The Joyful Devotee and His Cosmic Romance

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“Little sir, please be seated. I am talking to my Divine Mother.”

“Little sir, please sit down. I’m talking to my Divine Mother.”

Silently I had entered the room in great awe. The angelic appearance of Master Mahasaya fairly dazzled me. With silky white beard and large lustrous eyes, he seemed an incarnation of purity. His upraised chin and folded hands apprized me that my first visit had disturbed him in the midst of his devotions.

I had entered the room silently, filled with awe. Master Mahasaya’s angelic appearance truly dazzled me. With his silky white beard and large, shining eyes, he seemed to embody purity. His raised chin and folded hands showed me that my first visit had interrupted his devotions.

His simple words of greeting produced the most violent effect my nature had so far experienced. The bitter separation of my mother’s death I had thought the measure of all anguish. Now an agony at separation from my Divine Mother was an indescribable torture of the spirit. I fell moaning to the floor.

His simple greeting stirred the most intense reaction I had ever experienced. I had thought the bitter pain of losing my mother was the measure of all anguish. Now the agony of separation from my Divine Mother tortured my spirit beyond words. I fell to the floor, moaning.

“Little sir, quiet yourself!” The saint was sympathetically distressed.

“Little sir, calm yourself!” The saint was upset out of sympathy.

Abandoned in some oceanic desolation, I clutched his feet as the sole raft of my rescue.

Abandoned in a vast, lonely ocean, I clung to his feet as my only raft to safety.

“Holy sir, thy intercession! Ask Divine Mother if I find any favor in Her sight!”

“Holy sir, please speak on my behalf! Ask Divine Mother if she looks on me with any favor!”

This promise is one not easily bestowed; the master was constrained to silence.

This promise is not easily given. The master had to remain silent.

Beyond reach of doubt, I was convinced that Master Mahasaya was in intimate converse with the Universal Mother. It was deep humiliation to realize that my eyes were blind to Her who even at this moment was perceptible to the faultless gaze of the saint. Shamelessly gripping his feet, deaf to his gentle remonstrances, I besought him again and again for his intervening grace.

I had no doubt that Master Mahasaya was speaking intimately with the Universal Mother. I felt deeply humiliated to realize I could not see her, though the saint’s flawless vision saw her even now. Without shame, I clung to his feet and ignored his gentle protests. Again and again, I begged him to use his grace to intercede for me.

“I will make your plea to the Beloved.” The master’s capitulation came with a slow, compassionate smile.

“I will bring your plea to the Beloved.” The master gave in with a slow, compassionate smile.

What power in those few words, that my being should know release from its stormy exile?

What power did those few words hold, to free my whole being from its stormy exile?

“Sir, remember your pledge! I shall return soon for Her message!” Joyful anticipation rang in my voice that only a moment ago had been sobbing in sorrow.

“Sir, remember your promise! I’ll return soon for her message!” My voice rang with joyful anticipation, though just a moment before I had been sobbing with sorrow.

Descending the long stairway, I was overwhelmed by memories. This house at 50 Amherst Street, now the residence of Master Mahasaya, had once been my family home, scene of my mother’s death. Here my human heart had broken for the vanished mother; and here today my spirit had been as though crucified by absence of the Divine Mother. Hallowed walls, silent witness of my grievous hurts and final healing!

As I walked down the long stairway, memories overwhelmed me. This house at 50 Amherst Street was now Master Mahasaya’s home. It had once been my family home, where my mother had died. Here my human heart had broken over the loss of my mother. And here today my spirit had felt as though it were crucified by the Divine Mother’s absence. These sacred walls had silently witnessed my deep pain and final healing!

My steps were eager as I returned to my Gurpar Road home. Seeking the seclusion of my small attic, I remained in meditation until ten o’clock. The darkness of the warm Indian night was suddenly lit with a wondrous vision.

I walked eagerly back to my home on Gurpar Road. Seeking privacy in my small attic, I meditated until ten o’clock. A wondrous vision suddenly lit up the darkness of the warm Indian night.

Haloed in splendor, the Divine Mother stood before me. Her face, tenderly smiling, was beauty itself.

Surrounded by radiant light, the Divine Mother stood before me. Her gently smiling face was beauty itself.

“Always have I loved thee! Ever shall I love thee!”

“I have always loved you! I will always love you!”

The celestial tones still ringing in the air, She disappeared.

With the heavenly tones still ringing in the air, she disappeared.

