MAHARAJ AS GURU SRI RAMAKRISHNA ONCE SAID: When the lotus blooms, bees come of their own accord to gather the honey. When the lotus of a mans heart blossoms in the joy of God, spiritual aspirants will swarm to him. Many times we have watched Maharaj sitting among a crowd of devotees. One moment, he would be as happy and playful as a child; then suddenly his mind would become indrawn and the whole atmosphere would vibrate with the presence of God. At such times, those who had come to visit him would find that all their doubts and problems had been solved. They would rise and leave his presence, exalted and comforted, though not a single word had been spoken. The monastic order included many disciples of Holy Mother and Swamiji. But most of these had little opportunity of associating with their gurus. Swamiji passed away in 1902, and because Holy Mother did not live at the monastery she instructed her disciples to follow the disciplines prescribed by Maharaj. Maharaj himself also accepted disciples, but at first he was very particular. Often he would initiate them only after many years of probation. During the ceremony of initiation, he would be filled with an ecstasy of love, and the disciple would feel an extraordinary sense of the divine presence. Holy Mother once complained that Maharaj did not accept enough disciples. It so happened that just then Maharaj was invited to see a play about the life of Ramanuja, which had been written by one of his own disciples. In this drama there is a scene which expresses Ramanujas great love for mankind. The action is as follows: Ramanujas guru initiates him with a sacred mantram, and warns him never to reveal it to anyone. What will happen if I do? Ramanuja asks. And his guru replies: Whoever hears this mantram will be liberated from the bondage of his ignorance, but you yourself will suffer damnation. Ramanuja goes at once into the temple, gathers a crowd around him and utters the sacred mantram in the hearing of all. His guru pretends to be very angry, and rebukes him for disobedience. Ramanuja answers: If my damnation can liberate so many people, then my supreme desire is to be damned. The guru is delighted. You are great indeed! he exclaims. I give you my blessing. And he declares that the philosophy of qualified monism is to be known in the future as the Ramanuja philosophy. This drama and Holy Mothers remark both made a deep impression upon Maharaj. After this, he initiated many more disciples. Maharaj recognized his future disciples at first sight, and bound them to him at once with an indescribable love. Even as he met them, he knew which spiritual path each should follow. Two young college boys came to visit him. To one of them he said jokingly: Let me see your palm. As he looked at it, he remarked: You have a tendency toward worldly enjoyments. But, by the Lords grace, you may be able to overcome it. Swami Premananda, who was present, asked Maharaj to look at the other boys hand also. He replied, smiling: I dont need to. Hearing this, the other boy (who was later to be known as Swami Yatiswarananda) felt sad. He thought: My friend has some chance of becoming a monk, but I have none. A few days later, he came alone to visit Maharaj at the Belur Monastery. He met Swami Brahmanandas personal attendant, who told him: Maharaj said that you would become a monk. And indeed, he did; a few years later he became a monk, while the other boy married but remained a devotee. Before Yatiswarananda became a monk, Maharaj told him: Give your body and mind to worldly enjoyments, and the world will destroy them both. Devote them to God and His service, and you will enjoy bodily health, peace of mind, and spiritual joy. The following is Yatiswaranandas own description of his initiation: The day Maharaj was to initiate me, I felt a spiritual power tangibly emanating from him. After the initiation, I bowed down to him. He raised his hand in benediction above my head, giving me instantly a vivid consciousness of an immanent Presence. I realized that the whole universe was merged in the presence. That day, also, I got a glimpse of the divine nature and power of the guru. I was literally transported into a new life, and the power that he transmitted to me that day is still working with me. There are some instances of persons receiving initiation from Maharaj in a dream. This has happened even when the dreamer had never seen him in the flesh, but had merely heard about him and felt attracted by his name. One devout young woman had such a dream, and went to see Maharaj to confirm it. Although he was seated among his brother disciples, she recognized Maharaj at first sight, and began to describe her experience. Just as she was about to repeat the mantram she had received in her dream, Maharaj stopped her. Dont