Female Devotees

Sri Ramakrishna himself embodied the tender traits of a woman.

His female devotees often said: “We seldom looked on Sri Ramakrishna as a male, but as one of us. We never felt any constraint before him, He was our best confidant.”

They loved him as their child, their friend, and their teacher. In spiritual discipline he advised them to renounce lust and greed and especially warned them not to fall into the snares of men.

Gopāl Mā

Unsurpassed among the woman devotees of the Master in the richness of her devotion and spiritual experiences was Aghoramani Devi, an orthodox brāhmin woman. Widowed at an early age, she had dedicated herself completely to spiritual pursuits. Gopālā, the Baby Krishna, was her Ideal Deity, whom she worshipped following the Vātsalya attitude of the Vaishnava religion, regarding Him as her own child.

Through Him, she satisfied her unassuaged maternal love, cooking for Him, feeding Him, bathing Him, and putting Him to bed. This sweet intimacy with Gopālā won her the sobriquet of Gopāl Mā, or Gopālā’s Mother.

For forty years she had lived on the bank of the Ganges in a small bare room, her only companions being a threadbare copy of the Ramayana and a bag containing her rosary.

At 60, in 1884, she visited Sri Ramakrishna at Dakshineśwar.

During the second visit, as soon as the Master saw her, he said: “Oh, you have come! Give me something to eat.” With great hesitation she gave him some ordinary sweets that she had purchased for him on the way. The Master ate them with relish and asked her to bring him simple curries or sweets prepared by her own hands. Gopāl Mā thought him a queer kind of monk, for, instead of talking of God, he always asked for food.

She did not want to visit him again, but an irresistible attraction brought her back to the temple garden. She carried with her some simple curries that she had cooked herself.

One early morning at three o’clock, about a year later, Gopāl Mā was about to finish her daily devotions, when she was startled to find Sri Ramakrishna sitting on her left, with his right hand clenched, like the hand of the image of Gopālā. She was amazed and caught hold of the hand, whereupon the figure vanished and in its place appeared the real Gopālā, her Ideal Deity. She cried aloud with joy. Gopālā begged her for butter.

She pleaded her poverty and gave Him some dry coconut candies. Gopālā sat on her lap, snatched away her rosary, jumped on her shoulders, and moved all about the room. As soon as the day broke she hastened to Dakshineśwar like an insane woman. Of course Gopālā accompanied her, resting His head on her shoulder. She clearly saw His tiny ruddy feet hanging over her breast. She entered Sri Ramakrishna’s room. The Master had fallen into Samādhi. Like a child, he sat on her lap, and she began to feed him with butter, cream, and other delicacies. After some time he regained consciousness and returned to his bed. But the mind of Gopālā’s Mother was still roaming in another plane.

She was steeped in bliss. She saw Gopālā frequently entering the Master’s body and again coming out of it. When she returned to her hut, still in a dazed condition, Gopālā accompanied her.

She spent about two months in uninterrupted communion with God, the Baby Gopālā never leaving her for a moment. Then the intensity of her vision was lessened; had it not been, her body would have perished. The Master spoke highly of her exalted spiritual condition and said that such vision of God was a rare thing for ordinary mortals. The fun-loving Master one day confronted the critical Narendranāth with this simple-minded woman. No two could have presented a more striking contrast.

The Master knew of Narendra’s lofty contempt for all visions, and he asked the old lady to narrate her experiences to Narendra. With great hesitation she told him her story. Now and then she interrupted her maternal chatter to ask Narendra: “My son, I am a poor ignorant woman.

I don’t understand anything. You are so learned. Now tell me if these visions of Gopālā are true.” As Narendra listened to the story he was profoundly moved. He said, “Yes, mother, they are quite true.” Behind his cynicism Narendra, too, possessed a heart full of love and tenderness.

The March of Events

In 1882 Hriday was, dismissed from service in the Ka1i temple, for an act of indiscretion, and was ordered by the authorities never again to enter the garden. In a way the hand of the Divine Mother may be seen even in this. Having taken care of Sri Ramakrishna during the stormy days of his spiritual discipline, Hriday had come naturally to consider himself the sole guardian of his uncle. None could approach the Master without his knowledge. And he would be extremely jealous if Sri Ramakrishna paid attention to anyone else. Hriday’s removal made it possible for the real devotees of the Master to approach him freely and live with him in the temple garden. During the week-ends the householders, enjoying a respite from their office duties, visited the Master. The meetings on Sunday afternoons were of the nature of little festivals. Refreshments were often served. Professional musicians now and then sang devotional songs. The Master and the devotees sang and danced, Sri Ramakrishna frequently going into ecstatic moods. The happy memory of such a Sunday would linger long in the minds of the devotees. Those whom the Master wanted for special instruction he would ask to visit him on Tuesdays and Saturdays. These days were particularly auspicious for the worship of Kāli.

