the spiritual vibrations of
the Indian land, so as to lead them to liberation. See Atmananda, Death Must
Die: A Western Woman’s Life-Long Spiritual Quest in India with Sri Anandamayee
Ma, edited by Ram Alexander (Delhi: Indica Books, 2000), 232.
46. Vijayananda: Some Aspects of Ma Anandamayi’s Teachings (texts collected and
presented by Dr. Jacques Vigne), http://www.anandamayi.org/devotees/jvv2.
htm.
47. Alexander Lipski, Life and Teaching of Śrī Ānandamayī Mā (Delhi: Motilal
Banarsidass, 2005), 58; Atmananda, Death Must Die, 255.
48. Atmananda, Death Must Die, 256.
49. Jean-Claude Marol, La Saturée de joie Anandamayi (Paris: Dervy, 2001), 90.
50. Atmananda, Death Must Die, 243.
51. Melita Maschmann, Encountering Bliss: My Journey through India with
Ānandamayī Mā (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 2002), 227.
52. On this subject, see also the testimony of Daniel Roumanoff, where Mā affirms
to Roumanoff that for her, there are no foreigners and that there is only the Self,
in “A Tragic Passion,” What is Enlightenment, no. 10 (Autumn–Winter 1996): 56.
53. Atmananda, Death Must Die, 504.
54. Ibid., 505.
55. Desjardins, Ashrams, 76–77.
56. Madou, A la rencontre de Ma Anandamayi: Entretiens avec Atmananda, http://
www.anandamayi.org/ashram/french/frmad1.htm.
57. Atmananda, Death Must Die, 242.
58. Ibid., 254–255
59. Ibid., 257.
60. Ibid., 348.
 Notes 297

61. Ibid., 259.

62. Jacques Vigne, L’Inde intérieure: Aspects du yoga, de l’hindouisme et du bouddhisme
(Gordes: Editions du Relié, 2007), 360.
63. Jacob Copeman and Aya Ikegame, “Guru Logics,” HAU: Journal of Ethnographic
Theory 2, no. 1 (2012): 312.
64. The lack of reference of lower castes within Mā’s ashrams is not due to any
neglect on our part, but stems from the absence of information on this subject.
As Indian devotees are usually assembled without distinction in Mā’s ashrams,
notably during mealtimes, it is difficult for us to take account of the place of the
lower castes with regard to Brahmins.
65. Regarding brahminism and purity rules, we are reminded of Copeman’s work,
who argues that organ donation is an opportunity to challenge Brahmanism
and its belief that all bodies need to be cremated. See Jacob Copeman and Deepa
S. Reddy, “The Didactic Death: Publicity, Instruction, and Body Donation,”
HAU: Journal of Ethnographic Theory 2, no. 2 (2012): 59–83.
66. Mary Douglas, Purity and Danger: An Analysis of Concepts of Pollution and Taboo
(London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1966), 113.
67. Madou, A la rencontre de Ma Anandamayi.
68. Jean-Pierre Albert, “Hagio-graphiques: L’Écriture qui sanctifie,” Terrain, no. 24
(March 1995): 76.
69. Bruce B. Lawrence, “The Chishtiya of Sultanate India: A Case Study of
Biographical Complexities in South Asia Islam,” in Charisma and Sacred
Biography, edited by M. A. Williams (Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1982), 55; see also
David N. Lorenzen, “The Life of Śaṅkarācārya,” The Biographical Process: Studies
in the History and Psychology of Religion, edited by Frank E. Reynolds and Donald
Capps (La Hague: Mouton, 1976), 87.
70. Steven J. Rosen, “Introduction,” Journal of Vaiśṇava Studies 1, no. 2 (1993): p. i.
71. Frank E. Reynolds and Donald Capps, “Introduction,” in The Biographical
Process, 4.
72. T. K. Stewart, “When Biographical Narratives Disagree: The Death of Kṛṣṇa
Caitanya,” Numen 38, no. 2 (December 1991): 232.
73. See Karl H. Potter, “Śamkarācārya: The Myth and the Man,” in Charisma and
Sacred Biography; as well as Robin Rinehart, One Lifetime, Many Lives: The
Experience of Modern Hindu Hagiography (New York: Oxford University
Press, 1999).
74. R. Puligandla, Fundamentals of Indian Philosophy (Nashville: Abingdon Press,
1975), 247, cited in W. J. Jackson, “A Life Becomes a Legend: Srī Tyāgarāja
as Exemplar,” Journal of the American Academy of Religion 60, no. 4 (Winter
1992): 722.
75. Jonathan Bader, Conquest of the Four Quarters (New Delhi: Aditya Prakashan,
2000), 7.
298 Notes

76. S. G. Tulpule, “Hagiography in Medieval Marathi Literature,” in According to

Tradition: Hagiographical Writing in India, edited by W. M. Callewaert and R.
Snell (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 1994), 166.
77. Stephen Wilson, Saints & their Cults: Studies in Religious Sociology, Folklore &
History (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983), 16; Rinehart, One
Lifetime, Many Lives, 12.
78. Françoise Mallison, “Le ‘Genre’ hagiographique dans la Bhakti médiévale
de l’Inde occidentale,” in Genre Littéraires en Inde, edited by Nalini Balbir
(Paris: Presses de la Sorbonne Nouvelle, 1994), 326.
79. John A. Colesman, “Conclusion: After Sainthood,” in Saints and Virtues, edited
by John Stratton Hawley (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California
Press, 1988), 367.
80. Stephen Wilson, “Introduction,” in id., Saints & their Cults: Studies in Religious
Sociology, Folklore & History (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983), 31;
Patrick Geary, “Saints, Scholars, and Society: The Elusive Goal,” in Saints: Studies
in Hagiography, edited by Sandro Sticca (Binghamton, NY: Medieval and
Renaissance Texts and Studies, 1996), 15; Père H. Delehaye, The Legends of the
Saints (London: University of Notre Dame Press, 1961), 2.
81. Phyllis Granoff, “Scholars and Wonder-Workers: Some Remarks on the Role of
the Supernatural in Philosophical Contests in Vedānta Hagiographies,” Journal
of the American Oriental Society 105, no. 3 (July–September 1985): 462; Phyllis
Granoff, “Holy Warriors: A Preliminary Study of Some Biographies of Saints
and Kings in the Classical Indian Tradition,” Journal of Indian Philosophy 12, no.
3 (September 1984): 291–292 and 296.
82. Bader, Conquest of the Four Quarters, 15.
83. See Miller and Young, “Sacred Biography and the Restructuring of Society.”
84. A new translation (November 2010) of the journal of Mā’s very close disci-
ple, Bhaiji, even speaks of Mā’s prakāsh, i.e., Mā’s revelation, mentioning the
absence of Mā’s biological mother Didimā at her birth. Similarly to statues,
stones, etc., Mā then appears as a self-manifested being for some of her devo-
tees. See Mother Reveals Herself, 4.
85. Hari Ram Joshi, Mā Ānandamayī Līlā: Memoirs of Sri Hari Ram Joshi
(Calcutta: Shree Shree Anandamayee Charitable Society, 1981), 6.
86. Edward C. Dimock, “On Impersonality and Bengali Religious Biography,” in
Sanskrit and India Studies: Essays in Honour of Daniel H. H. Ingalls, edited by
M. Nagatomi (Dordrecht: D. Reidel Publishing Co., 1980), 238; on the subject
of the recognition of the avatar, see also France Bhattacharya, “La Construction
de la figure de l’homme-dieu selon les deux principales hagiographies ben-
galies de Śrī Kṛṣṇa Caitanya,” Constructions Hagiographiques dans le Monde
Indien: Entre mythe et histoire, edited by Françoise Mallison (Paris: Champion,
2001), 187.
 Notes 299

87. Denis Matringue, “Pakistan,” in Le Culte des saints dans le monde musulman,
edited by Henri Chambert-Loir and Claude Guillot (Paris: École Française
d’Extrême Orient, 1995), 174.
88. Rinehart, One Lifetime, Many Lives, 54.
89. Revue Nouvelles Clés, 2000, cited in Vigne, L’Inde Intérieure, 357.
90. Stewart, “When Biographical Narratives Disagree,” 231; T. K. Stewart, The
Final Word: The Caitanya Caritāmṛta and the Grammar of Religious Tradition
(New York: Oxford University Press, 2010), 46, 56, 123.
91. Parita Mukta, Upholding the Common Life: The Community of Mirabai
(Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1989), 227.
92. Véronique Bouiller, “Un ‘bricolage’ hagiographique: Siddha Ratannath du
monastère de Caughera (Népal),” Constructions hagiographiques dans le Monde
Indien, edited by Françoise Mallison (Paris: Librairie Honoré Champion, 2001), 134.
93. Edward C. Dimock, “Religious Biography in India: The ‘Nectar of the Acts’ of
Caitanya,” in The Biographical Process, 109.
94. Jean Filliozat and Louis Renou, L’Inde classique: Manuel des études indiennes,
Vol. 1 (Paris: Payot, 1985), 478; see also Narayan, Storytellers, Saints, and
Scoundrels, 185.
95. Katherine Young, “Introduction,” in Women Saints in World Religions, edited by
Arvind Sharma (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2000), 4; Christian
Lee Novetzke, Religion and Public Memory: A Cultural History of Saint Namdev in
India (New York: Columbia University Press, 2008), 262. A number of scholars
have argued that Janabai is a contemporary of the sixteenth-century Brahmin
poet Vishnudas Nama, and hence she is writing about the fourteenth Namdev
some centuries after he lived. As for Namdev, there are numerous debates about
the place of his death. Three places were selected by scholars, where memori-
als and other physical sites are present. See Lee Novetzke, Religion and Public
Memory, 49, which relates the cultural history of Namdev with Maharashtrian
public memory. On Janabai, see also Rajeshwari V. Pandharipande, “Janabai,”
in Women Saints in World Religions.
96. As Stewart notes, the tradition tends not to recognize Chaitanya’s death, adopt-
ing the more theologically sound return to heaven, merging with one of the
temple images of Jagannātha, or disappearing. See Stewart, The Final Word, 46
and 256.
97. Govind Narain, “Shree Shree Mā Anandamayee: The Eternal Flame,” in Ma
Anandamayee: Embodiment of India’s Spiritual and Cultural Heritage (Kankhal,
Hardwar, India: Shree Shree Anandamayee Sangha, 2005), 37.
98. Swami Mangalananda, Om Ma. Anandamayi Ma: A Short Life Sketch
(Omkareshwar, India: Mata Anandamayi Ashram, 2004), 55.
99. Koshelya Walli, “Mata Anandamayee’s Contribution to Cultural and Spiritual
Heritage of India,” in Ma Anandamayee: Embodiment of India’s Spiritual and
Cultural Heritage, 54.
300 Notes

