The Disciples of Sri Ramakrishna P/3 Swami Chidananda Ramakrishna Math and Mission

The Disciples of Sri Ramakrishna 3

CONTENTS Part 3 CHAPTER

PAGE

NAG MAHASHAY

3

GIRISH CHANDRA GHOSH

21

MAHENDRANATH GUPTA

40

GOPAL’S MOTHER

56

JOGIN MA

67

GOLAP MA

73

GAURI MA

76

LAKSHMI DEVI

81

The Disciples of Sri Ramakrishna NAG MAHASHAY

Nag Mahashay - that was the name by which Durga Charan Nag was popularly known - was, according to Swami Vivekananda, ‘one of the greatest of the works of Ramakrishna Paramahamsa.’ He would say, ‘I have travelled in different parts of the globe, but nowhere could I meet a great soul like Nag Mahashay.’ The life of Nag Mahashay reads like a fairy tale, like legendary stories. His humility, his hospitality, his kindness to all including lower animals, his asceticism and renunciation, above all, his devotion to God and to his guru, were so wonderful that if we hear the incidents, we become awestruck and ask ourselves if they could be really true. Such stories can be found narrated in the Puranas - and the modern mind does not know whether they were facts or simply imaginary illustrations of moral precepts - but the happenings in the life of Nag Mahashay were witnessed by persons who lived till recently and stood as a living testimony to their authenticity.

Nag Mahashay was born on 21 August 1846, in a small village called Deobhog, situated at a short distance from Narayanganj in the district of Dacca, Bangladesh. His father’s name was Dindayal Nag, who was an employee in the firm of Messrs Rajkumar & Hari Charan Pal Chowdhury of Kumartuli in Calcutta. Dindayal was an orthodox, devout Hindu, and commanded respect from all for his piety. Though his pay was very low, the proprietors of the firm looked upon him as a member of their family rather than as a servant. They had unshakable faith in his honesty, and it was justified by many wonderful incidents. Nag Mahashay lost his mother while very young, and was brought up by his widowed aunt Dindayal’s sister - who was more like a mother to him and wielded a great influence over his future life. From his childhood Nag Mahashay showed great sweetness of disposition, and his nice appearance attracted the notice of all. He was of a philosophical temperament. In the evening the boy would be gazing listlessly at the starry sky, and say to his wondering aunt: ‘Let us go away to that region. I don’t feel at home here.’ The sight of the moon would make him dance with joy, and in plants waying in the wind, he would find a friend and playmate. He was found of hearing Puranic stories told by his aunt. Sometimes they would stir his imagination so much that he would see them exactly in dreams. Nag Mahashay was noted for his great truthfulness even from his childhood. He would rarely take part in games; but if at all he would join them he would not tolerate any player telling a lie. In that case he would stop conversation with the culprit until the latter was repentant. The boy Durga Charan was the constant arbiter in case of quarrels among his companions; such was their confidence in his judgement and sobriety. He was beloved of all - young and old. With growing age Nag Mahashay developed a great thirst for knowledge. After finishing his primary education, Nag Mahashay was in a fix as to how to pursue his further studies. To go to Calcutta to his father was not possible as the family income was very meagre. But study must be

continued. So, Nag Mahashay began to attend a school at Dacca, covering every day a distance of twenty miles on foot in sun and rain. It is said that Nag Mahashay absented himself from the school only for two day in course of the fifteen months he was there. Though the strain of studying under such a condition was severe. Nag Mahashay’s love for learning carried him through. Not a word of complaint could be heard from him, though his suffering at times would be of an alarming nature. Within a short period of his school life at Dacca, Nag Mahashay mastered the Bengali language, and wrote also a book for children. Nag Mahashay was now married through insistence of his aunt, who was anxious to see the motherless boy soon settled in life. Five months after the marriage Nag Mahashay came to Calcutta to live with his father and got himself admitted into the Campbell Medical School. But there also he could not study more than a year and a half. He then studied homoeopathy under Dr Bihari Bhaduri, who was greatly charmed with the amiable disposition of his student. As Nag Mahashay lived mostly in Calcutta and his wife was at her father’s house, he did not come much in contact with her. Even while he was at home, it is said, he would sometimes past the night up a tree in order to avoid the company of his wife, so mortally afraid was he of falling into the snares of worldly life. His wife, however, died suddenly. This gave him a great shock, but from another standpoint he felt relief. Even while studying homoeopathy Nag Mahashay started medical practice impelled by a desire to remove the suffering of the poor patients of the locality. Soon his name as a successful doctor spread, and crowds of poor people would throng at his door every day. Nag Mahashay lost no opportunity to give succor to the poor. So great was his spirit of service and so large was his heart that unscrupulous people could easily take advantage of his goodness. At this time Nag Mahashay came in contact with Suresh Chandra Datta, afterwards a great devotee of Sri Ramakrishna. From the first meeting they became intimate friends. Suresh was Brahmo by temperament did not

believe in Hindu deities. Though their religious views were as poles asunder, still, strange to say, they love each other dearly. Suresh was struck with the spotless character of his friend. Gradually Nag Mahashay began to lose interest in medicine, and his attention was devoted to the study of scriptures and the practice of religion. He would daily take bath in the Ganges and find delight in discussing religious problems with pundits. Often, he would go to the cremation ground nearby, and remain there till the dead of night brooding over the unreality of the world. His invariable conclusion would be - God only is real, everything else is vanity of vanities. Life is in vain, if God is not realized. Sometimes he would pass long hours in meditation in the cremation ground. Once in the course of meditation he had some spiritual experience; this spurred him to continue the practice. Seeing this changed behavior of Nag Mahashay, his father got alarmed lest he should give up worldly life. He thought, marriage would cure the religious malady of his son. So, Dindayal selected a bride for his son, and insisted upon the marriage. Nag Mahashay piteously pleaded with his father not to throw him to worldly life and thus hamper the growth of his spiritual progress, but Dindayal would hear no argument. At last, the devoted son yielded to the wishes of his father, but how great was the anguish of his heart! From the depth of his heart went prayer to the Almighty that his marriage might not prove a bondage to him. A severe storm blowing over his mind, Nag Mahashay meekly followed his father to his native village, got himself married, and after a few days’ stay at home returned to Calcutta. Nag Mahashay hated the idea of taking service under anybody, so he thought of settling down as a doctor. Now he began to accept fees if offered. But he would never demand money from anybody. Rather he would refuse if offered in excess of his legitimate dues. Once, Nag Mahashay cured a very critical case at the house of the employers of his father. They offered him rich presents, but he would not accept them as the cost of the medicine together with his fees was not so much. This

enraged Dindayal, living as he did under straitened circumstances. But Nag Mahashay was firm; he said it would be practicing untruth if he would accept anything more than his due. Sometimes he would help the poor patients with money from his own pocket. Once one of his patients was suffering from lack of sufficient clothing, Nag Mahasha gave him his own woolen wrapper and ran away from his presence lest it should be refused. Such acts invited sharp reproof from his father, but he found it impossible to change his mode of conduct. He had an extensive practice. Had he been worldly-wise he could easily have amassed money. But on the contrary he remained as poor as ever - sometimes he would find it difficult to make both ends meet. But even humanitarian works cannot satisfy a heart that is longing for God-vision. After all, how little can be done in the matter of removing misery from the world! Though Nag Mahashay gave himself up completely to the service of the poor and the distressed, he was panting for direct perception of the Reality behind the phenomenal world. At this time Nag Mahashay along with Suresh and some Brahmo devotees would regularly practice meditation sitting on the bank of the Ganges. But the thought that without formal initiation from a guru spiritual progress cannot be achieved oppressed the mind of Nag Mahashay. Strangely enough, one day while he was bathing in the Ganges, he found his family preceptor coming in a boat. At this he was glad beyond measure; for, what he was seeking for presented itself. Nag Mahashay got himself initiated by him. After the initiation he devoted much greater attention to religious practices. It is said that while once he was meditation sitting on the bank of the Ganges, there came the floodtide and swept him away, so deeply absorbed was he. It was only after some time that he got back his consciousness and swam across to the shore. Suresh once heard in the Brahmo Samaj from Keshab Chandra Sen that there was a great saint living at the temple garden of Dakshineswar. When the news was communicated to Nag Mahashay, he was anxious to

see him that very day. When Suresh and Nag Mahashay reached Dakshineswar, somebody gave him the false information that Sri Ramakrishna was away. At this, both were sorely disappointed. With heavy hearts they were about to go away, when they observed someone beckoning them from within the doors. They went inside; lo, it was Sri Ramakrishna sitting on a small bedstead. Suresh saluted him with folded palms. Nag Mahashay wanted to take the dust of his feet, but Sri Ramakrishna did not allow it. This greatly grieved Nag Mahashay: embodiment of humility as he was, he thought he was not pure enough to touch the feet of a saint. Sri Ramakrishna inquired of their whereabouts, whether they had married, and so on, and remarked: ‘Live in the world unattached. Be in the world, but not of it. Just see that the dirt of the world does not touch you.’ Nag Mahashay was looking steadfastly at the face of Sri Ramakrishna when the latter asked, ‘What are you seeing this way?’ Nag Mahashay replied, ‘I have come to see you; hence I am looking at you.’ Talking with them for a while, Sri Ramakrishna asked them to go to the Panchavati and meditate. They obeyed him, and when they returned after meditation, he took them with him to show them round the temples. He was ahead, while Suresh and Nag Mahashay followed him. After passing through other temples, when he entered the Kali temple, he was all of a sudden, a changed man. He behaved just like a child before its mother. Suresh and Nag Mahashay took leave of Ramakrishna in the afternoon. He asked them to repeat the visit so that the acquaintance might deepen. While returning, the only thought which possessed the mind of Nag Mahashay was, what could that man be - a sadhu, a saint, or some higher being. This meeting with Sri Ramakrishna inflamed the hunger of Nag Mahashay for God-realization. He now forgot all other things about the world. He avoided the company of people. He was always silent absorbed within his own thoughts. Only when Suresh came, would talk with him - and that too about Sri Ramakrishna.

About a week after the first visit the two friends again went to Dakshineswar. Nag Mahashay was, as it were, in a frenzied condition. Seeing him Sri Ramakrishna fell into ecstasy and burst out, ‘So glad to see you, it is for you that I am here.’ Then he seated Nag Mahashay by his side, caressed him and said: ‘What fear have you? Yours is a highly developed spiritual condition.’ That day also Sri Ramakrishna sent them to the Panchavati for meditation. After a while he came to them, and directed Nag Mahashay to do him some personal services. Nag Mahashay was so glad. His only sorrow was he had not been allowed to take the dust of the feet of the Master on the occasion of the first visit. This day when Sri Ramakrishna was alone with Suresh, he remarked that Nag Mahashay was like a blazing fire. The next time Nag Mahashay went to Dakshineswar alone. Then also Sri Ramakrishna was in ecstasy at the sight of Nag Mahashay, and began to murmur something inaudible. At this condition of Sri Ramakrishna, Nag Mahashay got afraid. Then Sri Ramakrishna said to him, ‘Well, just see what is the matter with my feet; you are a doctor, you can examine that.’ Seeing him talking in a normal condition, Nag Mahashay was relieved. He examined the feet, but found nothing. Sri Ramakrishna asked him to examine again, and thoroughly. Nag Mahashay thought it to be an opportunity offered to him to touch the feet of the Master, which he so greatly longed for. Afterwards Nag Mahashay would remark: ‘There was no need for asking anything of Sri Ramakrishna. He could read the minds of his devotees, and gave them what they sincerely wanted.’ Henceforth Nag Mahashay had the firm conviction that Sri Ramakrishna was God incarnate. He would say, ‘After a few visits itself, I understood him to be an incarnation of God.’ If asked how he could know that, he would say: ‘He himself was gracious enough to make me feel that. Even after hard austerities of thousands of years God cannot be realized without His Grace.’ Once Sri Ramakrishna asked Nag Mahashay as to what he thought of him. Nag Mahashay replied with folded hands, ‘Through your grace I

have known what you are.’ On hearing this answer Sri Ramakrishna went into samadhi and placed his right foot on the chest of Nag Mahashay. The latter felt a peculiar change within him and saw as if everything around bathed in a flood of Divine Light. One day while Nag Mahashay was sitting before Sri Ramakrishna, Swami Vivekananda (then Narendranath) entered the room. Sri Ramakrishna told Narendra, pointing to Nag Mahashay: ‘He has genuine humility. There is no hypocrisy behind it.’ Soon there began a conversation between the two disciples in the course of which Nag Mahashay said: ‘Everything is done by the will of God. Only the ignorant say they are the doers.’ Narendra, practicing Advaita as he did, said: ‘I don’t believe in “He”. I am everything. The whole universe is my manifestation,’ Nag Mahashay replied: ‘You cannot make one black hair grey, what to talk of the universe. Not a leaf on a tree moves without His will.’ The conversation went on in this strain, which Sri Ramakrishna greatly enjoyed. Sri Ramakrishna then said to Nag Mahashay: ‘Well, he is a blazing fire. He may say thus.’ From that time Nag Mahashay had supreme regard for Swami Vivekananda and his spiritual greatness. Whatever Sri Ramakrishna uttered, even if in joke, was gospel truth to Nag Mahashay. Once Nag Mahashay heard Sri Ramakrishna saying to a devotee, ‘Well, doctors, lawyers, and brokers can hardly achieve anything in the domain of religion.’ That is enough. Nag Mahashay threw his medical books and medicines into the Ganges and gave up the practice. The news reached Dindayal at his village home. He became upset and ran to Calcutta. Nag Mahashay could not be persuaded to take up the medical profession again. Dindayal requested his employers to give Nag Mahashay his place, which they did. And then Dindayal returned home with a sigh of relief. This occupation gave Nag Mahashay leisure and opportunity for meditation and spiritual practices. He began to frequent Dakshineswar more often, as a result of which his spirit of renunciation increased and he was determined to give up the world. With such intention one day he went to Sri Ramakrishna, and as soon as he entered

his room, the latter began to say in an ecstatic mood: ‘What is the harm in remaining in the world? If the mind is fixed on God, one is safe. Remain in the world like Janaka and set an example to householders.’ Nag Mahashay was stupefied. He was resolved to leave the world, but the obstacle came from the very man whose life aroused in him the desire. What could be done! Nag Mahashay’s opinion was: ‘What escaped from the lips of Sri Ramakrishna none could resist. He would tell in a word or two the path which was suitable for a particular man.’ So, Nag Mahashay returned home, obeying the behest of the Master. But it was impossible for Nag Mahashay to do the normal duties of life any longer. Day and night, he was in agony as God was not realized. Sometimes he would roll in the dust, sometimes he would fall on thorny bushes which caused him injury. He forgot all about food. When Suresh would come, he would force him to eat, otherwise he would be without food. He would return home sometimes in the afternoon, sometimes at the dead of night. He behaved like one deranged in mind. During this period Nag Mahashay had to go to his village home. When his wife found him in this mental state, she was terrified. She easily understood that he had no vestige of desire for worldly life. He also explained to her that fixed as all his thoughts were on God, it was no longer possible for him to live a worldly life. How abnormal - if abnormal it should at all be termed - was Nag Mahashay’s conduct at this period can be seen from the following incident. In the corner of their house his sister grew a gourd - plant. Once, a cow was tied near it. The cow wanted to eat the plant but could not reach it. He saw this and felt compassion for the cow. He untied it and allowed it to eat the plant. This naturally enraged his father, who rebuked him saying: ‘You yourself will not earn money, and on the contrary you will do what will bring loss to the family. You have given up medical practice. How will you maintain yourself?’ Nag Mahashay said: ‘Please don’t worry about that. God will look after me.’ The infuriated father said: ‘Yes, I know. Now you will go about naked and

live on frogs.’ Nag Mahashay gave no further answer, threw away his clothes, brought a dead frog, and while eating it said to his father: ‘Both of your commandments are fulfilled. No longer please worry about me, this is my earnest request.’ Thinking that his son had gone mad, Dindayal told his daughter-in-law, ‘Let none go against his wishes even to the slightest degree.’ After returning to Calcutta, Nag Mahashay, in one of his visits to Dakshieswar, expressed great sorrow to the Master that he had no real self-surrender to God; that he still believed in the efficacy of his own personal effort apart from the will of God. The Master consoled him with kindly advise. Seeing the burning spirit of dispassion in him, Sri Ramakrishna again advised him to remain in the world. Nag Mahashay said that the sight of misery all around oppressed him too much. Sri Ramakrishna told him that no taint would touch him if he remained in the world, on the contrary everybody would be amazed to see his life. Nag Mahashay could no longer attend to his duties. Seeing this his employers freed him from all work and arranged that he could get an allowance, so that the family of such a noble soul might not suffer from privation. Sri Ramakrishna was very glad to hear this news. Nag Mahashay now engaged himself in more severe spiritual practices, and began to go to Dakshineswar very often. Formerly he would avoid going there on Sunday. His idea was: ‘Scholars, pundits, many great men go there on Sundays. Unlettered as I am, I shall be a misfit in their company.’ So, he did not know much of the devotees of Sri Ramakrishna. But as his visits were now very frequent, he came to know some of them. In one such visit the Master introduced him to Girish Chandra Ghosh, and they were fast friends all their lives. Nag Mahashay was very particular about control of palate. He would not use salt or sugar in his food in order to restrain the desire for good dishes. Once he lived for two or three days only on bran. He could not continue it because his neighbor made it impossible for him to get the supply. But he would say: ‘I did not find the least difficult in living on

