By Madhusudan Rajagopalan
16 and 17 June 2025 were different from any other milestone in the Vrindavan Guruvayur temple project. These were the days of the Shadadhaara pooja – installing the energetic spine of the altar, and the Garbhanyasam — the ceremony of giving life, at the most foundational level, to the deity who will reside in the temple. The project has been a journey of several years, with many milestones along the way and many more to come. But to be present for this, and to witness everything that unfolded around it, is something I will carry with me for a long time.
Against the Heat and the Clock
Mohanji’s presence at this occasion was important for several reasons. This temple project, after all, is the outcome of His grand vision to bring Guruvayurappan back to Vrindavan. This particular function was extremely significant in the temple’s journey. And His presence always elevates any event from the ordinary to the extraordinary. However, it almost looked like He may not attend the function.
A couple of weeks prior, He came down with Bell’s Palsy, a painful condition that led to His face being frozen on the left side. Speaking, eating, any facial movement, even a speedbreaker or jolts on the road – any of this would trigger pain. Mohanji had unavoidable international travel right after the Vrindavan events, so some of us spoke to Him out of concern and requested Him to consider attending this event remotely. He, of course, knew that our priest team, led by Sri Eekkaad Neelakantan Namboodiripad, was outstanding and would do their part with utmost sincerity. Mamu and I would take care of all the arrangements for people, so things would get done as envisioned. But Mohanji would have none of it. He said categorically, “I will attend. No change in plans. Guruvayurappan will take care.” That set the tone for how things unfolded.
The days leading up to the ceremony were literally a race against time. The Vrindavan summer was at its unforgiving peak — temperatures were above 40°C even at 6pm, which meant that preparation and construction work on the site had fallen behind! The original muhurat on 16th June was from 10:30am to 11:30am, but it became clear that proceeding at that hour would be very difficult for everyone involved, even with coolers and the temporary shelter arrangements we had set up for the priests and participants.
Almost in desperate yearning, we checked if the pooja ceremony could be conducted earlier in the day. Fortunately, an earlier auspicious window could be found – from 6:00 to 7:30am! As if in answer to the prayer behind that request, the weather itself shifted and became milder. What had been relentlessly hot became mild and merciful. Nature was cooperating and supporting us. By the time Mohanji arrived in Vrindavan on the 15th, the weather was quite tolerable! There were a few light showers that night, which helped as well. I was not the least surprised, as we have seen this happen in every single pranaprathishta ceremony in Mohanji Centres around the world, be it Australia, South Africa or Slovenia – some light showers always come through on the day before the main ceremony. The weather gods and Mohanji probably have some pact.
Mohanji Enters the Land
On the morning of 16th June, when Mohanji arrived and stepped onto the temple land, there was a quiet sense of history unfolding. The seed for this project had been sown in November 2020. We started searching for lands in early 2022, and here we were in June 2025, watching the foundation of the temple take shape.
Our team welcomed Him with great joy and adoration. Just as He was getting out of the car, the rain gods decided to pour their welcome as well. This made the weather very pleasant. But it posed a particular problem for those of us in the car, looking for an umbrella that we hadn’t planned for. Thankfully, Jayeeta had one ready in her car, and we borrowed it from her in the nick of time to shield Mohanji from the morning drizzle. I happened to be the one holding the umbrella, walking alongside Him as He made His way towards the ceremony setup. At that moment, I didn’t think much of it as I was primarily focused on doing my job properly and protecting Mohanji from the rain. But, a few days after the event, when the event photos were released, a friend from the Mohanji family saw the picture of me with an umbrella for Mohanji and texted me that this reminded him of a famous photo of Sai Baba, and that moment would be remembered for a long time.
Once Mohanji reached the main site, He gave a short but powerful address on the occasion. He spoke about how everyone who had come there was chosen by Guruvayurappan, and it was an extraordinary moment. He explained in brief the significance of this temple and how it is integral to the revival of consciousness in the world (more about His vision on the official temple website: https://www.vrindavanguruvayur.org/vision. He then led the group to make a powerful sankalpa (intention) that this temple would stand and be available to devotees as long as the Sun, the Moon and the stars existed. Hearing that gave me goosebumps – we were embarking on a temple that would stand for eternity, and we had a front row seat to watch the start of that journey. How fortunate were we! All this while, I had just been running and focused on activities to get things in order for the event, and now that I was sitting quietly and watching the sacred ceremony unfold, the gravity of the occasion really hit me.
