[‘Mother has descended endowed with Energy.’ Do I make myself free just by saying this? Haven’t we got to know who she is, that she pours out these many words–freely and effortlessly? Her subject matter is not just some holy gibberish; it’s an antidote to poison. She talks not only of everyday things but of extraordinary things as well with a sure command. She holds the Transcendent Knowledge, as it were, in the hollow of her hand. No, no, haven’t I here touched the fastening on the threshold with my hand? Dear, dear, nobody should think like that. Where’s the threshold that we should have fears and be thoughtful about the fastening? Looking towards the far horizon we find only the bare field stretching away—a solitary, sleepless sentinel. I am all alone within myself—a state of solitary internment.

If we only watch the comedy of other people’s life, we can’t achieve the impossible. Further, if we overlook what things people are doing and when as they go along the wayfarer road--not to speak of submitting to the injustice or malpractices of those playing a special role, in certain instances--such over looking amounts to a travesty of truth. Who pays any heed to that? There’s the man who has not much to do, who is a ne’er-do-well from the devotional angle—perhaps he has done a lot of things in his life-time, but alas have they been at all weighed?

Where’s the time for the Mother to hear about the activities, more or less, of great souls or great men! If only somebody holds her up on the wayfaring road, mother has her say—unanswerable argument. If she doesn’t remove the bricks and stones ahead on the way, how can the wayfarer walk with ease? Thankful are we that we have come to possess in that connection a very precious treasure. Will the future world share in that good fortune?]

(No. of words – 325)

Devotion at the Math (One)

Ma-Mahajnan: Well what do you say? If a man practice devotion, he becomes a devotee—that’s what you mean, isn’t it? Well, do you speak of practicing devotions taking into account everything all rounds? Tell me, what does devotion mean?

Let alone the question of the devotee. I’ll come to that later on. You can say all that you need about a devotee in a word. Don’t you get it? What is it that can be said in a word?

In terms of certain streams of thought or practices one can be called a devotee. For all that these can’t earn dignity as devotions, can they? Devotion will comprise a harmony based on reason of inner and outer world. What we see outwardly exists inwardly as well?

Outwardly we find that the man has a shaven head. He wears ochre robes. He carries a spouted brass-pot in his hand. He hardly eats or sleeps. Inwardly too, these things will be found. That which I have called desire—that piece of ground has been scraped clean. That’s the symbolic meaning of the shaving of head—scraping clean. Ochre robes have a similar symbolic meaning.

Let’s first think of the outward trappings. Oh, how beautiful is the radiance those ruddy feet of his! What, should I go on talking about the spouted brass-pot, too? When I am hungry, I hanker for nectar. I walk up to him and stand with that beggar’s trim cloth-bag. It’s gently sprinkled into my mouth.

When a man really passes into a state of deep devotion in the inner chamber of his heart, he has no need of trappings in the outer world. For instance, it’s all the same to a blind man, whether it is night or day. So there is no need of wearing a holy grab outwardly. Who knows me and who will, there’s hardly any need for me to know or hear about that, have I? It’s what I have to say or what I explain or my very words which draw everybody forward.—perhaps there is something here, we can get something. Then what difference does a holy grab make?

No. of words - 361

Devotion at the Math (Two)

But, look here, it’s difficult to find this mode of living in every temple or monastery. Though one particular bother has been completely out. If you don’t have an arm you don’t have to do anything with it. At times when you are getting a shirt made to order, you’ll have to get the sleeve stitched in the shape of an arm. But when it’s empty, everybody sees it—it draws everybody’s notice, some sympathies and leaves it at that. Some again say—what can he do? The poor fellow hasn’t just got the limb, where can he get one from!

If he lets the matter rest there it’s all for the best. But if he has out to prove that he’s got an arm? Well, not arm but sleeve—he holds out sleeve and says it is his arm—his shirt-sleeve. Some young men were passing without paying heed to him. No sooner did they hear him, they said—‘Strange indeed! Let’s see that arm of yours.’ There’s the rub. Can you ever pass a shirt-sleeve for the god-given arm of flesh and blood?

