When the Winds Whispered Swami’s Grace

In a modest, rented home with barely any ventilation and a small hall, preparations were underway for a sacred Chandi homa meant to last nearly six hours, using around 15 kilograms of wood and cow dung cakes.

When the priests arrived and surveyed the space, they expressed concern. With no proper airflow and such an intense fire, they warned that soot would definitely coat the walls, and the heat might even damage the interiors. Repainting the house seemed inevitable, and in a rented space, that could mean trouble with the landlord.

Worried but determined, I turned to Swami in prayer:

“You’ve given me the intent to perform this homa,” I said, “so you must also take care of the consequences.”

To add more twists to the situation, my two-year-old nephew began crying, and my brother had to put him to sleep in the bedroom. To describe further, the hall had no windows at all—just four walls enclosing the space. It was connected to a bedroom, and that room had a door leading to the balcony. If any breeze were to enter, it would have to travel from the balcony, through the bedroom, and into the hall. But as the child was sleeping in that room, the connecting door was shut tight. In other words, there was absolutely no way for air to flow into the hall.

And then, something extraordinary happened.

As the homa began, a strong breeze started blowing—from a direction where there were no windows or doors. It was as if the wind had appeared out of nowhere, flowing powerfully through the hall and pushing all smoke out the main door. The wind seemed to emerge from the very walls and wooden furniture! I have lived in this house for five years and never once experienced a breeze in the hall.

The smoke, instead of lingering and staining the walls, was swept away effortlessly. Not only was there no soot—there wasn’t even a hint of heat on the walls. We, seated right beside the homa kundam, felt no discomfort. Even after sitting near a big homa for more than five hours, not a single tear from the eyes due to smoke, no sweat from the fire. It felt like we were sitting on a seashore, enjoying the cool sea breeze.

Even after 19 hours, when I went to clear the homa kundam, the fire was still glowing red, fueled by the wood and cow dung. It took six full mugs of water to extinguish it completely. And yet, through all that intensity, the house remained untouched—cool, clean, and calm.

If this wasn’t Swami’s grace, then what was it?