You Do My Work, I Do Your Work

(From the diary of an alumnus)

During our stay at Puttaparthi as students of Swami’s educational institutions, we learned lessons that far transcended the boundaries of academics. The love of the Divine and the faith of the devotees left indelible impressions on our hearts, shaping us in profound ways.

It was the mid-80s, and we were high school students. Among our teachers was a physics lecturer, a gentle soul from coastal Andhra Pradesh. When he received his appointment at Puttaparthi, he and his wife packed up their lives, locked their modest home in his native town, and moved to the sacred abode of Prasanthi Nilayam.

One monsoon season, calamity struck his hometown. Heavy rains triggered severe floods, and soon, his house—located in a low-lying area—was submerged under eight feet of water. Panic spread among the neighbors, who frantically called him.

“Sir, the water level has risen above your doors and windows!” one neighbor reported. “There’s a terrible stench coming from your house. Should we break open the door to save your belongings?”

The lecturer, deeply rooted in his faith, replied, “*Let me seek Swami’s permission first.”*

But when he attended morning Darshan, Swami didn’t approach him. The same happened during the evening Darshan—and again the following day. Two days passed in mounting worry, but still, he waited patiently.

Finally, on the third evening, Swami walked towards him. Trembling with hope, the lecturer poured out his plight. Swami listened intently and then, with a gentle smile, said, “*Don’t worry. I will take care.”*

Relief washed over him as he bent low to touch Swami’s Lotus Feet, offering a heartfelt Padnamaskar. Yet, as he rose, a thought clouded his mind: What will my wife think of all this?

Swami paused mid-step, turned to him, and said, “_If your wife wants to go, let her go.”_ Then, with a serene gait, Swami walked on.

The lecturer conveyed Swami’s words to his wife, and she decided to travel back to their hometown, accompanied by a trusted relative.

When she reached their house, her heart sank at the sight. The marks of the water level loomed above the windows and doors, bearing testimony to the flood’s wrath. The house must be in ruins, she thought. She unlocked the compound gate and stepped hesitantly inside.

As she unlocked the main door, expecting chaos, an extraordinary fragrance filled the air—a divine smell of Vibhuti. She froze. Slowly, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

What she saw defied all logic. The house was immaculate—spotless and perfectly arranged. Not a speck of dust marred the gleaming floors, and the furniture looked as if it had just been polished hours ago. Everything was in perfect order, spic and span, as though the floodwaters had never even grazed their home.

Bhagawan had not only kept their house safe from the fierce inundating waters, but had even refurbished and revamped it!

Shaking with awe, she immediately called her husband. “*You won’t believe this!” she exclaimed. “The house is spotless—cleaner than I’ve ever seen it! There’s Vibhuti everywhere!”*

When the lecturer shared this miraculous event with us, our young minds were spellbound. That day, we truly grasped the meaning of unwavering faith and the magnitude of Swami’s divine assurance: “You do My work. I do your work.”