by Ananth Sankaran, Australia
Gauri Mohanji’s arrival at MCB Australia
On the sacred morning of Akshayathritiya (30th April 2025), just after 6:30 am, a black and brown Angus calf was born on a local farm.
By 9 am, she was at our gate.
Her mother had rejected her — still nursing a previous calf and unable to provide anything more. The farmer, aware of our sanctuary and fully trusting that we would care for her, called Neal without hesitation. He was clear: “I just want her to survive.”
And he brought her immediately.
She arrived barely alive. Skin still wet. Umbilical cord hanging. Body cold. Weak. Shaking. She hadn’t received even a drop of colostrum — the essential first milk a calf needs within hours to develop any kind of immunity. Without it, survival is a gamble.
But what we saw that morning was something none of us will forget.
Every animal on the land had gathered near the gate.
Rani. Ammu. Kamadenu. Nandini. The peacocks. Guineafowls. Even the sheep. All were standing still. Waiting. As if they knew. As if the land itself had sent out a silent message — “She’s coming.”
The farmer didn’t linger. He picked her up from the Ute upside down, placed her on the ground, and left. He had done all he could.
Neal and I sat with her. She collapsed more than once. Breathing was shallow. Her body was limp.
Time was critical. I got on the phone and coordinated with the local vet clinic in Denmark — 45km away. Miraculously, they had frozen colostrum. 4L of it, exact quantity we needed to administer her within 1st 24 hours since her birth. One of our volunteers staying on the land jumped into the car and drove immediately. No discussion. Just did what was needed.
At 11:50 am, the colostrum arrived.
Neal had just stepped out to perform the midday aarti for Baba. I had stayed with her. She hadn’t stood properly once since arriving.
As I approached with the bottle, she stood.
Unsteady, wobbly — but she stood. And she walked straight up to me… and went for my chest.
She thought I was her mother.
Everything stopped.
It wasn’t confusion. It wasn’t hunger. It was instinct. Trust. She looked at me and decided, “You are my mother.”
In that second, something deep cracked inside me. I wasn’t “helping” an animal. I was being given to — fully, wholly. No thought. Just that raw, pure moment. She surrendered, and I responded.
And I fed her.
Later that day, I shared the story with Mohanji. He named her Gauri. From that moment, she became Gauri Mohanji.
That evening, another incredible synchronicity: the same vet who had given the colostrum earlier visited Walpole. He only comes once a week — and that day happened to be the day. So he came to check on her. Saw her. Alive. Standing. Drinking.
Everything worked as if grace had orchestrated the entire thing — quietly, efficiently, precisely.
This land is no ordinary place. It’s alive. It breathes. It listens. As Mohanji has often said, “The land calls those who are meant to come. And it supports those who serve with love.”
He also says, “Motherhood is not about gender. It’s about the power that nurtures without conditions.” And on that day and ever since, I understood. Not in my head — in my body, in my breath, in my being. Gauri made me a mother, not by duty, but by surrender.
In those hours, there was no plan. Just presence. Moment to moment. Watching. Witnessing. Doing what the moment asked for — without resistance, without the story. That’s what this path teaches us. Not words. Not theories. But living, breathing truth.
To my beloved Guru, my father — Mohanji — I offer my deepest, most silent gratitude. This life of mine is a miracle of yours.
May I always remain no more than a speck of dust at your feet. May I serve you and your beings until my very last breath. And when that breath is complete, may I dissolve fully into you — as if I never existed at all.
Forever in surrender.
Forever yours.
|| JAI BRAHMARISHI MOHANJI ||
Edited & Published by – Testimonials Team, 29th May 2025
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