Mahendra

Mahendra and his younger brother, Priya, had been visiting the Master for some time.

Mahendra owned a flour-mill and other businesses. His brother was an engineer. Both the brothers engaged people to manage their affairs and therefore had considerable leisure. Mahendra was thirty-six or thirty-seven and his brother two years younger.

Besides their country home at Kedeti, they had a house at Baghbazar, Calcutta. A young devotee named Hari accompanied them on their visits to Sri Ramakrishna. Hari was married but greatly devoted to the Master. Mahendra and Hari had not visited

Dakshineswar for a long time. They saluted Sri Ramakrishna.

MASTER: “Hello! Why haven’t you visited Dakshineswar for so long?”

MAHENDRA: “Sir, I have been away from Calcutta. I was at Kedeti.”

MASTER: “You have no children. You don’t serve anybody. And still you have no leisure! Goodness gracious!”

The devotees remained silent. Mahendra was a little embarrassed.

MASTER (to Mahendra): “Why am I saying all this to you? You are sincere and generous. You have love for God.”

MAHENDRA: “You are saying these words for my good.”

MASTER (smiling): “You see, we don’t take any collection during the performance at our place. Jadu’s mother says to me, ‘Other sādhus always ask for money, but you do not.’ Worldly people feel annoyed if they have to spend money.

“A theatrical performance was being given at a certain place. A man felt a great desire to take a seat and see it. He peeped in and saw that a collection was being taken from the audience. Quietly he slipped away. Another performance was being given at some other place. He went there and, inquiring, found that no collection would be taken. There was a great rush of people. He elbowed his way through the crowd and reached the center of the hall. There he picked out a nice seat for himself, twirled his moustaches, and sat through the performance.

(All laugh.)

“You have no children to divert your mind. I know a deputy magistrate who draws a salary of eight hundred rupees a month. He went to Keshab’s house to see a performance. I was there too. Rakhal and a few other devotees were with me and sat beside me.

After a while Rakhal went out for a few minutes. The deputy magistrate came over and made his young son take Rakhal’s seat. I said, ‘He can’t sit there.’ ‘At that time I was in such a state of mind that I had to do whatever the person next to me would ask me to do; so I had seated Rakhal beside me. As long as the performance lasted the deputy did nothing but gibber with his son. The rascal didn’t look at the performance even once. I heard, too, that he is a slave to his wife; he gets up and sits down as she tells him to. And he didn’t see the performance for that snub-nosed monkey of a boy.

(To Mahendra) “Do you practise meditation?”

MAHENDRA: “Yes, sir. A little.”

MASTER: “Come to Dakshineswar now and then.”

MAHENDRA (smiling): “Yes, sir. I will. You know where my knots and twists are. You will straighten them out.”

MASTER (smiling): “First come to Dakshineswar; then I shall press your limbs to see where your twists are. Why don’t you come?”

MAHENDRA: “Because of the pressure of my duties. Besides, I have to go to my country home now and then.”

MASTER (to Mahendra, pointing his finger at the devotees): “Have they no homes or dwelling-places? Have they no duties? How is it that they come?

(To Hari) “Why haven’t you come to Dakshineswar? Is your wife living with you?”

HARI: “No, sir.”

MASTER: “Then why did you forget me?”

HARI: “I haven’t been well, sir.”

MASTER (to the devotees): “He looks thin. He has no small measure of bhakti. He is overflowing with it, but it is of a rather troublesome nature.”

(Laughter.)

Sri Ramakrishna used to address a certain devotee’s wife by the name of “Habi’s mother”. Her brother, a college student aged about twenty, was there. He stood up, ready to go and play cricket. His younger brother, named Dwija, was also a devotee of the Master. Both brothers left the room. A few minutes later Dwija returned. The Master said, “Why didn’t you go?” A devotee answered: “He wants to hear the music. Perhaps that is why he has come back.”

Trailokya, the Brahmo devotee, was to sing for the Master. Paltu arrived. The Master said: “Who is this? Ah! It is Paltu.”

