Near-Death Experience

One day, my grandmother told me, “Seeing a dead body is a sin. If you see one, just close your eyes”. Guess what, I believed her!

I was 23 when my grandfather died. The situation was unavoidable. I still remember that night. My grandfather was watching a cricket match alone. Around 2 a.m., I suddenly woke up to a lot of noise.

I saw the chaos all around. My grandfather was quietly sitting on a chair with his eyes closed, but he was in tremendous pain, which I could vividly feel. He was surrounded by neighbors and family.

Before anybody could comprehend the situation, he died due to a heart attack. I watched everything in great shock from a distance, thinking, ” How is this possible? What was even more shocking was how quickly everyone got engaged in other matters — calling distant relatives, arranging rituals, and discussing food. My mind was frozen and was not ready to accept the death.

“What is this?” I thought.

In that state of mind, I looked for a lonely corner in my home, wanting to be alone with my internal turmoil. Many questions arose — my grandfather was here a few hours ago, and now his whole existence has evaporated. How can anyone just disappear like this, and we cannot do anything about it? Where is he now? I felt helpless and angry. Why is this mysterious? Why does God hide from us? We have the right to know where our loved ones have gone.  

We know how to build skyscrapers, airports, and rockets, yet nobody knows what happens after death. 

If our loved one doesn’t arrive home on time, we worry and call repeatedly, anxious to ensure they’re safe. Why no one else desperate to know?” Suddenly, money, materialistic things, and all the knowledge seemed worthless and meaningless to me. I lost interest in talking to people.  

From that day, these questions became part of me. I could not stop thinking about them. I had no idea where these questions would lead me in the future. For years, I dreamt of my grandfather. In those dreams, I would ask him, “Why are you hiding from us? Where have you been all these years?”

Six years later, God answered my questions. It was a painful journey, but eventually everything became an experience, and now I can share it with you.

During my pregnancy, I was walking quietly in the corridor of my building. My due date was over, but there were no signs of labor pain. I was very anxious about the process. Two days later, I went to the hospital, where my husband was working. A maternity ward in a government hospital was a living hell. I was shocked by what I saw. Women were crying out in pain, their voices filling the air. It was so terrifying that I could not sleep that night. 

Suddenly, I heard a more terrible voice, coming from a smaller adjoining room, where the babies were born. I could not imagine myself going through that. I thought Why the hell did I put myself into this position? Now I cannot run away from this situation.

The whole time, I watched them crying and howling in different degrees of pain. The resident doctors yelled back at them. I wondered if the doctors would behave in the same way with me. In such a stressful condition, nothing happened to me that night.

One after another, all the ladies got shifted from that big room to the small room to deliver the babies. The new batch came to the big room. I was the only one left from the night batch. The next day, around 2 p.m., doctors decided to induce labor artificially. The medicine soon showed its effect, and the pain began. By now, I wanted to get it over and done.

At first, it was bearable. Then it grew. It became so intense that I could not hear anything around me, nor could I feel anyone’s presence in the crowded, big room. I felt I was left alone in the whole cosmos. 

I was surprised to discover my reaction to pain. I became quiet — no complaint, no crying, no discomfort on my face. It was the same as what I saw on my grandfather’s face before he died.

It was just me…. As if I knew that, from this point on, things were beyond human control. I was totally tuned inward, chanting with every breath. The more the pain grew, the deeper I went into myself. I needed something to hold on to, and my chanting became my anchor. After five hours of intense pain, a doctor whispered in my ear and asked, “Do you want an epidural?” to which I said, “Yes”. Within moments, a wave of relief washed over me. I could see and feel the world around me again. My body relaxed, and I thought the worst was over. But it wasn’t. 

15 minutes later, the doctor decided that I needed an urgent operation. They took me back to the Operating Theatre.

I closed my eyes but was conscious of my surroundings. The doctor cut my lower abdomen, and the baby came out. I had no courage to open my eyes to watch myself stained in blood. I heard my baby’s voice, and a doctor said, “What a healthy baby!”

Suddenly, I felt I could not breathe. I panicked, thrashing and struggling to get air. I shouted: “I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe”. I removed the oxygen mask so that I could get fresh air, but I was unable to breathe.

