Gautam Sachdeva

Guest Blog – Resting in Being: Satsang and Surrender In Lived Experience by Nalini Garciarena

Reflections on the Retreat in Tiruvannamalai, February 2026

 

A serene Joy

 

I arrived in Chennai at 8 a.m. in early February 2026. I wanted to make the most of the day, so I had already arranged to visit two places. The first was the samadhi of Narasimha Swami, one of the main exponents of the teachings of Sri Sai Baba of Shirdi. Gautam had mentioned it in a satsang, and for some reason, it had resonated with me. I felt that this place had to be part of my trip.

 

On the way to Tiruvannamalai, I planned to stop in Kanchipuram to visit an ancient temple of Lord Shiva that a friend had recommended. I had booked a taxi and asked to be taken to both destinations, trusting that the driver would have the exact address of the first one. But that wasn’t the case: we left the airport without precise information and ended up in front of two small Sri Sai Baba temples, neither of which was the one I was looking for.

 

Finally, I gave up. Time passed, and something told me that the visit was not meant to happen then. The Shiva temple, for its part, closed at noon, just when I would arrive, and didn’t reopen until four in the afternoon. A little tired after the trip, I decided to continue on my way, and both visits were left pending.

 

Two weeks later, in Tiruvannamalai, my last day in India arrived. That morning, very early, I went to the Ramana ashram. I wanted to give thanks and listen to the Arunachala Stotra (A hymn by Ramana Maharshi on Arunachala Hill) one last time. Then I returned to the hotel, gathered my belongings, and took a taxi to Chennai, this time with the correct address of the temple I was looking for.

 

I arrived at the ‘All India Sai Samaj Temple’ around noon. Upon entering, I found the images of Sri Sai Baba and Narasimha Swami. Later, in a bright, enclosed space, I paused before the image of Sri Sai Baba. He wore a violet robe with green and gold trim, garlands of flowers adorned his neck, and petals were scattered at his feet.

 

In that same space, the image of the Lord Jesus with the Sacred Heart caught my eye: his arms open in a gesture of blessing, the luminous heart on his chest, a symbol of divine love. To one side, Shiva with Parvati and other deities; to the right, the Kaaba of Mecca. I was delighted to find Jesus there. Later, as I read, I understood that Sri Sai Baba taught the unity of all religions. Walking a little further, I arrived at the samadhi of Narasimha Swami. The white statue, standing with a serene expression, held a staff. Garlands of flowers rested on his chest, and his samadhi was oriented toward Sai Baba, as if representing the disciple in eternal presence before his master.

 

I participated in the aarati. The place was simple, not very large, and filled with people sitting on the floor: children, women, and men singing and clapping along to the rhythm, while the pandit led the rituals. They seemed joyful, overflowing with genuine devotion. That joy completely enveloped me: I let myself be carried away by the singing, joining in with the clapping, to become part of that moment.

 

I stayed for a while, took some photos, and left. Already in the taxi, on the way back to the hotel, I was overcome with a profound sense of gratitude for everything I had experienced: Gautamji’s teachings and his unique way of transmitting them—his calmness, his humility, his silences, his gaze—his darshan, the presence of Arunachala Shiva, and the power of Ramana Maharshi.

 

Being in the temple of Sri Sai Baba, whose teachings are based on Shraddha and Saburi—faith and patience, alongside the image of my beloved Jesus, who always guides and accompanies me, and the presence of Narasimha Swami as an example of an ideal disciple, filled me with serene joy.
Thus, I bid farewell, once again, to India.

 

The Subtle Happiness That Remains

The days we shared with Gautam were intense and enriching, filled with teachings and moments experienced through satsang. Ramana Maharshi says that satsang is for immersing oneself in the ‘Self’, and Shankara points out that in the three worlds, satsang is the most powerful way for crossing the ocean of samsara, and the guru is the boat that ferries you across.

