The Hugging Mother

Okay, here it is, my experience with Matha Amrithanandamayi, one of India's few female gurus. She is known as Amma (mother) and is called the Hugging Mother because she hugs everyone who comes to visit her as if they were her own child. When she resides at her ashram (which is only a few months of the year), she doles out "Darshan" (meaning blessing) in the form of hugs on Wednesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays, and Sundays (usually, but per the Indian way, not always). In addition to hugging, Amma has amassed a huge, and very well-organized charitable organization which includes a world-class hospital that treats anyone who can't afford it (which is most of India), a world-class university, and an orphanage. I made a last-minute decision to go there. I thought, what better way to spend New Year's Eve than getting a hug from Amma. I've heard her hugs are a spiritual experience and since I haven't had one yet in this spiritual country of India, it was a opportunity I couldn't pass up.

On the day I arrived, Amma hugged from 11AM to midnight. Rumor has it that she doesn't get up once during Darshan but I didn't watch long enough to see whether or not that was true. I'll skip the travel and arrival at the ashram and get straight to the hugging process (yes, process). Because it was New Year's Eve, there were thousands of Indians at the ashram for the day. Day visitors get priority in the Darshan line. Everyone gets a token containing a range of numbers and a digital message board tells you when to get in line. In the meantime, you wait in chairs in the huge, covered but open auditorium. Amma is sitting in an armchair on the stage at the front of the auditorium but you can't see her from the floor as she is mobbed by her attendants and huggees. Queues (lines) form at the left (men's) and right (women's) of the stage and extend to the back of the auditorium.

After 7PM, those who are spending the night at the ashram are allowed to join the queue. The queue consists of plastic chairs. Every 5 minutes or so, everyone in the queue stands up and shifts forward 10 or so chairs. After being in the queue for about an hour, I finally reached the "gift" table (not sure what else to call it) where I was given the opportunity to buy a gift for Amma. Maybe I wanted to present Amma with neck garland of plastic flowers or perhaps some sweets? I didn't bring any money with me so I didn't buy anything. Presenting gifts to the mother isn't necessary for a hug but I felt a little conspicuous without it. Once I passed the gift table, I had another hour or so to go. Sitting in Amma's Darshan line offers people-watching at its finest. Westerners generally wore white outfits (something like a white nightgown and white pants) and Indians came in their finest silk saris. Westerners talked about all the times they've been hugged by Amma...serial huggees who seem to follow her around like groupies. I'm not sure what Indians talked about but something tells me that many don't get the opportunity to see Amma more than once.

To the left and right of the stage are two rooms. When I reached the front of the line, I walked up the ramp to the stage and entered the room on the right. That's when I realized that, like a line in an amusement park, the Darshan line continues on the stage, weaving back and forth among more chairs. But from inside the room, I could finally see Amma! Amma was wearing all white and sitting in a gigantic arm chair. Many have asked me how old she is and I couldn't say. You'll have to google this. I would guess maybe in her 50s. She was surrounded, first, by several attendants. Most attendants were helping huggees move through the line. One attendee massaged Amma's shoulders while she hugged. Another handed her prasad (a blessed sweet that Amma handed to each huggee after their hug). Surrounding the attendees were maybe 100 already-hugged huggees, sitting on the floor cross-legged, meditating. If a huggee wanted to sit, another who had been sitting for a while was tapped on the shoulder and asked to leave to make space for the new huggee. All the while, singing was being played over the loudspeakers. It was quite a spectacle. Since cameras are not allowed, I have no photos. You'll just have to take my word for it : )

As I approached the front of the line, an attendant took my bag and asked me to wipe my face (imagine all the oil and makeup that would accumulate on Amma's white gown after a day of hugging). Another attendant asked me what language I spoke. With only one person in front of me now, another attendant pressed down lightly on my shoulder, indicating that it was time to kneel (the hugging position). When the person in front of me stood up, the attendant pushed me forward and I waddled up to Amma on my knees. Another attendant placed my hands on the arms of the arm chair and pushed my head into her...well, into her chest, and held it there. Now, I must pause a moment. Amma is a busy woman who is very involved in her charitable organizations. She can't give up hours a day to hug when so much work has to be done. So how does she get it all done? She carries out business while she's hugging. Yes, the woman doesn't get up to pee for 13 hours carries on business conversations while she's hugging. So there I am, with my hands on either side of Amma and my head being held against her chest while she's carrying on a conversation with one of her attendants, who's taking notes. Amma is holding me, sort of, but I must wait for the full-on hug until she's finished her thought. I must have stayed in this awkward position for 20 or 30 seconds. And all at once, she squeezed, kissed the side of my head, pushed the prasad into my hand, mumbled something in my ear (I have no idea), and released me. That was it. The attendant pulled me up and ushered me away before I had time to say, "What was that? I didn't hear you." After I left, I realized that I didn't even have a chance to make eye contact.

So that was my experience with Amma, the hugging mother, the living saint. It wasn't quite the experience I'd expected, but it was truly an unforgettable experience (not unlike all travels in India). I wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else on New Year's Eve.