bran. If the mind always remains busy with the thought about the quality of food, how shall I remember God?’ A large number of beggars would come to Nag Mahashay’s house every day for alms, and poor he was, none would go from him empty-handed. Once a begging friar came to him when he had only a little quantity of rice, just sufficient for his next meal. He gave that to him in great devotion and himself remained without food. Nag Mahashay could not stand worldly talks. If anybody introduced such subjects before him, he would stop it skillfully. If he got angry or annoyed with anyone, he would mercilessly beat his own body with whatever could be had near at hand as self-punishment. He would not indulge in criticizing others, not would be contradict anyone. Once unwillingly he said something in opposition to a man. As soon as he was conscious of this, he took a piece of stone and struck his head with that so severely that there was profuse bleeding. It took about a month for the wound to heal. He would say, ‘Right punishment, since my mind became so wicked.’ To kill his passions, he would sometimes take too long fasts. Because of his headache, on medical advice, he gave up bathing, the last twenty years of his life. Over and above that, his severe austerities gave him a very rugged appearance. Girish Chandra Ghosh would opine, ‘Nag Mahashay knocked his egotism so severely on the head that it could not rise again.’ While going his way, Nag Mahashay could not be ahead of another - for that meant self-importance. Even if he met a poor beggar, he would stand behind him. Nobody would be allowed to prepare tobacco for him, but he would do that for one and all, and found delight in doing so. During the last days of Sri Ramakrishna when he was laid up in bed, Nag Mahashay would rarely go to him. He would say, ‘I cannot bear to remember the sight of suffering, much less can I see that.’ Once, Ramakrishna was suffering from a burning sensation. Nag Mahashay was nearby. Sri Ramakrishna asked him to come nearer so that by

touching his body his pain might vanish. When he did that, Sri Ramakrishna embraced him for some time. About a week before his passing away, the Master, in the presence of Nag Mahashay, showed his desire to taste Amlaki fruit. But that was not the season for that fruit. Everybody thought that Amlaki was out of the question at that time. But Nag Mahashay began cogitating, ‘When the Master has said that, the fruit will surely be found somewhere.’ With this thought he went out. He could not be seen for two days. He was going from garden to garden in search of Amlaki. One the third day he came with a piece of Amlaki in his hand. Once Nag Mahashay went to Sri Ramakrishna during the latter’s illness. A disciple requested him to take something, not knowing his practice. Nag Mahashay could break the practice only if the food was made holy by the touch of Sri Ramakrishna. Sri Ramakrishna understood this and did that. While sitting for his meal, Nag Mahashay ate the whole of the food given to him and then began to eat the leaf itself. Well, it was sacramental food, was it not touched by the Master! Henceforth when sacramental food was given to Nag Mahashay, the devotees of Sri Ramakrishna took precaution that he did not repeat the incident. When Sri Ramakrishna passed away, Nag Mahashay gave up food and remained confined in his bed. He would not stir out. The news reached Swami Vivekananda, the refuge of all devotees of Sri Ramakrishna, Swami Vivekananda went to him with two of his brother disciples. It was only with difficulty that Swami Vivekananda could persuade him to take food. ‘That body should not be given food with which God has not been realized’ - That was the idea of Nag Mahashay. After the passing of Sri Ramakrishna, Nag Mahashay went to his village home, even against the wishes of his best friends. For, did not the Master asked him to remain at home! His words could not be infringed even slightly! The rest of his life was spent at Deobhog, with occasional visits to Calcutta. There he lived his unostentatious life, hiding his blazing spirituality under a cover of great humility. But as fire cannot be hidden,

so with spirituality. Soon the name of Nag Mahashay spread far and wide. People began to flock to Deobhog, but he was as humble as ever. So complete and withal so natural was his self-effacement! This phenomenon itself was a great thing. Swami Vivekananda used to say that the whole of East Bengal was blessed because of the birth of Nag Mahashay. Outwardly he was just like an ordinary man. From his appearance nobody could guess that he was such a great saint. Only those who knew him intimately or watched his conduct would be astonished at his greatness. His life was full of many wonderful episodes, each one as astonishing as another. Once, a devotee came to the house of Nag Mahashay late at night. There was no fuel in the house. Nag Mahashay cut the ridge-pole of his room to make that into fuel for cooking. Whoever would go to his house was received as God in the form of a human being come to bless him. He suffered from colic pain. At times the pain would be very severe. Once while he was attacked with such pain, some eight or ten persons came. How to feed them? There was not sufficient rice in the house. He went to the market, brought some rice and was carrying that on his head to his home - he would never take the service of servants - but on the way the pain increased. He fell down and could no more walk. The pain was nothing to him; his only thought was, guests were at home, their meals would not be ready in time. When in pain lessened a bit, he started again and reaching home begged pardon of the guests that there were inconvenienced. Once, some guests came a night. It was rainy season. All the rooms were leaking except one which was Mahashay’s bedroom. That was given to the guests, and he with his wife passed the whole night in prayer and meditation sitting in the porch. He considered the day to be very blessed as he was privileged to serve God in the guests. And how glad he would be if any disciple or devotee of Sri Ramakrishna visited his house! Once Swami Turiyananda along with another monk

came to Nag Mahashay’s house in a boat. Nag Mahashay was so overpowered with joy that he became almost unconscious. In this respect he would make no distinction between the old and the young. Once, two young monks from Belur Math went to Deobhog to pay respects to Nag Mahashay. But Nag Mahashay was so respectful to them, that he became a terror to the young monks. His services to them took the form of worship, as it were. They were eager to escape as early as possible from such an embarrassing position. In spite of his earnest requests to continue the stay, they bade him good-bye. He accompanied them as far as the railway station. The train was crowded. The monks tried to elbow their way into the compartment, but the occupants held them back. Seeing that the monks were treated disrespectfully, Nag Mahashay began to cry in agony and to beat his forehead: was not the suffering of the monks due to his ill luck! At the sight of the painful condition of Nag Mahashay, the fellow passengers let the monks in and made enough room for them in the compartment. And then he was at rest. He was ever ready to serve all, but would not allow anybody to serve him. He lived in thatched cottages that required annual repair. But that could not be done in his presence as services of others would not be tolerated. His wife would get the house repaired when he would be away. Once, the house was badly in need of repair. The wife of Nag Mahashay engaged a servant. He climbed up the roof for his work. Nag Mahashay saw this and humbly requested him to cease from doing that. The servant would hear nothing. It was a privilege for him to repair a house which sheltered a saint. At this Nag Mahashay began to beat his own forehead in great agony. What, for the happiness of this body another should undergo labor! The servant saw the mental suffering of Nag Mahashay and came down. Oh, the joy of Nag Mahashay when the servant ceased from work. He began to fan him, and prepared tobacco for him. While going in a boat he would not allow the servants to row. He would himself do that. For that reason, no one liked to go in the same boat with him.

He was, as it were, humbler than dust. But he was as fierce as anything if anybody criticized his guru or the children of his guru in his presence. In this matter he was no respecter of personalities. A saint of the neighborhood, who unguardedly passed some uncharitable remarks against Sri Ramakrishna while Nag Mahashay was visiting him, got sharp reproof from Nag Mahashay. A rich man of the locality who commanded great respect was humbled by Nag Mahashay because he committed a similar offence. Once while Nag Mahashay was going to Belur Math in a boat, a fellow passenger criticized the activities of the monastery. At this Nag Mahashay got so infuriated that he struck terror into the heart of the culprit, who thereupon left the boat as quickly as possible. It was a sight for the gods to see when he would go to any place associated with Sri Ramakrishna or if he met any devotee or disciple of the Master. When he would meet the Holy Mother, he would lose, as it were, all outward consciousness. Long before he would actually meet her, he would be on another plane. He would behave like a man, from whom the outer world was vanishing - and he would only utter the words, ‘Mother, Mother.’ Once, coming to the house where the Holy Mother lived, he began to touch the threshold with his head in reverence so vehemently that his head began to bleed. Once he went to Dakshineswar, but on coming near the room where Sri Ramakrishna lived, his agony became so great because he could no longer expect to see him there, that he fell to the ground and began to roll on the earth. When he would go to the monastery at Alambazar, or the Belur Math, he would thrill with emotion; on his coming the whole atmosphere would at once change. The bystanders would be, as it were, transported to a different region. Beginning with Swami Vivekananda, all monks would hold him in great reverence. Whenever he would visit the monastery all work would stop. Everybody would flock to him to enjoy his holy presence. Once he came to Belur Math to see Swami Vivekananda who had just returned from America. How great was his joy to see the Swami

who had been the bearer of the message of the Master to the world! Swami Vivekananda asked him to stay in the monastery. But he would not do that even for a single night. Has not the Master directed him to live in the world? Nag Mahashay had love not only for all human beings, but it extended to all lower creatures and even to the vegetable kingdom. It was difficult to persuade him to get into a carriage drawn by a horse, because the horse would suffer thereby. Once, a fisherman brought all the fish and set them free in the neighboring pond. Seeing this, the fisherman fled from his presence in wonder. One day cobra was seen in his courtyard. He would not allow that to be killed. He would say that it is not the snake of the jungle but the snake within one’s own mind that injures a man. Sometimes he would feel pain even it leaves were struck off a tree in his presence. He would see the Divine will in everything - good or bad. He suffered from incessant colic pain. He thought the disease was a godsend because it forced him to think of God. Once while he was asleep a cat scratched one of his eyeballs. Others were aghast at the sight. But he was calm and quiet. It was nothing to him. Why should one be so much anxious for bodily happiness? Once he had pain in both his hands which compelled him to keep them together. He thought it was a device of God to keep him in a posture of humility. After passing away of Sri Ramakrishna, when Nag Mahashay came to his village home, he thought of living alone in a cottage in a solitary place. Knowing his intention, his wife gave him perfect freedom to live as he like but requested him not to go away. Being thus assured by his pious wife, he lived like a monk though in the world. His wife would say with regard to him: ‘With the name of the Lord on his lips, he knocked all animal propensities on the head. He lived amidst fire, but was not scorched by it.’ Nag Mahashay once remarked that even birds and beasts were to him the manifestation of the Divine Mother. ‘No wonder all carnality was gone

from him. Once, a man belonging to the family of his preceptor, under the instruction of Dindayal, requested Nag Mahashay to seek the perpetuation of his lineage. The very idea was so shocking to him that he fell to the ground like one in a swoon. ‘Such an improper request from you?’ - with these words he began to strike his forehead with a piece of stone. It began to bleed. The man felt repentant and withdrew the request. Nag Mahashay was calm and bowed down before him. ‘Sex and gold are the two obstacles to spiritual progress’- these were the words of Sri Ramakrishna. The great disciple of the Master completely rooted out the desire for them. While living at Deobhog, a relative of the previous employer of Nag Mahashay was attacked by smallpox. Nag Mahashay had given up medical practice, but under great pressure he had to suggest a medicine, which cured the patient. And when the party earnestly requested him to accept a sum of money as a reward, he began to cry in agony to be saved from the temptation. The party thought, ‘Here is god on earth.’ Many such incidents can be cited. Nag Mahashay hated to play the role of a teacher. But many lives were changed as a result of his influence. His house was a place of pilgrimage to many. Innumerable were the persons who flocked to him. But he was humility itself. He thought it a privilege to serve all who came to him. So great was his attention to the physical comfort of the visitors that they all thought they had come as if a house of their intimate relative. Amongst his devotees could be counted even a Mohammedan who looked upon him as a Pir. Like his Master, Nag Mahashay was very catholic in his views. He had equal veneration for the devotees of all sects. He made no distinction between a Hindu, a Mohammedan, or a Christian. He bowed down before a mosque and uttered the name of Jesus when passing by a church. His religious view was that everything depends on the grace of God. But man has to pray. If anyone prays earnestly, and if he has no earthly desire, God’s grace is sure to come. During his last illness he suffered much physically. But not a word of complaint came from him. His faith

in the goodness of God was as strong as ever. There was physical ailment, but his mind was fixed on God - calm and serene at the approach of Eternal Life. The physical existence of this saintly life ended in December 1899. But the name of Nag Mahashay is more than a memory. It is a force - it is a source of inspiration; it gives hope and courage too many to aspire after a better life. The strange episodes of his life pass from mouth to mouth, and those who hear feel as if they have a glimpse of wonderland. Such things are not possible in this world of ours!

GIRISH CHANDRA GHOSH

Girish Chandra Ghosh was the bright example of how the touch of seer can turn a sinner into a saint. From the depth of moral degradation, he was raised by the influence of the God-man of Dakshineswar to a height of glory from where his moral and spiritual influence spread through different channels to a very wide area. ‘There is no sin which I have not committed’, Girish once said, ‘but still there is no end of grace I have received from the Master.’ He did not seek God but God sought him. But once his mind turned towards God, he stormed the citadel of heaven, as it were, and compelled God to love him with all his faults and weakness of the flesh. His was an indomitable and invincible spirit. He was heroic in every respect - in his self-indulgence in early days when his nature was turbulent, as also in his dynamic faith in later years when his thoughts turned towards religion. When he was in atheist, nobody dared argue with him about the existence of any Reality behind the material universe; when he was a social rebel, people thought he was lost beyond redemption; when he got interested in religion, his faith was so great that it was the despair of many religious-minded persons and it was so virile that many a lukewarm devotee would throng round him just to kindle the fire of devotion from him.

Girish Chandra was born on 28 February 1844, at Bosepara Lane of Baghbazar in Calcutta. The eighth child of his pious parents, he became from his very childhood the recipient of the excessive love and indulgence of his father, Nilkamal Ghosh. The aged father, a bookkeeper in the office of a merchant, was held in high esteem by his neighbors for his piety, honesty, philanthropy and worldly wisdom. Girish Chandra’s mother was remarkable also for her simplicity and artless devotion to the Lord. But the premature death of her first son unnerved her so much that she did not venture to fondle Girish, and kept up an assumed of indifference. Thus, reared up with the alternate love and indifference of his parents, Girish grew up to be a buoyant and healthy young lad. But his turbulent nature became a source of anxiety to all. His boyish importunities sometimes overstepped all bounds of decorum and reasonableness. But another trait that was noticeable in him was his unusual eagerness to listen to the recital of Puranic stories. In the evening when the young and the old members of the family gathered together after the day’s work to hear the narration of these stories from the mouth of an aged aunt of Girish’s father, the boy would also silently take his seat in their midst and listen in an absorbed mood which would belie for the time being his erstwhile boisterousness. His eyes would even glisten with tears of alternate joy and grief when any pleasant or pathetic anecdote was recounted with deep emotion and fervor. Indeed, these apparently contradictory traits of his early life disclose the real stuff he was made of. It was these elements of his nature that first led him astray and then to the right path and enabled him in after years to tide over the manifold trials and tribulations of his life and reach the plenitude of glory that rarely falls to the lot of ordinary human beings. Girish lost his mother at the age of eleven, and he naturally began to depend entirely upon the love and guidance of his aged father from then on. Nilkamal was shrewd enough to fathom the depth of his son’s nature and extended as much freedom as possible to the boy to develop in his own way. But this undue indulgence interfered not a little with the boy’s early

education. The rigor of discipline and the mode of teaching obtaining in schools did not find much favor with Girish, and he changed from one school to another with the tacit consent of his father. But human life is not always smooth sailing. Nilkamal, bent under the weight of his age and the repeated blows of family bereavements, very soon fell seriously ill. He began to sink day by day, and one day bade final adieu to his mortal life. Exactly a year after the death of his father, Girish entered into married life. Thereafter his studies in school did not proceed satisfactorily, and, as expected, he was plucked in the Entrance Examination. Thus, his academic education came to an end. Now, freed from the vigilance of a watchful father and the obligation of a student life, the dormant instincts of his truculent nature began to manifest themselves in all their nakedness. Within a few years he became a veritable terror to the neighbors. His father-in-law, who was a bookkeeper in the John Atkinson Company, coming to know of his son-in-law’s wanton excesses and turbulent habits lost no time in employing him in his own office as a probationer. After that he acted in various capacities in different merchant offices for about fifteen years. It was during this period when some portion of the bubbling energies of his youth was harnessed to the wheel of official duty, that his latent literary ability was stimulated to activity under the careful guidance of his vastly erudite maternal uncle. But, notwithstanding this newborn fondness for study and literary work, Girish soon broke loose from all moral restraint. He was seized with an irresistible urge from within to drink life to the lees, and he was very soon dragged down to the worst state of moral turpitude. But his other qualities of head and heart - his love for the poor and the sick, his spirit of self-sacrifice and of service to mitigate the suffering of the helpless, and, above all, his brilliance as a poet and litterateur - served to overshadow his moral foibles and soon earned for him a place of distinction in the circle of the intelligentsia of the time.

