We all met at sunset. Every man, woman, and child who could walk came. People from nearby villages came by cart. Even rich people from the big town 15 miles away came in two cars. No one would miss the chance to tell their grandchildren about the amazing feat they saw when they were young.

Exactly 23 hours before, the man beating the drum had walked through our village streets. He shouted that a miracle was about to happen. A six-foot deep pit would be dug wide enough for a young sadhu, a holy man, to enter. Then, the pit would be closed and shut tight. He would stay in there for 24 hours. Then, he would come out unharmed, as if nothing had happened.

We had never heard of such a feat. Everyone canceled all work and traveling to see with our own eyes the power of faith.  

We lived in the village of Jannapura, which needed the town of Bhadravati's resources. Our town received its share of visitors, but this event was special. Fun things to do were in short supply. The only movie theater in town cost money. Kids could not afford such a cost. The one radio in our village was at the Coffee Bar. We would stand outside on the street and listen to the movie songs blasting out.

No fun of our own could come remotely close to the upcoming event. We all felt very excited and curious when we heard about the young sadhu and what he would do for us.

First, where the word sadhu comes from. It means a beggar or holy man who is unmarried and wanders from place to place. He rejects the physical world and its desires. Instead, he seeks the higher pleasures of the gods and heavens. Most of us lack the courage or firm belief to do any such thing. We fall prey to worldly pleasures and respect him for his choice.

The typical sadhus come to your door with a begging bowl—or begging bag, to be exact. I was the youngest child and the one with the smallest fist. So, it was my duty to drop a handful of rice into his bag under the respectful eyes of my mother.

But this sadhu, who was to come the next day, was unusual to say the least. He was said to have done this meditative feat in many other towns. He gained the special powers through spiritual self-control and paying for his sins. 

23 hours before, at six p.m. on the chosen day, the big people met in the center of the town. All of us were there much earlier. We did not want to miss any of it. Some kids climbed the nearby trees for a better view since kids were small and got lost in the crowd.

I was not much of a tree-climbing type. I would imagine falling from a high branch and hurting myself. Instead, my father carried me on his shoulder. It was much softer than any tree branch. All was well.  

The pujas, the rituals of honor, were done of the sadhu. Then, came the moment everyone waited to see.

The sadhu entered the pit in full priestly dress. He wore a silk saffron robe. His hair was very long, almost as long as my mother’s hair. His glossy hair gleamed with oil rubbed into it. We all smoothed our hair with coconut oil. He held a small brass bowl with holy water in it and a thick, beautiful stick. It was flat on the top for him to lean his arm on.

He was beautiful, I tell you. We all felt that he was very good-looking. More than that, he had a glow that we felt. A special air due to his spiritual practices and yoga.

There were two, luckily small, speeches. Then, he lowered himself gracefully into the pit. He sat down in the lotus position, tucking his feet across into his thighs.

We all scattered to our homes. We felt awe at the powers there in the universe that we puny creatures just could not access. 

That night and the next morning were filled with excitement over the spiritual drama we were blessed enough to see in our own town. People met in groups all around our village and the town to enjoy the thrill of this promising and lucky event. I know because one such group met in our home.