Besan Ka Laddu!

I was standing there—totally numb, shocked, and happily surprised.

Among 200 people, he looked directly at me… and said something that still gives me goosebumps.

Wondering how I landed in that exact moment?

Let’s go back a little.

When Science Failed, Spirituality Whispered

Till 2019, I never really believed I needed a Master. I mean, come on, I was educated, living in the 21st century. I had Google and self-help books. What could a spiritual guru possibly add?

But life has a way of cracking that arrogance open.

April 3, 2019, my world shattered—when I found out I had a stillbirth. I lost my son in my 7th month of pregnancy! Just like that, everything collapsed. 

With a thick bunch of medical files in hand, I ran from one doctor to another, hoping for answers. But no one could tell me exactly why it happened.

“Marta kya na karta.” When you hit rock bottom, even the most logical person looks up and whispers, “God, are you even there?”

And then… unbelievable things started happening.

Suddenly, I began seeing Gurudev’s posts on Instagram and Facebook—even though I wasn’t even following him.

His words?
They were answers.
To my questions.
To my silent rage.
To that emptiness I couldn’t name.

So one fine day , I walked up to an Art of Living teacher and poured my heart out.

He calmly said, “Write all your problems in a letter to Gurudev.”

I blinked. “Wait… that’s it?”

“Yes,” he smiled. “Just write. He’ll read it.” 

So I wrote. Five pages full of grief, pain, frustration, and a hundred ‘why me’s.

I signed up for the Advanced Meditation Program at the ashram—decided I’d hand the letter over in person.

But you know some strange thing I observed in those days. I started craving besan laddus.

Heads up—I hate laddus. Like seriously. I’ve never liked them.
But suddenly, I couldn’t stop thinking about them.
I didn’t even get time to eat them, but the craving was just… there.
Sitting in a corner of my head like, “Hello? Remember me?”

Anyway, the day came.
I finally reached the ashram.

I was in silence for the first three days.
But my heart? A total chatterbox.
Because today—I was going to meet Gurudev.

I stood in the darshan line, waiting.
He was meeting everyone, smiling, blessing, listening…
And I? I was trying to hold it all together.

He was getting closer now—just a few feet away—talking to a girl sitting right next to me.
We had a brief eye contact. Just for a second. I’ll never forget that glance!
And then… he looked away and started talking to that girl again.

I saw he was distributing prasad—kaju katli.
And my first reaction?
“Of course. Kaju katli. The one sweet I don’t even like.”
I rolled my eyes inside my head. Trust my first blessing to be a dessert I wouldn’t like. But hey, that was my ignorance!

I suddenly realised, people around me were giving him the most beautiful gifts—flower garlands, silver padukas, handmade cards.
And there I was… hiding a five-page sob story in my handbag.

I felt awkward.
Embarrassed.
Almost silly.

Two minds were having a full-on debate in my head:
“Should I give this letter? Or not?”
“Will he even read it?”
“What if he thinks—yeh kaun hai, itna drama likh diya?”
Also—I was in silence. How was I even supposed to talk to him?

A Moment Missed? Or Divine Timing?

While my mind was having this identity crisis, he suddenly walked past me.

Yup.
Just. Like. That. Didn’t even look at me!
He spoke to everyone. Smiled at everyone.
And me? He just… passed me by.

I sat there, stunned.
Wait… what?

My brain froze, and my heart started sprinting.
Was this a sign? Did he know about the letter and decide to skip me?

Out of reflex, I tugged the pant leg of a volunteer walking behind him.
The volunteer paused, looked at me.

I made gestures with my hands and face—classic silence-mode sign language:
“Gurudev didn’t give me prasad!”

The volunteer smiled gently and said,
“Call him!”

I looked at the volunteer and gestured again, “I’m in silence!”
He just smiled and said,
“Call him. Otherwise, you won’t be able to talk to him.”

Three full days of silence. My voice felt like it had packed its bags and left.

Still, with whatever strength I had, I called out,
“Gurudev! Main reh gayi!”

He turned. Instantly. Sweetly.
Looked right at me with the kindest eyes.
“Kya hua?” he asked.

I said again,
“Gurudev… main reh gayi.”
(Yeah, that’s all I could say—clearly very poetic when panicking.)

He smiled, that signature, heart-melting smile, and said,
“Tu reh gayi? Tujhe diye bina main kaise jaa sakta hoon?”

My hands automatically cupped themselves, waiting for the prasad.
But honestly, I wasn’t even focused on that.
I was just… staring at him.
Trying to absorb everything. Trying to feel everything.
And in that trance, he placed something in my palms.

He moved ahead, blessing more people.
I looked down at my hands.
Wait—what?!

It was a besan laddu.

Everyone else had kaju katli.
But me?
I had the exact sweet I’d been randomly craving for days!

I froze. Goosebumps. Tears. Laughter. All at once.
He knew. How?!

And then it hit me.

I forgot to give him the letter!

The whole point of this entire journey—the five-page saga!

I was too stunned, too overwhelmed, and just forgot.
Now he was moving on, meeting other people.
And then after a while… he started walking up the stairs to his kutir.

My heart sank.
Noooo! I’d waited so many days, carried this letter all the way, and now I missed the chance?

As I sat there, caught in the storm of my own panic, suddenly another volunteer, standing by those spiral kutir stairs, looked right at me and asked—

“Gurudev ko koi chitthi deni hai?”

Yes! Among 200 people,
He looked straight at me.

I ran. Like I’d been struck by electricity.
I gave him the letter—finally!

And then I just stood there, stunned.

He knew!
All along.
That I had something to say. Something to give.
I kept thinking he was just a man… just another human being.

But turns out… people were right. And I was wrong!

The Forgotten Letter… Found Me!

Because the very next day, in the course, the teacher began talking about exactly the things that were bothering me.
The same thoughts that kept me awake at night.
The same questions I’d written in that five-page letter.

I was stunned.

After the session, I couldn’t hold back. I asked him,
“Did you speak to Gurudev about me?”

He looked confused.
“No,” he said,
“I was just saying what I felt like.”

And I just smiled.
Because I knew.

I came thinking he was just a man.
A sweet, smiling, intelligent human being.

But that day… I experienced something else.
Something deeper.
Something beyond logic and language.

That day, I experienced divinity.

And in that moment—between a besan laddu, a missed letter, and a miracle—
my true journey began.

This was a real, heartfelt Guru-story shared by an anonymous devotee. If you enjoyed it and want more divine tales, don’t forget to subscribe to my newsletter! Got a Guru-story of your own? I’d love to hear it—connect with me on social media and let’s spread the magic together.

Wondering who this smiling, miracle-working man is? Meet Sri Sri Ravi Shankar on his official website.