At this time Girish suffered from a number of family mishaps. One after another, two of his sisters, two brothers and eventually in 1874, his wife departed from this earthly life, leaving Girish entirely forlorn in the vast wilderness of the world. These pangs of separation coupled with the rankling memories of his own immoral excesses rendered his life almost unbearable. So, to assuage the excruciating pains of his lacerated heart, he threw himself ardently into literary pursuits and thus got an opportunity to give expression to his pent-up emotions in and through a series of exquisite poetical compositions. But very soon a grave financial crisis started him in the face: the company in which he had been so long serving failed and he was thrown out of employment. Fortunately, his immediate appointment as head clerk in the office of the Indian League started under the auspices of Sisir Kumar Ghosh, then editor of the Amrita Bazar Patrika, came to him as a welcome surprise and gave him temporary relief. About this time, through the insistence of his eldest sister and other friends, Girish was again united in wedlock. But six months had scarcely elapsed when he, suddenly attacked with a virulent type of cholera. His iron constitution, which his reckless habits and excessive drinking could not break down, soon became extremely emaciated and weak, and the physicians gave up all hope of his recovery. Girish, surrounded by his weeping relatives, lay almost senseless on the bed, and in that state of semi-consciousness he saw the vision of a resplendent lady (Regarding this female figure Girish himself stated in later years to his brother disciples thus: ‘Sixteen years later (in 1891) when I first visited Jayrambati to see the Holy Mother (the wife of Sri Ramakrishna) I found to my surprise and delight that the lady that saved my life with the holy “Mahaprasad” was none other than the Holy Mother herself’) clad in a red-bordered sari just approaching him with comely deportment and a compassionate look, and asking him affectionately to take the holy ‘Mahaprasad’(the offering made to Lord Jagannath at Puri) which she had brought for his recovery. Girish took it in his mouth as directed, and, to the infinite joy of all, he regained consciousness and was soon cured of this fell disease. But

misfortunes do not come singly. Soon after this unexpected recovery Girish once again became involved in some serious trouble, and he found no means to get out of this hopeless predicament. In utter despair and in the agony of his heart he raised his unwilling hands to God Shiva and prayed for his divine grace to rescue him from the meshes of his present tribulations. His prayers were answered and the darkening clouds that were gathered on the horizon rolled back to his great joy and relief. It must be remembered that Girish had been nurtured from his youth in the society of sceptics and atheists and had always plumed himself on his bold defiance of all that was divine or mysterious. But now, after his miraculous escape from imminent death and other dangers through divine intercession, his mind began to falter and question the supremacy of the intellect in solving the baffling mysteries of life. His mind, though released for the time being from the octopus of rank atheism, could not, however, settle down to a firm conviction, and continued to swing like a pendulum between doubt and belief. In 1869 he took a momentous step in his life which made his name immortal in a dramatic history of Bengal. So long his relation with the stage had only been that of an amateur. But from now on, his connection became more intimate, because he chose the Bengali stage as the principal arena of his activity and also as the primary source of his livelihood. He only threw himself heart and soul into the composition of Puranic, social, historical, and religious dramas but also trained actors and actresses in the histrionic art and thus popularized the stage as a national institution. He was himself an actor par excellence and his impersonations of many conflicting characters in the same drama in successive scenes were inimitable and drew unstinted admiration from one and all. In fact, with his creative genius he imparted a new life to the Bengali stage, placed it on a footing of dignity and honor and thus enlisted and much needed support hitherto denied to it by persons of light and leading. He began to wield his powerful pen with consummate skill, and very soon his fame as a dramatist reached a very great height. In the hands of Girish Chandra,

the Bengali drama outgrew its infant stage and entered into a glorious period. In 1883 the Star Theatre was started under his initiative and placed on a stable foundation. But this kind of material success could hardly silence the still sad voice of a guilty conscience. The pricking sense of a life that had suffered a moral shipwreck made him ill at ease. In calmer moments when the excitement and fever of daily activity became subdued, the lurid picture of his dissipated life became unrolled before his vision and he was smitten with grief and remorse. Regarding this state of mental tension and uneasiness as well as concerning his previous wanton excesses and training in the modern school of atheism Girish himself has written: ‘My early training, want of a guardian from childhood, the tumultuous youthful tendencies all were driving me away from the path of righteousness. Atheism was the order of the day. Belief in the existence of God was considered foolish and a sign of weakness. So, in the circle of friends, one was to prove of the non-existence of God if one cared at all for prestige and dignity. I used to scoff at those who believed in God, and turning over a few pages of science, I concluded to the full satisfaction of my mind that religion was but a matter of imagination; that it was but a means to frighten people into keeping away from evil deeds, and that wisdom lay in achieving one’s selfish ends by hook or by crook. But in this world such wisdom does not last long. Evil days bring home hard truths. Under this tutorship I learnt that there is no effective means to hide evil deeds; somehow, they all take air. Yes, I learnt. But the deeds had already begun to bear fruit. A hopeless future was painted in fierce colors on the mind’s canvas. But it was only the beginning of the punishment yet in store, from which there seemed no hope of any escape. Friendless, surrounded on all sides by dangers, with resolute foes aiming at my utter ruin, and my own misdeeds offering them ample opportunities of weaking vengeance on me - at such a juncture I thought: ‘Does God really exist? Can He show a way out If one calls on Him?”’

We have already seen how his prayers were answered on more than one occasion. With the advance of years his true self began to reveal itself according as his arrogance and self-conceit received hard knocks from adversities in life. He instinctively began to feel that behind the sparkling variety of phenomena there must be an Inscrutable Power that shapes and guides the destinies of all, and this belief of Girish was strengthened in a large measure by a string of occurrences over which he had no control. He was now convinced that God was real; but as doubt had become ingrained in his very nature he still vacillated under the stress of peculiar circumstances and he oftentimes ran for help and guidance to friends, who were unanimous in their opinion that without the help of a guru doubt could not be got over permanently. But reason refused to call man a guru - for guru, according to the scriptural injunctions, was to be looked upon as god on earth. The very idea seemed revolting to him, for nothing could be more blasphemous. And this struggle raged unbated in his mind and gave him no peace and rest. It was at this psychological moment that an incident of deep spiritual significance occurred which proved a turning point in his chequered career. Girish had already come to know from the Indian Mirror that a Paramahamsa lived at Dakshineswar and that Keshab Chandra Sen with his disciples paid frequent visits to him. Out of curiosity he one day went to see Sri Ramakrishna when the latter had come to the house of the renowned attorney Dinnanath Basu of Bosepara Lane. It was evening and the lamps were lit. But Sri Ramakrishna, who was then in an ecstatic state, did not see the light. He inquired if it was evening. Girish thought this to be height of absurdity and left the place in disgust. Some years after this incident Sri Ramakrishna paid a visit to the house of Balaram Bose of Baghbazar. Girish was also invited. He was agreeably surprised to find that the conduct of this Paramahamsa was quite different from that of other Paramahamsas and Yogis. Girish sat for a few minutes in silent admiration for the saint’s God-intoxication, humility, and sweet demeanor, when Babu Sisir Kurmar Ghosh, editor of

the Amrita Bazar Patrika, who was also present there and did not seem to have much respect for Sri Ramakrishna, said to Girish: ‘Well, let us go. We have had enough of this.’ Girish wanted to stay; but had to yield to his friend’s request. This was his second visit. It was the month of August 1884, when Chaitanya Lila of Girish was first staged at the Star Theatre. The play created a sensation and brought forth the admiration of all for its profundity of thought and directness of appeal to the religious consciousness of people in general. One day Girish was pacing in the courtyard of the theatre, when a devotee of Sri Ramakrishna came to him and said: ‘Paramahamsa Deva come to see the play. Will you kindly give him a seat or shall we purchase a ticket?’ ‘He will be admitted free’, replied Girish, ‘but others will have to pay.’ He was about to advance and receive the Master, when he found that he was already within the compound. Sri Ramakrishna saluted Girish. Girish returned the salute, but the Master bowed again. This was repeated again - Girish stopped short lest the salutation should go on ad infinitum. He conducted the Master to a box, engaged a servant to fan him, and feeling indisposed, went home. This was the third meeting with the Master, which came on about 21 September 1884. About this time Girish had picked up an acquaintance with a devout Vaishnava painter with whom he had frequent intimate talks about domestic affairs and the Vaishnava religion. On one occasion in the course of a conversation he told Girish that his chosen deity every day actually partook of a portion of the food offered to Him, and added that none could experience such a divine favor without the grace of a guru. The artless candor and devotion with which he narrated the affair so profoundly impressed Girish that on his return home he shut himself up in his own closet and wept bitterly. Needless to say, his heart now yearned for a spiritual guide. A few days after this incident when Girish was sitting on the verandah of a neighbor near a crossing of two roads, he saw Sri Ramakrishna accompanied by a group of devotees slowly passing that way towards the house of Balaram Bose. One of the devotees pointed

towards Girish from a distance and said something in whispers to the Master. He at once saluted Girish and went on his way. He had not gone far when Girish felt that something was pulling him towards Sri Ramakrishna. He could not sit still. He felt so much drawn towards him that he longed to run and overtake him. Just then a devotee came from the Master and invited him to go there. He followed him as one charmed. Sri Ramakrishna seated himself in the parlor of Balaram and Girish also took his seat near him. Girish asked, ‘Sir, what is a guru?’ ‘He is like a liaison officer who brings about the union of the Lord and the devoted soul’, was the reply. He further added, ‘Your guru has been selected.’ ‘What is a mantra?’ - again asked Girish. ‘God’s name’, was the answer. The talk then drifted on too many topics - as if they were intimately known to each other for many years. He asked Girish to show him a theatrical performance again. Girish agreed. It was settled that he would come to see Prahlad Charitra. Shortly after, Girish salted the Master and left with a devotee. The later asked Girish, ‘How did you find him?’ ‘A great devotee’, answered Girish. He was now full of joy as had no longer to trouble himself with the search for a guru. Sometime after this meeting with the Master, Girish was seated in the green room of his theatre, when a devotee, Devendra Nath Mazumdar, came to him in haste and said that Sri Ramakrishna had come to see the performance (Prahlad Charitra). ‘Very well’, replied Girish, ‘Please conduct him to a box.’ ‘But won’t you come and receive him?’ he asked. ‘Why’, said Girish, ‘can’t he get down from the coach without me?’ But he went nevertheless, and found Sri Ramakrishna about to alight. But as soon as he looked upon his serene countenance Girish was smitten with remorse for not having been more cordial in welcoming the saint. He took the Master upstairs, touched his feet without knowing why he did so, and presented him with a rose. The Master returned it saying: ‘Flowers are for gods or for fashionable folk. I am neither.’ In the course of conversation Sri Ramakrishna said, ‘Your mind is not all sincere.’ Girish

thought within himself that faults and foibles there were indeed many. So, he asked, ‘How will they go?’ ‘Have faith’, came the reply. Another day in the house of Ramchandra Datta, Girish met the Master who was in an ecstatic mood. After the singing was over, Sri Ramakrishna went into the parlor where Girish also followed him. Girish asked, ‘Sir, will the crookedness of my mind ever be removed?’ ‘Surely’, replied Sri Ramakrishna. Thrice the question was repeated and thrice the Master gave the same answer. Among those present was Manomohan Mitra, who said: ‘You have been answered. Why do you tease him thus?’ Pocketing the affront Girish thought: ‘He is right. If a man cannot take another’s word the first time, a hundred repetitions will not make him do so.’ He saluted the Master and returned to his theatre. Girish now felt more and more draw towards the Master. Sometime after this he went to Dakshineswar and found Sri Ramakrishna seated on a blanket on the south verandah of his room. The Master was then talking with a young devotee. Girish bowed to the Master, and at once the words came out of the Master’s lips as if from one nearest and dearest to him, ‘We were just now talking of you; really, just ask him.’ The Master, then, proceeded to give some instruction when Girish interrupted him saying: ‘I don’t want instructions. I myself have written many such in my books. Please do something tangible for me.’ At this the Master was very pleased and smiled. This divine smile made Girish feel for the time being that his mind had become completely purged of all impurities. While taking leave, Girish asked: ‘Sir, I have come here and seen you. Shall I continue what I have been doing?’ ‘Yes’, was the answer. Girish felt form this that his connection with the theatre was not harmful. He was now convinced that the great saint had given him shelter and that the realization of God would now be an easy affair. He was filled with infinite faith and courage, for already he was beginning to have a glimpse of what guru really meant. The fear of death - that great terror - too had gone. Girish became a steadfast devotee of Sri Ramakrishna.

Wonderful was his relationship with the Master. Sri Ramakrishna showed deep affection for him. As a father loves his children equally, so the guru loves his disciples all alike. But he does not give equal indulgence to everyone. The Master called Girish a heroic devotee and suffered him to have any indulgence he liked. The great Master used to call him a Bhairava (divine companion of Shiva). Regarding this particular epithet, Sri Ramakrishna himself once said: ‘In the temple of kali I was one day engaged in meditation. I found that a naked boy came tripping there with a tuft of hair on the crown of his head and a flask of wine under his left armpit and a vessel of nectar in the right hand. “Who are you?” I asked. “I am a Bhairava”, he replied. On my asking the reason of his coming, he answered, “To do your work”. When Girish in mature years came to me, I recognized that Bhairava in him.’ The Master knew that at heart Girish was tender, faithful, and sincere. A great vice of Girish was his inordinate incontinence. One night under the influence of liquor he abused the Master in the theatre hall in most indecent language. The enraged devotees were about to punish his insolence, but Sri Ramakrishna held them back. The Master realizing the inner earnestness and sincerity of Girish kept quiet and returned to Dakshineswar. But Girish, like an excessively indulged and spoilt child, felt no qualms of conscience for having heaped so much abuse on the Master and moved about as freely as ever. Friends dinned into his ears that he had done wrong and he too understood it slowly. Many even complained to Sri Ramakrishna at Dakshineswar against Girish and requested him not to go him anymore. But there was one amongst the devotees, Ramchandra Datta, who told the Master: ‘Sir, you will have to put up with this as well. He can only give what he has. He has worshipped you through abusing you. The serpent king of the Bhagavata said to the Lord Sri Krishna, “My Lord, you have given me poison, where shall I get nectar to give you?” Similarly, Girish has worshipped you with whatever you have given him.’ Sri Ramakrishna simply smiled and said to the other devotees: ‘Just hear his words. Get me a coach. I shall go to

Girish’s house today.’ Thus, without caring about the objections of the devotees and the grilling heat of the noonday sun, Sri Ramakrishna went to the house of Girish and found him smitten with anguish and remorse. The kind and affectionate words of the Master banished all gloom from his mind and filled it with a flood of joy. A few days after this, the Master went to the house of a devotee in Calcutta. Girish was also present there. He was brooding with a broken heart over his own misdeeds when the Master in semi-conscious mood spoke out, ‘Girish Ghosh, don’t worry about it; people will be astonished at the marvelous change that will come over you.’ Girish heaved a sigh of relief. The Master knew that mere words would not induce Girish to break his deep-rooted habits. So, while allowing him every freedom to pursue the dictates of his nature, he gradually brought him under the spell of his transcendent love which served as the greatest alchemy in Girish’s life and worked miracles. One day Girish went to see an actress who was ill, and became so tipsy from inordinate drinking that he had to spend the night at her house. It was the first time that he had slept in such a place. In the morning when he had become sober, he understood what had happened, and stung with remorse, started directly for Dakshineswar, not however without a flask of wine. Dismounting from the coach, he ran to the Master and clasping his feet began to weep. In the meantime, Sri Ramakrishna had told a devotee to bring Girish’s shoes, scarf, and flask from the coach. When Girish’s emotion had subsided, he felt a desire for a drink and was much disturbed when he found that the carriage in which he had left the flask was gone. But Master produced the flask, Girish drank before all. When he realized what he had done, he was much ashamed. Sri Ramakrishna only said, ‘All right, enjoy yourself to your fill; it won’t be for long.’ After this Girish seldom touched liquor. Regarding the boundless love of Sri Ramakrishna for him, Girish has written: ‘Now and then he (the Master) used to come to my theatre. He would carry sweets for me all the way from Dakshineswar. He knew I would not take them unless he first took something of them. So, he would

just taste a bit and then give me the rest to eat, and I took them with infinite joy like a child. One day I went to Dakshinswar. He had almost finished his noonday meal. He asked me to take his porridge. I at once sat down to take it. He said, “Let me feed you with my own hands!” Like a little child I went on taking from his hands, and he, with his wonderfully soft hand, began to feed me. He scraped off the very last drop from the cup and took it to my mouth, just as mothers do when they feed their little ones. I totally forgot that I was an adult. I felt as though I was the darling of my mother, and mother was feeding her dear child. When I remember that these lips of mind had come in contact with unworthy lips and that his holy, divine hand touched and held up food to them, I go mad, as it were, with the surge of an ineffable emotion and drink, “Did it really happen or was it but a dream?” He would have me eat, sitting in front of me all the while. And when I had finished eating, he would himself pour water on my hand to wash it. One day he asked me to massage his feet. I was unwilling. “What non-sense! Who will now sit down and massage his feet?” But now when its memory returns, I become overwhelmed with remorse. It is only the thought of his infinite love that gives me solace. Sri Ramakrishna instructed all to desist from telling lies. I told him, “Sir, I tell numerous lies. How shall I be truthful?” He replied, “Don’t worry about that. You are above truth and falsehood.” ‘When I feel tempted to tell lies, I at once visualize the Master’s figure, and lies do not come out. Sri Ramakrishna has full sway over my heart - he has it by the right of his love. Lust, anger, and all the terrible passions vanish if one feels this transcendental love of his - no other spiritual practice is required. This realization is the highest goal of human life.’ One day in the course of a conversation Sri Ramakrishna told Girish that along with his work he must remember God at least in the morning and evening. He looked at Girish as if expecting a reply. “That is a very simple thing to do’, Girish thought, but I am busy man with no fixed hours for food or sleep. I shall surely forget to remember God at those stated hours. So, how can I promise that?’ Sri Ramakrishna read his mind and said,

