Though more than 25 years have passed since the episode I am about to describe, I find myself unable to fully understand the magnitude of what happened on that day. I can narrate the sequence of events clearly, and I can recall each moment vividly, but the unseen grace that guided and protected me continues to remain beyond my intellectual grasp. Perhaps it is not meant to be understood, but only to be experienced, remembered, and revered.
A Day That Began Like Any Other
It was November 23, 2000, Bhagawan’s Birthday. At that time, I was working in Nigeria as a financial controller for a polyester staple manufacturing company. Our home was located on the company campus in Ikorodu, a suburb of Lagos. Life was orderly, structured, and predictable. My responsibilities were demanding but familiar, and my days followed a routine that had settled into a certain rhythm.
My wife, Girija, was a senior mathematics teacher at the Indian Language School in Lagos, which was affiliated with the Central Board of Secondary Education (CBSE) curriculum in India. Her day started much earlier than mine. The school transport would arrive at 5:30 a.m., carrying both teachers and children, so they could reach the school well before the peak hours of morning traffic. Despite the early hours and the demands of her profession, Girija carried within her a quiet devotion that expressed itself in simple yet profound ways.
On that particular morning, as she had done in previous years, she prepared a small cake, reverently placed it before Swami’s photograph, and softly whispered, “Happy Birthday, Swami.”
At that point in my life, I must admit, I wasn’t deeply devoted or committed to Swami. I had been raised in a traditional Tamil Iyer family, where reverence for the Divine was part of the cultural fabric, but my own connection to Swami had not yet matured into personal conviction. I respected Girija’s devotion and never questioned it, but I remained, in many ways, a distant observer.
The rest of the morning went as usual. Girija prepared breakfast and lunch before leaving for school. Since our residence was on the office campus, I would return home during my lunch break, warm the food she had made, have my lunch, and then go back to work. There was nothing unusual, nothing foreboding, and nothing to suggest that this day would mark a turning point in my life.
A Journey Rudely Interrupted
That afternoon, I had a scheduled meeting with a senior official of a bank located on Victoria Island, which was approximately 30–35 kilometers away from our office. After informing my Executive Director, I left around 2:00 p.m. in the company-provided car, a blue Daewoo Cielo, accompanied by my driver.
The initial stretch of the journey was uneventful, but after a few miles, we saw something that was both strange and unsettling. Several vehicles ahead of us had stopped, and people were getting out of their cars and running into the nearby fields. The suddenness of their actions and the lack of any clear explanation created an atmosphere of confusion.
I asked my driver if he knew what was going on, but he did not. Given the occasional reports of unrest in certain areas, I sensed it would be wise not to proceed further. I immediately instructed him to turn the car around and head back toward the office.
As we turned, a white Mercedes Benz sped past us at high speed, narrowly missing collision with our vehicle. Almost immediately afterward, another car followed closely behind. Before we could understand what was happening, we saw that the occupants of the second car were leaning out of the windows, holding firearms.
What followed unfolded with terrifying speed.
Moments of Extreme Danger
The men in the car behind us opened fire. The distance between our vehicles was just 20 to 30 feet. The sound of gunfire shattered the stillness and calm of the afternoon. Bullets struck our car in rapid succession, breaking the windows and piercing the metal frame. The suddenness and intensity of the attack left no time for conscious thought.
I instinctively crouched down, lowering myself between the front and rear seats, searching for any available cover. My driver reacted with urgency, attempting to reverse the car and move away from the line of fire. For a brief moment, the car responded, but then it came to an abrupt stop. He tried repeatedly to restart the engine, but it would not start. Even the anti-hijack mechanism in the vehicle failed to engage.
Within seconds, armed men surrounded our vehicle.
One of them approached the driver’s side and spoke to him in Yoruba (local language). Later, the driver explained that they demanded to know whether we were carrying cash and threatened to kill both of us if we did not comply. The driver, visibly shaken, stepped out of the car. The attackers attempted to start the vehicle themselves, but their efforts were unsuccessful.
Another man, carrying a rifle, came to my side and opened the door. With a firm gesture, he instructed me to step out. I complied without resistance. He searched my pockets and took the money I had, and my wristwatch was also taken. They threw the files I had been carrying for the meeting onto the road without a second thought.
What remains most vivid and striking in my memory, however, is not the violence of the situation, but the state of mind I was in.
An Unexplainable Calm
In circumstances that would normally provoke intense fear, I experienced none.
There was no sense of panic, no trembling, no desperate attempt to resist or escape. Instead, there was a calmness that I can only describe as profound and complete. It was not something I created within myself, nor was it the result of any deliberate effort. It simply existed, steady and unwavering, even as the situation around me remained volatile.
At one point, I told them that if they wanted money, I could take it out and give it to them. The words came naturally, without anxiety or hesitation. However, they did not respond. Having taken what they wanted, they left the scene as abruptly as they had arrived.
During the entire incident, no one else was present on that stretch of road. And yet, despite the dangerous situation nearby, neither my driver nor I was physically harmed.
The Hidden Protection
Once the attackers left, people started to come out from the surrounding areas. Within minutes, a crowd gathered around us. The smell of gunpowder lingered in the air, and my ears continued to ring from the intense gunfire. People felt that God had saved me and I was invited to come to their church to express gratitude to the divine.