The sun on the following morning had hardly risen to an angle of decorum when I paid my second visit to Master Mahasaya. Climbing the staircase in the house of poignant memories, I reached his fourth- floor room. The knob of the closed door was wrapped around with a cloth; a hint, I felt, that the saint desired privacy. As I stood irresolutely on the landing, the door was opened by the master’s welcoming hand. I knelt at his holy feet. In a playful mood, I wore a solemn mask over my face, hiding the divine elation.

The sun had hardly risen to a respectable height the next morning when I visited Master Mahasaya again. I climbed the stairs in the house full of painful memories and reached his fourth-floor room. A cloth was wrapped around the closed door’s knob. I felt this was a hint that the saint wanted privacy. As I stood hesitating on the landing, the master opened the door in welcome. I knelt at his holy feet. Feeling playful, I put on a solemn expression to hide my divine joy.

“Sir, I have come-very early, I confess!-for your message. Did the Beloved Mother say anything about me?”

“Sir, I’m here. I admit I’m very early! I’ve come for your message. Did the Beloved Mother say anything about me?”

“Mischievous little sir!”

“You mischievous little sir!”

Not another remark would he make. Apparently my assumed gravity was unimpressive.

He would not say another word. Apparently, my attempt to seem serious did not impress him.

“Why so mysterious, so evasive? Do saints never speak plainly?” Perhaps I was a little provoked.

“Why so mysterious? Why avoid giving a straight answer? Do saints never speak plainly?” Perhaps I was a little annoyed.

“Must you test me?” His calm eyes were full of understanding. “Could I add a single word this morning to the assurance you received last night at ten o’clock from the Beautiful Mother Herself?”

“Do you have to test me?” His calm eyes were full of understanding. “Could I add even one word this morning to the reassurance you received last night? The Beautiful Mother herself gave you that reassurance at ten o’clock.”

Master Mahasaya possessed control over the flood-gates of my soul: again I plunged prostrate at his feet. But this time my tears welled from a bliss, and not a pain, past bearing.

Master Mahasaya controlled the floodgates of my soul. Again I fell face down at his feet. But this time my tears flowed from unbearable bliss, not unbearable pain.

“Think you that your devotion did not touch the Infinite Mercy? The Motherhood of God, that you have worshiped in forms both human and divine, could never fail to answer your forsaken cry.”

“Do you think your devotion did not touch the Infinite Mercy? You have worshiped the Motherhood of God in both human and divine forms. The Motherhood of God could never fail to answer your cry of abandonment.”

Who was this simple saint, whose least request to the Universal Spirit met with sweet acquiescence? His role in the world was humble, as befitted the greatest man of humility I ever knew. In this Amherst Street house, Master Mahasaya [^9] conducted a small high school for boys. No words of chastisement passed his lips; no rule and ferule maintained his discipline. Higher mathematics indeed were taught in these modest classrooms, and a chemistry of love absent from the textbooks. He spread his wisdom by spiritual contagion rather than impermeable precept. Consumed by an unsophisticated passion for the Divine Mother, the saint no more demanded the outward forms of respect than a child.

Who was this simple saint, whose smallest request to the Universal Spirit was so lovingly granted? His role in the world was modest, as suited the humblest man I ever knew. In this Amherst Street house, Master Mahasaya [^9] ran a small high school for boys. He never spoke a harsh word or enforced discipline through rules or the rod. Advanced mathematics was indeed taught in these modest classrooms, along with a chemistry of love absent from the textbooks. His wisdom spread through his spiritual influence rather than rigid instruction. Filled with a simple passion for the Divine Mother, the saint no more demanded formal shows of respect than a child.

“I am not your guru; he shall come a little later,” he told me. “Through his guidance, your experiences of the Divine in terms of love and devotion shall be translated into his terms of fathomless wisdom.”

“I am not your guru. Your guru will come a little later,” he told me. “Through his guidance, your experiences of the Divine through love and devotion will take the form of his boundless wisdom.”

Every late afternoon, I betook myself to Amherst Street. I sought Master Mahasaya’s divine cup, so full that its drops daily overflowed on my being. Never before had I bowed in utter reverence; now I felt it an immeasurable privilege even to tread the same ground which Master Mahasaya sanctified.

Every late afternoon, I went to Amherst Street. I sought Master Mahasaya’s divine cup, so full that its drops overflowed onto me each day. Never before had I bowed with complete reverence. Now I felt boundlessly privileged even to walk on the same ground that Master Mahasaya made holy.

“Sir, please wear this champak garland I have fashioned especially for you.” I arrived one evening, holding my chain of flowers. But shyly he drew away, repeatedly refusing the honor. Perceiving my hurt, he finally smiled consent.