‘All right, if you cannot do that, remember God before meals and at bedtime.’ Girish was not willing to promise even that - such was the irregularity of his life, and besides he was by nature opposed to any hard and fast rule and the slightest restraint was galling to him. Sri Ramakrishna realized his perplexity and said finally: ‘So you are unwilling to agree to this even. All right, give me your power of attorney. Henceforth I assume responsibility for you. You need not do anything.’ Girish heaved a sigh of relief. He said to himself: ‘Ah, now I am saved. I shall now be free as air, and my bark will be guided to the haven of peace by his infinite power.’ One day Girish said about some trifling matter, ‘Yes, I will do this.’ ‘No, no’, corrected the Master, ‘you must not speak in that dogmatic way. Suppose you fail to do it? Say, God willing, I shall do it.’ Girish understood that he had given up his freedom and made of himself the Master’s captive. Thenceforth he tried to give up all idea of personal responsibly and to become a willing instrument of the Divine Will. The sincerity of Girish in this respect was beyond comparison. When the Master was removed to the Cossipore garden, once an event of great importance happened. It was January 1886. Sri Ramakrishna felt much better that day and wished to take a walk in the garden. It was about three in the afternoon. As it was a holiday, about thirty lay disciples were present, some in the hall and others under the trees. When Sri Ramakrishna came down, those in the hall saluted him and followed him at a distance as he walked slowly towards the gate. Girish, Rama, Atul, and some others, who were chatting under a tree, came and saluted the Master. Sri Ramakrishna suddenly said to Girish, ‘Well, Girish, what have you found in me that you proclaim me before all as an incarnation?’ Girish, not at all taken back by the question, knelt before him with folded hands and said in a voice shaken with emotion, ‘What can an insignificant creature like me say about One whose glory even sages like Vyasa and Valmiki could not measure?’ Hearing these words, spoken with the greatest intensity, Sri Ramakrishna was deeply moved and said: ‘What more shall I say? I bless you all. Be illumined!’ Saying this he fell

into a state of semi-consciousness. He touched them all, one by one, with appropriate blessings. The powerful touch revolutionized their minds and all became mad with joy. Girish and others realized that the Master was showering his grace upon all without distinction. The illness of the Master gradually increased and he became bedridden. One day, Girish went to see him. It was 16 April. The Master was a little better that day. He inquired about the health of Girish and asked Latu (afterwards Swami Adbhutananda) to bring tobacco, betel, and some refreshments for him. A devotee presented the Master with some garlands of flowers which he put on, one by one. Two of these he presented to Girish. When the refreshments were brought before him, he barely tasted them and with his own hands gave the rest to Girish. Girish are them in his presence. It was summer. The Master said, ‘There is no good water here.’ He was too weak to stand, but he wanted to pour water for Girish. He moved, poured some water into a glass and took a little on his palm to feel if it was cool. It was not cool enough, but knowing that none cooler was available, he gave it to Girish. From his bed he began to talk almost in a whisper with Girish and others on various spiritual topics - Girish’s faith coming out in bold colors during the conversation. When Girish went to wash his hands, the Master sent word to him that he should not eat anything more that evening. Such incidents disclose how deeply Girish was loved by Sri Ramakrishna. The divine touch of his transcendental love and kindness transformed this rank atheist into a most warm-hearted believer in God and religion. Indeed, the abiding influence of the Master on Girish’s life and thought is the master key that unlocks, as it were, the mystery of the deep religious tone that pervades almost all the mature plays of this great dramatist. Anyone who has through the literary masterpieces of his later years cannot but find the lofty teachings of his Master mirrored in all their beauty and vividness in them. Rightly has a great Bengali writer remarked: ‘No other great dramatist of the world lays any special stress upon the sublime religious sentiments of man and his hankering after

salvation…This feature distinguishes Girish from all other great dramatists. A living faith in God and ardent love for man flow almost in every page of the famous dramas of Girish. This was undoubtedly due to the blessings of Sri Ramakrishna Paramahamsa, which were so liberally bestowed upon him.’ After the passing away of Sri Ramakrishna, Girish, like all the other brother disciples, both lay and monastic, felt quite forlorn and spent most of his time in their company in all absorbing talks about their beloved Master. On one occasion Swami Niranjanananda, one of the sannyasin disciples of Sri Ramakrishna, asked Girish also to embrace the life of a monk; whereupon Girish replied with a little pause: ‘I can take your words as those of the Master. But I have no freedom to take even to this life, as I have already given him the power of attorney.’ Sometimes he would feelingly say: ‘How much easier is it to follow the path of those who believe in the efficacy of self-exertion in religious life! Now I have not the freedom even to breathe.’ Such was indeed his self-surrender to the Master. Girish now bethought himself of putting his household affairs in order. But very soon a series of calamities overtook the family. Two daughters born of his second wife passed away and the mother of the girls too, just after the birth of a son, breathed her last. This premature death of his wife and children weighed too heavily on his mind at this advanced age. His former buoyancy of spirit and bodily vigor were no more; but the one thing that sustained and comforted him in the midst of these repeated calamities and vicissitudes of fortune was his complete resignation to the will of the Lord. He always felt the benign hand of the Master guiding him through thick and thin, and consoled himself by saying, ‘Let his will be done.’ Another blow was still in store for him. His little child, who manifested even at a tender age a wonderful love for the name of God, soon died; and thus, all attractions for the world were removed through a mysterious combination of circumstances. Shortly after this, Girish lost his lucrative job in the star Theatre. But Girish was no longer a bohemian reveling in hedonistic thoughts and wanton excesses.

The divine touch of his Master’s love had acted on him like a philosopher’s stone and brought about a thorough change in his mental outlook and nature. His life now stood firmly grounded on unflinching faith in God, and these catastrophes and calamities that visited him in quick succession could hardly shake him. Though thrown out of employment, he was no in the least perturbed at heart. He devoted himself once more to the study and practice of homoeopathic medicine to mitigate the suffering of the poor and the helpless. In 1893 he organized the Minerva Theatre, and though his connection with other newly started theatres was by no means less intimate, he made the Minerva stage the main theatre of his activities and extended to it his liberal patronage till the last day of his life. In the winter of 1906 Girish began to develop symptoms of asthma, and from that time he became a prey to this ailment with the approach of cold. The stuffy atmosphere of Calcutta was suffocating to him an aggravated his disease. He therefore passed the winters of 1909 and 1910 in Varanasi and felt greatly improved in health. After his return to Calcutta, he once more threw himself heart and soul into his profession, but the unusual strain thus put on his weak nerve undermined his already shattered health. He began to sink rapidly, but his spirit never gave way. His eyes and countenance radiant with a superb glow bespoke his inner illumination and his unswerving faith in the love and grace of his Master. During the last days of his life, he used very often to utter the name of Sri Ramakrishna, and say to his brother disciples: ‘I do not want anything else; only bless me that I may always remember him as the ocean of infinite love and compassion. The world is no longer a terror unto me. I have transcended all fear of death through his grace.’ On the night before the day of his final exit from the world, Girish calmly uttered the name of Sri Ramakrishna thrice and prayed, ‘Lord, let me have peace; let me have peace; take me into thy bosom.’ So, saying, the heroic devotee of Sri Ramakrishna closed his eyes for good and passed into the realm of eternal rest on Thursday, 8 February 1912.

Thus, ended the chequered career of Girish who was a poet and a litterateur, an actor and a dramatist, a patriot and a saint in one. Everybody who came in contact with his magnetic personality in later years could not resist his great influence. Mrs. Gray Hallock, an English admirer of Girish, who had the privilege of sitting for some time at his feet rightly observed: ‘Here was a man of whom in his closing years I could feel the manliness and strength, the sweetness and tolerance and devotion of spirit. If you heard rumors of wild youth, it was merely, as you looked at the fine old Roman face, to think how handsome he must have been. What a magnificent lover he must have been - fierce, delicate, poetic, tenderly masterful, assertive, not deliberate, yet humble by the strength of his love. My respect went out to this old man who had something to renounce, whose very strength sent him first to the devil and then, with usual impetus, to God. My reverence went out to him at once, as to the saint I had been looking for in a land of saints … Here was one who had genius and fire, who was not half dead nor atrophied, one who had renounced the world, the flesh, and the devil, knowing their charm, and yet lived actively and beneficently in the midst of life; who used his genius for his time and his people, yet knew that fame is bubble and laid his work at the feet of his God. A saint, this, who meditated and had realized God - yet had time and compassion enough to help the small troubles of his world, who went to Calcutta slums with righteous indignation and medicines, who scolded and annihilated evil, but loved the sinner and gave spiritual, mental, and physical comfort in a brotherly way. A saint, this, with a love of God that does not crowd out God’s children; his heart set on God, yet his brain, its servant, inspired to write great dramas and poems.’ These glowing words of one who was a stranger to Indian life and tradition clearly demonstrate how penetrating and abiding was the influence of his powerful personality on all who happened to come in intimate touch with him. Even the great Swami Vivekananda was all praise and respect for Girish because of his sterling qualities of head and heart - his robust optimism,

unique devotion, and great patriotism. The Swami would very affectionately call him ‘G C’ and this was the name by which he was known to many devotees of Sri Ramakrishna. When ‘G C’ would visit Belur Math it would create a stir in the monastery - for he was full of the Master, he lived, moved, and had his being in him. His frequent visits to the Belur Math were availed of by all monastic members to hear from him with eager attention the soul-enthralling reminiscences of the beloved Master and to catch inspiration from his living faith. But he was all simplicity and humility. His ego was completely effaced, and all his thoughts centered on the Master. Scratch him, however little and you see the fire of his devotion to the guru coming forth. How many times in the day would he not raise his hands folded in salutation to and in remembrance of the Master! He considered himself a tool in the hands of the guru in all his activities throughout the day. An eye-witness says: ‘His diploma as a physician was his faith in regarding himself as merely an instrument in the hands of his Master for the relief of suffering. I have seen him take a medicine in his folded hands and offer it in worship and supplication for blessing before giving to the sick.’ Many were the persons who would come to see him and get inspiration from his wonderful transformation. He was full of fiery encouragement to one and all. The message of the Master spread not a little through him - through his life and example, conversations, and writings. Indeed, one could see in him the proof beyond doubt of the truth of the Master’s vision that Girish came to the world to work for him and to fulfil his divine mission in his humble way.

MAHENDRANATH GUPTA

When prophets of founders of religions pass away, they leave their message in the hands of their disciples and followers who become torchbearers of that to the world. Of the monastic disciples of Sri Ramakrishna, if Swami Vivekananda has done most in the matter of broadcasting his message far and wide, among the lay disciples of the Master, Mahendranath Gupta, better known by the pen-name of ‘M’, or as Master Mahashay, ranks first as being the greatest instrument of spreading his teaching to the spiritually hungry world. His Kathamritanotes on conversations with Sri Ramakrishna, though the original in Bengali and translations in various languages, Indian and foreign, has served as veritable ambrosia to innumerable souls thirsting for religion, and it has also become, as it were, an explosive to social life inasmuch as by reading it many have given up the world in quest of Truth. The book alone was sufficient to immortalize him; for as at present so also in future it is bound to be a ceaseless source of inspiration to thousands of persons. The spoken words of ‘M’ were no less important than his printed record. He was vista through which one could get a glimpse into the life of Sri Ramakrishna as it was lived in Dakshineswar in the last few years of his earthly existence. With his imaginative mind and a most tenacious

memory ‘M’ always lived, as it were, in the years when he enjoyed the company of the Master, and he could carry into that atmosphere all who would go on a pilgrimage to him to hear about Sri Ramakrishna. Ask any question and he would describe some incident from the life of Sri Ramakrishna in the answer which followed. And that description would be so vivid! One would feel as if one were in the blessed company of the Master. From day to day ‘M’ thus preached the Master and his message till the cruel hand of death took him away on 4 June 1932, and he became only a memory. But an inspiring one to those who had the privilege of meeting him, even though only once. Mahendranath was born on 14 July 1854, in Calcutta. His father Madhusudan Gupta and his mother Swarnamayae Devi were both very pious people. They had four sons and four daughters, of whom Mahendra was the third child. The outstanding impression left on Mahendranath by his parents was the piety of his mother to whom he was deeply attached. Once when he was only four years old, he accompanied his mother to witness the Ratha Yatra Festival at Mahesh on the Ganges near Calcutta and when returning, the party landed at Dakshineswar Ghat to see the temple of Mother Kali, then newly built by Rani Rasmani in 1855. With reference to this Mahendranath said: ‘The temple was all white then, new and fresh. While going round the temple I lost sight of my mother and was crying for her, landing on the dais of the temple. Someone then came from inside and caressed me and began to call out, “Whose child is this? Where has him mother gone?” The fond imagination of Mahendranath would dwell upon the incident and love to think that it was perhaps his Master, whom he had met in early life in this fugitive way. The outstanding piety of his mother so impressed him in early life that Mahendra grew very fond of her, and when his mother died, he felt disconsolate and wept bitterly. Then one night he saw his mother in a dream speaking in a sweet voice, ‘I have so long protected and looked after you, I shall still continue to look after you, but you will not see me.’ After narrating the incident Master Mahashay would say: ‘It is the

Divine Mother of the universe who in the form of my earthly mother protected me in life. She is still protecting and watching over my life.’ The early lineaments of his character spoke of the intense spirituality of his later life. He was from a very early age of a religious turn of mind and the make-up of his mind was different from the ordinary. He was thus blessed with religious experience which does not fall to the lot of the majority humanity at an early age. This religious temperament found expression in an early manifestation of piety. From an early age, whenever passing by a temple, he would bow down before the deity and stand in awe and reverence. At the time of the Durga Puja, he would sit for long hours near the image rapt in love and admiration. He was very fond, in early age, of seeking the company of sadhus who visited Calcutta specially on the occasion of ‘Yoga’ for a holy bath in the Ganges, or Melas, or en route Puri for pilgrimage to Jagannath. Later in life he would say that this habit of seeking the company of sadhus stood him in good stead and eventually brought him to the feet of the prince of sadhus - Sri Ramakrishna Paramahamsa. Mahendranath was a bright student. He passed the Entrance Examination from the Hare School and occupied the second place; in the F. A. Examination he stood fifth and graduated from the Presidency College in 1875, standing third in the university. He was a student of Mr. C. H.Tawney, the well-known Professor of English, with whom the kept correspondence even after the latter’s retirement. This professor afterwards wrote a brochure on Sri Ramakrishna. Towards the end of his college career, he married the daughter of Thakur Charan Sen, Srimati Nikunja Devi, who was a cousin of the well-known religious teacher Kesab Chandra Sen. Nikunja Devi was also blessed with the intimate acquaintance of Sri Ramakrishna and Holy Mother, and obtained their grace and love. Entering the householder’s life, he first served as headmaster of different schools, like the Narail High School, City, Aryan, Model, Metropolitan, and Shyambazar Branch schools, and the Oriental Seminary. Besides this he served in the City, Ripon, and Metropolitan

college as professor of English Literature, Mental and Moral Science, History, and political Economy. When he first met Sri Ramakrishna, he was serving as teacher in the Shyambazar Branch School establish by Pundit Ishwar Chandra Vidyasagar. Before he met Sri Ramakrishna, the religious teacher whom he frequented and looked up to as his ideal was Keshab Chandra Sen. Keshab was then in the plentitude of his power and popularity and by his sermons, religious discourses, and saintly character had won the heart of many Bengali youths like Mahendranath. He attended many of Keshab’s Upasanas both at his family house and at the Navavidhan Mandir. He used to say that the soul-stirring prayers of Keshab, delivered in such sweet language and voice, with his face bright with the enthusiasm of a prophet, produced a great impression on him, and Keshab appeared to him like a god. He had heard no one speak with such power, and none had stirred his soul so much before. Later, Mahendranath used to say that Keshab’s sermons appealed to him perhaps because he was then contracting his Master through Keshab and his light was then coming to him reflected through the medium of Keshab Chandra. Keshab had then already made the acquaintance of Ramakrishna and used to visit him in the company of his friends and disciples. It was at this time, in the spring of 1882, that Mahendranath first met his Master, Sri Ramakrishna, in the temple-garden of Dakshineswar. Sri Ramakrishna was sitting in his room discoursing on God before a rapt circle of listeners. The first meeting captivated the heart and soul of Mahenranath, and he returned home a slave to his love, to revisit soon. Educated in Western lore, saturated with the thoughts of Western philosophers like Kant, Hegel, Hamilton, and Herbert Spencer, He believed in the intellectual sufficiency of modern knowledge. He had a little of its hauteur and considered himself a man of learning. But a few hard knocks from the Master were enough to shatter his intellectual pride. He soon placed himself in the position of a learner at the feet of one who had access to the fountain of all knowledge. Real knowledge is the