Later, when the car was brought back and examined, it was found to have 19 visible bullet holes. Each one could have led to a very serious outcome.
Upon closer inspection, it was discovered that one of the bullets had punctured the vehicle’s fuel supply line. This was the reason the car had stalled and could not be restarted. At that time, it had seemed like a critical failure that had left us vulnerable. In retrospect, it became clear that this very failure had prevented the attackers from driving the car away.
Had the car remained operational, the situation might have escalated into something far more serious, possibly even a kidnapping. What appeared at that moment to be a misfortune later turned out to be a blessing in disguise.
A Subtle Transformation
I got home. Girija was deeply distressed with the happenings. She had seen the damaged vehicle earlier and had been unable to get a clear explanation from the driver, who was still in shock.
As I recounted the incident to her, I could sense that something inside me had shifted. It was not a dramatic transformation, nor was it accompanied by any outward declaration. It was a quiet, internal change–a recognition that there was a dimension to life that I had not previously acknowledged. At her suggestion, we decided that during our next visit to India, we would go to Puttaparthi to visit Bhagawan.
Looking back, I realize that Swami draws us through lived experience, through moments that leave an indelible impression on the heart.
An Omnipresent Glimpse
There was another aspect of this incident that deepened my understanding.
At the exact moment this event was unfolding in Lagos, my brother-in-law, Mr. Krishna Srinivasan, was in Prasanthi Nilayam. He later told me that around 6:30 p.m. Indian time, Swami had looked at him intently for a prolonged period. When we later compared the timings, we realized that they matched exactly. The incident in Lagos occurred at approximately 2:00 p.m., which is 6:30 p.m. in India.
The two events, experienced at different places, in different time zones, but at the same time, seemed connected and left a lasting impression on me. It suggested omnipresence that transcended physical boundaries.
Answers That Arrived Unasked
In 2002, I had the opportunity to visit Puttaparthi. For someone new to the ashram environment, everything felt different. The discipline, silence, and collective devotion created an atmosphere that was both unfamiliar and deeply moving.
During darshan (sacred sight of the divine), Swami stood facing our side, just a few rows away. His presence was radiant, and His gaze seemed to penetrate the surface. I noticed that the person sitting next to me was in tears, with his hands folded in reverence. At that time, I could not fully understand the reason for his emotions. Over time, I came to recognize that such reactions arise from an inner connection that is beyond words.
Girija, on that same day, had an experience that left a lasting impression on both of us. She had been harboring some questions in her mind, seeking guidance, but never expressed them outwardly.
After darshan, Girija approached a lady who had just had an interview with Swami and asked if she would be willing to share what had transpired. The lady agreed and told her during the conversation that Swami advised them not to ask for small material things, such as a house, but instead to seek Him, and He would give Himself fully. She also said that Swami had explained that He appeared in dreams at His will when devotees truly needed Him.
These statements were the exact answers to the questions that Girija had. There had been no direct interaction, no expressed request, and yet she received the answer with remarkable clarity and precision.
Grace in Everyday Life
Another incident in the same year 2002 further reinforced our growing faith. During a visit to Chennai for a family wedding, I lost a bag containing a significant amount of money, including foreign currency, in an autorickshaw. At that time, there were no mobile phones, and I had not noted the vehicle’s license plate number. My attempts to locate the vehicle proved unsuccessful, and even the police were unable to assist.
We prayed–because there was nothing else we could do.
After an extended search that yielded no results, I received a phone call from a friend, Mr. Venkatesh. The auto driver had found the bag and had managed to contact Venkatesh. Through a chain of events that seemed incredible, but perfectly orchestrated, I went to meet the auto driver and he returned the bag to me.
The auto driver had found the bag, but he was unable to read, so he sought assistance from a passenger. When the passenger opened my digital diary, the last phone number and address appeared, which happened to belong to Venkatesh! That single connection enabled him to reach me.
Such incidents, when viewed individually, may seem coincidental. However, when seen in the context of a larger pattern, they reveal a consistent thread of divine protection.
Sai Abhayahasta (Blessing of Fearlessness)
When I reflect upon these experiences, I recognize a pattern that I couldn’t see at that time. There was protection during moments of danger, guidance in times of uncertainty, and help when other avenues were apparently closed.
On that day in Nigeria, when bullets surrounded me, and the imminent threat of losing my life was very real, I experienced a state of complete fearlessness. That fearlessness did not come from my own strength or courage. It was the result of Sai’s Abhayahasta (protective hand) that I could not see but could unmistakably feel.
Today, I no longer try to analyze or explain these events. I accept them with gratitude and hold on to the quiet, yet powerful assurance: Why fear when Sai is here.
Jai Sai Ram.
Sri M. Vidya Shankeran
India
Sri M. Vidya Shankeran lives in India and is a fellow member of The Institute of Chartered Accountants of India. He has worked in Asia and Africa in many diverse industries and is the owner of a company that provides services in the areas of finance and operational strategy. Sri Shankeran is a devout follower of Swami and is involved in the management of the Sai Premanjali Charitable Trust, which provides healthcare services, clothes, and school supplies for children to the rural needy population in and around the city of Madurai, India.