tell me, he said, I will tell you what it was. Thus she was convinced of the truth of her vision. A young boy also received a mantram from Maharaj in a dream, but unfortunately forgot it when he awoke. Shortly afterwards he went to Maharaj for initiation. During the ceremony, the dream-mantram returned to his mind, so that he was delighted and surprised, when, a few moments later, Maharaj gave him that very same mantram. At one time Sri Ramakrishna appeared in a dream to two ladies belonging to an aristocratic family, and told them to visit Maharaj. They had never heard of Sri Ramakrishna, nor read anything about him. But they went to Maharaj and were initiated by him. After relating this incident, Maharaj remarked to me: You see, we think we have to preach the Lord and his message; but Sri Ramakrishna does his own preaching. Be the witness! Girish Chandra Ghosh, the famous Bengali dramatist who became a disciple of Sri Ramakrishna, tells the following story about Brahmanandas extraordinary power: Compared to myself, Rakhal is only a young lad. I know that Sri Ramakrishna regarded him as his spiritual son, but that is not the only reason why I feel such a deep reverence for him. Once, while I was seriously ill, I found that I had lost my faith in Sri Ramakrishna. My heart felt dry. Many of the brother-disciples came to see me, and I told them about the unhappy state of my mind, but they only kept silent. Then, one day, Rakhal came. He asked me how I felt, and I described the dryness and lack of devotion from which I was suffering. Rakhal listened attentively, then he laughed aloud. Why worry about it? he asked me. The waves of the ocean rise high, then they go down again, and again they rise. The mind is like that. But please do not be troubled. Your present mood is due to the fact that you are about to rise to a much higher level of spirituality. The wave of the mind is gathering strength. When he left me, all the dryness in my heart had gone. My faith had returned, and my mind rose to a higher level than ever before. Maharaj initiated me while I was still a college student of eighteen. I wanted to join the monastery at that time but Maharaj instructed me to finish my education first. While at the university, I became involved with the revolutionary movement to overthrow the English government. However I did not lose my interest in spiritual life. In 1914, during Christmas vacation, I stayed a few days at the Belur Monastery in order to study Vedanta philosophy -- one of my courses at the university -- with Swami Shuddhananda, a disciple of Swami Vivekananda and a great and learned scholar of Hindu philosophy. He used to urge me to become a monk but I would argue with him: I thought the monastic life was lazy. I wanted to devote myself to political activities, believing that India must be freed from the domination of the British. An old man, who was also a guest at the monastery, used to be present during these arguments. Swami Shuddhananda could never convince me. One morning, as usual, I went to prostrate before Maharaj. This old man was also in the room. Suddenly he asked Maharaj: When is this boy going to become a monk? Maharaj looked me up and down, and his eyes had an unforgettable sweetness as he answered quietly: When the Lord wills. That was the end of my political plans and ambitions. I remained at the monastery. My own case was not exceptional. Many politically-minded young men who came into contact with Maharaj were inspired by the spiritual ideals of renunciation, service, and of realizing God. They began to realize that the awakening of India would never come through political action, but only through an intensification of the nations spiritual life -- and that this awakening would benefit not merely India but all mankind. Maharaj had wonderful insight into the character and spiritual growth of individuals. A friend of mine, whom he knew, renounced the world and went to Hrishikesh to practice austerity. He would not accept the guidance of any guru. After a few months practice he wrote me, saying that he had attained samadhi. At that time I was with Maharaj at Kankhal, and I told him the substance of my friends letter. Why! exclaimed Maharaj: I saw him about ten days ago. I looked into his eyes. He has not had samadhi. No doubt, he has had some kind of mystic vision -- the vision of light, perhaps -- and he mistakes that for samadhi. An aspirant is often led astray like that, when he has no guru to advise him. Samadhi! Is it an easy matter to attain samadhi? We saw Swamiji in samadhi only a few times. Sri Ramakrishna alone we saw in samadhi many times each day and night. Then he quoted a verse from the Mundaka Upanishad: The knot of the heart, which is ignorance, is loosed, all doubts are dissolved, all evil effects of