knowledge of God, the Ultimate Reality; all other knowledge, limited and sense-bound, is only a form of ignorance. This he was never tired of reiterating to his listeners in later life. He would often say: ‘Intellect has been weighed in the balance and found wanting, intellect, a feeble organon, limited and conditioned by the senses, cannot solve the problem of the Unconditioned and the Unlimited. Revelation is necessary to have a knowledge of the Unconditioned Reality.’ ‘And for that’, his advice was, ‘the association of sadhus who are ever communing with the Infinite and Eternal is required, is the sine qua non of religious life. That alone will purify our mind, which will then receive and catch messages from the Beyond, the Unconditioned and Infinite Reality. Without that no amount of intellectual knowledge is of any avail to take us into the region of the Unconditioned.’ He found in his Master one to whom knowledge was revelation, who was not walking in the dim twilight of finite knowledge, half-light and halfdarkness, but who had the direct perception of truths in a super-sensuous state (samadhi). His Master’s intense hunger for Truth, his frequent plunges into the depths of super-consciousness, his perception of God as a very near and ever-present Reality, and his rapturous communion with the Divine Mother produced a deep impression on Mahendranath, and putting aside all vanities of education he became a rapt listener to the flow of revealed knowledge that fell from the lips of his beloved Master in a state of trance, semi-trance, or in the state of outward consciousness. This attitude he maintained to the last. Seeing this attitude his Master once called him and said, ‘Whatever you hear falling from this mouth, known to be the words of the Mother.’ His Master recognized at first sight the spiritual caliber of Mahendranath and the unique spiritual material which lay embedded in his make-up waiting for a spark of the Divine fire. He was not a little shocked to hear from his mouth, in answer to a query, that he had already bound himself by marital ties and that a son had been born on him; for it was the Master’s idea that one must conserve all one’s power and not

scatter it in worldly pursuits. One should direct the collected and concentrated energy of mind, body, and soul Godward; then only there will be a great development of spirituality. Then he explained to Mahendranath: ‘I can see from the sign of your eyes, brows, and face, that you are a Yogi. You look like a Yogi who has just left his seat of meditation.’ The Master then began to train him for his work. He began to teach him how to live unattached in the world, and all his instructions to him tended that way. In his first meeting when M asked the Master how to live in the world, the Master said: ‘Do all your work, but keep your mind on God. Wife, children, father, and mother, live with all and serve them as if they are your own, but know in your mind that your relation with them is temporary. ‘The maid-servant of a rich man’s house does all the work of the household but her mind flies to where her native home is in the country. She calls her master’s children hers, and bring them up as such. She calls them “My Ram, My Hari”, but knows in her mind that they are none of her own. ‘The tortoise swims about in the waters of the lake, but her mind is fixed on where her eggs are laid on the bank. So, do all the work of the world, but keep your mind on God.’ ‘After attaining love for God, if you mix in worldly work, you will remain non-attached.’ ‘For that one must retire to solitude occasionally and think of God intensely and exclusively.’ ‘In order to get butter out of milk, one must let the milk settle into curd in a solitary place, then one must, sitting alone with concentration, churn the curd; then the butter will rise to the top and that butter will float on the water and not get mixed up with it.’ ‘Similarly, if by prayer and meditation in a solitary place one can get the butter of love and knowledge of God in the mind, then the mind, even if ‘Similarly if by prayer and meditation in a solitary place one can get the

butter of love and knowledge of God in the mind, then the mind, even if kept in worldly work, will float on the waters of the world; it will remain non-attached; be in the world, but not of it.’ How difficult it is to practice these things in worldly life, in the midst of wife, children, money, and a hundred other worldly distractions, in the storm-center of life exposed to gusts from all directions - anyone who has attempted it knows in his heart of hearts. It becomes easier if one isolates oneself in early life. Fixes one’s thoughts first on God and then mixes in the world. Yet Mahendranath, through the grace of the guru, carried it to success, and attained to perfect Yoga in God in the midst of the storm and stress of life. The grace of the guru made in later life will bear testimony to the fact that he lived in the world only in name, that his mind was always in union with God, reveling in His love and knowledge. His unbounded joy in the company of devotees and sadhus, whose association he always sought, the incessant flow of his words while talking of God and things divine in his unwearied discourses on his Master’s life and personality till a late hour of the night, were phenomena to see. In the latter part of his life his Calcutta residence was a place of pilgrimage to many, and some visited it every day. Whenever you go, you would find that either he was listening to some devotional scriptures being read and making comments occasionally, or he was talking of his Master and his teachings, throwing on them wonderful sidelights from the life and teachings of Jesus, Chaitanya, and Sri Krishna by apposite references to the Bible, Purana, Bhagavata, Upanishad. There was no other discussion. If any other things were brought in by some venturesome questioner, they were at once turned skillfully to a religious topic, to the life and teachings of Sri Ramakrishna and the whole atmosphere would be changed. No word was heard but the word of God, no word was spoken but the word of God, no word was read but the word of God. The Master knew that Mahendranath was one of his ‘Officers’, destined to preach his word, and he began to train and commission him for the

purpose. So, we find the Master, in one of his trances, praying one day in July 1883, to the Mother about Mahendranath: ‘Mother, why have you given him only one kala of Power? Oh, I see. That will be sufficient for your work? So as early as that, all these arrangements of commissioning the disciples with power were being made secretly with the Mother so that they would do the work of reaching people in future. Mahendranath was from the beginning inclined to the worship of the formless God and spoke to this to the Master. Master encouraged him in that worship and gave instructions accordingly. One day he took him to a famous artificial lake to reach him how to meditate successfully on the Formless, like a fish moving about in joy unobstructed in a large sheet of water. But he advised him to give up all sectarian and narrow outlook, and not to look upon other modes of worship as wrong. Then gradually he taught him the worship of God with forms (Sakara). So, we find him teaching: ‘Recognize the worship of God with forms. He appears before the devotees in forms carved out of consciousness.’ He was thus broadening the base of his spiritual life. The Master led M gradually from one aspect of Divinity to another and gave him the tastes and visions of God desired by heavenly beings. The Master would ask his newcomer disciple, by way of testing their power of spiritual appreciation and openness to spiritual truths, ‘What do you think of me?’ And if anyone at an early period recognized him to be an incarnation, the Master thought he had great spiritual possibilities. Accordingly, on the third day of his meeting, he asked M., ‘What do you think of me, how many annas of knowledge do I have?’ M. answered, ‘Annas, I cannot say, but such love, knowledge, dispassion, and catholicity, I have not seen elsewhere.’ The Master began to laugh. Sometime afterwards he again asked M. about himself. M. answered, ‘The Lord has created you Himself with His own hands (self-created), and other being with a machine.’ Sometime later, M. gives his own estimate of the Master, ‘The power of the Lord has been embodied in you. What is the measure of that power?’ ‘Measure, I cannot say, but that His power

has become incarnate is clear.’ Sometime afterwards M. made an open avowal and said, ‘I think Jesus Christ, Chaitanya, and yourself are one and the same.’ When the Master in explaining the theory of incarnation compared the incarnation to a big aperture in wall through which the Infinite Expanse of the Unconditioned Existence is seen, M. answered, ‘You are the opening through which the unknown is seen.’ The Master with great satisfaction patted him on the back and said: ‘You have understood that at last. It is excellent.’ That very evening when M. avowed his liking for the Formless, the Master said, ‘I also would not see forms of God before, now also it is diminishing (vision of form).’ Then M. said ‘Of forms the manifestation of God in human form appeals to me.’ ‘That is sufficient and you are seeing me’, was the reply. The perception of the Divine incarnate in Sri Ramakrishna was the last word in the sadhana of Mahendranath. After that he knew nothing besides Sri Ramakrishna; his whole mind and soul centered round him - to meet him, to serve him, and to hear his words were his all-absorbing passion. His allegiance and loyalty to his Master was phenomenal. Never for a moment did he waver in his love and devotion to him and never did his interest flag. His pleasure in his company knew no satiety. The estimate of the Master about M was high. The Master would narrate how, in one of his trances, he had seen him in the circle of Sri Chaitanya’s disciples. The face seen in the vision had been imprinted on his mind; therefore, when he saw M., he recognized him at once. Again, we find the Master saying: ‘I have recognized you, hearing you read the Chaitanya Bhagavata: you are of the same essence as I am, as father and son. So long as you did not come here, you remained self-forgotten. Now you will know yourself. Now go and live in the world unattached.’ Then the Master prayed to the Mother: ‘Do not make him give up everything. Do in the end what You will. If you keep him in the world, show Yourself to him now and then. Otherwise, how will he remain in the worldly life, where will he find the zest for living?’

When Mahendranath one day expressed his desire to give up all for the sake of God, the Master said: ‘You are well established in God already. It is good to give up all? The Lord keeps the speaker or preacher of the Word in the world, otherwise who will speak the word of God to people? Is that why the Mother has kept you in worldly life?’ The great non-attachment for worldly things and the intense love for God that were seen in Mahendranath were the result of a lifelong struggle. The spiritual practices which he began at the feet of his Master he continued in later life. He regularly visited the Baranagore Math established by the group of monastic disciples of Sri Ramakrishna headed by Swami Vivekananda, and invariably spent the weekends there. There was at the time a fever of excitement for spiritual practices and for the realization of God in the Baranagore Math. Mahendranath would warm himself in that benignant flame. He was never tired of narrating the lives lived by these apostles and of their great longing for God manifested at this period. When some lay disciples of Sri Ramakrishna brushed the monastic disciples aside as a few unripe, inexperienced youth, Mahendra helped the latter to rally together. Swami Vivekananda writes in one of his letters to the Math from America: ‘When Ramakrishna left his body everybody gave us up as a few unripe urchins; but M and a few others did not leave us in the lurch. We cannot repay our debt to them.’ M used to say to us that the life and atmosphere of the Baranagore Math appeared to him to be so holy that he would sprinkle over his body the water gathered in a cistern there, with an idea of purifying himself thereby. Sometimes at the Baranagore Math, sometimes at Dakshineswar temple garden, he would retire into solitude and spend long days in spiritual practices. When he would get leave for a longer period, he would sometimes retire to some neighboring garden and live there alone, himself cooking his simple meal and thinking of God. While at home also, he would sometimes get up at night, carry his bedding to the open verandah of the Senate Hall of the Calcutta University, and their sleep among the waifs of the city in order to feel that he was homeless. When questioned

why he went to such an extent, he said, ‘The idea of home and family clings to one and does not leave easily.’ During the hours of his work at college as a professor, whenever he would get a little leisure or interval he would retire into a solitary room on the roof and there open his diary of the Master, pore over it, read, think, and digest it. Later, when he had become the proprietor of a school, as soon as his work of supervision was over, he would retire to his private room, shut the door, and live by himself. All these are to recount on a few among many of his habits. Is it a wonder that with his talents and such intense living in God, he was able to live in the world unattached, filled through and through with the thought and presence of God? It is at this time that young men from local colleges gathered round to hear him speak on God and his Master’s life and teachings. It is his burning words of renunciation and intense love of God that first roused the fire of spirituality in many young men who afterwards became completely dispassionate to worldly life and dedicated themselves to God and His worship. Even during the lifetime of Sri Ramakrishna, he brought some of his students to him, and they afterwards became great personalities in the circle of the Master’s disciples. So, he was called by the familiar name of Master Mahashay. Thus, living and moving in the atmosphere of his Master’s life and personality and the association of his brother disciples for more than a decade, he felt inclined to bring out the Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, the book which will immortalize his name. The genesis of how the diary of conversations with Sri Ramakrishna came to be recorded, he narrated thus: ‘I was in worldly life, bound to my work and could not visit the Master whenever I wished; so, I used to note his words and impressions in order to be able to think on them in the intervals before I met him again, so that the impressions made on my mind might not be overlaid by the stress of worldly work and preoccupation. It was thus for my own benefit and good that I first made the notes, so that I might realize his teachings more perfectly.’ The Gospel first appeared in 1897 in English in

a pamphlet form. It drew immediate praise and encouragement from Swami Vivekananda. The dramatic setting, the vivid impression given of the Master, the description can every occasion of the framework and the atmosphere, all contrived to produce a wonderful effect. One felt transported to the period of the Master’s living, to be sitting by him and listening to his talk. The dramatis personae seemed to be moving and living figures, and the spiritual aroma of these lovely scenes and holy conversations filled one’s heart with a divine fragrance. Swami Vivekananda was all praise for the book. He wrote: ‘I am in a transport when I read it. The dramatic part is infinitely beautiful. The language is fresh and pointed and withal easy. I now understand why none of us attempted his life before. It has been reserved for you - this great work’ Indeed it is the poetic temperament of Mahendranath, his sensitive, impressionable nature, his long dwelling upon these scenes with infinite love and reverence which helped him to recall those scenes with the vividness and the force of life to make his Master and the disciple live in literature as immortals. In 1905 he retired from his work as guardian tutor and purchased the Morton Institution, then situated in Jhamapukur Lane. The school remained in these premises for many years, and when the number of students increase, he transferred it to 50, Amherst Street. At both these places he remained by himself in a solitary room in the school building, much sought after by devotees from far and near. In the morning and evening he would be surrounded by a circle of listeners and would continue to talk of religious topics, mainly on the life and teaching of his Master. After his Master’s passing away Mahendranath visited Varanasi, Vrindavan, Ayodhya, and other holy places. At Varanasi he saw the famous Trailanga Swami whom he fed with sweets, and also Bhaskarananda with whom he had a long talk. In the year 1912, he went on a pilgrimage with the Holy Mother to Varanasi, and spent eleven months in Varanasi, Hardwar, Kankhal, Rishikesh, and Vriandavan in

the company of sadhus. After some time, the idea of seeing the places associated with his Master so powerfully drew him mind that he abandoned the project of staying in those parts longer and returned to Calcutta. Mahendranath had a wonderful capacity for idealizing things, for sublimating things human into divine. Everything, to his eyes, was colored with the tints of Divinity; nothing was small or commonplace to him. This trait he got from his Master who possessed it in an abundant degree. He had first visited the birthplace of his Master at Kamarpukur while the Master was living at Cossipore. Everything there seemed to him appareled in glory. The road, the temples, the wayside villages, the peasants, the neighbors, even the roadside dust appeared meaningful to him, and he saw them with a different eye. All places where his Master went and lived in his boyhood or afterwards, he visited and lovingly touched, and he bowed before them all. When he returned from his peregrinations and narrated them to his Master, he asked, ‘How could you go into such out-of-the-way places, infested by robbers?’ And when he learned how M had carefully visited the places and scenes of his childhood, he was almost in tears at the manifestation of his love, and said to a person nearby: ‘Look at his love, nobody has told him and he, out his own accord with infinite care and love has gone to those places. His love is like that of Vibhishana, who, when he found a human form, at once dressed it in rich apparel and worshipped it by waving lights, saying, “This is the form of my Ramachandra.” Anyone who saw how reverently he stood before the Prasad (sacramental food of deity) and took that in his hand and put it on his head, how he would worship any memento of any holy place like Dakshineswar or the Belur Math and keep that long before him and lovingly look at that day after day, how, whenever any word of God was being read, he would sit up reverently, leaving aside his slippers, would realize the infinite ocean of love and reverence that lay at the bottom of his heart and manifested itself in these

forms. If the idea of seeing Brahman in everything only through such loving eyes. His great love for sadhus and bhaktas was phenomenal. He would idealize sadhus and their life above all and could not bear to class them in the same category with householders. The sadhus who are trying to devote their whole time and energy to God, without giving their energy to anything else, he would consider as the ideal of life. If the realization of God is the end of life, then that realization is possible only to those who give their all to God - who, leaving all other preoccupations, with singleminded devotion, wait upon God for a spark of the Divine Fire which will set their hearts aflame with Divine Love. Householders, even if they are devotees, have a thousand distractions, a hundred necessary setbacks which put a limit to their allegiance to God. They cannot be compared with those who have set their whole mind and face towards Him - that is he would say. He would say again that all the teachings of Sri Ramakrishna tended towards renunciation; even in his teachings to householders he sowed the seeds which would ultimately sprout up in the form of renunciation either in this life or another. Thus, he would idealize sadhus - whole-time men, as he would call them - and set them apart in a category by themselves and would resent the least slight shown to them or their life, and would always preach the glory of association with holy men - the only practical means of spiritual realization. When a sadhu would come, he would sit near him for hours forgetting everything and say: ‘A sadhu has come, the Lord Himself has come in one form, as it were, shall I not postpone my eating and bath for him? Absurdity can go no further if I cannot do that.’ He would love to feed the sadhus and sit by them and watch and say, ‘I am offering food to the Lord, I am taking part in and seeing puja.’ He would paint in brilliant colors the life of the sadhus, his great ideal and mission of life, his great sacrifice for the highest end, and would show infinite regret if any sannyasin neglected this rare opportunity of realizing the summum bonum of life. Sadhus learnt from him the glory of their mission.

