Hundreds of people from all walks of life filed in to see Amma at New York’s Javits Center on Wednesday morning. Though Amma has held virtual calls for her followers since 2020, her main appeal — giving hugs and blessings — could not be replicated through a screen. Some admirers shook and cried in her presence.
Who is Amma
Some see her as a conduit, a wayfinder who has a direct line to the Almighty. Some worship her as a spiritual figure among other Hindu gods, as a living embodiment of holy spirit.
But to me, a newcomer in her orbit, Amma is a joyful, plump Malayali woman wrapped in a simple white robe. She smells strongly of fresh roses and hugs you like she’s known you for years. Mata Amritanandamayi embodies what her popularized name means: a mother.
And this summer, for the first time in the U.S. since the pandemic, Amma’s followers could experience the spiritual teacher’s aura in person. Her tour began in Seattle on July 4, has traveled through cities such as Los Angeles and Washington, D.C., and will end Sunday (Aug. 11) in Chicago.
The maternal spiritual guide has embraced an estimated 40 million people since she was a teenager in Kerala, at times hugging lines of people for 22 hours straight. Her network of charities, Embracing the World, is known throughout India for its disaster relief, women’s empowerment and health care initiatives. She’s called Mahatma, or “open-souled.”
“She is able to see other people’s problems as her problems, to celebrate other people’s successes as her success, and at the same time to understand that there is an aspect of our personality that transcends all of those things and is untouched by the ups and downs of this world,” said Sachin Mayamrita, a Massachusetts native and part of Amma’s communications team. Mayamrita had a “jaded, negative” outlook on life before he found Amma, he said.
Hundreds of people from all walks of life filed in to see Amma at New York’s Javits Center on Wednesday morning. Though Amma has held virtual calls for her followers since 2020, her main appeal — giving hugs and blessings — could not be replicated through a screen. Some admirers shook and cried in her presence.
For three poetic devotees, finally seeing Amma again was like “having a drink of water after five years” or “a drench of rain after a very, very hot summer” that gets rid of the “ego’s stories that feel like dirt, and cover up who we are.”
Believers say that Amma’s grace is surrounded by divine timing. When you need Amma the most, I was told, she will find you.
Take the Catholic high school music teacher from Buffalo, New York, whose randomized Priceline hotel landed him mere blocks from the Javits Center where the event was held, a blessing during Wednesday’s downpour. Or the software engineer from California who first heard about Amma yesterday and called in sick to work today because of a strong “pull.” Or even the longtime devotee who first heard of Amma at a healing circle for men with AIDS in the ’90s, and who now consistently sees her in his dreams.
Even I had the privilege, on my way to see Amma, of waiting only one minute for my train downtown, a luxury in New York City.
“She will bring the beginning of a new era after 18 years of turmoil, and will give knowledge to the world,” Karunakara Reddy told me in Malayali through his niece, Divya. “I did not meet her in the last life, so I will meet her now.” Reddy gestured his relationship with Amma. “Mother,” he said as he pointed, “and son.”
The anticipation leading up to Amma’s hug was palpable. In line, I spoke to a multigenerational family with a 1-year-old baby. Rekha Kumar, a retired physician from Kerala and the baby’s grandmother, says she has been a follower of Amma since a hug from her healed a serious medical condition that she had. Kumar’s daughter, Monisha McGinniss, brought her husband, Andrew, and their baby, Reed, to see Amma, which she said felt like “a homecoming.” Amma especially loves babies, I was told by another follower.
“The last time I saw her, my life was so different,” McGinniss said. “And now, I’m married, I have a baby. I know that we only have a moment with her, but I want her to catch up on everything that’s happened, and say thank you for continuing to help us throughout.” McGinniss described Amma’s hugs as “overwhelming, like an instant relief from things you didn’t even know you were carrying.”
Mayamrita, the communications person who has been living at Amma’s ashram in Kerala since 2000, explained to me that Amma has known many such families for generations, and she is able to remember each one with great mental clarity.
“I think definitely Amma knows more people on a first name basis than anyone in the world,” he said. “Doesn’t matter your language, your religion, she knows everyone. And Amma has become a part of their life. Amma has become their sense of support, their God, their guru, their mother, their friend.”
After a couple hours of waiting, I got up from my seat to get a chai from the food court. As I was walking, someone stopped and asked me to volunteer to serve food. So, naturally, I donned an apron and hairnet and got to work for the next 30 minutes. There, a physician, a mathematician and a cardiologist were serving common South Indian breakfast foods like upma, idli and sambar. The physician had come from London to follow Amma on her tour, like a spiritual groupie.
When Amma came on stage, she spoke only in Malayali, aided by a group of lay priests who translated her guided meditation. Multiple screens displayed her words in English, Spanish and French and offered helpful visualizations for mental focus.
For the half-hour meditation, as an amateur and not a morning person, I caught myself drifting to sleep, unable to concentrate. But somehow, I felt the cheerful Amma wouldn’t mind, and would maybe even chuckle at my genuine attempt.
She finished her speaking segment with a quintessential Sanskrit chant: “Om Loka Samastha Sukhino Bhavantu”: May everyone in the whole world be happy.
When it was finally time for darshan, we were divided by groups, with volunteers escorting us and reciting rules. “Take off your shoes, leave your phones at your seat, and be sure not to touch or put any weight on Amma.” Others ahead of me showed engagement rings, newborn babies and even laptops with photos of loved ones to Amma.
As I stood directly in front of Amma ready to go next, one of her volunteers, who was whispering and chanting something to Amma’s feet with every new person, asked me my name and my native language. I said English, but she asked me again with a quizzical look. I said instead “Marathi,” my family’s regional Indian language. She told Amma my name and repeated that I spoke Marathi. I am not sure if that changed how Amma blessed me.
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