“Sir, please wear this champak garland I made especially for you.” I arrived one evening, holding my string of flowers. But he shyly drew away, repeatedly refusing the honor. Seeing that I was hurt, he finally smiled and agreed.

“Since we are both devotees of the Mother, you may put the garland on this bodily temple, as offering to Her who dwells within.” His vast nature lacked space in which any egotistical consideration could gain foothold.

“Since we are both devotees of the Mother, you may place the garland on my body, a temple. Offer it to her who lives within.” His nature was so vast that there was no room for any selfish concern to take hold.

“Let us go tomorrow to the Dakshineswar Temple, forever hallowed by my guru.” Master Mahasaya was a disciple of a Christlike master, Sri Ramakrishna Paramhansa.

“Let’s go tomorrow to the Dakshineswar Temple, made forever sacred by my guru.” Master Mahasaya was a disciple of Sri Ramakrishna Paramhansa, a Christlike master.

The four-mile journey on the following morning was taken by boat on the Ganges. We entered the nine-domed Temple of Kali, where the figures of the Divine Mother and Shiva rest on a burnished silver lotus, its thousand petals meticulously chiseled. Master Mahasaya beamed in enchantment. He was engaged in his inexhaustible romance with the Beloved. As he chanted Her name, my enraptured heart seemed shattered into a thousand pieces.

The next morning, we traveled four miles by boat on the Ganges. We entered the nine-domed Temple of Kali. Inside, the figures of the Divine Mother and Shiva rest on a polished silver lotus with a thousand carefully carved petals. Master Mahasaya glowed with delight. He was absorbed in his endless romance with the Beloved. As he chanted her name, my heart, filled with rapture, seemed to shatter into a thousand pieces.

We strolled later through the sacred precincts, halting in a tamarisk grove. The manna characteristically exuded by this tree was symbolic of the heavenly food Master Mahasaya was bestowing. His divine invocations continued. I sat rigidly motionless on the grass amid the pink feathery tamarisk flowers. Temporarily absent from the body, I soared in a supernal visit.

Later, we strolled through the sacred grounds and stopped in a grove of tamarisk trees. The manna these trees naturally released symbolized the heavenly food Master Mahasaya was giving me. He continued his divine prayers. I sat completely still on the grass among the pink, feathery tamarisk flowers. Temporarily outside my body, I soared into a heavenly realm.

This was the first of many pilgrimages to Dakshineswar with the holy teacher. From him I learned the sweetness of God in the aspect of Mother, or Divine Mercy. The childlike saint found little appeal in the Father aspect, or Divine Justice. Stern, exacting, mathematical judgment was alien to his gentle nature.

This was the first of many pilgrimages to Dakshineswar with the holy teacher. From him I learned the sweetness of God as Mother, or Divine Mercy. The childlike saint felt little drawn to God as Father, or Divine Justice. Stern, demanding judgment, as precise as mathematics, was foreign to his gentle nature.

“He can serve as an earthly prototype for the very angels of heaven!” I thought fondly, watching him one day at his prayers. Without a breath of censure or criticism, he surveyed the world with eyes long familiar with the Primal Purity. His body, mind, speech, and actions were effortlessly harmonized with his soul’s simplicity.

“He could serve as an earthly model for the very angels of heaven!” I thought fondly one day, watching him pray. He looked at the world without the slightest judgment or criticism. His eyes had long known the Primal Purity. His body, mind, speech, and actions were effortlessly in harmony with the simplicity of his soul.

“My Master told me so.” Shrinking from personal assertion, the saint ended any sage counsel with this invariable tribute. So deep was his identity with Sri Ramakrishna that Master Mahasaya no longer considered his thoughts as his own.

“My Master told me so.” Reluctant to claim any wisdom as his own, the saint always ended his wise advice with these words of tribute. Master Mahasaya identified so deeply with Sri Ramakrishna that he no longer considered his thoughts his own.

Hand in hand, the saint and I walked one evening on the block of his school. My joy was dimmed by the arrival of a conceited acquaintance who burdened us with a lengthy discourse.

One evening, the saint and I walked hand in hand around the block where his school stood. My joy faded when a conceited acquaintance arrived and bored us with a long speech.

“I see this man doesn’t please you.” The saint’s whisper to me was unheard by the egotist, spellbound by his own monologue. “I have spoken to Divine Mother about it; She realizes our sad predicament. As soon as we get to yonder red house, She has promised to remind him of more urgent business.”

“I see you don’t like this man.” The saint whispered to me, unheard by the egotist, who was spellbound by his own monologue. “I have spoken to Divine Mother about our sad situation. She understands our difficulty. As soon as we reach that red house over there, she has promised to remind him of more urgent business.”