100. See I am ever with you: Matri Lila, Vols. 1 and 2 (Calcutta: Shree Shree
Anandamayee Charitable Society, 1985 and 1991).
101. Prasanna Madhava, Ma Anandamayee: The Divine Mother Showers Grace on Us
(Meerut, India: Sohan Printing Press, 2004), 93.
102. See the back cover of Jean-Claude Marol’s book, Une fois Ma Anandamayi
(Paris: Le Courrier du Livre, 1995).
103. Filliozat and Renou, L’Inde classique, 351.
104. Yvan Amar, “Introduction: La Transmission de la conscience,” in La Transmission
Spirituelle (Gordes: Editions du Relié, 2003), 8.
105. On initiation in Mā’s time, one can also refer to Lisa Hallstrom’s work, Mother
of Bliss: Ānandamayī Mā (1896–1982) (New York: Oxford University Press,
1999), 137–147.
106. Gupta, In Association with Sri Sri Ma Anandamayi, vol. 3, 17.
107. “Pensée de l’Himalaya: Entretiens avec Swami Nirgunananda,” http://www.
anandamayi.org.
108. In this regard, some devotees refer to Mā as the paramguru, which, in a way,
corresponds to the “grandmother guru,” as the role of the guru may be held by
a swami of Mā’s saṅgha.
109. Swami Sarasvati Chandrasekhara, The Guru Tradition: Voice of the Guru
(Bombay: Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan, 1991), 40.
110. Vijayānanda, “Un Chemin de Joie.”
111. Alexandra David-Néel, Initiations et Initiés au Tibet (London: Rider, 1973), 47.
112. The affirmation which holds that the saint, even dead, can conduct an initiation
in a dream is common in the Hindu tradition, as in Sai Baba’s movement. See
White, “The Sāi Bābā Movement,” 874.
113. According to Swami Nirgunānanda, an early disciple, Mā however affirmed the
importance of verifying the authenticity of the mantra: “I was witness to many
interviews with Mā where the seeker told Her that they had received a mantra
in a dream. In almost all cases, Mā asked the person to address himself to his
guru, so as to authenticate and sanctify the mantra or, in the physical absence
of the guru, to address himself to a competent person of the same line” (Swami
Nirgunananda, Extraits de “Self-dialogue on Japa,” 2005, see http://www.anan-
damayi.org).
114. A. R. Natarajan, Ramana Maharshi: The Living Guru (Bangalore: Ramana
Maharshi Centre for Learning, 2000), 9–10.
115. Madou, A la rencontre de Ma Anandamayi.

C onc lusion

1. Arnaud Desjardins, Les Chemins de La Sagesse (Paris: La Table Ronde, 1999), 96.
2. Jürgen Habermas, Communication and the Evolution of Society (Boston: Beacon
Press, 1974), 178–206.
 Notes 301

3. Estimates of the total number of Sathya Sai Baba devotees around the world
vary between 10 and 70 million.
4. On Thursday, April 8, i.e. two days after Swami’s Vijayānanda’s departure,
Swami Bhaskarānanda also left his body in Bhimpura ashram on the banks of
the Narmada River in Gujarat. He was 94 year old. Swami Bhaskarānanda and
Swami Vijayānanda came to Mā around the same time and were both very close
to her. Another great Swami of Mā, Swami Śivānanda, also left his body four
days after Swami Vijayānanda’s departure, Friday, April 9. He had been hospi-
talized two days earlier.
5. See Gene R. Thursby, “Siddha Yoga: Swami Muktananda and the Seat of Power,” in
When Prophets Die: The Postcharismatic Fate of New Religious Movements, edited by
Timothy Miller (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1991), 165–181; Steven
Gelberg, “The Call of the Lotus-Eyed Lord: The Fate of Krishna Consciousness
in the West,” in Miller, ed., When Prophets Die, 149–164; and Gordon Melton,
“Introduction: When Prophets Die,” in Miller, ed., When Prophets Die, 1–12.
6. See Timothy Miller, “Afterword,” in id., When Prophets Die, 195.
7. William James, The Varieties of Religious Experience (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 2012), 258.
8. Pierre Bourdieu, “Genèse et structure du champ religieux,” Revue française de
sociologie 12, no. 3 (July–September 1971): 319.
9. The new scriptures/liturgies include the Mā Chaleesa; the Śri Śri Mātā
Ānandamayī Lilāmṛta (which is a story of Mā’s life to be sung in four different
ragas like the Ramayana).
10. Charles Lindholm, “Culture, Charisma, and Consciousness: The Case of the
Rajneeshee,” Ethos 30, no. 4 (2002).
11. Maya Warrier, Hindu Selves in a Modern World: Guru Faith in the Mata
Amritanandamayi Mission (London: Routledge Curzon, 2005), 142.
12. There was some resistance from a part of the ashram. Some conservative peo-
ple in Kankhal also demonstrated to oppose the construction of a samādhi for
Swami Vijayānanda in the village. Here we refer especially to the sādhus con-
nected to the Dakśa temple, the Mahanirvanī akḥāḍa and a group of pāndās
(pilgrimage’s priests). For more information, see Jacques Vigne, “Swami
Vijayânanda: The Last Days,” unpublished, http://www.anandamayi.org/devo-
tees/Vijayanandaeng.htm.
13. Some devotees of Swami Vijayānanda believe that the eruption of the
Eyjafjallajokull volcano, one of Iceland’s largest volcanoes, on April 14, 2010,
took place to purify the atmosphere for the transport of Swami Vijayānanda’s
body from India to Paris. This explosion sent clouds of ash soaring as high as
11,000 meters, disrupting air traffic in Europe.
14. See Gwilym Beckerlegge, The Ramakrishna Mission: The Making of a Modern
Hindu Movement (New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2000), about the
“Making” of the Ramakrishna movement, more specifically the promotion, pre-
sentation, and rejection of the movement.
 Glossary

Advaita Doctrine of the “One without second,” of non-duality.

Akḥāḍa Ascetic order.
Ānanda Bliss, joy without object.
Antaryāmin Interior master.
Ārati Ceremony during which lights are placed before the image of the divinity.
Ashram Institution where the guru and his or her community reside.
Ātman The Self.
Avatar “Descent” of the divine; divine incarnation.
Bhagavan God.
Bhajana Religious chant.
Bhakta Devotee, adorer, he or she who progresses on the path of bhakti.
Bhakti Devotion, love for the Divine.
Bhaktiyoga Way of devotion.
Bhāva State of being, interior disposition.
Brahmacārin (fem. ini) He or she who takes the vows of brahmacārya.
Brahmacārya First stage of brahmanic life; celibacy, chastity.
Brahman The absolute, the One.
Chakra Wheel, circle; name given to the subtle centers of the body.
Dargah Cult space where the tomb of a Muslim saint is located in India.
Darśana The vision of a sage, of a divinity.
Devī Goddess.
Dharma The “order of the world”; the traditional laws of classical Hinduism.
Dīkṣā Initiation completed by a guru.
Duḥkha Suffering, pain.
Dvandvatita Beyond opposing pairs.
Guṇa Quality or attribute of the phenomenal world.
Gurubahin Spiritual sister.
Gurubhai Spiritual brother.
304 Glossary