His humility was very touching. A great spiritual personality with a face beaming with the light of heaven, having made acquaintance and enjoyed intimacy with such great souls as Ramakrishna Paramahamsa, Keshab Chandra Sen, Swami Vivekananda, Ishwar Chandra Vidyasagar and many others, he acted and behaved as if he was nothing, as if he was an insignificant person. His Master told him to live like a servant in this life, and he literally carried it out. He considered himself the servant of all. He would be infinitely pained if anyone advanced to render him any little service, and he would go forward enthusiastically to serve all. Although teaching and speaking for more than forty years of his life about God and religion to generations of young men, he never assumed the role of a teacher. He taught indirectly, and his words would pierce the most adamantine hearts and work wonders. He never ordered anyone to do or not to do anything while guiding the persons who had come under his spiritual influence. He never used compulsion or rebuke. He was a commission of love and yet his soft and sweet words would pierce the stoniest of heart, make the worldly-minded weep and repent and turn godward. He would in his talks hammer and hammer on the truths till they were engraved on the minds of the hearers and they were converted. His great love for all, like that of a fond mother towards her children, was very striking and spontaneous. Yet he had wonderful control over his feelings. Devotees were to him the life of his life. He would say that devotees made his life bearable; without them life would be a desert; that in the great darkness of the world, the devotees of God were the only shining lights. He would find infinite pleasure in their company. His temper was phenomenally calm and unruffled. Rarely did one find him to use a harsh word. The calm placidity of his mind remained unperturbed even in most provoking circumstances. Even when suffering from the most excruciating pains in fits of attacks of nerve spasms, he was kind and loving to the devotees as ever, and anxious for their service. He attained to the state of perfect conquest of the flesh.

The abstemiousness and the extreme simplicity of his life struck his visitors. Although able to live more lavishly, he limited himself to the strictest frugality. In food and dress and external surroundings he was very simple. He would say that one of the great teachings of the Master was the simplification of life; otherwise, the paraphernalia of life would increase, engross for thinking about God. Thus, living in simply, almost tattered garments, on food simple to bareness, in surroundings the most commonplace, he lived a life of absorption in God, and was an example of high thinking and plain living. Living this simple life and being merged in God, he was a blessing to innumerable souls and a hope and stay to many a lost wanderer of this planet.

GOPAL’S MOTHER ‘And whoso shall receive one such little child in my name receiveth me.’ Gospel According to St. Matthew 18.5.

Those who have read Sister Nivedita’s masterpiece The Master I saw Him are very familiar with the name of ‘Gopaler Ma.’ In that fervent style peculiar to herself, the Sister says: ‘Gopal’s Mather was an old woman. She had already been old, fifteen or twenty years before, when she had first walked over, one day at noon, from her cell at Kamarhatty, by the Ganges-side to see the Master in the garden at Dakshineswar. He received her, so they say, standing at his door, as if he expected her. And she, whose chosen worship had been for many years Gopala, the Baby Krishna, the Christ-child of Hinduism, saw him revealed to her, as in a vision, as she drew near. How true she always was to this! Never once through all the years that followed, did she offer salutation to Sri Ramakrishna, who took her thenceforth as his mother. And never have I known her to speak of our Holy Mother, save “My daughter-in-law”’. Sri Ramakrishna used to say: “First obtain bhakti and all other things shall be added unto you. Devotion is like a string in the hands of the

devotee, binding to him that Satchidananda which is God. The devotee holds the Lord, so to speak, under his control.’ But how can love or bhakti grow between man and God? It grows when there is some mutual relation between them. Hence, the scriptures which deal with bhakti Yoga speak of various relations a person can have with his God. In Christianity, as preached and practiced by the present-day missionaries, only the Fatherhood of God is accepted. They say that they are related to God as a son is to his father; the devotee must love God as his own father. But in the Vaishnava philosophy we find the highest development of this idea of relationship with God - Shanta, Dasya, Sakhya, Vatsalya, and Madhura. The Shanta bhakti is calm, peaceful, and gentle. The fire and the madness of love have not yet grown. The Dasya Bhakta thinks himself the servant of the Lord. Example are not wanting of Dasya Bhaktas. It is very common in all countries and in all religions. But the other three kinds of Bhaktas are peculiar to India and particularly to the Vaishnava philosophy. Sakhya is loving Him as our beloved friend - the love of Arjuna for Sri Krishna. Vatsalya is loving God not as our father but as our child. There is one more representation of the divine ideal of love which is known as Madhura - sweet. It is based on the highest manifestation of love in this world, and this love is also the strongest known to man. It is the love of the wife for the husband. The Gopis of Vrindavan are the highest example of this love. Of all these types the Vatsalya Bhava or loving God as one’s child looks very peculiar. But this is a discipline to enable one to detach all ideas of power from the concept of God. To conceive God as mighty, glorious, and as the Lord of the Universe, this lover does not care. He loves for love’s sake. He does not want anything in return and so any power of God does not concern him at all. He cannot ask any favor from Him as he does not ask any from his child. It is to root out the superstitions of awe and fear in relation to God that this idea seems to have been developed in India. Those who are acquainted with the life

of Sri Ramakrishna know well his relation to the image of Ramlala or the Baby Rama. How he used to love the image as his own child, nay, the Lord, the incarnation Ramachandra, as his own son! Gopaler Ma belonged to this type of Bhaktas. She used to worship or, it would be better to say, love the Lord as her own child. The Gita says that one in a thousand strives for the realization of God and of those who strive only a fortunate few actually realize God. Many worship God as an abstract conception but only a very few realize Him as a fact. One may worship God as Father, one may look upon Him as a baby, or as any other human relation, but how few are those who actually realize Him as tangibly as those earthly representations of human love! Fortunately for the world such persons may be rare, but not altogether absent. In every religion we hear of persons who have had visions of the forms of God. To some these visions have come quite unexpected - unsought for. St. Teresa saw the vision of Christ even before she began to love the Son of Man. To modern minds the experience of these visions may sound abnormal, but it cannot be altogether denied that there have been persons who have been genuine vision of God. Of course, there are genuine and spurious visions. When one sees a genuine vision of God, one’s whole life is completely metamorphosed; the peace and joy which one then radiates silences even doubting critics. When Swami Vivekananda (then Narendranath) challenged the visions Sri Ramakrishna saw, as hallucinations, the latter very naively and touchingly said: ‘How can I doubt the visions? The Divine Mother even talks to me.’ The Divine Mother was as hard a reality to him as the material objects are to us. To saints God’s forms are not allegorical, they are real. The fact is, after sufficient spiritual practices when one’s mind is purified, one lives in a different plane of existence. What one then sees will naturally be different from the experiences of ordinary life. This is greatly exemplified in the life of Gopaler Ma. When one hears of her spiritual experiences, one wonders whether hers was not an abnormal

case. But those who would come in personal contact with her would get a rare spiritual uplift and so would bow down their head in reverence to her. Gopaler’s mother, or Aghoremani Devi as she was then called, was married very young. But she lost her husband soon after her marriage; so, she used to live in her brother’s house. Her brother Nilmadhav Mukhopadhayay, was regarded highly by the people of his village Kamarhatty, near Dakshineswar. He was the priest of one Govinda Chandra Dutta who had a temple-house by the side of the Ganges. But Govinda Chandra did not live long in this mortal life. His widowed wife was a devout lady with whom Aghoremani made great friends, so she wanted to live most of her time in their temple-house. Her friend readily agreed to this, and henceforth Aghoremani began to live in the temple-garden of Govinda Babu by the side of the Ganges. The room in which Gopler Ma used to live within this temple-garden at Kamahatty was nicely situated. The surroundings were all calm and quiet, and it commanded a beautiful sight of the holy Ganges. Aghoremani would sit in her room alone and enjoy the grand view at presented. She was always immersed in japa and would repeat day and night the holy name of her Ishta, the Chosen Ideal. She did not care to meet people and had lived in that room occupied with her meditation, japa and holy communion with the Lord for thirty long years when she met Sri Ramakrishna for the first time. Dakshineswar was only two or three miles from Kamarhatty where Gopaler Ma lived. Sri Ramakrishna’s fame had been spread far and near, and Aghoremani had heard that Sri Ramakrishna was living at Dakshineswar. So, without losing any more time she went one day with the widow of Govinda Babu to see the saint at Dakshineswar. It was in the year 1884 and in the beginning of the winter season. They went on a boat from Kamarhatty and soon reached the gardenhouse at Dakshineswar. Sri Ramakrishna received them very kindly, as if they were known to him before this meeting. He took them to his

own room and said that bhakti, or the love of God was the only thing to be attained in this life, and sang some devotional songs to them. They then took leave of him for that day, and Sri Ramakrishna in his usual way did not forget to request them to come again. The also requested him to come to their temple-house once when he could find the opportunity. Sri Ramakrishna spoke very highly of Gopaler’s mother that day - of her great devotion and love for Gopal or Baby Krishna. From the day of her first meeting Aghoremani felt an unusual attraction for Sri Ramakrishna though she could not imagine at the time that they were eternally associated in spiritual affinity and that her Gopal was embodied in Sri Ramakrishna. However, she went home and passed her days in tapasya as usual. But before long when one day she sat in her meditation strong, irresistible longing came into her mind to see the saint of Dakshineswar. She could not keep herself from going to see the God-intoxicated man. So, she at once got up, bought some stale sweet (for they were the only ones then to be found in the market) for him and went alone to see him at Dakshineswar. As soon as Sri Ramakrishna saw her coming, he said: ‘Well, you have come! Give me what you have brought for me.’ Gopal’s mother could not make out what to do! How to put before him those bad sweets? How many people offer him so many good things every day! And what kind of saint was he that as soon as she reached there, wanted something to eat from her? However, with great hesitation Aghoremani gave him those sweets and he also took them at once and began to eat with joy like a child. In the presence of Aghoremani Sri Ramakrishna was just like a child and began to behave exactly as a little boy does before his mother pestering her with indulgent demands for this and that. He told her that he wanted to eat vegetable curry cooked by her own hand. Gopal’s mother thought, what kind of a saint was this who, instead of talking about God talks only of food! She was a poor lady, so how could she

provide him with food so often? No, she must not come to see this man again! But what an unearthly attraction was this to lead her soul captive? As soon as she crossed the gate of the garden of Dakshineswar, her feet would not allow her to move farther homewards! However, after some struggle, she was able to return to Kamarhatty that day. But again, she had to return to Dakshineswar soon with a bowl of vegetable curry in her hand. And Sri Ramakrishna begged of her, before, that at once and partook of it with evident joy. A few months passed in this way; Aghoremani had to go to Dakshineswar every now and then and every time she would go with some food for Sri Ramakrishna. And Sri Ramakrishna would always request her to bring different, kinds of vegetable curry prepared by her. At last, one day Gopaler’s mother really felt disgusted at his conduct and thought: ‘O Gopal, what is this? Is it because I always think of you that you compel me to come this way to a sadhu who always wants only to eat? No, I must not come to him anymore!’ But again, the same irresistible and indefinable attraction worked. As soon as she was away from him, her mind would be filled by the thought of the saint and the thought of going to him again. In the meantime, Sri Ramakrishna also went once to see the temple at Kamarhatty where Aghoremani lived. He sang devotional songs before the image in the temple and took his food there and came back to Dakshineswar. At the time of singing those songs everyone presents there was astonished and charmed at his strange way of falling into a trance, or samadhi as it is called. Aghoremani used to get up at two in the morning and continue telling her beads till eight or nine. Then she would rise up and work in the temple. Afterwards she cooked food for the Lord and took the sacramental food. Then again after resting a while, she would sit to meditate till evening. In the evening she would attend the worship in the temple and then sit in japa till late at night.

On one such day she began to tell her beads as usual in the morning, and before she had finished it, to her utter astonishment it appeared to her as if she found Sri Ramakrishna, sitting by her left side. She saw him as vivid and lifelike as she used to see him at Dakshineswar, and could not understand how it was possible for him to come there at such a time. She was astonished to find Sri Ramakrishna smiling at her. She then mustered courage in her heart, but as soon as he seemed to take hold of his hand, the form of Sri Ramakrishna vanished and a really small baby, shout ten months old, seemed to come out of his body. That, like Gopal, then seemed to crawl on his hands and knees, and lifting one hand and looking at her said, ‘Mother give me cheese’. The state of Aghoremani’s mind at that time could be better imagined than described. She seemed to have lost all her bearings in life and replied crying, ‘O my dear child, I am a poor, unfortunate woman; where shall I get cheese or butter for you?’ But that strange Gopal would not listen to all this. He entreated his mother for same food. What could she do but take out some dry sweets she had in her store and offer them? The child then became satisfied. She now wanted to sit again in japa, but her Gopal would not allow it. He must sit on her lap, and would snatch away the beads and play with her. As soon as the morning had dawned, Aghoremani rose up and madly ran towards Dakshineswar, and Gopal also got up in her arms and accompanied her. Throughout the entire path she found the rosy feet of Gopal hanging on her breast; so strange is the play of God with His devotees! Aghoremani reached the temple of Dakshineswar and even before she met Sri Ramakrishna, she cried aloud, ‘Gopal, Gopal’. And Sri Ramakrishna also fell into deep samadhi when she reached him, and was for the while as a baby resting on her lap. Tears of love began to flow from her eyes and she fed Sri Ramakrishna with the cheese and the butter she had brought with her. After a while he came back to his senses and took his own seat. But Aghoremani did not return to the ordinary plane of consciousness. She was beside

herself with joy and danced like a mad woman. She was seeing her Gopal sometimes entering into the body of Sri Ramakrishna and again coming out of his body, sitting on her lap and playing with her. She was talking to Sri Ramakrishna: ‘Here is Gopal on my lap! Oh, he is now entering into your body. Ah, again he is coming out! O my dear Gopal, do come to your poor mother!’ She went on in this manner when Sri Ramakrishna gradually pacified her. From that day on Sri Ramakrishna would address Aghoremani as ‘Gopaler Ma’ (Gopal’s Mother), and she also would look upon him as her Gopal (Baby Krishna) and call him as such. The whole day she stayed at Dakshineswar with Sri Ramakrishna, and just before evening she went away to her own place. Also, while returning, on her way she had the distinct vision of Gopal resting in her arms, In the evening again, when she sat down to meditate as usual, Gopal began to disturb her. And what was the need of any more meditation? For He for whom it was all done was revealed before her and playing with her. Aghoremani at last got up from meditation and laid herself down on her bed with Gopal. But Gopal began to complain of the hard bed, and as there was no second pillow for the head he would not sleep. Gopal’s mother pacified the child, saying that would the very next morning she would send for a soft pillow from Calcutta. The next morning when she went to cook for her Gopal, the child followed her, and began to gambol about her in many ways. Aghoremani had this constant vision of her child Krishna continually for two months. She actually lived, moved, and had her being twentyfour hours of the day in the Baby Krishna. Such God-vision only the blessed few many have! Her devotion for Gopal had become so much intensified that God really took the form of Gopal and lived and played with her. After these two months she could not always see Gopal before her, but whenever she liked to see Him, she would meditate little and He would appear before her.