For me, there was something more personal layered on top of this – I had been involved in this project from the very beginning, from the search for the right land to standing on the very land that was chosen by the divine for the temple. A thought arose in my head: “Oh wow, I contributed to this”. And almost immediately, another voice in my head spoke back: “No, you idiot! You were given the chance to contribute.” There is obviously a world of difference between the two – Mohanji explains this very simply as “I am doing it” vs “it is happening through me”. That reminder at that point in Mohanji’s presence hit home deeply. The opportunity itself was sheer grace, and that realisation led to an overwhelming feeling of gratitude.
Now, when I look back at that whole sequence of events, the hand of grace is all that’s visible and the feeling of gratitude multiplied.
The Nidhi Kalash Offering – and What it Revealed
The Nidhi Kalash ritual involved participants offering valuables that would be sealed into the foundation of the temple — items that would permanently rest beneath the deity. That thought alone is quite profound: these objects would sit there in silence, long after all of us are gone, at the base of a deity that would be blessing millions of people in the future.
Many devotees from around the world had sent contributions for offering gold, silver, and precious gems on their behalf. Prathibha Nair led that effort, and I was somewhat involved in facilitating that process, but I didn’t feel the calling then to make an offering myself. On that day (16th June 2025), when the priests initiated the process, various people came forward and made their offerings. The offerings on behalf of those not present were also placed in the special vessel.
This prompted me to think if I should offer something. I was wearing a gold ring on my right index finger with a pukhraj (yellow sapphire), and that was the obvious offering. But it was not that simple either. I encountered a strange resistance from within to take it out and offer.
Meanwhile, I saw that Mohanji offered one ring. Then, He offered one more – a silver ring from his little finger. I recognised this ring — it had been specifically recommended by a trusted astrologer for a very particular purpose. I had coordinated with the jewellers for this ring, so I knew how important it was. Yet he offered it without the slightest hesitation or thought, as if it were the most natural thing to do.
My dilemma of whether to offer or not kept compounding. One part of me wanted to offer, and the other part was busy creating justifications for why not. Unable to resolve it on my own, I went up to Mohanji and asked Him what I should do. He smiled and said, “Tera tujhko arpan” (offer back to God what was always His). I immediately took off my ring and made the offering. And soon the kalash was closed and sealed from the top.
I had made the offering, but hadn’t quite accepted the choice fully in my head. My mind proceeded to have a fairly extended conversation with itself about whether I had done the right thing. “Why all these sentiments about offering? What is the big deal? You are working for the temple. What difference would a ring offering make?” So many creative reasons to not do something. My gut instinct didn’t agree with that, but hadn’t yet overwhelmed the naysaying part of my mind.
A few moments later, Mohanji turned to me with a smile, put His hands up, pointing to the now empty fingers and remarked, “So much freedom — feel much lighter, no?” I gave an embarrassed smile back as if I agreed with Him. But the truth is that I was still going over it internally: “Did I do the right thing? Couldn’t I have offered something less valuable? Was it worth it?” This went on for a little while.
The irony, which struck me a bit then and more later as I ruminated on this, was that I hadn’t even bought this ring myself — it was a gift. Until that very moment, I had never even thought about its cost or value. What’s more, until a couple of years earlier, I hadn’t even known what that ring was meant for; I had actually been wearing it on the wrong finger! And here I was, agonising over the “loss” of something I hadn’t bought, hadn’t valued, and hadn’t even been wearing correctly. I was laughing at the “brilliance” of my own logic!
Eventually, a sense of relief settled in. What I had offered would rest in the very foundation on which the deity would be seated — for eternity. That precious moment would never come again, and I would have had to carry the regret of a missed opportunity. And of course, the logical mind found a reason for itself too: I could always earn and buy another ring if I really wanted!
But the deeper reflection that stayed with me was about attachment — how much it can weigh us down, even when it is to things we do not consciously value or even think about. The mind creates a sense of ownership almost automatically, independent of how much we actually care about something. On the one hand, Mohanji is fully spontaneous, offering two special rings without a second thought. And on the other, I and my mental gymnastics over one. The gulf between those two responses was perhaps the most valuable lesson from the episode – how easily attachment can come in the way of spontaneity!
Signs of Approval
17 June 2025 (day 2 of the rituals) was a very special day for the project. The morning began with the Acharya Varanam ceremony on the temple land, in which Mohanji formally anointed the chief priest and officially entrusted the care and custody of the temple to him. It was a significant moment — the formal passing of sacred responsibility into the right hands.