Gurupūrṇimā Hindu celebration in honor of the guru that takes place on the day of
the full moon in July.
Iṣṭā Divinity to which the adorer feels particularly drawn (literally, the beloved).
Janmabhūmi Place of birth.
Jāpa “Repetition”; devotional practice consisting in indefinitely repeating a mantra
or the name of a divinity.
Jāti Birth.
Jaya “Victory to.”
Jīva Life.
Jīvanmukta Sage who has attained Liberation while retaining his or her human body.
Jīvanmukti The state of liberation of a soul in a living body.
Jñāna Literally knowledge.
Jhuṭā Literally that which is dirty, impure. Designating the traditional rules of purity.
Karma Action, result of action; law of cause and effect.
Kheyāla Thought or sudden and unexpected desire; applied to Mā Ānandamayī, this
means a spontaneous impulse of the Divine Will.
Kīrtana Collective religious chant.
Līlā The game of God.
Līnga Representation of the deity Śiva used for worship in Hindu temples.
Liṅgayāt Śivaite sect of the Deccan, which is distinguished by the bearing of an
individual līnga.
Loka World.
Mahāsamādhi Literally “great samādhi,” death of the saint, of the guru.
Mandira Temple.
Manhush The awakened man, conscious of himself.
Mantra Sacred words, words of power.
Māṭha Monastery.
Mauna Silence.
Mohā Illusion, attachment.
Mokṣa Liberation.
Mṛtyu Death, another name of Yama.
Mukti Liberation.
Mūrti Statue.
Nirguṇa Without guṇa, or attributes; without qualifications (opposite: saguṇa).
Nirvāṇa Dissolution of the ego, liberation.
Para Superior, supreme.
Parabhakti Supreme bhakti, or divine love.
Paramguru Grandfather or grandmother guru.
Prakṛti “Nature,” opposed to the Mind, “puruṣa.”
Pranāma Prostration as a sign of obedience and humility.
Prāṇapratiṣṭhā Process of establishing the breath in the statue or in an image of the
divinity.
 Glossary 305

Prasāda Food offered to a divinity or to a sage and redistributed to devotees.

Prema Supreme love.
Pūjā “Adoration”; ritual Hindu ceremony.
Pūjāri Specialist of pūjā.
Puruṣa Mind, essential, immutable and conscious element of the person.
Satcitānanda Existence-consciousness-bliss.
Sadguru The perfect guru who leads to knowledge of Reality.
Sādhaka A person who practices asceticism, the sādhanā.
Sādhanā Spiritual discipline, asceticism.
Sādhu Wandering ascetic.
Saguṇa With attributes (opposite: nirguṇa); manifested God.
Śakta Worshipper of Śakti.
Śakti Divine “power” or “energy.” Active aspect of God, considered to be feminine as
opposed to its non-affected and immutable aspect; the Divine Mother.
Śaktipāta Initiating transmission.
Samādhi Technical yogic term that designates the highest form of mystic gather-
ing. The samādhi can be savikalpa (with content) or nirvikalpa (without content).
Samādhi also means the tomb of a renunciant.
Saṃnyāsa Complete renunciation of life in the world; also the last stage of human
life, in which man should renounce his family, his possessions, his caste,
and so on.
Saṃnyāsin (fem. ini) Renunciant; also individual who has attained the fourth and
last stage of existence.
Sampradāya Spiritual line.
Saṃsāra “Transmigration,” indefinite circle of deaths and rebirths; opposite of
ṃokṣa.
Saṃskāra Results of impressions and of past karma that are found in our being.
Samyam Saptah One week retreat.
Sanātana Eternal.
Saṅgha Community.
Satī The perfect woman, faithful to her husband; secondarily the wife who throws
herself onto her husband’s funerary pyre.
Satsaṅga The society or company of saints and sages.
Siddhi Occult, supernatural power.
Śiṣya Disciple.
Śraddha Funerary rites.
Śūdra Last of the Hindu castes (varṇa).
Śukṣuma Subtle connection.
Svarūpa The true Being; Brahman.
Swami Member of a Hindu religious order.
Tapasya Austerities practiced for spiritual development.
Tīrtha Place of pilgrimage.
306 Glossary

Ucchiṣṭa That which remains, which was sullied.

Upaguru Secondary guru.
Vairāgya Detachment and indifference toward the world.
Varṇa Caste.
Vedānta One of the most important darśana (schools) of traditional Hinduism.
Vīra “Hero.” Initiated tantric practitioner.
Viśiṣṭādvaita “Qualified” non-dualism.
Vrata Vow.
Yajñā Sacrifice.
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Dvd

Desjardins, Arnaud. 2006. Ashrams. France: Alizé Diffusion. Dvd 35 + 20 mn.

W e b si t e s

http://www.anandamayi.org
http://www.srianandamayima.org
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vnfE_w2MVQY (The Anandamayi Ma Omkareshwar
Ashram School)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eMF0qInj0hk (interview “Arnaud Desjardins
talks about his experiences with Ma Anandamayi”)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=32J9B8hNzKM (interview Arnaud Desjardins,
part IV)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mjz1xyDzR2I (interview Arnaud Desjardins, part V)
 Index

Abandonment, 103, 129 Alandi, 89, 136, 286n65

Absolute, the, Almora, 25, 226–227
and Mā, 17, 147, 165, 168 Alpert, Richard, 257. See also Ram Dass
and Vivekananda, 113 Amṛtānandamayī, Mā (Amma),
Absorption, 22, 96, 116, 237 as avatar, 210
Advaita Vedānta, as a continuation of Mā, 133
and cult of images, 58 as the Divine Mother, 132, 250
and death of the guru, 10, 113 dolls of, 66
and the guru, 19, 32, 190 and female guruship, 5, 7, 85
in hagiography, 236, 239 as the Hugging Mother, 5
Mā on, 16–18, 34, 153 and Mā’s disciples, 159–160, 163,
and Mā’s return, 133–134 195, 251
see non-duality marriage’s refusal of, 11
Panikkar on, 18 medals of, 62
and presence, 179 as middle-class guru, 4
relics in the perspective of, 92–94 miracles of, 195
and the state of jīvanmukta, 266n72 movement of, 5, 221
and Westerners, 34 and orthodoxy, 255
Afterlife, 10 pictures of, 61
Agartala, 25 Ramakrishna’s disciples’devotion
Agency, 9, 95, 108 for, 170
Agent, samādhi of, 7, 85
of the cult, 8, 26, 38, 41 and secularization, 5
category of, 43 self-initiation of, 13
as intermediary, 49 similarities with Mā, 132
polluting, 76, 234, 296n45 success of, 174, 250, 251
relics as, 86 teaching of, 16
soteriological (guru), 83 travels of, 15, 258
Ākāṣa, 116 Vijayānanda on, 251
Akḥāḍa, 55, 301n12 Ānanda, 10, 175, 180–182, 186, 196, 250
330 Index

Ananda Varta, 45, 268n14 and trees, 73

Anderson, Leona M., 83 Authority,
Animal sacrifice, 78 charismatic, 198–199, 202
Anniversary, dogmatic, 134
Mā’s birth, 44, 48, 53–54, 147, 239 feudal, 215
Mā’s death, 54 prophetic, 199
Antaryāmin, 162 spiritual, 133, 224, 247
Ārati, 42, 51, 97, 291 Avatar,
Ardhakumbhamelā, 55–56 concept of, 10, 30–31
Arunachala, 25, 72, 119, 147 death of, 135, 141–144, 150
Asceticism, 56, 277n69 descent of, 10, 131, 133
Assayag, Jackie, female, 262n23
on Liṅgāyat, 103, 116 and hagiography, 236–237, 241
on Muslim saints, 41–42, 100 and institutions, 210
spheres of sacred jurisdiction, 40 Mā as, 2, 5, 16, 30–31, 131–135, 141–144,
studies of syncretism of, 6 150, 237
warehouse of charisma, 96 Ramakrishna as, 143, 211
Ātman, 78, 161, 285n55
Atmananda, Babb, Lawrence, 7, 18, 100, 30
and caste rules, 114, 216, 224–228, Bader, Jonathan, 236
232, 234, 255 Bangladesh, 2, 14, 24–25, 36, 63, 232
as editor of Ananda Varta, 268n14 Banyan, 58, 72–73
immersion in the Ganges of, 79 Baraka, 95, 97
and initiation, 245 Bardin, Laurence, 26
on Mā, 20–21, 126, 140–144, Bastide, Roger, 199
146–147, 149 Beauty, 11, 19, 61, 106, 178
on Mā’s death, 117–118, 122, 126 Beckerlegge, Gwilym, 6, 271n60, 301n14
and Mā’s presence, 88, 176, 189 Belief,
untouchable status of, 114 complexity of, 29
writings of, 9, 110, 169 in Didimā as Mā’s biological
Augustum, 95 mother, 64
Aurobindo, Sri, in the guru’s immortality, 7–10, 151
body’s incorruptibility of, 80–81 and images, 58, 271
and communication with dead in the incorruptibility of the body,
people, 194 8, 80–81
death of, 80–81, 121, 135–136, 140, 145 in past life, 45, 47
guru of, 154 in a posthumous presence of the
miracles of, 81, 140 sage, 87–88, 93, 100, 103
purity of, 146 Bengal,
relics of, 99 devotion to Kālī in, 107, 264n51
samādhi of, 25, 73, 85, 89, 97 Mā’s birth in, 2, 11, 20, 30, 44
and The Mother, 85, 204, 256, Mā as the Human Kālī in, 20, 106,
278n78 178, 247. See also Kālī
 Index 331