Purna, another young devotee, also arrived. It was with great difficulty that Sri Ramakrishna had managed to have him come. His relatives strongly objected to his visiting the Master. Purna was a student in the fifth grade of the school where M. taught. The boy prostrated himself before Sri Ramakrishna. The Master seated him by his side and was talking to him in a low voice. M. alone was sitting near them. The other devotees were talking about various things. Girish, sitting on the other side of the room, was reading a life of Keshab.

MASTER (to Purna): “Come nearer.”

GIRISH(to M.): “Who is this boy?”

M. was afraid that others might notice the boy. This would make trouble for him at home and M would be responsible for it.

M. (Sharply): “Don’t you see he is a boy?”

GIRISH (smiling): “I need no ghost to tell me that.”

The Master and the boy were talking in low tones.

MASTER: “Do you practise what I asked you to?”

PURNA: “Yes, sir.”

MASTER: “Do you dream? Do you dream of a flame? A lighted torch? A married woman?

A cremation ground? It is good to dream of these things.”

PURNA: “I dreamt of you. You were seated and were telling me something.”

MASTER: “What? Some instructions? Tell me some of it.”

PURNA: “I don’t remember now.”

MASTER: “Never mind. But it is very good. You will make progress. You feel attracted to me, don’t you?”

A few minutes later Sri Ramakrishna said to the boy, “Won’t you come there?” He meant Dakshineswar. “I can’t promise”, answered the boy.

MASTER: “Why? Doesn’t one of your relatives live there?”

PURNA: “Yes, sir. But it won’t be very convenient for me to go.” Girish was reading a life of Keshab written by Trailokya of the Brahmo Samaj. In it Trailokya said that at first Sri Ramakrishna had been very much opposed to the world but that after meeting Keshab he had changed his mind and had come to believe that, one could lead a spiritual life in the world as well.

Several devotees had told the Master about this. They wanted to discuss it with Trailokya. Those passages in the book had been read to the Master. Noticing the book in Girish’s hand, Sri Ramakrishna said to Girish, M., Ram, and the other devotees: “Those people are busy with the world. That is why they set such a high value on worldly life. They are drowned in ‘woman and gold’. One doesn’t talk that way after realizing God. After enjoying divine bliss, one looks on the world as crow- droppings. At the very outset I utterly renounced everything. Not only did I renounce the company of worldly people, but now and then the company of devotees as well. I noticed that the devotees were dropping dead one by one, and that made my heart writhe with pain. But now I keep one or two of them with me.”

Girish left for home, saying he would come back. Trailokya arrived with Jaygopal Sen. They bowed before the Master and sat down. He inquired about their health. The younger Naren entered the room and saluted Sri Ramakrishna. The Master said to him, “Why didn’t you see me last Saturday?”

Trailokya was ready to sing.

MASTER: “Ah! You sang that day about the Blissful Mother. How sweetly you sang!

Others’ songs seem insipid to me. That day I didn’t enjoy even Narendra’s singing. Why don’t you sing those same songs again?”

Trailokya sang:

Victory to Gora, Sachi’s son! Hail, Abode of every virtue, Touchstone of Love, Ocean of Bliss, Man’s bewitcher, beauteous of form, Enchanting the eye like shining gold! His tender arms that reach to the knee, Graceful and long as lotus stalks, Are lovingly stretched to all mankind, His lotus face of matchless beauty Overflows with the nectar of Love; His cheeks are covered with curling hair! Alight with heavenly love, his beauty Charms the eye! Beaming with fervour, Radiant with Bliss, his body trembling With Hari’s joy, Gaurānga the golden Dances like a mad elephant, shaking In all his limbs with the frenzy of love! Gaurānga, singer of Hari’s glories, Prize of every sādhu’s heart, Rarest of men, the Ocean of Love, Embraces the outcaste, calls him brother, Takes him in his arms in fervent love! He dances with both his arms upraised, And sings Hari’s name; the tears are streaming Down his cheeks; he weeps, he cries, He trembles, roars, and rages, saying, “Where is Hari, the Jewel of my heart?” The hair on his limbs is standing on end, Like a kadamba flower is his body, 829Covered with dust he rolls on the ground. O Thou, the Abode of Hari’s lila, Fountain-head of Love’s elixir, Friend of the helpless, Glory of Banga, Hail Chaitanya, Thou who shinest Bright as the moon, in the bhakta’s heart!