Showers of marigolds, tinkle of
cymbals, lusty blowing of conch shells and beat of the MRIDANGA
drum! The Blissful Mother wandered smilingly over the sunny VIDYALAYA
grounds, ever carrying within her the portable paradise.
"It is beautiful here," Ananda Moyi Ma said graciously as I led her
into the main building. She seated herself with a childlike smile
by my side. The closest of dear friends, she made one feel, yet an
aura of remoteness was ever around her-the paradoxical isolation
of Omnipresence.
"Please tell me something of your life."
"Father knows all about it; why repeat it?" She evidently felt that
the factual history of one short incarnation was beneath notice.
I laughed, gently repeating my question.
"Father, there is little to tell." She spread her graceful hands
in a deprecatory gesture. "My consciousness has never associated
itself with this temporary body. Before I came on this earth, Father,
'I was the same.' As a little girl, 'I was the same.' I grew into
womanhood, but still 'I was the same.' When the family in which
I had been born made arrangements to have this body married, 'I
was the same.' And when, passion-drunk, my husband came to me and
murmured endearing words, lightly touching my body, he received a
violent shock, as if struck by lightning, for even then 'I was the
same.'
"My husband knelt before me, folded his hands, and implored my
pardon.
"'Mother,' he said, 'because I have desecrated your bodily temple
by touching it with the thought of lust-not knowing that within it
dwelt not my wife but the Divine Mother-I take this solemn vow: I
shall be your disciple, a celibate follower, ever caring for you
in silence as a servant, never speaking to anyone again as long as
I live.
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