sainthood in, 5, 21, 30 Bhāva, 111, 145

supremacy of Brahmins from, 11, 42, Bhimpura,
44, 205–206, 229–230, 252 ashram of, 24–26, 40, 222–223
ululation in, 270n45 death of Swami Bhaskarānanda
Bhagavadgītā, 9, 56, 105, 113–114 at, 301n4
Bhagavan, 31, 54, 116, 157, 264–265n58 gathering of Ṛṣi at, 40
Bhai, Thara L., 52, 136 orthodox rules at, 230–231
Bhaiji, 14, 83, 271n67, 277n75, 298n84 Samyam Saptah at, 26, 37, 56
Bhajana, 55 state of bliss of, 40
Bhakta, 32, 43, 128, 133, 245 Bholanāth (husband), 11–14, 65, 79,
Bhakti, 111, 230
and Advaita, 32, 34 Biardeau, Madeleine, 76, 108
and charisma, 198 Biernacki, Loriliai, 5, 194
and darśan, 49 Biography, 19, 235
and emotions, 176 Bird on the Wing, 14–15
and hagiography, 236, 239 Bloch, Maurice, 103–104
Mā on, 16 Body,
meaning of, 31 as a dangerous element, 69, 96
Nirguṇa, 33, 166 to leave one’s, 3, 15, 74–75, 88,
and śaktism, 108 114–116, 118, 121–122, 129, 136,
and sentiments of loss, 143 139–142, 145, 149–150, 157, 162, 187,
Swami Vijayānanda on, 32 274n35, 301n4
for Westerners, 34, 126 of light, 116, 130
Bhārat Mātā, 7 physical, 80, 90, 106, 126–127, 129,
Bharati, Agehananda, 70 138–139, 142, 144, 156, 162, 166–167,
Bhardwaj, Surinder M., 48, 50 173, 179, 222, 240
Bhaskarānanda, Swami, subtle, 29, 129, 130
and Bhimpura ashram, 25, 223 as tīrtha, 50. See also tīrtha
and caste rules, 233 Bouiller, Véronique, 6, 71, 238
as a charismatic figure, 208, 253 Bourdieu, Pierre,
as a continuation of Mā, 203–204 on charisma, 10, 197
death of, 301n4 and legitimate receptors, 198–199
and foreigners, 45 monopoly of power, 214
as guru, 25 on salvation goods, 97, 250, 253
and initiation, 203, 243–244, 251 Brahmacārin, 54, 123, 204
on Mā, 162 Brahmacārini, 42, 54, 145, 166, 187,
and Mā’s image, 59 193, 195
as one with Mā, 93, 118, 203–204 Brahmacārya, 42, 54
as secretary general of Mā’s Brahmalina, 116
organization, 25–26, 119 Brahman, 18, 78, 116, 153, 285n55
and the Sri Sri Mata Anandamayi Brāhmaṇa, 241
Peeth Trust, 212, 214–215 Bṛhadāranyaka Upaniṣad, 9, 114
Bhattacharya, France, 30 Bronkhorst, Johannes, 71, 273n14
332 Index

Brown, Peter, 50, 67, 72, 87, 96–99 Charisma,

Buddha, 67, 69–70, 82, 87, 101, 135, 228 absorption of, 254
Buddhism, and death, 138
burial ad sanctos in, 79 guru’s, 10, 98, 197
caste rules in, 223, 231 hereditary, 202
charisma and, 98 institutionalization of, 10
cult of relics in, 8, 28, 30, 67–71, 87, loss of, 197, 202, 206, 238, 254, 255
95, 98–99, 101 Mā’s, 12, 16
Mā’s cult and, 32 in non-Western societies, 10, 262n10
meditation on death in, 102, 169 perpetuation of, 10
physical perfection in, 82, 135 and routinization, 6, 10–11, 34, 98,
truths in, 19 197, 199, 251–253
Bugault, Guy, 18, 152 warehouse of, 96
Burial, Chastity, 42
ad sanctos, 79 Chidvilasananda, Swami. See Gurumayi
and cenotaph, 98 Christianity,
in hagiography, 238 church phenomena, 216
and incorruptibility, 8 cult of relics in, 87, 100
in Islam, 71, 273n19 cult of saints in, 68
of Liṅgāyats, 76, 103 religious experience and, 182
and samādhi, 79 theology of redemption, 149
of saṃnyāsins, 71, 78 Church, 38, 197, 199, 214–216
and sanctity, 76–77, 79 Clément, Catherine, 22, 144
and satī mātās, 77 Clémentin-Ojha, Catherine, 5, 58, 83,
and regressus ad uterum, 107 147, 277n69
and rules of interment, 15 Coincidencia oppositorum, 108
Communitas, 48, 50, 119
Cadaver, 108 Community,
Caillois, Roger, 96, 98, 101 and continuity of the cult, 216–220
Calcutta, 22, 25, 44, 65, 223, 250 critical, 11, 215
Carrette, Jeremy, 174, 290n47 and disinterest in the ashrams, 252
Caste, restrictions. See brahmanical and experience of communitas. See
rules, and purity and caste rules also communitas
Celibacy, 42, 54, 166 members, 26, 38, 43–47
Cenkner, William, 294n22 representative, 11, 215
Cenotaph, 85, 98 secularization in Mā’s, 31
Chakravarti, Ramani Mohan (husband). tensions within Mā’s, 37, 234
See Bholanāth Consciousness,
Chaitanya, 30, 227, 238–239, 299n96 and cult of images, 62
Champion, Françoise, 175, 182 and cult of relics, 102, 103
Chandra, Swami, 192 and death, 103, 121, 143, 168
Chaput, Pascale, 49 existence-bliss. See Satcitānanda
 Index 333

guru as a state of, 164 Dargah, 25, 68, 96–97, 280n113

and Mā, 18, 20, 190 Darśana,
Mā’s ability to penetrate, 23 ātma, 17
Mā as perfect, 147 concept of, 8, 48–49
Mā as omnipresent, 129 in dreams, 187
states of, 160, 184 Mā’s, 81, 117, 122, 162, 211
Contagion, 9, 97, 101, 236 Mā on, 17
Cooking, act, 6, 77–78 and presence, 175
Coomaraswamy, Ananda K., 114 posthumous, 81, 117, 122, 187, 192
Copeman, Jacob, śakta, 50
guru’s uncontainability, 19 David-Neel, Alexandra, 81, 135, 204,
and media technologies, 95, 232, 220, 245
279n100 Death,
phenomenon of guruship, 5 of Bholanāth, 111
and purity rules, 297n65 fear of, 106, 142, 168–169, 249
and real gurus, 294n21 of the guru. See mahāsamādhi
Cornille, Catherine, 5, 16 and guruship, 4, 6, 7
Corpse, 3, 69, 70, 104, 107, 138 of Mā, 9, 82, 54, 110–152
Cremation, 6, 76–79, 102–104, 275n47 miraculous, 119–120, 135, 141, 238–239
Crystallization, 132, 155 and pollution, 3, 70, 76, 109
Cult, and power, 23, 38, 67, 96, 108,
of ancestors, 78, 282n144 135–138
definition of, 31–33 reflection on, 9, 36, 86, 102–108,
disembodied, 165 168–170, 250
of images, 8, 48, 51, 57–62, 66, 69 of the saint. See mahāsamādhi
of manes, 78, 187 Sufi, 54
of relics, 8–9, 25–27, 30, 67–109, 153, and transmission, 8, 34, 118, 120
246–250, 257 unusual, 76–79
sustainability, 10, 26, 34, 55, 196–197, Dehānta, 115
217, 223, 241 Dehra Dun,
and syncretism, 6, 50, 71 Kishenpur ashram, 25, 40, 74, 115–116
Mā’s death, 115–116, 121
Dakṣinesvāra, 1, 74–75, 211 Mā’s stay, 221
Danger, Delhi, 25, 79, 115, 228
and death, 9, 69 DeNapoli, Antoinette, 277n69
foreign presence as a, 37, 224, 234 Denton, Lynn Teskey, 30, 277n69
Kālī and Mā as a source of, Descent, 10, 30–31, 132–134
86, 264n51 Desjardins, Arnaud,
and relics, 97, 100–102, 108 and caste rules, 37, 225
and the saṅgha’s corruption, 210 with Denise Desjardins, 37
women as a source of, 83 and difficulty to access Mā, 14–15, 37
Daniélou, Alain, 105 film of, 55
334 Index

