We are in a busy market square in Sardinia, Italy, in 1992 and Shri Mataji is buying gifts for Her grandchildren. She glides with effortless grace amongst the shoppers, Her radiance lighting a path through the crowds – did I imagine those angels scattering petals from above? A young stallholder beams, enchanted by Shri Mataji as She blesses his merchandise with Her gracious touch.
‘E cosi bella!’ he whispers as She walks away.
Mother asks me what he has said.
‘He says You are very beautiful, Mother,’ I translate for Her.
‘Really?’ She has a surprised look on Her face, with that unique way of raising Her eyebrows, arching them to the skies She laughs, ‘Well, I am not sweet sixteen any more
Danya Martoglio