Once she told Sri Ramakrishna in great distress that she did not see Gopal constantly as before and asked him whether it indicated spiritual retrogression. At this the Master replied, ‘If one sees Godvision constantly that way, one’s body does not last long: it falls away like a withered leaf in twenty-one days.’ Really after the first experience of God-vision for two long months she lived in a continuous ecstatic mood, her daily duties she would do like a lifeless machine. One day both Gopal’s mother and Narendranath came to Dakshineswar. Gopal’s mother was an uneducated, unsophisticated woman and had experiences of God-visions. Narendranath was an educated, modern young man and being under the influence of Brahmo Samaj, believed in God without forms. They met before Sri Ramakrishna. Sri Ramakrishna with his keen sense of humor did not lose this opportunity to enjoy some fun. He asked Gopal’s mother to narrate her experience of visions to Narendranath. At first, she hesitated, but on the express with of the Master she agreed. Then she began to narrate all her experiences of the vision of Baby Krishna to Narendranath. As she narrated, she asked Narendranath now and then in guileless simplicity: ‘You are educated, clever, and intelligent; I am poor old woman, I know nothing. Please tell me if these visions of mine are true!’ With all his rational outlook Narendranath had a very soft devotional heart. He assured her that her experiences were true, and his eyes were wet with tears from feelings of devotion. After the passing away of Sri Ramakrishna, Gopaler’s mother became very disconsolate and miserable. She would not come out of her room for many days, and only when she began to get visions of Sri Ramakrishna every now and then she became reconciled. Whenever she was a little unhappy again, she used to go to monastery to see the disciples of Sri Ramakrishna, and she would sometimes live there and them. Once Gopal’s mother went to see the Car Festival at a place called Mahesh on the other side of the Ganges. There she had a strange

experience. As the car was being drawn, she saw the vision of Gopal in all that was before her - in the vast concourse of people, the car, and in the deity on the car. Thus, she experienced the all-pervasiveness of God and was lost in an ecstasy of joy. When Swami Vivekananda returned from the West, his Western disciples - Mrs. Sara C. Bull, Miss J. Macleod and Sister Nivedita accompanied him to India. They once went to see Gopal’s mother at Kamarhatty. There she received them very kindly for she saw her Gopal in them. She made them sit on her own mat and served them with pure Indian tibits. She softly touched their chin and kissed them in the Indian motherly fashion, and being asked about her visions related many things to them. Sister Nivedita describes this visit: ‘There, a few of us went, one full-noon night, to visit her. How beautiful was the Ganges, as the little boat crept on and on! And how beautiful seemed the long flight of steps rising out of the water and leading up, through its lofty bathing ghat …to …where in a little room - built probably in the first place for some servant of the great house at its side - Gopaler Ma had live and told her beads, for many a year … Her bed was of stone, and her floor of stone, and the piece of mat she offered her guests to sit on, had to be taken down from a shelf and unrolled. The handful of parched rice and sugar candy that formed her only store and were all that she could give in hospitality were taken from an earthen pot that hung from the roof by a few cords … On those beads, Gopaler Ma had become a saint! Hour after hour, day after day, for how many years had she sat, day and night, absorbed in them!’ When Swami Vivekananda heard of their visit, he said, ‘Ah, this is the old India that you have seen, the India of prayers and tears, of vigils and fasts, that is passing away never to return!’ And really did she represent old India! For, in India alone even a child knows that God hast to be realized in this life and one can have His vision face to face. And Gopler Ma, a widow already when she was very young, quite ignorant of the ways of the world, had given up all

material enjoyment and devoted her life to the service and realization of God. How strange and wonderful were her realization and visions of the Lord! In this age of skepticism, she was indeed a pillar of light to us! Born in the early nineteenth century in a brahmin family and being a widow early in life, Gopaler Ma was extremely orthodox in her conduct. In the beginning she would not eat food touched even by Sri Ramakrishna. But as she began to frequent Dakshineswar, her rigidity began to relax. So great was her transformation afterwards she was liberal enough not to object to having a foreigner - Sister Nivedita - in the house when she lived at the Holy Mother’s place. In the year 1903 Gopaler’s Mother fell seriously ill, and she had to be brought to Calcutta to Balaram Babu’s house at Baghbazar. Sister Nivedita was so much charmed by her life that she expressed her eager intention to nurse her. Gopaler’s mother had no objection to it, for she had realized that her Gopal was in the heart of everybody. So, from that time Gopaler Ma lived in the house of Sister Nivedita. In the month of July in 1906, when the time of her passing away from this mortal life came, she was carried to the Ganges and the Sister decorated her body with flowers and garlands. She lived by the side of the Ganges for two more days and then passed away from mortal sight on July 8, at the age of about ninety.

JOGIN MA

With reference to Jogin Ma Sri Ramakrishna once remarked that she was not an ordinary bud blossoming quickly, but rather the bud of a thousand-petalled lotus opening slowly. As time rolled on, these prophetic words became literally true. Indeed, Jogin Ma’s life was really a type of the ancient Indian womanhood, rich with profound spiritual experiences. The early name of Jogin Ma was Jogindra Mohini Mitra. She was born on 16 January `1851, in North Calcutta, from where came many devotees and disciples of Sri Ramakrishna. Her father, Dr. Prasanna Kumar Mitra, was a rich and influential man. She was given away in marriage while very young to a well-known rich zamindar family of Khardah, near Calcutta. Her husband was the late Ambika Charan Biswas, one of whose ancestors was the celebrated Prankrishna Biswas who compiled the famous treatise on Tantra, called the Pranatoshini Tantra. The hope of her parents to see their daughter happy being married into a rich, aristocratic family was dashed to pieces. The marriage proved most unhappy. The young husband became addicted to drink, squandered away everything and became literally a street-beggar. Jogin Ma became disgusted with the household of her

husband and acquired in the very prime of her life an intense Vairagya. From that time, she put up at her father’s house at Baghbazar, Calcutta. Balaram Bose of Baghbazar, one of the foremost householder disciples of Sri Ramakrishna, was related to her. And it was he who took her to Dakshineswar and introduced her to the Master. Within a short time of her acquaintance, she was blessed with the divine grace of the Master and began to advance quickly in spiritual life. After a few visits to Dakshineswar Jogin Ma came to be acquainted with the Holy Mother. Both, being of the same age, counteracted at first sight a great love and attraction towards each other. Speaking of the Holy Mother, she said: ‘Whenever I went there, the Holy Mother used to take me into her confidence, tell me her secrets and seek my counsel. … I used to visit Daksheineswar at intervals of seven or eight days, sometimes spending the night there. And then the Holy Mother would not let me sleep anywhere else, but would drag me and make me sleep with her at the Nahabat. Sometime after first visit the Holy Mother had to go to her country home. I stood waiting on the bank of the Ganges and watched until the boat carrying her disappeared from view. After that I betook myself to the Nahabat and wept a great deal, being unable to bear the pangs of separation from her. The Master on his way to the Panchavati noticed all this and, returning to his own room, sent for me. “You have been much pained by separation from her,” he said and began to console me by relating to me the experiences of his Tantrika sadhana. After about a year and a half when the Holy Mother returned, he told her, “The girl with nice, big eyes, who comes here every now and then, loves you much. She wept a lot at the Nahabat on the day of your departure.” The Holy Mother replied, “Yes, I know her quite well, her name is Jogin.” Pleased with the devotion of Jogin Ma, one day the Master, on one of his visits to Calcutta, went also to her house at Baghbazar, and she had the blessed privilege of entertaining him. She also had the good fortune of having many spiritual talks with the Master, and later

supplied materials to Swami Saradananda for his important biography of Sri Ramakrishna. Addressing Jogin Ma, Sri Ramakrishna once said: ‘What more is left to be attained by you? You have seen, fed, and served this body (referring to himself).’ During the last illness of the Master Jogin Ma was at Vrindavan and immediately after his passing away the Holy Mother also joined her there. ‘The moment the Holy Mother saw me’, said Jogin Ma, ‘she embraced me and being overwhelmed with grief began to shed profuse tears. While at Vrindavan both of us passed the day mostly in wailing and lamentations. One day the Master appeared to us in a vision arid said, “Well, why do you lament so much? Here I am, where can I go? It is just like passing from this room to that.”’ During this period Jogin Ma used to have great concentration at the time of her meditation. One evening while thus meditating at Lala Babu’s temple, she became so much absorbed that she fell into deep samadhi. Long after the evening service of the temple was over, she was still found sitting quiet. The temple attendants about to close the outer gate noticed her in that state and tried to bring her to normal consciousness. The Holy Mother, finding her so late in returning, sent her attendant with a lantern in search of her. He went to the above temple, that being the usual place for Jogin Ma’s spiritual practices, and found her lost to all outward consciousness. She gradually came down from that exalted state and returned to her place of residence. Later, she would incidentally refer to this period of her life and say, ‘I was then in such a high spiritual mood that I even forgot whether the world existed or not’. In her Calcutta residence, too, she once experienced this bliss of samadhi. With reference to this Swami Vivekananda (who was alive at that time) remarked to her: ‘Jogin Ma, you will pass away in samadhi. One who gets samadhi once in life, gets back the memory of that at the time of death.’

On another occasion, in connection with her spiritual experiences, she said: ‘Once I was at such a high spiritual altitude that wherever I turned my eyes, I would see my Ishta. That state lasted for three days.’ Jogin Ma had two images of the Boy Gopal which she used to serve and worship with so much love and care that she would see them in trance. ‘One day’, she said, ‘while meditating at the time of the worship, I saw two incomparably handsome boys. They came smiling and hugging me closely and stroking me on my back said, “Do you know who we are we?” I replied, “Yes, I know you quite well, you are the heroic Balaram, and you, Sri Krishna.” The younger one (Sri Krishna) rejoined, “You won’t remember us.” “Why?” said I. “No, you won’t on account of them”- ‘he answered and pointed to my grandsons.’ In fact, after the death of her only daughter Jogin Ma was much taken up with her grandsons, and the high spiritual tension at which she had abated to some extent and became gradually normal. Though Jogin Ma apparently lived like a householder, she had been initiated into sannyasa both according to Tantrika and Vedic rites. She performed the Panchatapa ceremony - a very hard form of spiritual practice in which the aspirant sits at meditation with fire on four sides and the burning sun overhead. Her whole life was full of fasts and vigils. In the matter of formal rites and worship she had such singleminded devotion and such application that it was rare even among great devotees. She never wasted time, in her leisure hours she used to read the Gita, Bhagavata and other Puranas or sometimes Chaitana Charitamrita and such other devotional works including those on Sri Ramakrishna. She had such a sharp memory that she learnt many portions of these books, Chaitanya-Charitamrita in particular, by heart and could relate the stories of the Puranas nicely. Sister Nivedita, while writing her Cradle Tales of Hinduism, got much help from Jogin Ma’s deep and thorough knowledge of the Puranic literature, and she acknowledged her indebtedness in the introduction to her book.

Even in her old age Jogin Ma felt so much attraction for spiritual practices that in the midst of many engrossing occupations and distractions she would not alter the routine of her daily meditation and japa. Every day after the bath in the Ganges she used to spend about two hours or perhaps more in meditation and other spiritual practices. Even inclement weather could not stand in the way of her doing that. Those who saw this wondered at her steadfastness. People generally want some relaxation yield to laziness. But Jogin Ma would not miss a single day. At the time of meditation, she would sometimes become so much absorbed that little flies would enter into her eyes, without her being aware of them. ‘Jogin and Golap have done so much sadhana. It will do you good to talk about it amongst yourselves,’ thus did the Holy Mother advise her women devotees. Even during her last illness when she had not strength enough to get up from her bed, she would ask somebody to make her sit, so that she might go on with her regular spiritual practices or hear the reading of religious literature. But though she had a strong religious turn of mind, she was never indifferent to the daily household duties. After bath and meditation, she would go every day to the house of the Holy Mother at the present Udbodhan Lane and attend to the peeling of vegetables and the like. At noon she would go to her own house, cook for herself and for her old mother and again go the Holy Mother in the afternoon to attend to her comforts, returning to her own house at night after the last service in the shrine. One of the good traits of Jogin Ma’s character was that whenever she visited some holy place, she would give something to the poor, disappointing none. She travelled far and wide in India. From Kedarnath and Badrinaryan in the North to Kanyakumari in the South, from Dwarka in Kathiawar to Kamakhya in Assam, she visited many places of pilgrimage. The foremost disciples of the Master had great regard for Jogin Ma. Swami Vivekananda had great love for Jogin Ma. While coming from

Belur Math to Calcutta, if the Swami chanced to meet Jogin Ma who would come to the Ganges for her bath, his first words while alighting from the boat would be: ‘Jogin Ma, I will have my meal today at your place. Please prepare that favorite curry of mind.’ The Swami was so found of things prepared by Jogin Ma that he would make fun and say: ‘Today is my birthday. Entertain me well with nice dishes.’ Jogin Ma had devotion to all forms of the deity. She was never narrow or bigoted. Having that toleration common to Hinduism, she would worship all the forms of the Divinity. While an expert in formal worship, ceremonies, and fasts, she had also the highest form of devotion and knowledge in her. That is why Sri Ramakrishna once remarked, ‘Among women devotees Jogin has the characteristics of a Jnani.’ Jogin Ma lived to a good old age. At the time of her death, she was seventy-three. As the end was drawing nearer, she lived more and more on spiritual planes. She was quite indifferent to anything that had no spiritual bearing. She passed into life eternal on 4 June 1924, at the Holy Mother’s Calcutta home. But the noble memory of her life is a source of strength and inspiration to many devotees - lay as well as monastic. At the time of death, she was apparently in an unconscious state. But the medical opinion said it was not a state of coma. According to some expert opinion it was a state of samadhi. In that case the words of Swami Vivekananda with respect to Jogin Ma that one who experiences samadhi even once in life dies in a state of samadhi came true.

GOLAP MA

It was 28 July 1885. In a dilapidated house in North Calcutta a poor brahmin widow was making earnest preparations to receive Sri Ramakrishna in her home. She was poor but belonged to a very high class brahmin family. Her only daughter had died some time back, and consequently she lived a very sad life. She was glad beyond measure at the very idea that Sri Ramakrishna had agreed to grace her poor house with his presence. Sri Ramakrishna had already arrived at the house of neighboring devotee, so she was expecting him any moment. In her great eagerness she was going out many times just to see whether the Master was yet in sight on his way to her house, and then going in to give a finishing touch to the arrangements of welcome. Her sister was assisting her in the preparations to receive the august visitor. When the Master came the ‘grief-stricken brahmin woman’, as she was then called, was beside herself with joy. She did not know how to control her great emotion, and burst out: ‘Well, I cannot contain myself with joy. When my daughter Chandi came from her father-inlaw’s house and many guards and people accompanied her as a mark of honor to her, and my poor house was a stir with new life, even then I

did not feel so much joy. My condition is just like that of a poor man who got a lakh of rupees in a lottery and died immediately out of shock on hearing such good news. I am also in that state of mind. Pray bless me, otherwise I shall now die!’ So great was her devotion to the Master that she was rooted to the spot! Her sister was calling her for assisting work still remaining to be done, but she paid no heed to her words. After returning from her house at night, Sri Ramakrishna said to a devotee, ‘Oh, how glad they were!’ The devotee said, ‘What a strange coincidence! They were just like the two sisters, Mary and Martha, mentioned in the Bible.’ Sri Ramakrishna felt curious to hear about them. So, the devotee narrated the story of Mary and Martha. This ‘grief-stricken brahmin widow’ later came to be known as Golap Ma. Her early name was Golapsundari Devi. She lost her husband while she was young. Her only daughter was given in marriage to a very rich aristocratic family. But as ill luck would have it, this daughter also died prematurely, and Golap Ma was left almost mad with grief. She knew Jogin Ma, her neighbor, who took her to Sri Ramakrishna at Dakshineswar. When she unfolded her sad tale to the Master, he said in an ecstatic mood, ‘You are fortunate. God Himself helps those who have none else in the world to call their own.’ These words breathed a new life into her, and she felt greatly relieved. She was introduced by the Master to the Holy Mother, who was then staying at Dakshineswar. Golap Ma repeated her visits to Dakshineswar, and now and then stayed there to have more association with the Master. During her stays at Dakshineswar she would put up at the Nahabat with the Holy Mother who loved her dearly. She had the privilege of serving the Master at Dakshineswar as also at Shyampukur and Cossipore during his last illness. Golap Ma was one of the closet companions of the Holy Mother. After the passing away of the Master, she accompanied the Holy Mother to Vrindavan and practiced austerities there. She visited many places of

pilgrimage in the company of the Holy Mother. Afterwards when the Holy Mother stayed in Calcutta, she was her constant companion. Golap Ma was unsophisticated, frank, and plainspoken. She was a protection and shield to the Holy Mother when in later days many devotees would come to her and sometimes cause great inconvenience by their senseless expression of devotion. Her life was uneventful but it was a life of complete dedication to God. She would pass many hours in the day in japa and meditation. The rest of her time was devoted to the service of others. She was all love and service. Herself reluctant to take any help from others, she lost no opportunity of serving others. It was very spontaneous with her that it required no effort on her part. One day during stay at Vrindavan, she saw a place in the temple soiled by a child. She at once began to clean the spot. At this time women who saw it began to remark that the spot was perhaps soiled by her own child. She received a very small allowance from her daughter’s son. But only half of it she spent on herself, and the other half she spent in charity to the poor. Every poor person who approached her was sure to got something from her. If a poor neighbor fell ill, she would arrange for medical treatment. Though belonging an orthodox brahmin family she shook of all rigidity of orthodoxy. She was very liberal and catholic in her views - such is the result of true spiritual growth. She had the privilege of serving the Holy Mother and enjoying her association for thirty-six long years. She passed away on 19 December 1924, at the Calcutta residence of the Holy Mother. Her life of devotion was a great example to all who had the privilege of knowing her. The suffering of her early days gave her access to a world from where she could bring joy and bliss to many steeped in misery. Hers is a name which is remembered with feeling of devotion and respect as one whose life was made saintly by the touch of Sri Ramakrishna.

GAURI MA

Gauri Ma’s was a striking personality. She was what the Upanishads ask one to be - strong, courageous, and full of determination. She passed through very hard experiences of life, but it is doubtful whether she wavered or faltered for a moment at any time. She did not know what it was to fear. Her very presence radiated strength and would infuse courage and hope into drooping spirits. She was all positive, there was nothing negative in her. She had a dynamism rare even among strong men. The early name of Gauri Ma was Mridani. The date of her birth is not definitely known. It was about 1857. Her father, Parvati Charan Chattopadhyay, was an orthodox brahmin belonging to sibpore near Howrah. Her Mother, Giribala Devi, was an erudite and accomplished lady. She composed Bengali songs and wrote Sanskrit hymns which were published as a book. She also had some knowledge of Persian and English. Giribala Devi had a very religious bent of mind and was a person of high spiritual attainments. Bhowanipore, a suburb of Calcutta, was where she usually lived, managing the property of her mother, as the latter had no son. Mridani also lived with her mother.

