A TadEkam Seva Smriti from Kondhawale — 2018–2020
By Vikram Kelkar
TadEkam Seva • Kondhawale School Spoken English, Values & Wellness 2018–2020
There are two great movements in every human life—learning, and teaching. I do not speak here of the classroom kind. I speak of something older, something that Sanatan Dharma has always known: that the Guru teaches through experience, and the disciple learns by simply staying present with an open heart. Ordinarily, life gives us learning first, and teaching follows—the fruit of our own struggle passed on to another. But Kondhawale reversed this order for us entirely. There, we who had come to teach found ourselves, instead, the students.
It was January of 2019. The Pune mornings still carried their winter chill when the small TadEkam team set out at seven o’clock, hearts warmer than the air around us, toward a modest village called Kondhawale—six classes housed in three classrooms, walls thin, ambition boundless.
Guruji Naushir’s guidance had already planted the seed in us: that seva is not an errand of charity performed from a distance, but a sadhna, a spiritual discipline undertaken with folded hands and a bowed heart. Every Saturday became our appointment with that sadhna—spoken English, self-confidence, hygiene, simple mantra chanting, basic dhyana, and games that let laughter do what no lecture could.
The Sound That Became a Blessing and a Mischief
Each session opened with Bhramari Pranayama—the humming bee-breath that Himalayan yogis have used for centuries to still the restless mind. But children being children, that gentle “mmmm” would inevitably stretch and roar into something resembling a motorcycle revving to life!
Even Babaji, I imagine, must smile at such sacred mischief—for is not a child’s uncontainable joy also a form of worship?
The Waist That Carries Water
Among all the small moments of that year, one has never left me—has, in truth, become a permanent resident of my memory. During an activity on the body—eyes to see, nose to smell, hands to hold—a little girl, no older than nine or ten, raised her hand and said, in the plainest, most matter-of-fact Marathi:
“पाण्याचा मडका ठेवायला आपण कंबर वापरतो.”
“We use our waist to carry the water pot.”She did not say it with complaint. She did not know she was teaching a room full of adults something about the true meaning of tapasya—the quiet, dignified endurance that so many in our villages carry, day after day, without ever naming it a hardship.
I have sat with many teachings since. Few have struck as deep as this one sentence, spoken so simply by a child who did not know she was a Guru that morning.
Homes Small, Hearts Large
These children came from the homes of farmers, daily-wage workers, masons, house-helps—families whose four walls held little beyond the essentials, shared washrooms, asbestos roofs, air that struggled to move. Some children lived not with their own parents but with their Kaka and Mama, circumstance having rearranged what family meant for them.
When, gently, the teachers asked about their homes, many children hesitated, ashamed of what they thought was a lack. The teachers—with the patience that only genuine seva can teach—reminded them, again and again, that there is no shame in circumstance, only dignity in how we meet it.
Spiritual Realization:
Samadhan sweekar karnyatach suru hoto (समाधान स्वीकार करण्यातच सुरू होतं) — the solution begins the moment we accept the situation as it is.And yet—despite every hardship—these children ran to school. Not because we compelled them. Not because we were their regular teachers with authority over their report cards. They came because something in them recognised something in us—the same something that TadEkam calls TadEkam: That One, present in the givers and the receivers alike, needing no explanation, only recognition.
Joy That Needed No Reason
Whether it was cricket in the school yard, a game of langadi, a solemn demonstration of the “correct” way to brush one’s teeth, a painting held up with pride, or a child who, quite without warning, lifted a conch shell to his lips and blew—their joy was boundless.
They could speak of their family struggles with a strange, mature stillness, and in the very next breath, erupt into pure, unfiltered delight over the smallest of tasks. Perhaps this is the truest teaching Kondhawale gave us: that the light within a child does not wait for circumstances to improve before it shines.
The school’s own teachers told us something that still moves me—the children looked forward to our Saturdays. They waited for the chanting, the games, the gentle discipline of dhyana, the stories. Getting up before dawn on a cold Pune morning, week after week, had not been wasted. It had, quietly, taken root.
Teaching That Became Learning
So, I return to where I began. It is usually learning, then teaching. But in Kondhawale, Guruji Naushir’s sadhna revealed itself differently—it was we, the sevaks, who were taught.
These children, who had every reason to withdraw into the shell of their circumstances, chose instead to face life smiling, curious, alive to whatever it offered them that day. If a child who carries water on her waist can meet her life this way, what excuse remains for the rest of us?
“This, ultimately, is what Guruji Naushir meant when he said Seva Bhi Sadhna — service is itself spiritual practice. We went to Kondhawale believing we were giving something. Babaji, in His quiet way, ensured that we came back having received far more.”
In Loving Dedication
In loving memory of the seva sown by Guruji Naushir in Kondhawale, 2018–2020, under the guidance of Mahavatar Babaji. May this seed continue to grow, as TadEkam’s seva now flows onward—from village schools to the sacred waters of Maa Godavari and the rivers yet to come.
Vikram Kelkar
TadEkam Sevak
Seva Roles: Spoken English • Values & Confidence Building • Hygiene Awareness • Mantra Chanting & Dhyana
Kondhawale School Seva, 2018–2020 • Every Saturday, under Guruji Naushir’s guidanceसेवा भी साधना • साधना ही शक्ती • तद् एकम्
Sewa Bhi Sadhna | Sadhna Hi Shakti | Tad Ekam
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