The point of this allegory lies here. What grab you may put on; you can’t change a particular idea, can you? You feel like saying in this connection—

You only worshipped the God Siva, / and not your mind; / so your name besmirched ever remained.

So how and by what means shall we understand all about it? There’s no reason why we can’t. Do you seek truth or peace? On the contrary, do you seek ego or illusion? Here you’ll have to reason. You first reason yourself into an outcast, disowned by everyone. Then you’ll surely find, somebody has come forward to you or even if he doesn’t, you’ll find an echo sounding in your heart. Your mind won’t assent to temple, monastery, image, idol or any such thing, nor will your eyes look that way.

Again, if you become too engrossed in your action, you’ll all at once catch a glimpse of the ochre robes. You’ll find these words booming in your ears—Prince of Charity, Selfless and polite, Great man—none is greater than you. Not to speak of such epithets as the fortunate one, the virtuous one, hearing such fine epithets you empty your pockets—no matter whether it comes to five or fifty, you don’t stop to count. With that gift, you smack down your forehead on the ground and exclaim—O Sadhuji! O Guruji!—or such other epithets if any. He’s said—My child, I wish you all the best. You’ll have all good fortune. Surely, you’ll have. There! No sooner did I hear this, my very heart brimmed over with delight. Such men are saints and sages. What they have uttered is bound to happen. Now who’ll judge whom!

No. of words – 472

Devotion at the Math (Three)

The so-called devotee or sannyasi also thought—so I’ve done the fellow down. The householder thought—here’s peace for me. The jobless man and the loafer also belong to the same way of thinking. There! The sadhu has said like that. So it’s bound to happen. Saying this, they sit tight in their jobless state. Similarly a housewife says—Pish! The month is drawn to an end and money running short. The deficit may come to anything from fifty to hundred. You’ve been wearing a cat’s eye a coral. What good has it brought to you? The householder wriggled and said—Ah, What’s there to worry about. The god-man has said, hasn’t he? I am going to have a lucky turn, a lucky turn. With this, he once again fingers his cat’s eye or coral and bow down to the ground.

Alas ye deranged one, / how do you find truth here! / This, you see, is reason / devoid of common sense.

This is the way things get accepted by people. Both the parties go on living like this. There is no end of frenzy and excitement on the part of this party. The other party also does not run short of dye to stain their holy robes.

In the name of truth only
Illusions will go on lasting.
As for you, I know,
There’s no peace anywhere.
Only again and again
In the homes of the needy and destitute
A wail will go up—
Alas, O God! How could this happen!
How can I carry on with this life,
Tell me please.
Behind every cry
He’ll smile and quietly say—
Thou dost fail to recognize me, I know,
I was there within thee.
Then how am I to blame?

Let the matter drop here; it’s, however, all well.

No. of words - 301

Author's Bio: 

Ma-Mahajnan, a matchless spiritual genius, expressed her entire creation in a state of "Conscious Trance” which has all been stuffed with highly philosophical values and strong literary sense. She could not attend even Primary School due to extreme poverty. Strangely, she was taught all by herself in the School of Nature. The weird and wonderful life is possibly the souse of her vast experience and profound realization.

In brief, Asokananda Prosad, Ma-Mahajnan's first disciple, is an engineer, a philosopher and a philanthropist. Being the missing son—the eldest and the first disciple of Great Ma-Mahajnan, he has had to shoulder so many burdens of Ashram and Temple. Of course, there are few brothers and sisters, very sincere and honest, intelligent and industrious. They help him in every way. He has long been translating Works of Ma-Mahajnan in English which she had written in Bengali. Not just put those in black and white, simply expressed, extempore and spontaneous, in a state of “Conscious Trance” and Asokananda got those tape-recorded.