Mridani was sent to a girl’s school for education. There she attracted the notice of all because of her remarkable intelligence. But the Christian influence in the school was undermining the faith of the Hindu girls in their own religion. Mridani greatly resented this and as a protest left the school, followed by many other girls. Such great independence of spirit she showed even at an early age. So Mridani could not continue her studies in school but she had learnt enough Sanskrit to read and understand scriptures like the Gita, the Chandi, the Ramayana, the Mahabharata, and with her sharp memory she could quote extensively from those books. Afterwards she acquired great proficiency in the knowledge of scriptures. Mridani imbibed from her mother and grandmother a devotional attitude towards life. She would find great interest in discussions on religious topics, and the performance of worship was a source of great joy to her. In a very unexpected way, she became a great devotee of Sri Krishna, though her family deity was the Divine Mother. It is said that a woman devotee from Vrindavan came at this time to Bhowanipore and stayed for a period in the family of Mridani. That lady worshipped Sri Krishna. She was so much charmed with the religious spirit of young Mridani, that of her own accord she gave the latter the image of Sri Krishna which she had been worshipping for a long time. This image Gauri Ma worshipped with great love and devotion till the last day of her life. The elders of the family arranged at this time for the marriage of Mridani. But she was unwilling to marry. She openly said that she would marry only that One who does not die. Her guardians were upset at this strange attitude, but thought she might yet be compelled to marry. So, all arrangements for the marriage were made, but Mridani fled from the house on the day of the marriage. In a day or two Mridani was found and brought back home. But it was difficult for her to adjust her spiritual life to the family atmosphere. The call of renunciation was too strong in her. So, she

made a second attempt to flee from the house, but it failed. At the third attempt she succeeded in escaping the vigilance of her relations, and this time no trace could be found of her. Spurred on by her spirit of renunciation, Mridani - a young girl in her teens - plunged into the unknown, with only God as her guide and help. When one ponders over the full significance of the step she thus took, one wonders how bold God had made her! She went to Hardwar after seeing many sacred places on the way. She now began to wear ochre robes, considering herself a sannyasini. She went up to Kedarnath and Badrinarayan - two important places of pilgrimage in the Himalayas - and then came down to the plains. Her life at this time was full of thrilling experiences. In the beginning she found it difficult to adapt herself to the hardships which she had to face, but gradually she got accustomed to them. Lest her beauty should attract notice, she cut off her hair. Sometimes she would smear herself with mud or ashes. Now and then she would dress herself like a monk to hide her identity. For nine or ten years she passed her days in austerities and in visiting many sacred places. While at Puri, Gauri Ma came in contact with Balaram Bose, a great devotee of Sri Ramakrishna. At his instance Gauri Ma visited Dakshineswar. She was charmed with the life and teachings of the Master, and placed herself under his tutelage. After this she began to live at Dakshineswar and in Calcutta. When at Dakshineswar, she would stay with the Holy Mother at the Nahabat, and tried to be of utmost service to the Master. The Holy Mother was shy and had not seen the outside world; Gauri Ma was bold and had experience of the world. Gauri Ma, therefore, was a source of great strength to the Mother. Gauri Ma looked upon the Master as Sri Chaitanya reborn. One day, while in the presence of the Master, she had the experience of divine

ecstasy similar to that experienced by the followers of Sri Chaitanya under the spiritual influence of the latter. At the time of the passing away of Sri Ramakrishna, Gauri Ma was in Vrindavan engaged in rigorous spiritual practices. When the sad news reached her, she got a rude shock, especially as the Master had inquired about her during his last days. Gauri Ma now applied herself to austerities more intensely. After two or three years she went again to the Himalayas and did spiritual practices in various places. Of all the place of pilgrimage, she preferred those in the Himalayan region, and also Vrindavan, Puri, and Navadwip. The energy which Gauri Ma devoted in her early days to fulfilling the desire for personal salvation was applied in her later days to the welfare of the many. The last forty years or so of her life were devoted to the cause of women in Bengal. With her wide experience of travel, intense spiritual practice, and deep culture, she was eminently capable for the task. Once Sri Ramakrishna gave her a hint that she would have to work for the cause of women. But she was not willing at that time to give up her love for austerities and stay in the noise and bustle of a city. Fate, however, forced her. Gauri Ma, in the course of her wanderings throughout the country, saw the deplorable condition of women. Slowly a desire arose in her mind to do something for them. So, in the 1890s she started an Ashrama at Barrackpore near Calcutta to provide shelter for some helpless girls and women, with arrangements for their secular and spiritual training. From this small beginning has grown the present Saradeshwari Ashrama and School, situated in North Calcutta - which is one of the most important institutions in the city for the education of Hindu women. To develop this institution Gauri Ma had to undergo strenuous labor. She had to go about collecting funds, do household duties and look after the training of the inmates. She visited many parts of Bengal, Bihar, and Assam to preach her ideas about female education as well as to enlist sympathy for her institution. The present

Saradeshwari Ashrama is a monument of her herculean labor, steadfast perseverance, and great organizing ability. She built it up, literally out of nothing - with no funds, no resources, no public sympathy. Gradually when people began to feel the influence of her personality, help started to come in. But Gauri Ma depended not so much on outside help as on the strength of her cause and the blessing of the Master. She saw the miserable failure of the modern educational system, especially of that for women, and wanted to evolve in her ashrama a form of education best suited to our girls. She was very particular that while acquiring English education the girls should not lose the Indian background. The institution is at present run by a band of women who received training under Gauri Ma and dedicated their lives to this cause. Hundreds of persons - men and women - came under the spiritual influence of Gauri Ma. Wherever she would go, there would be great enthusiasm to see and hear her. From her words people would get new hopes and aspirations. After a life of strenuous spiritual practices and hard labor in the service of others she passed away on 28 February 1938 at the advanced age of more than eighty. But she has left behind an example which will not let people forget her.

LAKSHMI DEVI

Of Lakshmi Devi, Sister Nivedita writes in her The Master as I saw Him, ‘Amongst the ladies who lived more or less continuously in the household o Sarada Devi at this time, were Gopal’s Mother (Gopaler Ma), Yogin-Mother (Yogin-Ma), Rose-Mother (Golap-Ma), Sister Lucky, and a number of others. These were all widows - the first and the last child widows - and they had all been personal disciples of Sri Ramakrishna when he lived in the temple-garden at Dakshineswar. Sister Lucky or Lakshmi-Didi, as is the Indian form of her name, was indeed a niece of his, and still is comparatively a young woman. She is widely sought after as a religious teacher and director, and is most gifted and delightful companion. Sometimes she will repeat page after page of some sacred dialogue, out of one of the jatras or religious operas, or again she will make the quiet room ring with gentle merriment, as she poses the different members of the party in groups for religious tableaux. Now it is Kali and again Saraswati, another time it will be Jagaddhatri or yet again, perhaps, Krishna under his Kadmba tree, that she will arrange, with picturesque effect and scant dramatic material.’

Nivedia was personally present at one of these performances. That day Golap-Ma brought from the Tagore of Pathuriaghata many clothes and brass ornaments with which she adorned Lakshmi Devi. Thus, attired as Vrinda, she began a Kirtana dealing with the sports of Sri Krishna. Lakshmi, with her fair skin and beautiful body, appeared a real Devi, a goddess, and with her sweet voice, fine memory and inimitable mimicry she kept her women audience spellbound for more than two hours. At Nivedita’s request she then sang a few songs of Ramprasad. Last of all Nivedita became a lioness moving about the room with roars, and on her back rode Lakshmi Devi as Jagaddhatri. As a result, the audience burst into laughter. On another occasion, much earlier than this, the women of Kamarpukur gathered on the roof of the village landlord Dharmadas Laha to hear the kirtana of Lakshmi Devi. They bolted the doors from inside to avoid the intrusion of men, who again, in fun, chained the doors from outside so that at the end of kirtana the women were at a loss how to get out. At last, they saw a heap of ashes in a corner, on which they jumped down one by one and escaped. In high divine afflatus, again, Lakshmi Devi identified herself with the heroic god Balarama, and putting on a male attire she danced just like him. One of her disciples, Bipin, reports that when Lakshmi Devi lived in a cottage with her brothers at Dakshineswar, he one day saw her dance and sing heroically like Balarama, lost in her own spiritual mood and oblivious of the outsiders who flocked there to witness the ecstatic mood. In fact, she had a taste for these things and became an adept in them even from early age. She used to say later, ‘How can I help it - I am born a woman. If I were a man, I would show what kirtana really is.’ Such manifestations of divine moods, however, were generally confined within the group of her disciples and acquaintances. To the public she was bashful in her behavior and kept her emotion in check.

She was blessed with visions of gods and goddesses quite frequently. Once she saw Sri Ramakrishna standing in front of Jagannatha Puri, and she felt that the two were but one. Sometimes in her ecstatic trance she was transported to the region of Vishnu or Ramakrishna, and on other occasions she was in the presence of Shiva and Durga. At times, in a state of spiritual inebriation, she accepted the adoration of her disciples, and at other times she prophesied for them. Once while bathing in the sea at Puri she was carried away by an undercurrent; and when there was no chance of life, a cowherd boy drew her out of the sea. A little later she walked to the temple of Jagannatha to find to her surprise, that very cowherd boy standing there in the position of Balarama and smiling at her. Sri Ramakrishna asked her once at Dakshineswar, ‘Which God you like most?’ ‘Radha-Krishna,’ replied Lakshmi. The Master wrote the mantra of this divine couple on her tongue and uttered it in her ear. Lakshmi Devi got her initiation into the Vaishnava cult, though earlier she and the Holy Mother had received the Shakti mantra at Kamarpukur from a monk named Purnananda who hailed from North India. When the Mother reminded Sri Ramakrishna this, he said, ‘Let it be so, I have given the right thing to Lakshmi.’ Indeed, Lakshmi Devi was a Vaishnava in every way; and her husband’s family at Goghat also belonged to the same fold. The vaishnavas had considerable influence then at Kamarpukur. They honored Lakshmi Devi and gathered at her house to hear her kirtana. This trait in her character was so prominent that some critics were led to believe that her spiritual affiliation was with someone other than Sri Ramakrishna. Her biographer Krishna Chandra Sen Gupta answers them thus: ‘They forget that the Master was the embodiment all the gods and goddesses, and that he molded her as a Vaishnava with his own hands.’ In her spiritual talks Lakshmi Devi constantly drew upon the Master’s utterances and his name was ever on her lips. She accepted the Master as an incarnation, and though herself a

worshipper of Radha-Krishna she followed the Master’s liberalism in initiating some of her disciples with the mantras of other deities. She had a little more than a hundred disciples who all were devoted to Sri Ramakrishna. And yet it is true that she could not accept Swami Vivekananda’s idea of service in its entirely. This highly gifted soul was born in the Chatterji family of Kamarpukur. She was the daughter of Rameshwar. Elder brother of Sri Ramakrihna, and her full name was Lakshmimani. Being thus related to the Master, she was a didi, elder sister, to all his disciples and even today she is referred to as Lakshmi Didi. She was born on the 1 Phalgun 1270 (Bengali Era) or February 1864, on the day of the worship of Saraswati. From childhood she felt joy in worshipping the family deities. She had a little education at the village school, and while at Dakshineswar she learnt something more with the help of a boy named Sharat Bhandari who taught her up to the second primer according to the direction of Sri Ramakrishna. Her father died when Lakshmi was a mere child. He settled her marriage at Goghat before his passing away. She was accordingly wedded there at the age of eleven years. When the news reached Sri Ramakrishna at Dakshineswar he said, ‘She will be widowed.’ At this, Hriday, his nephew, protested, but he said, ‘How could I help it when the Mother made me say so? Lakshmi is a partial embodiment of Sitala, who is an ireful goddess … She will be widowed as a matter of course.’ Earlier too, he had said once at Kamarpukur, ‘It will be nice if Laksmi becomes a widow; for then she will be able to serve the family deities.’ Dhanakrishna Ghatak, her husband, came to Kamarpukur about two months after the marriage, and from there he went out in search of employment, as nobody could trace him since then, his obsequies were performed after twelve years of waiting, and Lakshmi Devi became a widow. So, she never lived in her husband’s family, but continued to be in her father’s house forever.

Lakshmi Devi had to spend her early days in abject poverty, which is too well-known to be dealt with here. Up to 1885 she very often lived at Dakshineswar. Later she lived at Cossipore when the Master was ailing there. When the Holy Mother went to Vrindavan after the Master’s passing away, Lakshmi Devi accompanied her. During the other pilgrimages of the Holy Mother, Lakshmi Devi was often found in her company, though she generally lived in her brother’s family either at Dakshineswar or Kamarpukur. Dakshineswar became her permanent place of residence after the death of her brother Ramlal’s wife. In his cottage she lived for ten years, and here began her spiritual ministration. Her disciples wanted to make her life comfortable and hence built a two-storied brick house. In the new building she lived for ten years before she left Dakshineswar or live at Puri the disciples built another house for her. Lakshmi Devi had her spiritual training at Dakshineswar under the fostering care of Sri Ramakrishna. When he passed by the Nahabat, her place of residence, in the small hours of the morning, while on his way the tamarisk grove, he called Lakshmi Devi to get up and sit for meditation and japa. If there was no response from inside, he poured in water through the door, in fun to make her get up helter-skelter for fear of the bed becoming wet. Thereby early rising became an instinct with her. He also gave her direct instruction. And through a hole in the screen of plaited bamboo slips, around the Nahabat, she watched and heard the kirtana that would be going on in the Master’s room. She learnt the songs of Vidyapti and Chandidas. At Cossipore Sri Ramakrishna once set her along with Mahendranath Gupta’s wife to beg for food. The Master once told her, ‘If you cannot think on the god and goddesses, you can think on me - that will be enough.’ Lakshmi Devi knew the Master as her spiritual teacher. She believed him to be non-different from her chosen deity. Sri Ramakrishna, too, had a very high opinion about her spiritual stature. Goddess Sitala once told him in a dream that she, who resided

in the water-pot, the symbol of Sitala in the Kamarpukur shrine, was the same as the being that dwelt in Laksmi, and that to feed the latter meant feeding Sitala herself. According, he worshipped Laksmi twice at Cossipore, and to Girish Chandra Ghosh he said one day, ‘Do offer sweets someday to Laksmi, for that will be as good as offering them to Sitala. Lakshmi is a partial embodiment of Sitala.’ Once the Master had a desire to present a necklace and bracelets to Lakshmi; but it remained unfulfilled. Others, however, had these made for her subsequently. But such was her spirit of renunciation that she did not wear these for long, she presented them to others. Owing to this dislike for the world, she once declared that should the Master incarnate again, she would not accompany him even at the pain of being chopped to pieces like tobacco leaves. But the Master declared that they were like a mass of floating interlinked weeds, so that if one pulled by one end, the whole mass moved as a matter of course. After the Master’s passing away, she went out on pilgrimages quite a number of times. Once she went to Vrindavan and resided there with a young disciple and a woman named Rukmini of Kamarpukur. Unfortunately, the young man died. Before the funeral fire was extinguished, Rukmini returned to their quarters leaving Laksmi Devi behind, under the plea of cleaning the household. She then broke open the boxes and made away with all the cash. Lakshmi Devi was now stranded and had to maintain herself by begging from door to door for about seven days till somebody came from Kamarpukur to take her home. Soon Rukmini fell ill. In her deathbed she confessed her guilt to Laksmi Devi, pleading at the same time that she could not return the money as she had already given it to her brothers. Lakshmi Devi forgave her and blessed her heartily for a better life hereafter. She also visited Puri, Gaya, Varanasi, and Gangasagar. She had a particular fascination for puri. The house that the devotees built for her there was called ‘Lakshmi Niketana’, the house of Lakshmi. She

went there in February 1924 and breathed her last there on the 24 February 1926. In addition to the traits of character already moted, she had certain others, which easily distinguished her. Her devotion to the Ganges was very remarkable. At Dakshineswar she wanted her shrine to be built high enough to command a direct view of the river. Till her disciples could collect enough money for such a structure, she preferred to live in her old hut. She had an earnest desire to leave her body on the bank of the Ganges; and during the last illness she wanted to return from Puri, but it was not to be. Her whole life was an unbroken chain of spiritual discipline. At Puri she left her bed at three o’clock in the morning, and sat in japa for a considerably long period. Then she had a light breakfast after which she bathed at about nine or ten o’clock and sat for japa. She had her japa again in the afternoon, and a couple of hours were spent for this purpose at night. The devotees held a kirtana at night. Last of all she chanted a chapter from the Bhagavata and then retired for a night. When talking about Radha and Krishna she became so absorbed that she lost all idea of time. Once she went on talking from four in the morning till nine at night without any break, till the disciples had to stop her. About Vrindavan she used to say, ‘I belong to that place’, or ‘I am a cowherd lass.’ Though a soft-natured Vaishnava, she would sometimes defend her belief heroically. Once an influential man wanted to sacrifice a goat before Sitala, the tutelary deity of the Chatterjis of Kamarpukur. Lakshmi Devi resisted the move so stoutly that the gentleman had to beat a retreat. Though her spiritual insight she became so liberal that once she had no compunction in accepting prasada, consecrated food, from the nonbrahmin descendants of Jayadeva Goswami at his native village of Kenduvila. For the Vaishnava monks one had the highest regard, and to them she made gifts to her utmost capacity even at her own personal

discomfort. And yet any false step of a monk enraged her, and she would not stop till the matter was rectified.