deeds are destroyed, when he who is both personal and impersonal is realized. Is it ever possible, I asked, to attain samadhi after a short time? Yes, if a man has lived an absolutely continent life. Once I told Maharaj about a swami who had been stung by a scorpion and seemed to be miraculously cured by the power of a mantram. Maharaj laughed and said: Come along! He took me to the garden, pointed to a plant, and told me: Look, the juice of this plant cures a scorpion sting! Maharaj did not want his disciples to be credulous or superstitious. By his attitude he taught me to rely upon natural explanations rather than look for super-natural phenomena. Maharaj, with his deep insight, knew the strength and weakness of each of his disciples. He was always ready to help, but insisted that the disciples should also make some effort. Once, I asked him to free my mind from lust. I could do that for you, he replied, but then my child, you would lose all the joy of struggle. Life would seem insipid. One morning Swami Gnaneshwarananda hurried out of his room, leaving behind an unmade bed and general confusion. He met Maharaj on the maidan, a large, open field near his room. After paying his respects, he was startled to hear Maharaj say: Take me to your room; I wish you see the place where you sleep. Swami Gnaneshwarananda, feeling ashamed, replied: Maharaj, can you not come a little later? I was not expecting you and the room is not fit to receive you. Maharaj said: My boy, you must always be expecting me. Swami Gnaneshwarananda understood the deep meaning of this incident and the words of Maharaj -- that one must always be prepared to receive the Lord, the most honored guest. Sri Ramakrishna himself often rebuked his most intimate disciples, and Maharaj also used this method to train those who were near and dear to him. The chastening of a disciple never began, however, until after he had enjoyed several years of love and kind words. These experiences were painful at the time, but they were later treasured among the disciples sweetest memories. It often happened that even while the disciple was being reproached by Maharaj, he would feel a strange undercurrent of joy. The indifference of Maharaj was the only thing we could not have borne; but Maharaj was never indifferent. The harsher his words, the more intensely we felt his interest in our welfare. The very fact that he could speak to us in this way proved that we were his children, his own. Sometimes, a disciple would be reproved for quite insignificant reasons, or on grounds that seemed to him utterly unjust. But, as time passed, he would realize that there had been certain tendencies and karmas stored in his subconscious mind and that Maharaj had seen them and was working to annihilate them before they could appear and become harmful. Thus, at the cost of a little unpleasantness, the disciple would be spared years of painful struggle and self- discipline. At one time Maharaj was disciplining me continually. All day long he would scold me. On one occasion I was supposed to have some stationery designed for him. I examined the proofs of the letter-heads carefully before I presented several ornamental fonts to him from which to choose. When the stationery was printed, one of my brother-disciples took it to Maharaj, and then came back trembling: Maharaj says the S is broken! I went to Maharaj. He scolded me vehemently. Then I opened the style-book and showed him that the space in the letter S to which he was objecting was really a part of the design. Nevertheless, he continued to scold me. Although he did not mention the real reason for his scolding, he somehow gave me to understand that it had nothing to do with the letterheads -- the apparent cause of his rebuke. He was wiping out karmas from my subconscious mind. When Maharaj disciplined us, he gave us the power to bear it. We never reacted with resentment. We knew that whatever he did was for our own good. There was only one occasion when I felt that I had perhaps lost my masters love, and because I could not endure the thought, that very night I decided to run away from the monastery and hide myself forever. Thus resolved, I went next morning to prostrate before Maharaj, and silently take my leave of him. I was about to go, when he told me to sit down. For a while he continued to scold me, reminding me of all my faults. Then with a sudden change of manner and great earnestness, he asked: Do you think you can run away from me? The mother holds the child on her lap and spanks him; and the child cries: Mother, mother! Never before had I been so deeply aware of his love and protection. All thought of running away was forgotten. His words soothed my burning heart. Then he said: Our love is so deep that we do not let you know how much we love