"Swamiji," I inquired, looking straight into his eyes, "please tell
me the truth: Aren't you feeling the advance of age? As the body
is weakening, are your perceptions of God suffering any diminution?"
He smiled angelically. "The Beloved is more than ever with me now."
His complete conviction overwhelmed my mind and soul. He went on,
"I am still enjoying the two pensions-one from Bhagabati here, and
one from above." Pointing his finger heavenward, the saint fell
into an ecstasy, his face lit with a divine glow-an ample answer
to my question.
Noticing that Pranabananda's room contained many plants and packages
of seed, I asked their purpose.
"I have left Benares permanently," he said, "and am now on my way
to the Himalayas. There I shall open an ashram for my disciples.
These seeds will produce spinach and a few other vegetables. My dear
ones will live simply, spending their time in blissful God-union.
Nothing else is necessary."
Father asked his brother disciple when he would return to Calcutta.
"Never again," the saint replied. "This year is the one in which
Lahiri Mahasaya told me I would leave my beloved Benares forever
and go to the Himalayas, there to throw off my mortal frame."
My eyes filled with tears at his words, but the swami smiled
tranquilly. He reminded me of a little heavenly child, sitting
securely on the lap of the Divine Mother. The burden of the years
has no ill effect on a great yogi's full possession of supreme
spiritual powers.
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