After much struggle, I don’t know how everything went dark. Not only dark, but pitch dark and suffocating. I felt as if I was rolling through an endless dark tunnel. Hitting its walls helplessly, I was rolling even deeper into it. The tunnel had no end. I was crying and screaming, “Take me back, take me back to my family!”  But there was no response. 

I was all alone and terrified. I screamed, “My family does not know where I am. How will I escape from this?” I wanted so much to go back home. The pain was incomparable to anything I had ever felt. Why is this happening to me? It seemed to me as if many years had passed, rolling in it without any hope of getting out. 

Suddenly, without warning, everything settled down. I was no longer restless. Which place is this? No darkness, but no light either. I entered a strange space. Just vast, calm nothingness. I don’t know how everything was changing; like cut, copy, paste.

In stillness, a movie flashed before me in fast-forward, and it took me a little while to realize it was about my own life. Some parts were very strange; a few events and people were unidentifiable. I could not recognize that this had ever happened in my life. This movie reminded me of some incidents that made me proud. I silently watched the movie.

After the movie ended, I heard a voice ask, “Do you regret anything?” I said spontaneously, “Once I broke the heart of a boy’s heart.” “Anything else?” to which I replied, “No.” The questions and answers were so direct and straightforward. No thinking, no confusion, and no explanation. A long silence after that; I felt as if many years had passed. I was on hold but peaceful. It was a totally different time dimension. Unexpectedly, the deep silence was broken after a long gap. And I heard the same voice again, “Do you want to go back?”

I did not feel any desire or longing. I was at utter peace, I replied, “No”. But the voice said, “You have to go back”.

Then I saw a vision of myself working in my kitchen towards the end of the ninth month of my pregnancy. After pondering it for 10 years, I now feel that it indicates the importance of a single conscious moment. God gave me many clues in that experience. How wonderfully the whole scenario was projected according to my present understanding, and how it gave hints for my future level of consciousness. What a masterpiece!

Finally, I experienced something extraordinary, which I call a return gift from God, before leaving His home.

I saw light everywhere, stretching into infinity. Something words will always fail to fully describe. There was no sun, yet there was unlimited space filled with light, as if thousands of suns were shining together. I can never forget what I saw. I felt at home. This is where we all belong. This is what we search for in life without even realizing it. Infinite peace and love, and no pain. It is hard to describe; I just felt totally complete. The light held answers without speaking. It made sense in that moment. Even though I couldn’t put it into words.

I thought everyone deserves to see that and be there. At that point, I realized how I was experiencing everything without my physical body. Without my mind, without my breath? How do I remember all this?  It is very strange to me to think about it now. But then, the voice returned, pulling me gently back: 

Voice said, “It is time to go.”

I never wanted to leave that place. Why did God ask for my opinion when my decision did not matter? Why did he send me back? The next moment, I found myself on the bed in the ICU ward of the hospital, full of wires and tubes all over my body, unable to move or talk. I was very weak and had lost much blood. It was midnight.

A resident doctor was on duty. Despite my condition, I did my best to tell him about my visit to God in all the words I could. My voice was so weak. I had no strength to utter a complete sentence. He could not hear me properly and went back to his seat. I called him many times, putting all my energy into clicking the call button. My experience was fresh, and I wanted to share. Every time the doctor came and asked, “Do you want a little water or are you in pain?”

Every time I shook my head to no and said it slowly, “I want to tell you something,” but I could barely move my body and speak. Later, I appreciated the resident doctor’s patience. 

The next day, I was moved to a private ward; those 15 days in the hospital were very difficult. I lost interest in food, talking, and life. The only thing that made me happy was my child. I got myself engrossed in bringing up Vrinda.

After 15 years of meditation practice, I have come to feel that even after death, the mystery of birth and death remains unrevealed to the soul. The truth appears to be far greater and more profound than anything we can imagine.”

Somebody Give Me a Hope

When I look at Papa’s picture,
It suffocates me.
Where is he now?
Somebody, give me a hope.
I want to believe he’s not totally gone.
He’s just waiting at a station ahead.
Someday, I will meet him again,
this isn’t the end.
What’s the meaning of life
Pulled off without choice?
Reminds me of a train journey—
We meet, we laugh,
We sit side by side for a while,
But deep down, we know
We all have to go.
that makes me silent.