 

Gautam chose endless happiness as his central theme. The day before the retreat, he shared a teaching from Bhagavan:

“What we all desire is endless happiness. Although we seek it in various ways, it is not something to be attained as a new experience. Our true nature is the feeling of the ‘Self,’ which is always present, even though our minds wander, searching for something outside of ourselves.” And Nisargadatta Maharaj added: “That bliss is more like a great peace.”

 

At the beginning of the retreat, Gautam pointed out that, in this search for eternal happiness, we often get lost by trying to experience the ‘Self’ as something separate, as a special experience to be attained. The ego becomes entangled in the illusion that there is something to conquer, and this impulse—often expressed in intense sadhanas or the constant search for gurus—can come to occupy one’s entire life. Far from leading to understanding, it can become a distraction.

 

The ego tries to experience the ‘Self’ as if it were something external, when in reality the essential has always been there: it is our own nature. From this clarity, peace and happiness do not come from achieving a transcendental experience, but from recognising that, in essence, there is no separation. Then the question arises: how is this true happiness revealed?

 

Gautam draws on the teachings of his guru, Ramesh Balsekar, who affirmed that we are instruments through which Divine Consciousness expresses Itself. Along these lines, a path opens where the sense of doership begins to dissolve upon realising that we are not the doers.

 

To delve deeper into this understanding, he quotes the Bhagavad Gita: “The ego, deluded, thinks: I am the doer.” These words indicate that, trapped in its own illusion, the ego believes that both oneself and others perform actions. However, from a deeper perspective, everything simply happens. Resonating with this teaching, I recalled an experience I had just before the retreat.

 

The day before, I visited ‘Pavala Kundru’, the ‘Coral Hill’, where Ramana Maharshi lived for some time. There, on a wall, is written one of his teachings:
“The Supreme controls the destiny of souls according to their past actions. That which is not destined to happen will not happen, no matter how hard you try. That which is destined to happen, will happen, no matter what you do to prevent it. This is certain. Therefore, the best path is to remain silent.”

 

These words express the Divine Will and remind us that the course of our lives unfolds through karma (prarabdha), guided by a greater order that transcends our immediate understanding.

In connection with this, one afternoon, the entire sangha went with Gautam to the Adi Annamalai temple; it was my second time there. We sat contemplating the sunset in front of Arunachala. His presence seemed to envelop everything in a profound stillness, a stillness shared by all.

 

The sky was somewhat hazy, with soft, muted colours. A flock of birds flew past us. It was a beautiful moment. I then recalled some words of the Lord Jesus:
“Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?” (Matthew 6:26).

 

Jesus presents the birds as an example of an existence sustained by something greater than individual will. They move and find food without planning or accumulating. There is no separation between that which sustains and that which is sustained: existence sustains itself through its forms. Upon observing them, this image can be understood as an invitation to recognise that ‘what is’ unfolds on its own. Everything flows silently and perfectly.

 

Recognising this truth, Gautam maintains, allows us to look with greater calm and humility, understanding that there are processes and experiences that do not correspond to our personal desires.

 

He points out that the dissolution of the ego occurs through teachings that gradually undo the identification with personal history and the idea of being the doer. Almost imperceptibly, that feeling of being a separate entity begins to fade, revealing the essential ‘Self’ that underlies all experience.

 

As this deepens, the mind quiets down and ceases to oscillate between attachment and rejection, between the past and the future. ‘I do’ and ‘I decide’ lose their power, and everything begins to be perceived as a natural occurrence. Thus, much of the inner conflict dissolves, and a deeper acceptance of the flow of existence emerges. Calm, silence, balance, equanimity—our natural state—begins to reveal itself.

 

Gautam points out that equanimity—like the Buddha’s Middle Way—consists of not oscillating between extremes. It’s not about ceasing to feel, but about not being trapped by what one feels. It’s the ability to navigate both pleasant and difficult moments, recognising that everything changes and that each person is subject to their own conditioning.

 

Therefore, it’s not necessary to seek mystical experiences: living with peace and harmony can, in
itself, be the expression of genuine understanding.