My eyes were glued to the site of salvation. Reaching its red gate, the man unaccountably turned and departed, neither finishing his sentence nor saying good-by. The assaulted air was comforted with peace.

My eyes stayed fixed on the place of salvation. At its red gate, the man turned and left for no apparent reason. He neither finished his sentence nor said goodbye. The air he had disturbed was peaceful again.

Another day found me walking alone near the Howrah railway station. I stood for a moment by a temple, silently criticizing a small group of men with drum and cymbals who were violently reciting a chant.

One day, I was walking alone near the Howrah railway station. I paused by a temple, silently criticizing a small group of men chanting forcefully with a drum and cymbals.

“How undevotionally they use the Lord’s divine name in mechanical repetition,” I reflected. My gaze was astonished by the rapid approach of Master Mahasaya. “Sir, how come you here?”

“How little devotion they show as they mechanically repeat the Lord’s divine name,” I thought. I was astonished to see Master Mahasaya approaching quickly. “Sir, how did you come to be here?”

The saint, ignoring my question, answered my thought. “Isn’t it true, little sir, that the Beloved’s name sounds sweet from all lips, ignorant or wise?” He passed his arm around me affectionately; I found myself carried on his magic carpet to the Merciful Presence.

The saint ignored my question and answered my thought. “Isn’t it true, little sir, that the Beloved’s name sounds sweet on all lips, whether ignorant or wise?” He put his arm around me affectionately. I found myself carried on his magic carpet to the Merciful Presence.

“Would you like to see some bioscopes?” This question one afternoon from Master Mahasaya was mystifying; the term was then used in India to signify motion pictures. I agreed, glad to be in his company in any circumstances. A brisk walk brought us to the garden fronting Calcutta University. My companion indicated a bench near the goldighi or pond.

“Would you like to see some bioscopes?” Master Mahasaya asked me this puzzling question one afternoon. In India at the time, the term meant motion pictures. I agreed, happy to be with him under any circumstances. A brisk walk took us to the garden in front of Calcutta University. My companion pointed to a bench near the goldighi or pond.

“Let us sit here for a few minutes. My Master always asked me to meditate whenever I saw an expanse of water. Here its placidity reminds us of the vast calmness of God. As all things can be reflected in water, so the whole universe is mirrored in the lake of the Cosmic Mind. So my gurudeva often said.”

“Let’s sit here for a few minutes. My Master always asked me to meditate whenever I saw a wide stretch of water. The stillness of the water here reminds us of God’s vast calm. Just as all things can be reflected in water, the whole universe is reflected in the lake of the Cosmic Mind. My gurudeva often said this.”

Soon we entered a university hall where a lecture was in progress. It proved abysmally dull, though varied occasionally by lantern slide illustrations, equally uninteresting.

Soon we entered a university hall where a lecture was underway. The lecture was terribly dull, though occasional slide illustrations provided some variety. The slides were equally uninteresting.

“So this is the kind of bioscope the master wanted me to see!” My thought was impatient, yet I would not hurt the saint by revealing boredom in my face. But he leaned toward me confidentially.

“So this is the kind of movie the master wanted me to see!” I thought impatiently. Still, I didn’t want to hurt the saint by letting my boredom show on my face. But he leaned toward me as if to share a secret.

“I see, little sir, that you don’t like this bioscope. I have mentioned it to Divine Mother; She is in full sympathy with us both. She tells me that the electric lights will now go out, and won’t be relit until we have a chance to leave the room.”

“I see, little sir, that you don’t like this movie. I’ve told Divine Mother about it. She fully sympathizes with both of us. She tells me the electric lights will now go out. They won’t come back on until we have a chance to leave the room.”

As his whisper ended, the hall was plunged into darkness. The professor’s strident voice was stilled in astonishment, then remarked, “The electrical system of this hall appears to be defective.” By this time, Master Mahasaya and I were safely across the threshold. Glancing back from the corridor, I saw that the scene of our martyrdom had again become illuminated.

As his whisper ended, the hall went dark. The professor’s harsh voice fell silent in astonishment. Then he remarked, “The electrical system in this hall seems to be faulty.” By then, Master Mahasaya and I were safely through the doorway. Looking back from the corridor, I saw that the scene of our martyrdom was lit up again.

“Little sir, you were disappointed in that bioscope, [^9] but I think you will like a different one.” The saint and I were standing on the sidewalk in front of the university building. He gently slapped my chest over the heart.

“Little sir, you were disappointed in that bioscope, [^9] but I think you will like a different one.” The saint and I were standing on the sidewalk in front of the university building. He gently slapped my chest over my heart.

