When Dhoomavati Arrived Unannounced

 

The world is a myriad of experiences — woven through fleeting conversations, subtle moments, and ideas that often lie dormant until life gives them meaning. For me, Guru is not only a person; the Guru also appears through real experiences. Those moments themselves become a guiding light — the quiet luminance that sets my life back on the right path, the right track, and the right direction.

A long time ago, I had travelled to the southern part of India and lived there for a few months. When it was finally time to leave, I boarded a sleeper train for the long journey back. It was an early morning departure, the kind that begins with bright daylight and a packed bag of homemade Rajasthani food. A close friend and his elder brother came to the station to see me off. I had the lower berth by the window. Across from me sat an elderly man in traditional attire. The train was at its starting station, and the journey ahead would stretch almost twenty to thirty hours. Within minutes of settling in, I began to relax, ready to drift into rest before the long ride truly began.

Suddenly, in a mix of languages and a somewhat hurried tone, the elderly man asked if I could shift to another seat so that he and his friend could sit together comfortably. Before he could even finish explaining, I simply said no and settled back into my place. After a while he tried again, repeating the same request. This time I told him clearly not to ask a third time. No means no.

In my nature, I have always been the kind of person who would rather endure discomfort than ask someone else for such adjustments. Back then especially, I took things very personally, even when they were harmless or well-intended.

The man seemed offended. Without saying anything directly, he began to make a quiet scene — pulling out his beads and muttering something under his breath, perhaps calming himself. I paid no attention. There was no anger in me toward his faith, his actions, or his behavior. I simply withdrew into my own space and waited for the train to depart.

Now here is the strange part.His entire arm was resting along the metal window frame — not just a finger that might get caught accidentally, but the whole arm, from fingertips to elbow, stretched across the edge. Out of nowhere, while the train was still stationary and hadn’t even started moving, the heavy metal window suddenly dropped straight down onto his hand.

For a moment everything froze. Within seconds his clothes were soaked with blood, flowing heavily — the scene felt almost unreal, like something out of a dramatic film. And all this had happened within minutes: no argument, no hostility, no personal grudge, just a simple refusal followed by this completely unexpected incident. A complete Kil* Bill - Uma Thurman movie scene 😂

That single moment brought back a realization that has repeated itself many times through my life — the quiet presence of Mother Dhumavati. For me, she has always been the force that reconnects me to myself, reminding me that the spirit cannot truly be confined within a vessel. Her presence is unpredictable, raw, and strangely liberating. The way she occupies a moment or a space is something that feels both fierce and sacred at the same time. I would not be adding inputs from Mother, behold the experience that your mind can handle.

And that is why I share experiences like these — not as claims or conclusions, but as fragments of a journey that have shaped my understanding. I hope I’ve set aside any bias and preserved the essence well enough for you to hear one of the many gems that life has shown me along the way.