you. The truth of this statement was proved to me as I watched how Maharaj dealt with Hariharananda, another disciple who had been for many years his personal attendant. Hariharananda had begun to depend too much upon our master; he needed to learn to stand on his own feet. So, with a show of displeasure, Maharaj sent him away to practice austerities in the solitude of a temple in Southern India. Some years later, Maharaj was in Madras and arranged for Hariharananda to visit him. I was alone with Maharaj throughout the entire evening on which he was to arrive. Watching Maharaj, I saw that he was as restless as a loving mother who was expecting her son after a long absence. In due time, Hariharananda arrived, but fearing that Maharaj was still angry with him, he felt shy and wanted to postpone their meeting until the morning. Knowing the real state of affairs, I insisted that he should see Maharaj at once. However, when Hariharananda came into the room, Maharaj no longer showed any sign of his loving anxiety. He merely greeted his disciple quietly and asked if he had been keeping well. On another occasion, while I was being reproved in the presence of Ramlal Dada, the nephew of Sri Ramakrishna, another young disciple entered the room. Maharaj turned to him and said jokingly: With those glasses on, you look like Keshab Sen. The disciple did not answer, for he saw that I was being scolded. Then Ramlal Dada turned to him and said: Do you know why Maharaj is rebuking this boy in your presence? There is a saying that the mother scolds her daughter in order to teach the daughter-in-law. I remember for the first time Maharaj ever reproved me. I had failed to do a certain errand for him, because I had not understood exactly what it was he wanted. For this neglect he scolded me throughout the afternoon. At supper time, Swami Turiyananda was seated with Maharaj and I was fanning them. The scolding continued. I remained silent. Swami Turiyananda turned to me and asked: Do you know why Maharaj is so hard on you? No, I replied, frankly, I dont. I do not see how I am to blame. Then Swami Turiyananda said: There are three classes of disciples. The third- class disciple merely does the gurus bidding. The second-class disciple does not have to be told. He acts as soon as the thought arises in the gurus mind. But the first- class disciple acts even before the guru has had time to think. Maharaj wants you all to become first-class disciples. To this Maharaj added simply: You see, brother Hari, I am getting old; they do not obey me any more. Please knock a little sense into their heads. There was another time when I did not write to Maharaj because my vanity had been wounded. When he came to Madras from Bangalore and asked me why I had not written, I answered carelessly: Oh, you got all news of me from Swami Shivananda. At a glance, he understood my mood, and asked sarcastically: I suppose you have the key to the treasure house inside you, and dont need me any more? My ill humor vanished immediately. How can you say that? I exclaimed: You know that you hold the key! Maharaj continued to scold me for my negligence in not writing to him. Then he told me how Sri Ramakrishna, by his mere touch, removed the spiritual obstacles that stood in his disciples path. To this I answered: Yes -- Sri Ramakrishna did all that for you. But when our turn comes you can only scold us. Maharaj shook his head, and said with great sweetness: No, my boy. You have no need to worry. Then he repeated three times: I see how Sri Ramakrishna is doing everything for you. Even though Maharaj once said: Our love is so deep that we do not let you know how much we love you, there is still the fact that you can get honey from a honeycomb if you poke it. He could not always hide his deep love and concern. This was made evident to me when at one time I asked permission to live in solitude and practice austerities. At first he granted my request, but I did not realize then that he was not really serious. He had said: All right, go to the River Narmada and practice austerities, and let me see what you can do! Within a few weeks I had made the necessary arrangements -- and my blanket and clothing were packed and ready. When I came to bid Maharaj goodbye and receive his blessings, he asked with alarm: Where are you going? I replied: You have given me permission to go to the Narmada and practice austerities. I am ready to go. Like a father about to lose his only son, he anxiously requested that I call Swami Shivananda at once. The Swami came immediately. As if he himself could not convince me that I should stay, Maharaj explained the situation to Swami Shivananda. With some agitation, he said: Look, brother, this boy wants to practice austerities! What do these boys know about such things? Why do they