Desjardins, Arnaud (Cont.) Divine Mother,

on Mā’s absence of karma, 147 devotion to, 85
on Mā’s ashram, 221 Mā as, 1–2, 13–14, 16, 50, 89, 165, 178,
on Mā’s atemporal character, 238 210, 237, 250–251. See also Devī;
on Mā as a crystal, 59–60 Mother Goddess and Kālī
on Mā’s kheyāla, 15 Mā Amṛtānandamayī (Amma)
on Mā’s presence, 175 as, 132, 250. See also
on Mā’s teaching, 18 Amṛtānandamayī, Mā as
on Mā, 22, 59, 147, 186 Divine Mother
Devī, 13, 50, 237 Sarada Devi as, 124. See also
Devi, Gurupriya (Didi), 14, 148–149, Sarada Devi
226, 288n90 Divine Life Society Movement, 6. See
Devi, Indira, 192, 220 also Shivananda
Devī-mahātmya, 86 Dom cast, 138
Dhara, 171 Domination
Dharma, Sanātana, bureaucratic, 11, 197, 200
Mā as ambassador of, 16 charismatic, 197, 200
Atmananda on, 226, 255 Douglas, Mary, 9, 97, 234
and brahmanical rules, 226, 230, 232 Dream,
Mā’s restoration of, 31, 142, 230, darśana of saints and gurus in, 74,
236, 255 153, 186–187
overthrowing of, 109 with Mā, 187–191, 240, 292n71
Dhaulchina, 25, 40 Mā’s birth in, 237
Dhingra, Bharati, 20 Mā’s death in, 122
Didimā (mother), Mā’s initiation in, 245, 300n112
cult of, 65 as the mirror of reality, 186
as a guru, 64, 242, 244 and religious experience, 196, 250
initiation of, 242–244 Duality, 17–19, 22, 32–33, 112, 153,
as Mā’s biological mother, 64, 177
271n67, 298n84 Dubbois, Abbé J. A., 275
mūrti of, 64–65 Duḥkha, 17, 106
near indifference towards, 64 Durgā Pūjā, 43, 53, 97, 122
as renunciant, 65 Durkheim, 292n1
samādhi of, 75 Dvandvātīta, 19
Dīkṣā (initiation)
Didimā giving, 64 Eck, Diana L., 58
formal and hereditary, 241–246 Ecstasy, 5, 14, 21–22, 115, 239, 250
Mā giving, 14, 22 Effervescence,
Mā’s self-, 13, 16, 247 collective, 292n1
and sannyāsa, 77, 185, 212, 215 ecstatic, 292n1
Dimock, Edward C., 237, 239 original, 200
Disenchantment, 45 spiritual, 202
 Index 335

Eknath, 74, 273n29 192–194, 196, 240, 250 (see also

Eliade, Mircea, vision)
coincidencia oppositorum, 108 Extraordinary, the, 197–199, 237, 251
dīkṣā (initiation) as a mystic Ewing, Katherine, 286n61
death, 241
Hardwar’s description of, 75. See also Faith, 70, 176
Hardwar and Mā’s cult, 31, 245
Kankhal’s description of, 1, 74. See and Mā’s experience, 93, 95, 164,
also Kankhal 226, 240
and samādhi, 115 in the guru, 169–170
tomb as a “real and living point,” 90 relics of, 6
Emotion, and religious experience, 10, 182, 217
and bhakti, 126, 176 Fascinans, 19, 101
in contact with the sage, 167, 171 Faure, Bernard, 99, 102
and death of the guru, 110 Feuga, Pierre, 106, 131
James on, 174, 176 Filippi, Gian Giuseppe, 79, 107
with Mā, 112, 122, 242 Flueckiger, Joyce B., 280n113
and mystic experience, 176 Form,
Ephemera, 9, 69 disincarnated, 127
Erndl, Kathleen M., 50 physical, 46, 61, 89, 124, 126, 128, 132,
Exchange, 155, 162, 164–165, 172, 176–177, 185,
of experiences, 217, 219 189, 192
with a living guru, 154 Formless, 32, 47, 129–130, 132, 138,
and pilgrimage, 48 140, 166
and relationship with Mā, 172 Fort, Andrew, 66, 277n74
sacred, 8, 48–49 Fortin, Andrée, 24
of sight, 49 Frazer, James, 9, 97
Exclusivity, 31, 37, 256 Freedom,
Exorcist, 13, 237 and cult in Hinduism, 31, 72
Experience, from orthodox rules, 216, 255
ecstatic, 118, 179, 182, 186, 196 Frembgen, Jürgen W., 82, 167
of God, 165, 174, 178, 185 Freud, 180, 250, 292n1
of Mā, 41, 151, 175–186, 196, 208 Freund, Julien, 199
mystic, 176, 182 Fuller, C. J., 51, 86
non-dual, 32, 34, 92, 176–179, Funeral, 77, 81–82, 85, 110, 116
186, 250
personal, 7, 12, 14, 36–37, 49, 176 Gaborieau, Marc, 6, 41, 44, 54
religious, 3, 6, 10, 34–35, 51, 101, 175– Gandhi, Indira,
180–185, 196, 199, 217, 247, 257 last darśan of, 15, 117, 262n22
sacred, 176, 178, 181 as Mā’s disciple, 1, 15–16, 43–44
of trance, 6, 13, 43 and political gurus, 268n7
as vision, 5, 14, 40, 137, 170, 186, 188, Gandhi, Mahatma, 15, 79
336 Index

Ganguli, Anil, 194 173–174, 185–186, 217, 248–251,

Garbha-gṛha, 108 255, 294n21
Gauchet, Marcel, 45, 178, 199 Mā as, 2, 4, 5, 13–16, 18–23, 84,
Geary, Patrick, 67 242, 244
Gender, 2, 5, 18, 29 pluralism of, 250
Geography, political, 5, 268n7
diffuse, 72 return of, 10, 29, 129, 130–131,
real, 72 133–134, 138
sacred, 8, 38–41, 72, 75 visible, 152, 194
Globalization, 4, 7, 256, 258 uncontainability of, 5, 18
Goddess, Gurubahin, 217, 270n44
dangerous, 86, 264n51 Gurubhai, 217
great, 86 Gurumayi (Swami Chidvilasananda), 5,
hot, 86 7, 11, 85, 221, 250–251, 258
maternal, 264 Gurupūrṇimā, 43, 48, 53–55, 97, 217
Mā as, 2, 13–14, 20, 29, 44, 50, Guruśarānanda, Swami, 24, 212–214,
106–107, 178 253–254, 256
Mother, 1, 2, 108. See also Guruship, 5–9, 19, 23, 34, 83, 86, 247,
Divine Mother 279n100
small, 86
supreme, 44, 86 Habermas, Jürgen, 10–11, 45, 197,
violent, 86, 264n51 215, 250
Godin, André, 175 Hagiography, 11, 235–238, 241, 246
Gold, Daniel, 58, 152, 171 Hallstrom, Lisa L., 5, 18, 33, 44–45, 147,
Grace, 292n71, 300n105
of Mā, 106, 160, 175, 180 Hamsa, 22
of relics, 91, 99 Hardwar,
of the saint, 51, 148 as a pilgrimage’s place, 1, 15, 40
surplus of, 160, 180–181, 193 Kankhal ashram near, 24, 68, 74,
Guénon, René, 155 231, 240
Guidance, 2, 16, 43, 156, 162, 186, 194– Kumbhamelā in, 1, 55, 74–75,
196, 204–205, 212, 240, 250, 251 270n50
Guillot, Claude, 48 Hare Krishna Movement, 252
Guṇa, 165 Hawley, John S., 19
Guru, Henri le Saux, Father, 136
competition of, 248, Herbert, Jean, 45, 114, 161, 268n13
250–251 Hero, 71, 77, 159, 168
female, 2, 5, 7, 11–13, 33, 82–85, Hertz, Robert, 127
104, 108–109, 130–133, 221, 251, Hervieu-Léger, Danièle,
258, 268n8 and charisma, 10
inner, 152, 155, 160–162, 165–166, 173, and death, 105
190, 196, 250 and original experience, 200
living, 6, 8, 69–70, 152, 154–156, 170, and presence, 175
 Index 337

Himalayas, 1–2, 40, 138, 221 Vergote on, 176

Holi, 53 Jamous, Raymond, 51, 91
Janabai, 239, 299n95
Ikegame, Aya, 5, 18, 95, 232, 279n100 Janmabhūmi, 25
Illusion, 30, 59, 90, 111, 122, 236, 284n15 Jāti. See birth
Image, Jaya Sati Bhagavati, Ma, 7
Chaitanya merging into a Jay Ma, 45
temple’s, 299n96 Jesus, 61, 116, 131, 182, 199, 228
cult of, 8, 48, 51, 57–62, 66, 69, 150. Jhal-samādhi, 79, 249
See also cult of images Jhuṭā, 223
and hinduization of Shirdi Sai Baba’s Jīva, 29, 32, 130, 147
cult, 273n19 Jīvanmukta, 14, 266n72
Immortality, 17, 101–103, 108, 137, 150– Jīvanmukti, 266n72
151, 157, 170, 240 Jñāna Yoga, 32
Impurity, 3, 19, 70–71, 76, 105, 108, 224 Jnaneshwar, 72, 74, 136, 286n65
Inaccessibility, 101 Joy, 14, 53, 111, 118, 143, 180–181
Inclusivity, 256–257 Juergensmeyer, Mark, 79, 99
Incorruptibility, 8, 80–82, 239 Jung, 161, 185
Influence Jyoti liṅgam, 1, 57
disembodied, 155
orthodox, 27 Kabir, 116, 239
spiritual, 29, 98, 155, 241, 243 Kailash, 123, 227, 232
Sufi, 9, 25 Kakar, Sudhir, 22, 144
Western, 37, 229 Kālī,
Initiation. See dīkṣā Amma as an incarnation of, 133
Interregnum, 171 domestication of, 264n51
Isambert, François, 175–176 as the Goddess of death, 106, 107,
Islam, 28, 41, 61, 68, 71, 272n4, 286n61 282n155
Iṣṭa, 13, 243 Mā as an incarnation of, 2, 9, 14, 20,
102, 106–107, 133, 178, 247
Jaffrelot, Christophe, 268n7 Ramprasad’s devotion for, 107
Jagadguru, 294n22 Yuga, 223
James, William, Kamakkhya, Shree Ma of, 5, 194
first hand religion, 3, 174, 199 Kandelwal, Meena, 277n69, 294n21
and mystics, 176, 290n47 Kankhal,
and orthodoxy, 234 activity of Mā’s ashram in, 219, 223
and presence, 175 brahmanical orthodoxy in, 27, 48,
and religious community, 217 56, 228, 231–232, 256,
and religious experience, 10, 34, 174, 295n36, 301n12
179–180, 183–184 Eliade’s description of, 1, 74
second hand religion, 3, 174 funeral procession to, 116–117
undervaluing of institutions, 3, 10, and hagiography, 240
252, 257 last darśan in, 122
338 Index

