The phrase first reached my ears about two decades ago, around 2010-2011. Back then, information about the Narmada Parikrama wasn't easily accessible to the public. I vaguely heard that a Ratnagiri engineer named Gune had completed the circumambulation and penned a book. My initial, hazy awareness came later through Jagannath Kunte's book, 'Narmade Har Har'. Though I flipped through a few pages of Kunte's work, I never got around to reading it completely.
The true seeds of this spiritual quest were planted after I read an article on an online forum by Pratibha Chitale about her Parikrama. Her writing ignited a powerful desire within me. Immediately, I reached out to her son, Vishram Chitale, and requested the CDs documenting his parents' pilgrimage. Watching those visuals, I became completely enchanted by the journey.
In that moment, I made an unwavering resolve: I must complete this Parikrama at least once in my lifetime. However, life's responsibilities took precedence, and the thought was reluctantly put on hold. But as I would soon discover, destiny had meticulously laid out a map for me.
The Subtle Signals of Fate
Years passed. While my mother was ill, I was on my usual walk on Bajirao Road in Pune. In an old bookshop, a seller named Godbole handed me a frail, century-old biography of Bidkar Maharaj. I brought it home for my mother to read. Every page was delicate—it felt like it could crumble in my hands—but within its worn text was a clear reference to the Narmada Parikrama. My subconscious desire immediately flared up again. Yet, the time for the actual pilgrimage still hadn't arrived.
By late 2023, the thought began to obsess me, and in October 2024, I made a firm commitment: I would go on the Parikrama, come what may. This, however, was not just my will. The journey carried a divine touch, one that began to unfold precisely in October 2024.
Driving on the Nashik-Manmad road, I suddenly spotted an old sign: "Ancient Ashram of Swami Samarth." It was morning, and I had plenty of time. My feet automatically led me towards the ashram. The atmosphere was serene and picturesque: a river flowing gently, a small weir, a pond-like accumulation of water, and the quiet ashram on the bank. After taking darshan and sitting for fifteen minutes, I left. Casually, I took a few photos and sent them to my friend Shirodkar on WhatsApp, mentioning my visit to the ancient place.
The Ashram and the Ancestral Link
Within ten or fifteen minutes, his message flashed: "We have to go to that ashram. I've booked the ticket. Meet me at Panvel Station on [date]." He was traveling from the Konkan, and I was leaving from Pune. We met in Panvel as planned, took a train to Nashik, and reached Trimbakeshwar at dawn. After bathing, we went to the temple. By sheer luck, the temple wasn't crowded, and we had a relaxed darshan. We then took darshan of Mata Nilambika on Nil Parvat and returned to Nashik. At the bus stand, I went to the restroom, telling Shirodkar that we needed to catch the Shirdi-bound bus. While I was gone, a bus arrived. Shirodkar quickly boarded, found a seat, and I ran and joined him. In the rush, we forgot to confirm the bus route. Once we were moving, the conductor informed us that this bus went to Shirdi via an alternate route. "Well," we thought, "Sai Baba must be calling us today." We reached Shirdi, checked into a lodge, and went for an incredibly peaceful darshan. The next morning, it was the same—no crowds. Shirodkar commented that despite hearing about the infamous crowds, he’d never seen such peace in Shirdi.
After visiting Shani Shingnapur and returning to Shirdi, we took a state transport bus and finally reached the original ashram.
It was 4:30 PM. The ashram manager, a Maharaj, was sitting outside. After taking darshan, we approached him for more information. I only needed details for my writing. He informed us, "This is the ashram of Anandnath Maharaj, a disciple of Swami Samarth." He showed us the well Swami had created to alleviate a drought and gave me the number of a person connected to the Mumbai ashram.
I called the number and shared my story. The person asked for my surname and then, "Are you from the Konkan?" He continued, "You haven't come here on your own; you have been called. The mother of Maharaj came from your family lineage. She was a daughter of the house with your surname." I was dumbfounded. Goosebumps ran over my entire body.
After returning to Pune, the fervor for the Narmada Parikrama began to rage in my mind once again. The subsequent chain of events will follow in the next article.
Labels: Memoir, Spiritual Travel, India, Narmada Parikrama, Divine Intervention
Search Description: Part 1 of a personal account detailing the subtle signs and miraculous coincidences—from old books to an ancestral discovery—that compelled the author to undertake the Narmada Parikrama.
Hashtags: #NarmadeHar #NarmadaParikrama #SpiritualJourney #DivineCalling #TravelMemoir #Destiny #SwamiSamarth #HinduPilgrimage #IndiaTravel #InnerJourney