A transforming silence ensued. Just as the modern “talkies” become inaudible motion pictures when the sound apparatus goes out of order, so the Divine Hand, by some strange miracle, stifled the earthly bustle. The pedestrians as well as the passing trolley cars, automobiles, bullock carts, and iron-wheeled hackney carriages were all in noiseless transit. As though possessing an omnipresent eye, I beheld the scenes which were behind me, and to each side, as easily as those in front. The whole spectacle of activity in that small section of Calcutta passed before me without a sound. Like a glow of fire dimly seen beneath a thin coat of ashes, a mellow luminescence permeated the panoramic view.

A transforming silence followed. Modern “talkies” become silent movies when their sound equipment fails. Just so, by some strange miracle, the Divine Hand silenced the bustle of the world. Pedestrians, passing trolley cars, automobiles, bullock carts, and iron-wheeled horse-drawn carriages all moved without a sound. As though I had an eye that could see everywhere, I saw behind me and to either side. I saw those scenes as easily as the scenes in front of me. All the activity in that small section of Calcutta unfolded before me in silence. A soft light filled the panoramic view, like the faint glow of a fire beneath a thin layer of ashes.

My own body seemed nothing more than one of the many shadows, though it was motionless, while the others flitted mutely to and fro. Several boys, friends of mine, approached and passed on; though they had looked directly at me, it was without recognition.

My own body seemed like nothing more than one of the many shadows. But my body was still, while the other shadows moved silently back and forth. Several boys who were friends of mine came toward me and passed by. Although the boys looked directly at me, they did not recognize me.

The unique pantomime brought me an inexpressible ecstasy. I drank deep from some blissful fount. Suddenly my chest received another soft blow from Master Mahasaya. The pandemonium of the world burst upon my unwilling ears. I staggered, as though harshly awakened from a gossamer dream. The transcendental wine removed beyond my reach.

The unique silent performance filled me with indescribable ecstasy. I drank deeply from some fountain of bliss. Suddenly, Master Mahasaya gave my chest another gentle tap. The world's uproar burst into my ears, though I did not want to hear it. I staggered, as if roughly awakened from a delicate dream. The wine of spiritual bliss was now beyond my reach.

“Little sir, I see you found the second bioscope to your liking.” The saint was smiling; I started to drop in gratitude on the ground before him. “You can’t do that to me now; you know God is in your temple also! I won’t let Divine Mother touch my feet through your hands!”

“Little sir, I see you enjoyed the second bioscope.” The saint was smiling. I began to bow down before him in gratitude. “You can’t bow to me now. You know God is in your temple too! I won’t let Divine Mother touch my feet through your hands!”

If anyone observed the unpretentious master and myself as we walked away from the crowded pavement, the onlooker surely suspected us of intoxication. I felt that the falling shades of evening were sympathetically drunk with God. When darkness recovered from its nightly swoon, I faced the new morning bereft of my ecstatic mood. But ever enshrined in memory is the seraphic son of Divine Mother-Master Mahasaya!

If anyone saw the modest master and me walking away from the crowded sidewalk, they surely thought we were drunk. I felt that the gathering evening shadows shared our sense of being drunk with God. When darkness woke from its nightly faint, I faced the new morning without my ecstatic mood. But Master Mahasaya, the angelic son of Divine Mother, remains forever treasured in my memory!

Trying with poor words to do justice to his benignity, I wonder if Master Mahasaya, and others among the deep-visioned saints whose paths crossed mine, knew that years later, in a Western land, I would be writing about their lives as divine devotees. Their foreknowledge would not surprise me nor, I hope, my readers, who have come thus far with me.

As I struggle to find words worthy of his kindness, I wonder what Master Mahasaya knew of my future. Did he and other deeply perceptive saints whose paths crossed mine know I would later write about their lives? Years later, in a Western land, I would describe their lives as devotees of God. Their knowing the future would not surprise me. Nor, I hope, would it surprise my readers, who have come this far with me.

9-1: These are respectful titles by which he was customarily addressed. His name was Mahendra Nath Gupta; he signed his literary works simply “M.”

9-1: These are respectful titles people usually used when addressing him. His name was Mahendra Nath Gupta. He signed his literary works simply “M.”

9-2: The Oxford English Dictionary gives, as rare, this definition of bioscope: A view of life; that which gives such a view.

9-2: The Oxford English Dictionary lists this rare definition of bioscope: A view of life, or something that provides such a view.

Master Mahasaya’s choice of a word was, then, peculiarly justified.

Master Mahasaya’s choice of word was, then, especially fitting.