Kankhal (Cont.) Krishnabai, Mother, 79, 85, 92, 109, 119,

Lahiri Mahasaya’s ashes in, 79 120, 125
as a pilgrimage site, 40, 48, 74–75 Kṛṣṇa,
Satī’s sacrifice in, 1 in the Bhagavadgītā, 105
Samyam Saptah in, 24, 53, 56, 228 and hagiography, 238
Mā’s boy school (Vidyapeeth and Mā’s lilā, 40, 210, 142, 210
School), 193 ShobaMa as an incarnation of, 268n8
Mā’s samādhi in, 2, 11, 15, 24, 38, 41, Kumbhamelā,
63–64, 68–69, 74–75, 84, 88, Babaji at, 137
92, 136 Mā on death at, 112
memory from, 190 Mā’s saṅgha at, 25, 48, 53–56
Swami Vijayānanda as the president as the biggest world
of the ashram of, 26 pilgrimage, 270n50
Karma, Mā’s saṅgha and orthodox rules
and brahmanical rules, 226 at, 36–37
guru’s ability to eliminate, 147–150
Mā and absence of, 13, 39, 140, 147 Lahiri Mahasaya, 79
Mā’s relatives and absence of, 146 Lakṣmī, 21, 264
and pilgrimage, 48 Lannoy, Richard, 16, 177
return of, 276n61 Laws of Manu, 83
Karunamayi, Ma, 13, 160 Leadership, religious, 7, 85–86,
Kathā Upaniṣad, 9, 113 247, 292n1
Kaviraj, Gopinath, 13, 18, 43, 223, Lee Novetzke, Christian, 6, 235, 274,
268n8, 284n15 286n65, 299n95
Kedarnath, Swami, Legitimization, 51, 198–199, 210
sampradāya of, 11, 207, 211–215, 253 Liberalization, 256
succession of, 212, 253 Liberation,
on Mā, 94, 162 body as a vehicle to, 108
meeting with Mā, 2 concepts of, 266n72
and orthodox rules, 207, 215, 234 and death of the guru, 168
and internationalization of Mā’s cult, and Divine Mother, 85
7, 24, 256 experience of, 108, 115–116
writings of, 213–215, 267n86 and living guru, 152, 154, 163, 165
Keyes, Charles, 87 Mā’s death as a, 125, 152
Kheyāla, 15, 140, 211, 230 memory as a tool of, 169
Kieckhefer, Richard, 266n73 relic as a circulating good of, 99
Kinnard, Jacob N., 87 and xeniteia, 231
Kinsley, David, 178 and women, 83, 277n74
Kīrtana, 43, 58, 179, 229 Līlā, 12, 40, 112, 142, 210, 237, 239
Kishenpur, 15, 74, 115–116 Lindholm, Charles, 7, 10, 28, 45, 197–
Kripal, Jeffrey, 118, 121, 143 199, 262n10, 272n4
Krishna, Das, 257 Liṅgaikya, 116
 Index 339

Liṅgayāt, 76, 103 Maschmann, Melita, 224

Lipski, Alexander, 40, 224 Mauna, 13, 122
Loss, human, 111–112, 123–124, 128–129, Mazzarella, William, 60
143–144, 150, 152, 181, 252 McDaniel, June, 5, 21, 130,
264n58, 290n39
Madeleine, 22 McDermott, Rachel F., 95, 264n51
Madness, Medium, 9, 41, 43
divine, 19, 21–22, 264n58 Meera, Mother, 5, 7, 104, 258,
ordinary, 21, 264n58 282n147
Madou, 135 Meher Baba, 130, 201
Magic, 96, 125, 240, 262n18 Memory,
Mahābharata, 168 and ashrams, 220, 222
Mahāpuruśa, 130 collective, 51, 103, 216, 235, 257
Mahāsamādhi, 251, 274n35 and death, 105, 169
celebration of, 54, and exclusion, 230, 257
Kichenpur as the place of Mā’s, 40 Mā’s, 62, 89, 111, 114, 159, 257
Mā’s, 2, 40, 54, 73, 122–124, 167, through multiple “historical
186–187, 202, 219, 237, 239, 243, publics,” 6
247–248, 251 relics as a, 103–104, 257
meaning of, 115 and religious experience, 174,
and prāṇa, 274 182, 190
Mahāśivarātri, 25, 36, 53, 136 samādhi as a, 94
Mahatma, 9, 140 Meslin, Michel, 103
Mahatma, Gandhi, 15 Miller, David, 152–153, 217
Malamoud, Charles, 6, 69, 77, 104 Miller, Timothy, 6, 252
Mallison, Françoise, 236 Mills, Landell Samuel, 97, 98
Mandir, samādhi, 90, 240 Mirabai, 83, 192, 216, 238
Mangalananda, Swami, 24, 213–215, Miracles,
254, 256 Mā’s, 14, 22–23. See also
Mann, E. A, 202 miraculous powers
Mantra, and Mā’s death, 81, 139–140, 239
and pujā, 52, 63 and hagiography, 237–239
and guru’s initiation, 162, 215, 241– as a legitimation, 198
242, 245–246. See also dikśa and relics, 100–102, 108
Mā’s death and reciting of, 116 Mishra, R. L., 71
initiation in dreams, 245, 300n113 Mleccha, 50
Manu, laws of. See Laws of Manu Mohā, 22, 157
Maraṇasati, 102 Mohan, Ramani (husband). See
Market economics, 250 Bholanāth
Marketing agency, 251 Mokṣada Sundari, 237. See also
Marol, Jean-Claude, 224 Didimā
Marriage, 11, 12, 16, 54, 79 Morin, Edgar, 103, 121
340 Index

Mother, Nāga Bābā, 55, 270n51

Divine, 13–14, 16, 50, 85, 89, 124, 132, Namdev, 6, 235, 239, 299n95
165, 178, 210, 237, 250–251, 278n79 Narain, Govind, 294n23
Full of Bliss, 14 Narayan, Kirin, 294n21
Krishnabai, 79, 85, 92, 109, Natali, Cristiana, 274n42
119–120, 125 Neem Karoli Baba, 33, 192, 257
Meera, 5, 7, 104, 258, 282n147 Nehru, Jawarharlal, 1, 15, 44, 294n23
God. See Divine Mother Nehru, Kamala, 1, 43
of Pondicherry (Richard, Mirra Nirguṇa, 32–33, 166, 188
Alfassa), 80, 85, 97, 121, 136, 145, Nirgunānanda, Swami, 113, 229,
204, 256, 278n78 233, 242
Saturated with Joy, 14 Nirguṇi, 47, 250
Movement, Nirguru, 152
Amma’s, 5, 221, 255. See also Nirmāla Sundari (Ānandamayī Mā), 11.
Amṛtānandamayī, Mā See also beauty
charismatic, 4, 202, 252, 262n10 Nirvāṇa, 154, 245. See also samādhi
devotional, 4–5, 255 Nirvānānanda, Swami, 205
Hare Krishna, 6, 252 Nityananda, Bhagavan (of Siddha Yoga),
Neem Karoli Baba’s, 257 54, 89, 192, 274n35
Mā’s, 2, 4, 7, 15, 24, 84, 199–211, 235, Nizamuddin, Dargah, 25. See
247, 253, 255 also Sufism
Radhasoami, 7, 99, 171. See also Non-duality. See Advaita Vedānta
Radhasoami Non-manifested, 140, 178, 250
Rajneesh’s, 7, 255 Nostalgia, 10, 127, 175
Ramakrishna’s, 6, 257, 301n14. See
also Ramakrishna O’Malley LSS., 72
religious, 2, 5–6, 84, 99, 171, 199– Ocean of existence, 129
200, 211, 247, 257 Oceanic feeling, 180, 250
Sathya Sai Baba’s, 4–5, 300n112, Omkareshwar,
301n3. See also Sathya Sai Baba absence of brahmanical rules in the
Sramaṇa’s, 71, 273n14 ashram of, 207, 228
Mṛtyu, 107, 114–115, 170. See also death ashram of, 2, 207, 212–215, 253
Mukerji, Bithika, 9, 11, 110 Mā’s venue in, 295n27
Mukta, Parita, 216, 238 sacred island of, 1
Muktananda, Swami, 54, 89, 96, school of, 212–213, 254
255, 274n35 Sri Sri Mata Anandamayi Peeth
Mukti, 115. See also liberation Trust, 207, 212, 253
Muṇḍaka Upaniṣad, 154, 166 Omnipresence, 61, 114, 129, 170, 175,
Mūrti, 8, 32, 42, 48, 57, 62–66 186, 237
Muslims, 28, 41, 71, 79, 87, 95. See Ordinary, the, 175, 197, 199, 251
also Sufism Orthodox rules. See brahmanical rules,
Mystics, 176, 182 as well as caste rules and purity
 Index 341