Preparations then continued for the Garbhanyasam. The priests explained that the previous day’s rituals had already begun the process of infusing life into the temple deity at the most foundational level. The sacred items for this “womb” of the temple were blessed by Mohanji before being placed into a copper box. Water from a kalash consecrated the day before was then poured into the designated spot in the earth. The priests observed the water closely for a few moments. The water naturally started turning clockwise on its own. The priests immediately turned to Mohanji and said happily that this was a very positive and auspicious sign. In a sense, it was a sign of divine approval of the rituals.
As Mohanji had to leave early, we took the opportunity to click the first group photographs at the land that day. Mohanji again remarked — history is being made at this temple, and we are part of it.
The pictures could capture the moments, but not the feeling of awe that filled us as we stood there and visualised what this land would look like when the temple finally stood in its full glory.
A Prophecy from Four Decades Ago
Before his return to Delhi, Mohanji made a visit to Mathura to meet a senior officer in the administration. When it concluded, He called to share something that had come up. The person He had met was very familiar with Nandgaon. He himself was a very spiritually oriented person; his own guru, a renowned avadhoota of the region, had made a specific prediction in the 1980s: that Vrindavan would become the spiritual epicentre of the world, and that Nandgaon in particular would see great temples coming up.
We were, at that very moment, laying the foundation of one of those temples. A prediction from forty years ago, playing out in front of us. It was a humbling thought, and it added yet another layer of significance to what was already a very fulfilling day.
The Afternoon Rains — And a Special Prayer
That afternoon, the skies opened. Heavy rains began to fall in earnest, and with them came a familiar anxiety: the last stretch of road leading to the temple land turns to deep slush during the monsoon, making vehicle access near impossible. We were at the hotel, watching the rain, trying to figure out whether we could reach the land at all. The priests had left ahead of us but found themselves stranded in their car, unable to move the final 200 metres through the waterlogged mud track. If they could not reach the site, the evening’s poojas — including the Garbhanyasam itself — would not happen. After all that had gone into preparing for this moment, that possibility was not easy to contemplate.
Around this time, Mohanji called from His car on the way to Delhi airport, after his meeting in Mathura. He asked how things were going. I explained the situation.
A bit of context is useful here. From prior experience, I know that Mohanji can, in certain situations, influence weather conditions in a location. But He does not do this easily, and it has to genuinely warrant it. He has explained to me why: such interventions carry a real cost. Rain cannot simply be wished away — if it is reduced at location A, it has to go somewhere else, meaning location B gets affected. But that has to be done so that it is not an unreasonable discomfort. So this requires a careful balancing at a cosmic level. Knowing this, I have always been reluctant to ask Him directly for such help.
This time, however, I set that reluctance aside. I beseeched Him directly: “Mohanji, please. You have to do something — otherwise we’re in trouble.” He listened, paused and said, “Hmm… let’s see what we can do.”
It took just about fifteen minutes… and the rain started to let up. Whether anyone was genuinely surprised is another question.
Almost at the same time, we received a call from the site. The priests had made a decision – they got out of their car and walked to the site through the deep slush on foot. They had simply decided that Bhagwan’s work was more important than their own comfort. For those of us who knew what the evening’s ceremony meant — Lord Krishna as Guruvayurappan was going to be given life — this was truly inspiring. It is a real blessing to our project that we have Sri Eekkaad Neelakantan Namboodiripad as our thanthri (chief priest). As Mohanji often says, Guruvayurappan chooses His own team.
Back at the hotel, participants had to decide what to do. Many were not confident about the conditions and stayed back — we ourselves encouraged a few to do so, especially those who may not be able to rough it out through the last stretch. But some of us decided to go.
By the time we reached the end of the motorable road, the rains had truly paused. It was now possible for a tractor to go through the slush. So we decided to get onto the tractor for a mini-joyride. Then we had to walk the last stretch through waterlogged fields to finally reach the venue of the ceremonies. It was, in every sense of the word, an adventure. Lord Krishna is known to be playful. We were going to watch the ceremony that would infuse life into the foundation, and our exciting journey already put us in a mode of celebration!
The Ceremony — Like the Night of Krishna’s Birth
The prescribed muhurat (auspicious time) for the Garbhanyasam was 8.30pm – 9pm. We had managed to reach by around 7.15pm and were able to watch the preparations as the priests went about their duties. Sacred mantras were being chanted, and the air had an electric feel to it as the whole atmosphere felt charged.
