Shajanram is a frail little person in his late eighties. Yet he moves gracefully, with the agility of a nearby desert antelope. The thick round glasses lying on his aquiline nose magnify the darkness of his black, almond-shaped eyes. The white beard and long moustache match the uniform colour of his shirt, dhoti, and turban. His smile is spontaneous, frequent and highly infectious, as his kindness.
He bows in respect to welcome guests in the home that he shares with his four sons, their wives and a total of twelve healthy and cheerful grandchildren. Shajanram does not speak a word of English. His facial expressions genuinely convey his feelings, passing through no filter, no social barrier. For the rest, a guide translates his sacred speech.