have to practice austerities? We have done all that for them. After this Maharaj began to speak of high spiritual matters. Other monks of the Order gathered. He continued to talk in this way for three long hours, stopping only when he was told that a householder devotee wanted to see him. He remarked: Now I cant continue. My mind has come down to a lower level. Later, Swami Shivananda said to me: Today I learned many things I had not known before -- just because you poked the honeycomb of Maharaj. Sometimes the harsh behavior of Maharaj toward a disciple amounted to apparent cruelty. Three of us were to be initiated into the monastic order at the same time. One was a boy who had been greatly praised because he had steadfastly practiced spiritual disciplines. We had all noticed his growth. Just as the formal rites were about to begin, Maharaj suddenly turned to this boy and said, Why are you here? I shall not initiate you. Go away. My brother-disciple and I were both shocked and felt that Maharaj had been cruel. But the boy himself later admitted that the praise he had received had made him vain. Maharaj, by his drastic action, had killed the seed which might have grown into deadly spiritual pride. For ten days he suffered bitterly. Then he also was initiated into sannyas. Maharaj also taught by joking and making fun. Often his humorous remarks contained a deep inner meaning. To one disciple he used to write dogged verses, and the truths they expressed were sometimes far from pleasant. While in Madras, he used to dictate these poems to me. One of them had a line in it: I have given that which is holy unto a dog. He told me to mail this poem to the disciple. Is harshness pained me and I spoke of it to Ramlal Dada, saying that I was afraid the feelings of the disciple would be deeply hurt. Ramlal Dada reported my remark to Maharaj. Meanwhile, I had gone to bed, but Maharaj sent for me. He told me to bring the poem and read it to him. I did so, and repeated my objection. Maharaj was silent for a moment. Then he said: No, send it as it is. He is too thick-skinned to get my meaning any other way. And how right he was! These verses made a deep impression upon the disciple and awakened his spiritual understanding. The reproaches of Maharaj were always followed by tenderness and sweetness. About a week before Maharaj left Madras I was arranging flowers in his room. I did not notice that he had come in. Suddenly he whispered into my ear: Lovest thou me? A thrill passed through my whole being, and for a moment I could neither speak nor move. When I was able to turn around, I saw that he was already leaving the room. I still remember the last words Maharaj ever spoke to me. It was on the eve of his departure from Madras; I was cooking a sweet for him and he was walking up and down, close by. Suddenly, he came over and whispered into my ear: It makes me feel so bad, having to leave you. I shall miss you very much. Later, at the end of a letter, he repeated those same loving words: I miss you very much. M. once told Vishwananda, a disciple of Maharaj: Observe how Maharaj acts and you will have some idea of what Sri Ramakrishna was like. When his mind came down to the finite plane, his sense of humor was very keen. This was also true of Maharaj. One of his favorite jokes was to have some fruits or sweets placed beside a disciple who was meditating. When the disciple had finished his meditation he would find his favorite dishes laid out before him. Later Maharaj would ask: Well, did you get the fruits of your austerities? Often he would make us all roar with laughter. I remember once, while we were laughing, he nudged me and said, pointing to Vishwananda: Look! How he giggles like a girl! Maharaj would sometimes remark: It is good to laugh every day. It relaxes the body and the mind. The following stories will give a glimpse of Maharajs sense of fun, and also of the deep love he had toward his brother-disciples. One story is told by Swami Satprakashananda: One afternoon Maharaj was seated on the large bench on the ground-floor veranda of the Math building facing the Ganges. The old Math building provided the only residential quarters of the Belur Monastery at that time. I was standing very close to Maharaj. Presently, a young man, who had come to the monastery to spend a vacation in the company of holy men approached Maharaj to take leave of him. His holiday was over, and he was about to return to his own home. Maharaj had noticed that, during his stay, the young man had been particularly devoted to Swami Premananda, who was the center of attraction to many ardent visitors in those days. With his characteristic sense of humor, Maharaj took the opportunity to have a little fun at the expense of his brother-disciple, Swami Premananda. Have you taken