Do you remember now?

I sat in the taxi on my way from the airport to the ashram, Shree Peetha Nilaya. I felt nervous. I didn’t know exactly why, but deep inside I sensed that this journey would be important. I just didn’t know how or why. There was a quiet knowing in my heart that something was about to change.

When I walked through the gates of the ashram, I felt surrounded by warmth and beauty, and at the same time everything was new and full of wonder. The world of Bhakti opened before me: prayers, songs, rituals, the scent of incense, and an abundance of colour and energy. Everything felt sacred, yet my mind was confused. It wanted to understand, to ask why, to find explanations for everything happening around me. It tried to make sense of something that cannot be explained.

I stayed at the ashram for three days before the Darshan weekend, and during that time my mind was very active. Inside me everything became more sensitive. All thoughts, feelings, and doubts rose to the surface, as if light had revealed what was still hidden. But everything changed the moment Guruji Paramahamsa Vishwananda’s Darshan began.

In Sanskrit, Darshan means “seeing,” but not ordinary seeing. It is the mutual vision between the soul and the Divine. When you meet an avatar Guru like Paramahamsa Vishwananda, you are not simply looking at a physical form; you are seeing through it the divine consciousness that looks back at you. And in that brief moment, often within seconds, something happens that the mind cannot understand. The soul remembers. It remembers where it came from. It remembers its love for the Source. And that memory awakens a deep longing, a sacred yearning that is one of God’s greatest gifts. This longing is not suffering, though it can feel intense. It is the magnetic pull of love, the power that draws the soul back home.

I joined the Darshan with an open heart, without any idea what to expect. Even before Guruji entered the hall, I felt something move inside me, a silent call that had been waiting for years. When Guruji finally appeared, my tears began to flow instantly. My whole body started to tremble softly, and the energy was so strong that my mind became completely still. There were no thoughts, no questions, no need to understand, only deep presence and love.

I held in my hands a pale pink rose I had chosen for him. I kept it close to my heart while waiting, filling it with all the love I could. When I stepped in front of him, my body was trembling and it was hard to hold back tears, because in Darshan one must look into the Guru’s eyes. I offered him the rose, and he took it and placed it against his own heart, as if knowing it had come directly from mine.

Then he looked at me. That gaze was a doorway that words cannot reach. It lasted only a few seconds, but in that short time my soul remembered. Everything else disappeared. There was only love, infinite connection, and the feeling of complete homecoming. It is a moment one could stay in forever, the moment you remember that you have always lived in God.

In that instant I also knew something that cannot be decided by the mind. My soul recognised immediately that he is my Satguru. I had somehow felt it before, when reading his books or watching his videos, that deep recognition and pull I couldn’t explain. But when he stood before me physically, every doubt melted away. There was only certainty, pure love, and the sense of returning home.

It is said that the true Guru appears in a disciple’s life exactly when the soul is ready to receive his grace. You cannot find him through willpower, nor choose him with the intellect. That is why, when people ask Guruji Paramahamsa Vishwananda, “Are you my Guru?”, he always replies, “What does your heart tell you?” because the answer is already there. It is an inner knowing that doesn’t come from the mind but from the soul that remembers.

This connection is not only for one lifetime. The bond between Guru and disciple is eternal. It continues from life to life, age to age, until the soul is completely free. The Guru walks beside us even when we cannot see him, and his grace flows to us beyond time and space.

When his gaze had already opened my heart, he also blessed my mala pouch. Afterwards, I returned to my seat and sank into a deep meditative state, even though thousands of people were around me. Tears streamed quietly for three hours, and my whole body vibrated with the frequency of light. There was only bliss and love, divine energy not outside of me but within every cell. When I finally rose from meditation, I danced and sang for the rest of the time, without eating or feeling any physical need. The entire Darshan lasted eleven hours, yet time had completely dissolved.

After that, I understood why life had stopped me. Why I had fallen ill. Why everything I had built had fallen apart. All that emptiness had been preparation for this moment, so that I could receive his grace. Everything that was not real had to die, so that I could recognise what is eternal. And when I finally surrendered to life, I was ready to meet the Guru.

Before, I used to think that a master is only a symbol, that the true teacher lives within, and we don’t need anyone outside ourselves. This is a common belief in the West, that everything is found within. And it is true, God is within us. But often that connection is veiled, and we cannot see it clearly on our own. The Satguru doesn’t give us something from outside; he reflects the light that has always been within. His grace awakens what we have forgotten.

I knew this intellectually before the journey, but only meeting the Satguru made it real. When I met him, I understood what it means that the Guru is a bridge to God.

The Satguru is not just a teacher but a living embodiment of divine love. He gives us nothing that isn’t already within us; he simply mirrors back the divine light that has always lived inside. We couldn’t even recognise him if that same light didn’t already dwell in us. Through him, what was once hidden begins to shine. Through his presence, the soul recognises the truth it has always longed for. His gaze awakens within us the part that is already free, and that is why Darshan feels so powerful, like a magnet pulling the soul back home.

I also experienced what the Guru’s grace truly means. It’s not something one can strive for or earn. It is a gift that descends when the heart is ready. It opens a door within that we could never open ourselves, and reminds us that love never comes from outside, it awakens in us when we encounter it.

I thought Darshan itself was already a gift, but the grace didn’t end there. The day before I was to leave, a mataji, a female monk serving in the ashram, came to me and handed me a chestnut. She said quietly, “This is from Guru. He asked me to give it to you.”

In that moment I knew that nothing the Guru gives or shares happens by chance. Everything has meaning. Every glance, word, and gift has its time and its receiver. Through them grace works, often in ways the mind cannot yet understand.

Later I learned that the chestnut symbolises the beginning of a new life, a power that ripens quietly from within. Then I understood that the Guru had planted a seed in my heart, one that grows in its own rhythm. The chestnut reminds me that the love awakened in Darshan is now taking root more deeply in my life. My task is only to tend to it with prayer and devotion, until it blossoms.

When all was over, only a quiet echo remained in my heart, as if God’s gaze had lingered there for a moment and whispered, “Do you remember now?”