Detachment: The Last String

by Harish Thottungal, UK

This is a story about how even the strongest attachments, born out of love and commitment, can become burdensome in times of loss—and how a Guru’s presence and grace can illuminate the path to detachment.

It began in 1970 when my parents got married. Like most Indian weddings, their union was marked by the tying of the thali—a gold pendant symbolizing their bond, commitment, and marital status. In Kerala, this small but significant ornament is a cherished emblem of marriage.

Fast forward to 2011, my father was diagnosed with multiple myeloma, a challenging and life-altering diagnosis for our family. The doctors gave him a prognosis of three years, warning us of an inevitably painful end. But what unfolded was something far beyond their predictions. He lived for seven years, enduring the side effects of countless chemotherapy sessions but never experiencing the agony we had feared. Amma stood by his side throughout this time, tirelessly caring for him. She managed his diet and medications and accompanied him to every single chemotherapy session. Her optimism was unshakable—she firmly believed that he would recover, that her care and love would pull him through.

In December 2018, my father was admitted to the ICU after a challenging chemotherapy session. My brother called me from Coimbatore to tell me things were bad. I flew in from London, rushed to the hospital, and saw my father in the ICU, surrounded by machines. Amma, however, still clung to hope. Her faith and determination were unwavering—she truly believed he would walk out of the ICU, whole and healthy. But that night, the inevitable happened. My father passed away due to multiple organ failure. I had to be the one to break the news to Amma. She was devastated. Her grief was not just sorrow but also anger. “How could he leave me?” she cried, her disbelief evident. Her pain was unbearable, and she had to be sedated.

The next morning, as we prepared for the cremation, Amma refused to come out of her room. She wouldn’t even look at my father for a final goodbye. She remained in bed, consumed by grief and unable to eat or interact with anyone. We had to proceed with the cremation without her last look at Dad, and when we returned, she was still in the same state—motionless, heartbroken, and clinging to her pain. That evening, I was deeply concerned. I didn’t know how to help her move past the anguish.

“Forming bonds with people is a natural part of human experience. However, when we cling to these attachments and become overly dependent on them for our happiness, we set ourselves up for suffering when loss occurs.” – Mohanji.

Then, as if by divine intervention, Mohanji arrived. He entered her room, sat beside her, and spoke to her with incredible compassion. For 45 minutes, he gently explained the reality of death in a way she could understand and accept. His words pierced through her despair. For the first time since my father’s passing, she ate some food and began to engage in small activities. It felt as if the first string of attachment had loosened.

Over the following weeks, we encouraged Amma to find solace in change. My brother took her to Muscat for a while, and later, she came to stay with me in London. Even then, she was still holding onto the memories and pain associated with my father. During her visit, I took her to Skanda Vale for seva (selfless service) through the ACT Foundation. Since it is customary not to enter temples for a year after a death in the family, she decided to assist in the kitchen rather than enter the temple. The Swamis, Brothers, and Sisters at Skanda Vale lovingly supported her, and one day, a Swami encouraged her to attend the Murugan puja. Though hesitant at first, she eventually joined. At that moment, it felt as if another string of attachment had loosened.

After that, Amma began watching Mohanji’s talks on various social media platforms. She attended the anniversary festival at Palakkad Sai Baba temple every year, mainly because Mohanji is always there. She even joined the Pranaprathishta in MCB Scotland, where she prepared food for him. Mohanji’s grace had gently but powerfully started transforming her outlook.

“Understanding the impermanent nature of life can help us accept loss as a natural part of the cycle. This understanding can bring peace and acceptance.” -Mohanji.

In late 2024, the Mohanji Foundation announced the Kumbh Mela with Mohanji in Prayagraj for January 2025. When I asked Amma if she wanted to join me, she immediately said yes. At the Kumbh Mela, we had the privilege of travelling with Mohanji on the same flight from Bangalore to Prayagraj. We participated in the holy dips in the Ganges on Makar Sankranti, inspired by the collective energy of the event. On the third day, Amma expressed her wish to take one more dip in the Ganga. She seemed particularly contemplative as we made our way to the river.

During the dip, I noticed her holding a small package in her palm, wrapped carefully in paper. She let it go into the flowing waters without a word, and it disappeared into the depths almost instantly. Curious but not wanting to intrude, I refrained from asking her about it at that moment. It was only after we returned home to Palakkad that I brought it up. I asked her what she had let go in the Ganga. She smiled gently and replied, “It was the thali.”

At that moment, I understood the significance of her act. Letting go of the thali—the symbol of her marriage—wasn’t a rejection of the love she shared with my father. It was a profound step toward releasing the pain of holding on to his physical absence. It truly was the “last string.”

|| JAI BRAHMARISHI MOHANJI ||

Edited & Published by – Testimonials Team, 13^th April 2025

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