 

Living in the Manifested World

From this understanding—that we are not the doers and that happiness resides in Being—a new perspective on the manifested world opens up. Gautam emphasises the importance of integrating these teachings into daily life, observing how they are reflected in our relationships, in what happens to us, and in our connection with the Divine. He quotes Ramesh Balsekar, who points out that duality is not separation, but rather a web of relationships through which Consciousness expresses Itself.

 

On this plane, apparent conflicts arise, both internal and external. However, if everything occurs within Consciousness, nothing is separate from the Source; manifestation is its expression. Like a mirror: the image appears, but it has no existence independent of the one who reflects it.

 

Gautam notes that, in this interplay of multiplicity—Maya—we often perceive others as if they were separate from us. It is then that Siddharameshwar Maharaj said: “Maya is ‘me’.” This statement points to the illusion of separation and invites us to recognise that everything is an expression of the same Consciousness.

 

Both the person you love and the one you reject are manifestations of the same Source. Separation is only apparent. The labels we attribute to others arise in our own minds; by naming the other, we are also naming ourselves. Thus, all conflict appears in Consciousness, because ultimately there is nothing outside of It. As Ramesh Balsekar points out, there may be people with whom we have no affinity. But by ceasing to see others—and ourselves—as the doers of actions, reproach and resentment begin to dissolve. A wise person also has preferences, but with a mind free of hatred, jealousy, or pride, a deeper peace opens up.

 

In this sense, Gautam recalled the mystic Joel S. Goldsmith: “Your relationship with people changes when you recognise the Infinite Invisible in your life.” This phrase points to something simple: when we stop relating only to forms and recognise that same invisible presence in the other, the relationship changes. Conflict loses its power.

 

Gautam also acknowledges that it is not always easy to see this clearly. We are deeply conditioned by our history, and the mind tends to divide and label reality. However, he also points out that when these labels lose their power, something simplifies: everything is Consciousness. The division between ‘self’ and ‘other’ is merely a mental construct; by recognising this, one can glimpse the unity that underlies multiplicity.

 

While the ego serves a practical function in daily life, it is not possible to maintain the idea of ‘abiding in Being’ and, at the same time, acting without love or harmony. The real question—says Gautam—is not how much we have understood, but something much more direct and honest: how have these teachings transformed our lives?

 

In this sense, Gautam points out that spirituality is not, in essence, an effort. Liberation does not consist of achieving something new, but in resting in what we already are. Daily life then becomes the path. Peace is revealed when resistance ceases, and reality can unfold as it is.

 

In connection with these teachings, I recall my first day at Sri Ramanasramam. I sat in the Samadhi Hall and allowed myself to be enveloped by the stillness. Then a thought arose: “So many places in the world, and here I am again.”

 

In January 2025, during my trip to northern India, I had felt with some clarity that this would be my last trip to the country, at least for a good while. However, I then travelled to Tiruvannamalai, where I met Gautam in person, and ended up returning twice more in a very short time.

 

Looking back, I see that this certainty was nothing more than an idea. The experience followed its own course, completely different from what I had envisioned. At the ashram, there was nothing to decide. Just to be there.

 

Inhabited Moments

During my time in Tiruvannamalai, I visited ‘Gurumurtham’, a small shrine where Ramana Maharshi remained in silence and where his first devotees began to gather. Upon arriving, I was overcome by a strange feeling, as if the place were suspended in another dimension of time. There was no one there; yet, everything seemed imbued with the presence of what had transpired there.

 

From there, I continued to ‘Pavala Kundru’. I climbed the steps, and the city unfolded before me, with the majestic Arunachala in the background. I witnessed the aarati performed by the pandit and joined in with offerings of flowers. I remained for a time in silence, wandering and contemplating the place.