Other, The, 50, 175, 207, 252, 257 supernatural, 135–139, 197,
Otto, Rudolf, 10, 19, 175, 182, 184 272n4, 287n71
Oupasani Baba, 9 see śakti
Outcast, 36, 50, 231 Pradakṣina, 54
Prakṛti, 85, 86
Padoux, André, 19, 268n21, Pranāma, 52, 54, 64, 117
279n101 Prāṇapratiṣṭhā, 57
Panikkar, Raimon, Prapatti, 107
adualism of, 18, 263n38 Prasāda, 49, 146, 192
and celebration, 53 Prem Sai, 130, 254
regnum dissimilitudinis, 202 Prema, 157
and religious experience, 174, 176, Presence,
180, 182, 185 concentrated, 94
Parry, Jonathan, 103 disembodied, 155
Pativrata, 12, 16, 83 incarnated, 152
Patriarchal, 16, 42, 85 idiosyncratic, 97
Pechilis, Karen, 5, 12, 14, 18, 83 and media technologies, 95
Père Lachaise cemetery, 1, 2, 24, physical, 10, 58, 89, 97, 127, 152–166,
249, 256 172–174, 204, 243–244, 250
Phala, 48 residual, 46, 89
Pia furta, 100 Prophets, 68, 184, 199, 202, 280n113
Pilgrimage, Public Sphere, 197, 215
concept of, 8, 48 Pūjā,
and field of sacred geography, 40 Durgā, 43, 53, 97, 122
see Kumbhamelā Guru, 55, 261n3
Mā’s, 14–16, 113, 227 at Mā’s samādhi, 36, 42, 89, 91, 124,
and sacred exchanges, 48–51 192–193
to samādhi, 79, 99 online, 95
see tīrtha Swami Vijayānanda on, 52, 61
Pir, 23, 280. See also Sufi saints Pūjāri,
Pollution, eligibility of, 42
death as a source of, 3, 69–70, 76, and experience of Mā, 63, 192–193
108, 116 and management of the sacred, 97
foreigners as a source of, 36–37, women, 42
224, 234 Purification, 101, 148, 241
menstruated women as a Purity,
source of, 57 and caste rules, 37, 57, 126,
and relics, 97, 102 215, 223–229, 232–234, 237,
Possession, 13, 43, 237 255–257, 296n45
Power, and death, 3, 70–71, 76, 108–109,
contagious, 9, 23, 97, 101 297n65. See also death as a source
residual, 23 of pollution
342 Index

Purity (Cont.) on death, 111

Mā’s, 11, 145–146 and the importance of living gurus,
and Mā’s death, 145–147 154, 170
and odor of sanctity, 82 and the Mother Krishnabai, 79. See
and relics, 105 also Krishnabai
and samādhi, 43, 101–102 non-dual thought of, 17
Purṇabrahmanarayanan, 237 relics of, 85
Puruṣa, 72, 85, 130, 166 Ramdev, Pīr, 71
Puttaparthi, 250, 254 Rāmprasād, Sen, 107, 168
Rayanna, P. S., 80
Radhasoami, 7, 58–99, 171, 187, 211 Real, the, 31–32, 105, 108, 133, 167,
Rajneesh, Shree (Osho), 225 170, 182
Rakṣabandhan, 53, 270 Regnum dissimilitudinis, 202
Ram Dass, 257. See also Richard Alpert Regressus ad uterum, 107, 282n155. See
Rāma, Lord, 142, 232 also Panikkar
Ramachandra Rao, 73 Relics,
Ramakrishna, corporal, 69, 71, 91, 98–99, 103
as an avatar, 143 definitive, 69
death of, 9, 118, 121, 135, 142–143, 147 geography of, 72–75
and Hindu renaissance, 247 non-corporal, 69, 98
Mission, 6, 85, 170, 210–211, 222, 257 real, 69
movement, 6, 210–211, 217, representative, 69
257, 301n14 Religion,
mystical state of, 22, 144, 227 first hand, 3, 174, 199. See also James
photos of, 58, 271n60 functional, 10
posthumous presence of, 130, institutionalized, 10
192, 194 personal, 10
relics of, 25, 79, 85, 99, 250 second hand, 3, 174, 200. See
śakti transmission of, 118, 243 also James
and Sarada Devi, 79, 85, 130, 192 Renunciant, 71, 76–79, 83–84, 104, 166
and trees, 73 Renunciation,
Ramana Maharshi, and foreigners, 231
and death, 9, 111, 114, 116, 156 Mā on, 16–17, 213
and guru, 154, 156 State of. See sannyāsa
mother of, 85 Women, 79, 83
posthumous presence of, 156, Reynolds, Frank E., 236
192, 201 Rigor mortis, 80
samādhi of, 25,72, 85, 89, 250 Rigopoulos, Antonio, 138, 273n19
Ramanuja, 266n72 Rinehart, Robin, 236, 238
Ramatirtha, 17, 81, 138, 276n61 Ritual,
Ramdas, Swami, baths, 25
ashram of, 85 cremation, 77
 Index 343

and flexibility of Hinduism, 171 Mā on, 156

foreign presence during, 36, 252 and orthodox rules, 231
and images and mūrtis, 57 and physical presence of the guru,
and inactivity of the saint, 91 156–157, 163–165, 168, 172–173, 196
and postmortem cult, 51–53 powers during, 139
and purity. See castes rules and purity and presence, 94
śakti mobilization through, 96 and saṅgha, 218–220
specialists of. See pūjāris Swami Vijayānanda on, 32
Swami Vijayānanda on, 52 Saguṇa, 188
virtual, 95 Sahisnāna, 25, 37, 55
Rivière, Jean M., 30, 156 Saindon, Marcelle, 6, 77
Roumanoff, Daniel, 296n52 Saint,
Routinization, of charisma, 6, 10–11, 34, definition of, 29–31
98, 197, 199, 251–253 death of. See mahāsamādhi
Roy, Dilip Kumar, 192, 220 Mā as a, 5, 29–30
Rules, brahminical. See also caste rules relics of. See relics
and purity Sufi, 23, 97, 167, 265n61,
and access to Mā and her samādhi, 272n4, 286n61
37, 43, 54 Sainthood, 28–30, 71
Mā’s adoption of, 223 Śakta, 50
concept of, 296n45 Śakti,
and cult’s sustainability, 215–216, deployment of Mā’s, 211
223–235, 252–257 as the Divine Feminine, 109
and food, 225–226 and image, 57
and pūjāris, 42–43 mobilization of, 42
and spirit of communitas, 50 and relics, 9, 42, 87, 95–96, 102
and women, 83 and sexuality, 85–86
tranmission of, 22, 118, 241, 244–245
Sacra, 9, 69 and transformation, 173
Sadguru, 154, 157, 160–161 Śakti pīṭha, 86, 109, 278
Sādhu, Śaktipāta, 129, 241, 244–245
Committee, 204 Śaktism, 108
of the Dakśa temple in Samādhi,
Kankhal, 301n12 jhal, 79, 249
kutira‘s story of a, 192 mandir, 90, 240
Mā on, 145 of Mā (tomb), 11, 15, 23–27, 35–36,
naked, 55, 270n51 42–45, 53–54, 61–63, 68, 73–75,
Sādhaka, 209, 250 84–96, 100–103, 116–117, 123–124,
Sādhanā, 127, 132, 161, 173, 179, 192–195,
and dreams, visions, guidance, 191–195 228–229, 240, 265n66, 295n36
in hagiography, 237 state of, 13, 33, 53, 78, 114–115, 146,
Mā’s, 12–13 184, 265n66
344 Index

Saṃnyāsa, 65, 185, 212, 215 mother of, 278n79

Saṃnyāsin, 71, 76–79, 83, 85, movement of, 4–5, 301n3
104, 275n48 non-dual thought of, 17
Saṃnyāsini, 79, 275n45 organisation of, 210, 254
Sampradāya, 11, 24, 211–216, 253 Prem Sai as future incarnation
Saṃsāra, 17, 49, 91, 129, 170, of, 254
238, 263n25 presence of, 5
Saṃskāra, 190, 193, 233 relics of, 9
Samyam Saptah, 147 religious affiliation of, 6, 273
access to Mā’s samādhi during, 97 sacred objects of, 69, 100
in Bhimpura, 25, 37, 48, 55–56 samādhi of, 71, 250, 254
foreign presence at, 228 Shirdi Sai Baba as a past incarnation
in Kankhal, 24, 53, 55–56, 228 of, 130, 285n51
Mā’s health during, 147, 288n92 visiting cards of, 262
śivira camp as a, 212 Satī, 1, 3, 16, 74–75, 77, 237
Sanātana, dharma, 16, 232, 255–256 Satprem, 80, 136, 140, 145
Sanctity, Satsaṅga,
and burial practices, 7, 76–80 devotees on, 164–165, 217, 220
Mā dictating her own, 16, 247 and hagiography, 236
and divine madness. See madness Mā on, 163–164
in vita, 29 of Swami Vijayānanda, 100
incorruptibility and odor of, 80–82 Schmitt, Jean-Claude, 60, 71, 101, 103
and relics, 69, 71, 106–109 Sect, 84, 197, 199, 214, 216, 270n51
and renunciation, 79 Secularization, 5, 31, 52
and vox populi, 29, 71 Sepulcher, 7, 71, 87
Sant, 98 Servan-Schreiber, Catherine, 6, 68
Sarada Devi, Sexual, relationship, 86
cult of, 85 Shaligrama shila, 57
death of, 124 Shankaracharya,
as the Divine Mother, 109, 124 devotion for the Divine Mother, 85
as the Holy Mother, 25 hagiography of, 236, 239
and initiation, 149 mūrti of, 64
and Ramakrishna’s images, 58 Shirdi Sai Baba,
relics of, 25, 79, 85, 99, 109 body of, 80–81, 138, 273
vision of, 130, 192 dream manifestations of, 187, 291n68
Satcitānanda, 129. See also hinduization of, 273n19
consciousness-bliss as an incarnation of Sathya Sai Baba,
Sathya Sai Baba, 130, 254, 285n51
as an avatar, 286n60 organization of, 210
death of, 4, 7 powers of, 136
as guru, 18 return of, 138
miracles of, 254, 262n18 samādhi of, 71
 Index 345