leave of Swami Premananda? he asked as the young man bowed down before him. No, Maharaj, not yet, he replied. I am going to take leave of him now. Well, when you bow down to him you should say the pranama-mantra (salutation mantra). Perhaps you do not know this mantram, but I shall teach you! So saying, Maharaj began to recite a Bengali couplet which he improvised as he went along. Freely translated, it ran something like this: My mind is reluctant to go back home; it is my hearts keen desire to lie down forever at those blessed feet. Then Maharaj instructed him how to act while saying the mantram. He told him to first stand before Swami Premananda with hands folded in great veneration, and repeat the couplet until he came to the line to lie down forever at those blessed feet, when he was to direct his still folded hands toward the Swamis feet, and then dive down. The young man turned to go, and as he left, Maharaj told me to go and watch. I followed the youth and saw him standing before Swami Premananda with folded hands as Maharaj had instructed him. But he was silent. However, as he bowed down, the Swami noticed that he was mumbling something, and asked: What is this? What are you saying? Speak out, my boy! But the boy remained silent. And then I laughed. Hearing me laugh, Swami Premananda turned to me and said: Ah! You know what he is saying, surely! Please tell me! And then I told him the whole story of the pranama-mantra and when I had finished there was a roar of laughter. The other story tells of an affectionate trick Maharaj played on his brother-disciple, Swami Akhandananda. The Swami had been staying with Maharaj for some considerable time, when he decided he would like to return to his own ashrama. Maharaj begged him to stay a little while longer, but the Swami persisted. Seeing his evident determination to go, Maharaj engaged a palanquin to take the Swami to the railway station, which was several miles away. The train was due in the early morning, which meant that the Swami had to leave late at night. Before the bearers set out with Swami Akhandananda, Maharaj whispered something to them. It was dark when they left, so the Swami settled down behind the curtains of the palanquin. Every once in a while the bearers would stop, and the Swami would anxiously inquire what they were stopping for. Each time, they assured him that they were stopping merely to rest and to have a smoke, but that there was no need for anxiety; he would arrive at his destination in plenty of time. After several hours of arduous travel the bearers finally stopped for the last time, and asked Swami Akhandananda to alight. Just as he was about to get out of the palanquin he saw Maharaj standing before him, greeting him as though he had just arrived after a long absence. When the Swami realized that he had been carried around the compound all night he roared with laughter. Maharaj embraced him and they both laughed like two children. The relationship between guru and disciple, according to the Hindu scriptures, is a very sacred one. Maharaj used to say that an enlightened soul must help his disciple until he also becomes enlightened. This tie cannot be broken by the death of the body. After the teacher has passed away, he still continues to watch over his disciples in spirit. He will not accept his own final liberation until all are liberated. Maharaj was the embodiment of the protective power of the guru. At one time, he was walking with another disciple and myself. He was slightly ahead of us. Suddenly we heard a shout: Out of the way! Theres a mad bull! An instant later, we saw the bull itself rushing towards us. There was no time to run. My brother-disciple and I tried to get in front of Maharaj to protect him, but he raised his arm and pushed us back. Although he was now an elderly man, he was still extraordinarily strong. As the bull approached with lowered head, there was a moments pause; Maharaj stood still, confronting it. Then the bull stopped, shook its head from side to side, lifted it, and walked quietly away. Swami Akhilananda related a similar incident which took place at Bhubaneswar. Maharaj had gone for an evening walk in the woods with Akhilananda and another devotee. By the time they turned homeward, it was dark. All at once they saw a leopard coming toward them. Maharaj stood still. The leopard also stopped, about a hundred feet away, and looking at them for some moments. Then it turned away and ran off. Neither of the devotees felt frightened. There could never be any fear in the presence of Maharaj. Maharaj prescribed various disciplines and diverse forms of worship to suit the different temperaments of his disciples. He knew our needs far better than we did. When I first joined the Order I was inclined toward the path of devotion, but