However, there was no electricity — the generator could not be started, given the rain and waterlogging. The only light came from traditional oil lamps. Power had gone out in the surrounding area, too, so beyond our tent, there was complete darkness. The sounds of crickets and insects, the quiet pitter-patter of rain. The sounds of sacred chanting. Amidst all this, Prashant was periodically draining the water accumulating on the tarpaulin above us, as there was a real risk of it collapsing under the weight.
In the middle of fields, in a small village, with only the priests and perhaps ten to twelve people present, the Garbhanyasam ceremony was performed. The chanting was powerful. The connection to Krishna in that space was palpable. We could all feel that something truly significant was happening — the energy was unlike anything ordinary.
And then it struck us, perhaps one by one: the conditions around us were almost exactly like the night of Krishna’s own birth. Rains. A small village. The dark of night. And in His very own land of Braj. The ceremony — of giving life, of a sacred birth into a foundation — was playing out in conditions that seemed to echo that most sacred of births, thousands of years ago.
Whether this was a coincidence or something more deliberately arranged, I cannot say. But the feeling in that tent, in that darkness, with those lamps and that chanting, was one I will not forget. Even now, thinking about it transports me back to the scene and gives me goosebumps.
Walking out barefoot
When it was over, the thanthri looked at us and said simply: “I’ve done my job. Now you have to do yours.” The copper box was now sealed in the earth, and our responsibility was to ensure it was protected through the night. No disturbances, no animals getting near the spot. We made the necessary arrangements quickly and sealed the spot for the night.
We then began our walk back to the cars – no tractor this time, just mobile flashlights and the dark. We walked barefoot through the mud and slush, footwear in our hands, to save ourselves from slipping. Yet not a single person was complaining. On the contrary, there was just joy and fulfilment, almost like walking out of a temple after a successful arduous pilgrimage. Krishna’s name was in the air, on everyone’s lips, His land beneath our feet. And a strangely delightful feeling of lightness, despite the hectic activities of a long day with so many events and turns.
It was surreal. And it was sacred.
What Stayed with Me
A few things stayed with me from those two days, and I find myself returning to them.
The first is about grace, and how it operates. So many things over those two days could have gone differently. The heat could have derailed the first day. The rains could have stopped the ceremony on the second. The priests could have decided that the conditions were too difficult. The clockwise swirl of water might not have happened at all. Yet one after another, things fell into place. Not because we were particularly well-organised or well-prepared, but because there seemed to be a larger hand ensuring that what needed to happen, happened. This is not the first time I have noticed this with Mohanji’s projects, and I am certain that it will not be the last.
The second is about participation, and how it should be approached. How many people get to be present at the founding of a temple, let alone be involved from the very beginning of that journey? This is not something one earns — it is something one is given. That reminder came to me sitting on the land during Mohanji’s address, when the thought arose that I had contributed to this, and the almost immediate correction followed: “I am getting the chance to serve on this project, and it is happening through me.” The difference between those two ways of seeing things is everything. One feeds the ego; the other keeps grace flowing. Doership vs selfless service.
And the third is about attachment. The episode with the ring was, for me, a vivid reminder of how attachment can weigh us down, even when it is to things we do not consciously think we value. The gap between what we think we are attached to and what else we are actually attached to is worth reflecting upon.
Mohanji said it multiple times over those two days: history is being made here, and we are part of it. I believe that completely and am deeply grateful to have been given a place in that story. And in Bhagwan’s land, surrounded by His grace, it is perhaps the only way any of us could have been here.
|| JAI BRAHMARISHI MOHANJI ||
Edited & Published by – Testimonials Team, 17th June 2026
Disclaimer:
The views, opinions, and positions expressed by the authors and those providing comments on these blogs are theirs alone and do not necessarily reflect the views, opinions or positions of Mohanji, Mohanji Foundation, it’s members, employees or any other individual or entity associated with Mohanji or Mohanji Foundation. We make no representations as to accuracy, completeness, timeliness, suitability or validity of any information presented by individual authors and/or commenters on our blogs and will not be liable for any errors, omissions, or delays in this information or any losses, injuries or damages arising from its display or use.
We reserve the right to delete, edit, or alter in any manner we see fit blog entries or comments that we, in our sole discretion, deem to be obscene, offensive, defamatory, threatening, in violation of trademark, copyright or other laws, of an express commercial nature, or otherwise unacceptable.
Mohanji Testimonials team