Nicola Barker - The Cauliflower

Mathur Baba has been a rock to us. He has always treated Hridayram with courtesy and respect, and where Mathur Baba leads others will surely follow. If Hridayram asks Mathur Baba for any little thing that Uncle needs, Mathur Baba will always gratify his request.

Where will we be without Mathur Baba?

I asked Uncle whether Mathur Baba’s faithful service to him will exempt Mathur Baba from the cruel cycle of rebirth, but Uncle has been strangely vague in his response. This has made me very anxious and doubtful. After the death of my beloved first wife — and then Akshay so soon afterward — I have been turning my mind to spiritual matters. I have increased my devotions to Ma Kali in the temple. I have practiced some austerities and am now saying japam quite regularly. Uncle is my example. Like Uncle, I have sometimes taken off my sacred thread and put aside my wearing cloth. Why should I not achieve all that Uncle has achieved if I focus my mind diligently, just as he has done?

Uncle often says that if anyone cries out to the Divine Mother with a sincere and a longing heart then she will always respond. And Uncle is perfectly correct. It did not take long before my efforts were repaid by a series of brief visions and delightful spiritual sensations.

Ah, these heavenly joys are truly intoxicating! No earthly bliss may hope to compare with them. But my achievements have been small and intermittent. I am very hungry for many more. I want to be just like Uncle and enjoy all of the heavenly pleasures that he enjoys.

I have asked Uncle for spiritual guidance, but Uncle simply keeps on telling me that all blessings will be mine if I continue to serve him with my whole being. “How will it be,” he asked, “if we are both in a constant state of ecstasy? Who will take care of us then?”

Even Mathur Baba was highly critical of my new spiritual direction. When he found me late one morning (after my many chores were done) seated in the panchavati , surrounded by a small crowd of onlookers as I gasped and cried in ecstasy there (exactly as dear Uncle does), he scolded me soundly and asked where Uncle was and why I was not attending to him. He said that he and I had been placed on this earth to serve Uncle and not for any other purpose. He said that it was mere foolishness to try and impersonate Uncle. There is only one Sri Ramakrishna, he said.

Later I overheard him in conversation with Uncle, demanding to know why Hridayram was troubling himself with pointless austerities and japam . Uncle just shrugged and said that he had nothing to do with it. “If Hridayram turns his heart to the Divine Mother, then the Divine Mother will respond exactly as she sees fit,” he muttered. “Do not worry,” he then added, “she will give him a taste of bliss and then return him to his normal self again.” But Mathur Baba just laughed and said, “Ah, Father, I’m no fool. This is not the work of the Mother. This is all your doing.” But Uncle said nothing.

A few nights later I happened to see Uncle heading out of his room and making his way, alone, toward the panchavati . I went to fetch his towel and his water pot (thinking he might be in need of them), and as I ran along the path to catch up with him again I was overwhelmed by an exquisite vision. Uncle — walking directly ahead of me — was suddenly transformed, on the inhalation of a breath, into a luminous, radiant being. His whole body glowed. He was no longer simply a man but a million blinding particles of light. And as he walked his feet did not touch the ground. He floated just above it. I blinked and dashed at my eyes with my fists. But everything remained exactly as before — the water pot, the path, the trees. All except for Uncle, that is, except for luminous Uncle — glorious Uncle. And as I watched him I knew in my soul — or I was told — that Uncle is an incarnation of God. My heart was filled with inconceivable amounts of emotion. I could hardly breathe. I stopped in my tracks, my eyes streaming with tears. And it was in this brief moment that I so happened to look down upon myself and saw, to my great astonishment, that I, too, was luminous. Just like Uncle. I was luminous! Because I was Uncle’s servant. And I was created to serve Uncle, from the same substance as Uncle. I was a little part of Uncle. I was reflected in his radiance.

I cannot be sure what happened next, only that the blissful waves engulfed me completely and I collapsed to my knees and began to shout. “Uncle! Uncle! Sri Ramakrishna! We are not mortal beings! We are not mortal beings! I have seen it! I have seen what we are! We are luminous! We are made from God! Oh why oh why is this happening to me? What shall we do now? Sri Ramakrishna! Sri Ramakrishna! What is our mission? Surely we must travail the world and liberate souls together!”

“Hush! Hush!” Uncle was suddenly standing by my side and his face was creased with rage. “What on earth are you doing, Hridayram?” he demanded. “Stop making a scene like this! People will think some dreadful accident has befallen us!”

But I could not stop. I was overwhelmed by emotion. I was sobbing and calling and beating at my chest, until finally Uncle lost his temper. “This is impossible!” he exclaimed. “Mother, please make Hriday his old, boring self again.”

Uncle lightly touched my shoulder with his hand, and as soon as I felt the light pressure of his fingers all the light and the joy abandoned me completely. I was back to my former self once more. But the contrast between these two states was so extreme. The joy had been so violent. And now the dullness that replaced it was unendurable.

“Why have you made me dull, Uncle?” I wept. “Why have you taken my joy away from me?”

Uncle looked apologetic and almost sad. “I haven’t taken it away forever, Hriday,” he said, “You will get it back when you are better prepared for it.” And then he shook his head and added, “To make so much fuss about a little bit of ecstasy! I experience such moods all day, every day. How would it be if I behaved as you just have?”

I will not call Uncle a hypocrite, but have I not stood by and watched Uncle behave like a madman throughout the long years of his own sadhana ? Have I not watched him fall to the ground screaming and rub his face in the dirt, crying, “Mother! Mother!” Have I not scowled but said nothing as he crouched naked in a tree, urinating freely, producing the ear-splitting cries of a monkey? Have I not indulged and supported a million such extremities from Uncle? And now? To have my joy taken away after a single incident? Is this not too harsh?

Of course, I heard what Uncle told me, but in truth I did not listen to him. In the weeks that followed I secretly continued on with my austerities. Then late one night, feeling myself possessed by a powerful spiritual urge, I walked to the panchavati , sat myself down on Uncle’s special meditation seat, and began to pray there. Yet within only a few brief seconds of closing my eyes they sprang wide open again. What horror was this? I felt as if I had been covered in flaming charcoal — as if a pan of hot fat had been poured over my whole miserable body.

I screamed in shock and in fear and in agony. The pain was unendurable! Mere seconds later I saw Uncle running toward me. “What are you doing, Hriday?” he demanded. “I am burning, Uncle!” I cried, almost insensible with the pain. “I am burning! I am scorching — from my head to my feet! Help me! Help me!”

Uncle reached out his hand and he lightly touched my chest and instantly the pain was gone. I fell from the seat. I was shivering with shock. Uncle stood before me, shaking his head, “Why are you persisting with this, Hridayram?” he asked, quite forlornly. “Did I not tell you that serving me would be enough?”