Maharaj decided to send me to a monastery in the Himalayas where the ideal of nondualism is practiced and no ritual is allowed. Before I left, he made me read aloud to him a book on extreme nondualism. Two years later, he sent me to the monastery in Madras where ritual is regarded as very important. By this time I had lost all my devotional inclination and no longer believed in ritualistic worship. Some time later, Maharaj came to visit this monastery. One day, a devotee brought a large basket of naga lingam flowers to be offered in the worship. Knowing that they were the favorite flowers of Maharaj, I arranged them in his room. Maharaj came in, saw what I was doing, and asked: Have you saved some of those flowers for the worship of the Lord? No, Maharaj, I replied. For I had thought to myself: After all, the Lord in the shrine room is only a picture, but the guru is the living God. Maharaj, as usual, read my thoughts, and asked: Do you think it is merely a picture that is worshipped in the shrine? Yes, I replied, somewhat nervously. Have you ever performed the ritualistic worship? No, Maharaj. Why not? I am not yet a swami, and I am not a brahmin by caste. So I am not allowed to do the external worship in the shrine. Maharaj became quite excited. What is all this? he exclaimed. Call Sharvananda. Swami Sharvananda was a disciple of Maharaj and the head of the Madras monastery. When he appeared, Maharaj asked him: How is it that a brahmachari of this Order is not allowed to do the worship, just because he is not a brahmin? Sharvananda answered: Swami Ramakrishnananda was the first head of this monastery. He was very particular that the worship should be performed only by a swami or a brahmin. It should not be that way, Maharaj replied. Anyone who has been initiated and who has entered the Order is purified in his body and birth; therefore, he should be allowed to do the worship. Then, turning to me, he said: You will do the worship. But Maharaj, I replied, I do not believe in ritualistic worship. I do not see the living Presence in the picture. I am asking you to do the worship now, Maharaj said quietly. Will you? I obediently followed his instructions and, within a few days, became convinced of the great efficacy of external worship. Almost his last advice to me was: Be ritualistic. And he added: Look at Ambikananda (one of his senior disciples); see how wonderfully he is progressing through the practice of ritualism. This does not mean, however, that Maharaj asked everybody to practice ritualism. In fact, there are many of his disciples who have never learned the rites of formal worship. Hinduism teaches the value of ritual, but does not say that it is essential to every ones spiritual progress. I must mention two quotations which Maharaj never tired of repeating to his disciples. The first was: Tell the truth, but never a harsh truth. The second was from the teachings of Sri Chaitanya: Be humbler than a blade of grass, Be patient and forbearing like the tree, Take no honor to thyself,. Give honor to all, Chant unceasingly the Name of the Lord. I will conclude this chapter by giving an example of the way in which the guru power of Maharaj was manifested. Swami Vivekananda once remarked: A real guru knows the past, present, and the future of all his disciples. Maharaj knew this about each one of us, as is shown by the following incident which a monastic disciple describes: I was sitting cross-legged in front of Maharaj with his feet resting on my knees. This was the position in which I often used to massage his feet. Then something happened to me which I cannot explain, though I feel certain that it was Maharajs doing. I found myself in a condition in which I was talking and talking, forgetting my usual restraint; it seemed to me that I spoke freely and even eloquently for a long time, but I do not remember what I said. Maharaj listened and said nothing. Suddenly I returned to normal consciousness and became aware of Maharaj leaning toward me and asking with an amused smile: What did you say? I then realized that I had addressed him as tumi (the familiar form of you which is used in speaking to equals and friends). I hastened to correct myself, repeating the sentence -- I have forgotten what it was -- but using apani (the respectful form of you by which we addressed him). At this he seemed to lose all interest in the conversation and sat upright again. I can only assume that Maharaj wanted to corroborate his own intuitive knowledge of my past lives, and that he therefore put me into this unusual state of consciousness in which I was able to tell him what he wanted to know. /taken from Life of Swami Brahmananda by Swami Prabhavananda/
Posted on: Thu, 22 Jan 2015 05:13:02 +0000
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