IN DAYS OF GREAT PEACE Mouni Sadhu Part Four

August 9, 2008

The Maharshi

MAR/APR 2001 VOL.11, NO. 2

IN DAYS OF GREAT PEACE

by Mouni Sadhu

Part Four

Farewell

I am returning from the temple hall where people were passing before Maharshis couch as in a procession. I have not taken part in it. I am waiting for 5 P.M. when the flow of visitors stops. From six till seven-thirty the Master is alone. Hence, it is the best time to approach and take leave of him.

The night is exceptionally hot with no breeze, not even a breath of the usual cooler eastern wind. The road is empty and there is no one at the Ashram gate, only several motor cars stand in its large courtyard.

Twilight reigns in the temple hall. I stop for a moment at the door.

Maharshi is sitting in his habitual posture, reclining on pillows and looking into space. One of the young attendants is sitting in a corner, almost invisible in its darkness. No one else is in the hall.

Maharshi now sees me and a slight smile appears. I approach him, but all the well-prepared words of farewell and the last requests disappear from my mind. It remains empty, there is not even a single thought.

I salute and stop quite near to him. He looks into my eyes. I plunge into the light of his. No words are now needed. I know that the Saint reads my heart. He has seen each word in my mind even before I put them together.

Deep down some sadness flutters in me. I see for the last time the one who is my Master and my Friend, whose like I shall never find again were I to search all the worlds. Yet a subtle but irresistible wave of strength flows from Him. It carries away this cloud and penetrates the whole of my being. Now my consciousness is pure and transparent; I feel it is thus that I wanted to stand before Him.

I see a kind of encouragement to express myself in words emanating from His beautiful face. Well, I say to myself, I shall try if it is necessary. And I begin to tell Him slowly and clearly that I have to leave the Ashram and beg His permission, and after He nods in consent, I proceed to ask His blessing for my present, my future, and forever.

His eyes seem even more luminous; the face, expressing a superhuman kindness, seems to become more serious. He gives me the blessing.

I know He sees my next, still-unexpressed entreaty. I do not hear any words, yet I feel He is asking me whether I am aware of the meaning of my own prayer. And without moving my lips, I give Him my answer.

Yet all is so natural, so simple, so real, that I would rather doubt my standing here than this mute conversation. A short silence follows. Oh, I could stand like this, near him without end, for all eternity, with no other wish in my heart. Minutes seem to pass, though they may be only seconds.

The last request which I wanted to express is, according to the Master’s teaching, a kind of concession to the visible, hence the unreal, world.

It is for the pupil to have a visible, tangible sign of the Guru’s grace, sanctified by ages of tradition.

I had been told that Maharshi never gives it, and even in his biographies I had read the answers given by him to such requests. It meant that he was careful and strict even with appearances.

But here, now, when I am standing before him with an open heart, feeling all that is taking place with joy and certainty, how could I be refused ?

As soon as I begin my sentence somewhat shyly, his wonderful smile comes to encourage me.

I bow my head and feel the touch of his hand on my brow, the delicate touch of his fingers along my head.

A subtle current of power and purity passes through my whole frame.

In a lightning flash, I realize that the power of this moment will sustain me in all the years to come, and its light will for ever shine on my life.

We do not talk any more. I salute for the last time, he nods in the Hindu way which denotes consent or approbation and I withdraw slowly towards the door, looking at His face with all intensity to engrave it forever in the depths of my heart.

I walk in a joyous peace back to my cell, through the dark paths of the garden. A few Ashram friends accompany me to my gate in perfect silence, for Indians know how to behave in solemn moments.

The inner voice says: "Separation from the Master is no more possible." And so it has proved.