succession of, 203 travels of the, 80

visions of, 192 Western term of, 29
Shivananda, Swami, 6, 15, 89, 134, 229 Spratt, Philip, 282n155
Shree Shree Anandamayee Sangha, Śraddha, 78
ashrams of, 24 Śramaṇa, 71, 273n14
creation of, 15 Sri Sri Mata Anandamayi Peeth Trust,
and initiation, 241–244 212, 253
Mā’s indifference to, 210–211, 253 Srivinas, Tulasi, 4, 6, 50, 69
and routinization, 197–235 Stewart, T. K., 236, 299n96
Siddheshwari temple, 25, 222 Sthūla, 243–244
Siddha, 138, 238, 274n35, 287n71 Strong, John S., 87, 98
Siddha Succession, 14, 171, 197, 202–204, 208,
tradition, 81, 137 212, 253–254, 294n21
Yoga, 54, 252 Śūdra, 83
Siddhi, 136, 138–139, 150, 237, 287n71 Sufism,
Sikh, 203, 294n21 celebration of the saint’s death, 52, 54
Silence vow. See mauna cult of relics, 68, 96
Singh, Purushottam, 103 influence on the Hindu cult of relics,
Śiṣya, 13, 169 9, 25, 28, 30, 68, 97
Śivā, orthodoxy, 223
Arunachala as sacred mountain physical presence of the saint, 167
of, 25, 72 posthumous power of the saint,
celebration of, 25, 36, 53, 136. See also 23, 51, 96
Mahāśivarātri ritual activity, 51
death as absorption in, 116 Sathya and Shirdi Sai Baba’s
death and fullness of, 76 affiliations to, 6, 273n19
jyoti liṅgam as symbol of, 1, 57 Śukṣuma, 243
Mā’s death and mantra of, 116 Synchronicity, 185
and Śakti, 85 Syncretism, 6, 50, 71, 273n20
and Satī, 1,74
Shankaracharya as avatar of, Taboo, 101
236 Tantra, 108, 208
Skandapurāṇa, 118 Tapasya, 40, 249
Smell, 82, 89, 163 Tardan-Masquelier, Ysé, 107
Sociology, 4 Taylor, Charles, 217
Soul, Theravada Buddhism, 69, 87,
Hamsa or exceptional, 22 99, 101
immortality of the, 103, 113, 144 Tīrtha, 8, 48–50, 90, 237. See also
individual, 29, 130–131, 133, 285n55 pilgrimage
Mā’s, 147 Tomb,
marriage of the, 54 of Swami Vijayānanda’s, 7, 24, 27,
return of the, 131, 133 249, 256, 301n12
346 Index

Tomb (Cont.) Upaguru, 160–161, 165

of Mā’s, 1, 2, 3, 11, 15, 23–27, 35–36, Upanayana ceremony, 16
42–45, 53–54, 61–63, 68, 73–75, Upaniṣads, 34, 73, 212
84–96, 100–103, 116–117, 123–124, Urban, Hugh B., 95, 274n33, 279n101
127, 132, 161, 173, 179, 192–195, Uttarkashi, 25
228–229, 240, 295n36
see also samādhi Vaiśṇava, 176, 239
Trainor, Kevin, 103 Van der Leeuw, Gerardus, 67, 82, 217
Transaction, 48–49, 262n18 Van der Veer, Peter, 275n44
Transgression, 9, 224 Van Gennep, Arnold, 118–119, 127
Transmission, Varanasi,
biological, 202, 244 aghori center in, 25
complexity of, 255 Mā’s ashram in, 25, 177, 223, 230
hereditary, 202, 241, 243–244 as Śiva’s city, 40
modes of, 34 Mā’s devotees in, 88, 148, 190
real, 244–245 Gurupriya Devi (Didi)’s death in, 148
śakti, 241, 245 Mā’s hospital in, 25
as spiritual influence, 241 Mā in, 22, 84, 177
as spiritual principle, 243 Mā’s school for young girls at,
Tree, 55, 266n69
Bodhi, 69 Vaudeville, Charlotte, 32, 152
Mā on, 73 Vedānta, 32, 105
and Mā’s samādhi, 72–73, 136 Vedas, 104, 141–142, 208
sages’association with, 73–74 Vergote, Antoine, 176, 180
Tremendum, 19, 101 Victory, 2, 106, 109, 168
Trigano, Schmuel, 201, 216 Vigne, Jacques,
True guru. See sadguru orthodox rules, 231
Truth, personal relationship with the guru,
Buddhist, 19 47, 153–154, 156, 173
in hagiography, 236 Mā’s samādhi, 96
knowledge of, 134, 144, 156, 174 Vijayānanda, Swami,
Mā on, 93, 225 and Amma, 251
Tukaram, 239 and bhakti, 32
Tulpule, 236 and brahmanical orthodoxy, 27, 84,
Turner, Victor W., 50 232, 256, 301n4
as a bridge East–West, 2, 256
Ucchiṣṭa, 76, 274n33 on residual presence, 23, 46, 89
Ululation, 53, 270n45 and initiation, 244
Uncontainability. See guru and inner gurus, 155, 161, 173
Unity, 18, 50, 107, 129, 133, 182 internationalization of Mā’s cult
Untouchable, 27, 114, 224–225 through, 7, 24, 255
 Index 347

as a living presence of Mā, 45 Wach, Joachim, 43

on Mā, 23, 46, 61, 84, 105, 129, 131, Warrier, Maya, 5, 31, 195
155, 167, 173, 191, 223 Weber, Max,
and Mā’s death, 121, 129 bureaucratic and charismatic
and Mā’s organization, 210, 220 domination, 11, 197
and Mā’s samādhi, 84, 100 charisma and Durkheim, 292n1
Mā’s view as omnipresent and the charismatic figure, 16,
consciousness-Bliss, 129, 131, 167 197–199, 208
meeting with Mā, 2, 45, 255 charisma and objects, 98
on photos, 61 and disenchantment, 45
and physical guru, 164, 173 and Habermas, 215
as president of the Kankhal routinization of charisma, 10, 34, 197,
ashram, 26 199, 254–255
and rituals, 52, 61 and Sect, 199
samādhi of, 2, 27, 249, Weinberger-Thomas, Catherine, 77,
255–256, 301n4 103, 187
and visions, 193 Weintrob, Adolphe Jacques. See
and Westerners, 2, 35, 45, 52, 251, Vijayānanda, Swami
255–256, 259 Werbner, Pnina, 6
Vindhyachal, 25, 40, 223 Westernization, 247, 255–256
Vīra, 77, 274n42 White, Charles S. J., 293n5, 300n112
Vīraśaivas, 76, 116 Wilson, Stephen, 235–236
Virtus, 95 Wives, 3
Vision, Woman,
and legitimation of female gurus, 5, Mā as a, 5, 12, 16, 84
13–14 Mā as a married, 11, 13, 79, 86
posthumous, 137, 186, 192–194, 196, Mā as a simple-minded, 11, 20–21
240, 250 Women,
Viśiṣṭādvaita, 16, 266n72 as gurus, 2, 7, 83–84, 109, 258
Viṣṇu, 57, 280n113 and identification with Mā, 44
Vivekananda, Swami, in the governing body, 294n23
and bhakti, 32–33 participation in Mā’s cult, 44,
as a charismatic leader, 257 83, 166
death of, 136 pūjāris, 42
and death, 113 purity of, 57, 83, 102, 207
relics of, 99 relics of, 83–86, 258
and Ramakrishna Mission, 211 renunciation of, 83–84
śakti transmission to, 118 spiritual equality of, 7, 16, 83–85, 247
Vox populi, 71 spiritual knowledge of, 13
Vrata, 48, 50 tombs of, 2, 83–85, 258
Vrindavan, 40, 212 Wulff, David M., 108, 283n160
348 Index

Xeniteia, 231 Yoga Sutras (Patanjali), 176

Yogananda, Paramahamsa, 15, 81, 138, 200
Yā tā, 20, 34, 267n86 Yogavasiṣṭa, 62
Yajñā, 42 Yogic tradition, 8, 152
Yoga, 19, 81, 171, 212 Young, Katherine, 19, 237