Both women kept the urgent vigil far into
the early morning hours, but finally fell asleep. The lamp oil was
almost gone; the light flickered feebly.
The bedroom door unlatched and flew open with a violent sound.
The startled women awoke. Their astonished eyes beheld the form of
Lahiri Mahasaya.
"Abhoya, behold, the light is almost gone!" He pointed to the lamp,
which the nurse hastened to refill. As soon as it burned again
brightly, the master vanished. The door closed; the latch was
affixed without visible agency.
Abhoya's ninth child survived; in 1935, when I made inquiry, she
was still living.
One of Lahiri Mahasaya's disciples, the venerable Kali Kumar Roy,
related to me many fascinating details of his life with the master.
"I was often a guest at his Benares home for weeks at a time,"
Roy told me. "I observed that many saintly figures, DANDA {FN31-3}
swamis, arrived in the quiet of night to sit at the guru's feet.
Sometimes they would engage in discussion of meditational and
philosophical points. At dawn the exalted guests would depart. I
found during my visits that Lahiri Mahasaya did not once lie down
to sleep.
"During an early period of my association with the master, I had
to contend with the opposition of my employer," Roy went on. "He
was steeped in materialism.
"'I don't want religious fanatics on my staff,' he would sneer.
'If I ever meet your charlatan guru, I shall give him some words
to remember.
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