by Mina Sundari Mohanji, India
That magical, luminous Diwali, when he invited me to his ashram and blessed me with his physical presence, everything within me changed, even though I didn’t know who he was or where I had come. I had never even heard of Mohanji before, but it was enough that just once, again in this incarnation, I saw those eyes and moved with my entire being toward them, and left everything that until then made up ‘my’ life, everything that made up ‘me’.
One encounter was enough to make me forget everything, to give up all plans and simply follow him. That old me imagined she would go to Goa and live a nomadic, hippie lifestyle in the jungle by the ocean, continue her dance career in nightclubs, go wild at trance parties – but then he appeared, and everything disappeared. Only one desire was born – to serve.
Mom was in agony. Our toxic pathological relationship was putting down deeper and deeper roots. Mom was in such fear that she herself became the embodiment of that emotion. She was afraid she would lose me, because she had already almost lost me once. She was terrified of my going to India; she thought that when I stopped taking my medications, which had been prescribed to me for life, I would completely go crazy again. She was horrified by the thought of drugs and everything I might do when I was ‘far’ from her and her ‘control’, not understanding that I had always been in the greatest danger in the place we called home.
Mom always kept her eyes tightly shut. She said she had peace by pretending not to see the hell we lived in. Over time, she became ill. After great traumas, every small thing led to the emergency room due to severe arrhythmias of her suffering heart, or because of high blood pressure, for which we often feared for her life. “Be quiet, be quiet, don’t tell mom!… Hide it from mom!… She’ll die from stress.”
After that all-luminous day, I called her because I, too, was in fear and thought I had to. Out of hopelessness, she tried to maintain some illusion of control, saying, “If you don’t call me every day, I will die.”
I wanted to tell my mom about the most special day in my otherwise chaotic and turbulent life, the day I cried from warmth and joy because I finally felt safe, finally seen, loved and accepted. “Mom, I received a blessing!” but it was as if Mom heard something else, something most terrifying in the world, which led me to a reaction where I mourned her alive, grieved her and buried her. I sobbed through screams and intense shaking of my entire body.
“Do I need mommy to survive?” “No, no, no! I don’t need mommy to survive!” I cried like a baby for hours, wiping her off me, shaking her off me, saying goodbye to my mother. “If you are not supporting me, then I am an orphan, and I am continuing alone.” I thought I was ready to renounce everything for the entire Soft Universe I saw in his eyes. “I am going alone,” I said, wondering whether he even remembered me, not even suspecting that I was the one who had forgotten everything.
And upon our arrival in India, our contact breaks off. From calling every day to nothing for months. Once, I tried to approach my mother and share with her the most important and most precious moments from my heart, and it ended badly. “But mom, how don’t you see…?!” The only thing I received from her was belittling everything I love and believe in, everything that makes me stable. “But mom, for the first time in my life I am happy… Mom, I am without medications…” but Mom had become a hopeless case.
She disappeared into darkness, aged young, removed from truth and faith, unable to hear or see. I, her child, was the embodiment of instability and destruction. At that time, she thought she had lost me… watching me behind the bars of a psychiatric hospital, listening to doctors saying they would send me further, to a place where they take everything from you and assign a guardian because a person is no longer capable of eating and bathing, of taking care of themselves and being responsible for themselves. Mom lived in fear that I would again try to take my own life and that I would succeed. Mom thought it was the end.
But then I came here, and my life was only beginning. I was being born again. My story was becoming a series of great miracles of the Master and deep devotion to him. And observing my story, I can only bow deeper and deeper into infinity, dive into unconditional love, and surrender to limitless devotion, adoring and worshipping beyond time and space, beyond any borders. I surrendered to the powerful Master all my suffering, pain, joy, and laughter; I surrendered my entire being and life.
And so he took everything from me and that old me began to fade away.
To Mom, everything was insane; she spat on everything sacred whenever a minimal opportunity for miserable communication opened. I ended all connections from 3D reality. But I never stopped loving her. Both her and my father. Every day, at every aarti, I was with them, sending divine light, unconditional love, and gratitude.
Mohanji is that light. Mohanji is that love. Mohanji is the strength, truth and gratitude that began to fill my entire being and my family. Once I asked him a question, worried about my parents who were collapsing into a bottomless pit.
“When they ask you, then speak.”
And the day came. After almost five months, we spoke again. Without any explanation of where I actually was or what was happening, it became clear to Mom. She didn’t even ask me; she confirmed it herself and then opened to listen. She began to say: “I see that I am different. I laugh, I am happy. Even everything that’s happening with your father doesn’t touch me anymore… I am a different person.”
From an old woman waiting for her death, a young lady full of life was born again. She began actively training for the first time in her life. Mom began for the first time in her life to live. And then I told her. Mom opened her eyes. Mom now wants real peace, not illusions. In one hour of conversation, she discarded the orthodox amulets she wore and deeply rooted religious beliefs.
And now it has been about 10 days since she began her sadhanas. Mohanji’s picture is in the house. She wakes up and goes to sleep listening to Shiva Kavacham. The day begins with the Gayatri mantra and breathing. She has also started learning English. Annadaan is done every day, and she thanks Mohanji.
The aggressive entity that led to everything I would later suffer in life, all the abuse and horrors, tried in these months to attack the family even more strongly through my father. That is why it was not possible to do healing immediately, but Mom had to begin her sadhanas to establish protection. But much more than protection happened. Exactly when Mohanji’s voice began to be heard in our house, Dad suddenly stopped drinking and consuming whatever he was consuming.
It seems Mohanji wants my family to be fit. Dad started actively training.
There is still my sister, who, at 19, wanders somewhere in Nepal, and I currently have no contact with her or any way to reach her, but I feel nothing but complete trust, surrender, and safety.
Thank you, Mohana. I love you endlessly.
|| JAI BRAHMARISHI MOHANJI ||
Edited & Published by – Testimonials Team, 11th June 2026
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