 

At one point, I stopped before an image of Ganesha. Looking at it, I remembered the first image I had bought on my first trip to India, back in 2008. Since then, Ganesha has guarded the entrance of my family home, a silent presence of protection and blessing. During the retreat, the days began to take on a different rhythm. Satsangs and meditation sessions intertwined with other moments.

 

Early one morning, we began the Girivalam together, the sacred pilgrimage around Arunachala. At first, I followed in Gautam’s footsteps, who walked a little ahead, but then I found that my sandals kept coming undone. With each pause to adjust them, as I looked at my feet, the same thought arose, almost like a whisper: “May I always walk in sacred places.” More than a request, it was an intention that accompanied me throughout the entire journey. At one point, we stopped to share some chai, and then we continued. I walked alongside my friend, Sudha: sometimes in silence; at other times, sharing parts of our respective spiritual journeys.

 

The ‘Arunachaleshwar Temple’ impressed me with its immensity: its walls, its towers, its very presence. Everything there seemed to contain another world. It wasn’t easy to move through the crowd, and I was surprised by the number of devotees. In the sanctuary, we received darshan of Shiva, and upon leaving, we were offered prasad: vibhuti, kumkum, and blessed food.

 

In the afternoons, I returned to the ashram with Sudha. On one occasion, we went to the dining hall, where the food was served on banana leaves, offered as prasad. Another day, we shared that special space with Gautam and with those who remained there after the retreat ended.

 

On the last night, during the satsang, the spoken word gave way to song. Bhajans and kirtans filled the space, creating an atmosphere of surrender and devotion. Today, listening to that recording, I return to that moment, which still moves me deeply: the voice, as a divine expression of those who participated.

 

On our last day, we visited the caves of ‘Virupaksha’ and ‘Skandashram’, imbued with the meditation of Ramana Maharshi. We walked the path alongside Gautam, who patiently guided us, allowing us to truly feel the place and immerse ourselves in its spaces.

 

As the days passed, sharing, being present, listening, and the pilgrimage blended seamlessly. Each moment—simple, everyday, and sacred—became part of a single, lived experience.

 

Teaching Becomes Life

In these shared days, and through the satsangs with Gautam, what moved me most was not a conceptual understanding, but how the teachings begin to be lived in everyday life.

 

Gautam reminded us that true transformation occurs in the heart; it is there that it must blossom. The key lies in living with love, simplicity, and acceptance, trusting that everything unfolds according to Divine Will.

 

This challenges me and leads me to ask myself: from what perspective am I viewing my life? With these teachings, the effort to live in a certain way begins to lose its power. It’s not that the conditioning has disappeared; reactions, thoughts, and discomforts continue to arise, but they are no longer experienced in the same way.

 

Little by little, it becomes clearer that all of this simply happens, and in that vision, resistance dissolves. There is space for everything that occurs to emerge. Deepening into total acceptance means recognising our defences. In that openness, the ego’s control loosens, and reality can flow without resistance.

 

I realise that the extraordinary lies not in mystical experiences, but in that subtle and profound shift in how we perceive life: simpler, more loving. As they say, beauty is not in what is seen, but in the eyes that see. Thus, each moment can be lived with serene joy and as something sacred.

 

As Gautam says, by looking at the world with the singular eye—the eye of Shiva—everything reveals itself as a single Consciousness. And then, effortlessly, true happiness arises. I feel I am learning to live in a new and more committed way. Little by little, I am leaving behind criticalobservation to flow with the movement of life, allowing gratitude to fill all the space.

 

And so, returning to my country with my heart full of what I had experienced, an image came back to me that marked the beginning of this journey. The day before I arrived in India, the taxi agency contacted me to confirm my transfer from Chennai to Tiruvannamalai. The message read:
“Ramesh will be waiting for you at the airport.”

I smiled. Although I knew it was a common name in India, the fact that the driver shared the same name as the guru of Gautamji—Ramesh Balsekar—felt like a small sign. All that was left was to trust the flow of life and allow everything to unfold as it should.

 

For any feedback/comments, please write to Nalini at nalinigarciarena@gmail.com

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