The young disciples destined to be monks, Sri Ramakrishna invited on week-days, when the householders were not present. The training of the householders and of the future monks had to proceed along entirely different lines. Since M. generally visited the Master on week-ends, the Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna does not contain much mention of the future monastic disciples. Finally, there was a handful of fortunate disciples, householders as well as youngsters, who were privileged to spend nights with the Master in his room. They would see him get up early in the morning and walk up and down the room, singing in his sweet voice and tenderly communing with the Mother.

Injury to the Master’s Arm

One day, in January 1884, the Master was going toward the pine-grove when he went into a trance. He was alone. There was no one to support him or guide his footsteps. He fell to the ground and dislocated a bone in his left arm. This accident had a significant influence on his mind, the natural inclination of which was to soar above the consciousness of the body.

The acute pain in the arm forced his mind to dwell on the body and on the world outside. But he saw even in this a divine purpose; for, with his mind compelled to dwell on the physical plane, he realized more than ever that he was an instrument in the hand of the Divine Mother, who had a mission to fulfil through his human body and mind. He also distinctly found that in the phenomenal world God manifests Himself, in an inscrutable way, through diverse human beings, both good and evil.

Thus he would speak of God in the guise of the wicked, God in the guise of the pious, God in the guise of the hypocrite, God in the guise of the lewd. He began to take a special delight in watching the divine play in the relative world. Sometimes the sweet human relationship with God would appear to him more appealing than the all-effacing Knowledge of Brahman. Many a time he would pray: “Mother, don’t make me unconscious through the Knowledge of Brahman. Don’t give me Brahmajnāna, Mother. Am I not Your child, and naturally timid? I must have my Mother. A million salutations to the Knowledge of Brahman! Give it to those who want it.” Again he prayed: “O Mother, let me remain in contact with men! Don’t make me a dried-up ascetic. I want to enjoy Your sport in the world.” He was able to taste this very rich divine experience and enjoy the love of God and the company of His devotees because his mind, on account of the injury to his arm, was forced to come down to the consciousness of the body. Again, he would make fun of people who proclaimed him as a Divine Incarnation, by pointing to his broken arm. He would say, “Have you ever heard of God breaking His arm?” It took the arm about five months to heal.

Beginning of His Illness

In April 1885, the Master’s throat became inflamed. Prolonged conversation or absorption in Samādhi, making the blood flow into the throat, would aggravate the pain. Yet when the annual Vaishnava festival was celebrated at Pānihāti, Sri Ramakrishna attended it against the doctor’s advice. With a group of disciples he spent himself in music, dance, and ecstasy.

The illness took a turn for the worse and was diagnosed as “clergyman’s sore throat”. The patient was cautioned against conversation and ecstasies. Though he followed the physician’s directions regarding medicine and diet, he could neither control his trances nor withhold from seekers the solace of his advice.

Sometimes, like a sulky child, he would complain to the Mother about the crowds, who gave him no rest day or night.

He was overheard to say to Her:

“Why do You bring here all these worthless people, who are like milk diluted with five times its own quantity of water? My eyes are almost destroyed with blowing the fire to dry up the water. My health is gone. It is beyond my strength. Do it Yourself, if You want it done. This (pointing to his own body) is but a perforated drum, and if you go on beating it day in and day out, how long will it last?”

But his large heart never turned anyone away. He said, “Let me be condemned to be born over and over again, even in the form of a dog, if I can be of help to a single soul.”

And he bore the pain, singing cheerfully, “Let the body be preoccupied with illness, but, O mind, dwell for ever in God’s Bliss!”

One night he had a haemorrhage of the throat. The doctor now diagnosed the illness as cancer. Narendra was the first to break this heart-rending news to the disciples. Within three days the Master was removed to Calcutta for better treatment. At Balarām’s house he remained a week until a suitable place could be found at Śyāmpukur, in the northern section of Calcutta.

During this week he dedicated himself practically without respite to the instruction of those beloved devotees who had been unable to visit him oftener at Dakshineśwar. Discourses incessantly flowed from his tongue, and he often went into Samādhi. Dr. Mahendra Sarkār, the celebrated homeopath of Calcutta, was invited to undertake his treatment.