From Argentina to Catalonia for a hug from Amma: "I'm not the same anymore."

BarcelonaThe lines of people dressed mostly in white stretch to the corners of the Granollers Sports Palace. It could be any other day for a match for the city's handball team, but it isn't. At a gate, security officers ask for permission, and a corridor of fans forms, applauding, shouting, taking photos, and some crying with emotion as a spotless white Mercedes passes by, led and preceded by two other vehicles. And then the runners arrive to take their places in a show that begins when their star—the one in the white Mercedes—takes the stage. A song starts, and the audience turns on their phone flashlights, waves, some close their eyes and just listen, others get excited again. It could be a concert by an octopus star, but it isn't either.

Mata Amritanandamayi was born 72 years ago in India. But everyone knows her as Amma (mother, in Hindi). Some people have her as their mobile phone wallpaper, glued to the cover of their notebooks, and measure miles (more than 10,000) to see her and, above all, to hug her. Amma is a global spiritual leader who spreads "altruism," "love," and "charity." That's how several of her thousands of devotees define her. This Thursday, some 5,000 people filled the Granollers Sports Palace, but in the last three days, some 15,000 have passed through. The lines stretch for hours to pick up a ticket that allows you to hug her. And what do they feel once they've done so? "Each one feels something different," is the most repeated response.

It's hard to put into words, says Quico, from Manresa, who sums up how things haven't been the same since he was able to hug her 48 hours ago. "I've heard that you have to be supportive, that there are too many material things, that the mind gets distracted by nonsense," says Sergio, who, accompanied by his girlfriend, Dina, has come from Argentina just for this moment. Since 2000, the couple has been visiting India every year to see her.

But who is Amma? And what does she preach? Some compare her to a Jesus of our time, an "avatar," a reference point that says nothing that other religions don't. "There's nothing new under the sun," says Sergio. But they say this isn't a religion, much less a sect, nor a saint who performs miracles, but rather "a way of life." A life that Amma "preaches, but also lives" when she builds schools, hospitals, and homes for the neediest, "carrying the bricks herself," she insists. Sergio came from Argentina, Sophie from Sweden, and Ana from France. He feels different after the hug: "I believe more in equality." "I'm not so selfish anymore," Sophie adds. "Well, I haven't heard anything," Modesta counters. She doesn't believe it, but she came with her friends, all retired, out of "curiosity." "I didn't like it. I waited in line for a long time, and then they grabbed me really tightly, hugged me, and someone grabbed me again really tightly by the arm to get me out of there," she explains.

Hours of hugs

Amma spends hours hugging people waiting in line with a ticket, as if they were at a market. It seems like your turn never arrives. Tonight, she'll likely continue hugging from 10 p.m. until 6 a.m. The atmosphere is eclectic: families, small children, the elderly, people wearing ties who have just gotten off work, others dressed in long robes, and many of them barefoot. "It drives out the virus of selfishness," Amma proclaims, as people sit with their hands clasped and become emotional. The smell is of incense, and the goal is not only to hug, but also to meditate, and in some cases, to shop: there are stalls with robes, jewelry, rugs, CDs where Amma sings in Spanish, bottles of holy water, and spaces where you can make donations to help those most in need. Amid the peace of the moment, there are also lines to pay, enter, and park, and lines of cars on the sidewalks.