A lazy backwater boat cruise took us through the inland canals of Kerala. Peaceful life drifted by as we watched from plastic chairs arranged on top of the government boat we caught in Allepey for the 200 rupee six hour ride. Other tourists were on board, many white foreigners speaking their own European languages and Indian tourists speaking whatever dialect belonged to them.

We saw children swimming along the banks laughing. They would wave as we passed and shout out hellos. We would hear Hindi music, soft at first, blaring as we drew near the speakers atop poles along the shoreline that held an occasional nice little concrete hut. Often women in bright sarees would be going about their daily outside chores. Slowly we passed coconut trees, bright green rice fields and grazing goats.

For lunch the boat stopped for twenty minutes on an island where they fed us traditional thali meals using banana leaves that looked like placemats but that served as plates. One dollar covered the basic rice meal, eaten without silverware. An extra 25 rupees bought me a tiny delicious Tandoori fish, and they gave out fresh pineapple for dessert.

At four thirty the boat drew up to a dock where anyone wanting to see the Hugging Mother got off as we did. The Hugging Mother is one of the few female Indian spiritual gurus. She hugs everyone who comes to see her. People stand in the lines separated as male and female for hours for her darshan. Sometimes she hugs for up to eighteen hours in one day until the line of seekers is completely empty, bestowing unconditional love and compassion upon each soul.

We stood in the lines for a long time too, working our way slowly towards the front. I wanted so much to look her in the eyes, to see the soul of this woman in them. But the devotees who stood around her were very efficient at their jobs. They had us kneel, move towards her, and then they took our bodies and pushed us with a firm hand on our heads into her bosom where she grabbed round and whispered “Amma, Amma, Amma, Amma,” in our ears and shoved a piece of hard candy and some powder into our hands. It was very quick, but it was real hug, a real attempt at passing love. She looked exhausted as it was the end of her day and seemed to be moving on with fortitude but without a smile or the connection I wanted from the meeting of the eyes.

Maybe she is a manifestation of the Divine Mother. She has been escalated to God-like status by those who come to visit her and to live at the ashram. They prostrate themselves before her in her temple where she sits on a small stage that is an alter. Followers in white flowing garb, bodies well covered and nothing too tight, as befits the ashram’s code of celibacy, mill around in the courtyard surrounding the main temple. These 1800 permanent residents live communal style, dedicating one or two hours every day to the work of cleaning or fixing meals or directing visitors.

To house all of these devotees high rises were built near the temple. They reach upward, warm and pink above the natural surroundings, a wide strip of green-topped coconut trees between water. From our 10th floor balcony we could look down at the pink haven, the spiritual center, and out to the deep blue Arabian Sea towards the west. The Keralan backwaters could be seen to the east.

The recent devastating tsunami struck this southwestern coast here killing two hundred people and displacing many from their homes. A tent village had been set up nearby, blue tarps covering humble temporary residences. The ashram was feeding many of the unfortunate in the district three meals a day. Forewarned, the Mother had gathered all her people and moved them eastward beyond the backwaters, staying herself until she knew that everyone else was safe, including all of the animals. Her two elephants were closed up inside the elevated temple for safety.

A newspaper clipping hanging on a corkboard reported that she donated twenty two million dollars to the tsunami relief effort. The more people hear of Mother’s selfless devotion to humanity, the more they flock to support her in her mission, both with their time and their financial resources. From a few humble thatched huts ten years ago when my guide from California arrived grew the large pink ashram complex. She said most of it had come within the last seven years as people and money have flowed in.

I was given a pamphlet for her modern hospital in Kochi with state of the art testing facilities better than those of my hospitals back home but for free or for a nominal fee scaled to the patient’s income. Doctors and nurses donate their time and intellect.

The walls of the information office at the ashram are filled with pictures of the manifestations of Mother’s love and that of the devotees who look to her for guidance. Many free housing structures have been raised for the poor and homeless, grade schools and universities have been built. She has set up pensions for destitute widowed females so they can purchase medicines and food and clothing. She rebuilt an entire village in Gujarat devastated by the earthquake of 2001. She has developed homes for the aged, AIDS care centers and hospice for cancer sufferers. Her followers provide free medical camps in the tribal villages, both allopathic and ayervedic. She performs free marriage ceremonies for couples that can’t afford their own proper complicated Indian weddings, provides free legal aid, and has started orphanages.

Mata Amritanadamayi, the Hugging Mother, has created a force of benevolence, compassion, selfless giving and devotion. A special person, she serves as a light to all of us who hope to serve the greater good. There is a peaceful atmosphere at her ashram, a loving energy that affects you as soon as you step off the boat onto the dock.

The smiling devotees in white seem blissful in their pursuit of spirituality as they mill around the complex or sit and meditate on the rooftops or in the temple. They lend the place a bit of a cult-like atmosphere. I am amazed at how many people are there who have a need to be followers, have a need to be led to search for inner fulfillment through someone else. I am grateful they have chosen to follow this remarkable woman instead of another of India’s many spiritual gurus, instead of someone like Osho. All of these people meditating on love and compassion for others has seemed to create a wave of energy as constructive as the tsunami was devastating. It continues to build momentum, reaching heights and distances that spread far, showing no signs of climaxing soon.

But as I am filled with awe and respect for what this woman has accomplished for humanity and for how she gives, I am troubled by those who choose to see her as a diety rather than as a human light. Her autobiography, written by an Indian follower, is full of stories in which she brings people back to life after hours of death, heals incurable diseases with a touch, smiles and makes infertile couples conceive, and manifests matter out of nothingness. Why do they need to believe she performs miracles? Why do they need to believe in someone superhuman with magic and special powers to believe in a loving and compassionate woman who wants to mother the world?