This Monk From India - The Divine Life Society

DEATH UNFOLDS ITS MYSTERIES
realise God, we help seven generations before us and seven generations after.” I was happy if, at
last, I could repay the sacrifice that her life had been and that I had so often failed to see.
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AM I A HINDU
One day in France, Swamiji showed me a book. Ma Ananda Mayee’s photo was on the
cover. He said, “She is a wonderful woman, you know.” That very night, and ever since, Ma came
to me in my meditation, and when I came to India, I went to see her. One day, as I was alone with her
and her attendants in her bedroom, Ma said, speaking about me, “Who is her Ishta Devata Christ”
I blurted out “Oh! no.” And then, more slowly, “As a matter of fact, I am all mixed up. The first time
I heard the name of Krishna, in France, I cried all night, my pillow was wet, yet I had never heard of
Krishna before. And later on, at the mere mention of His Name, Mudras would come to me. Still
later I thought it was Rama, yet I had started with visions of Christ.” I felt Ma’s attendants were
smiling. I did not understand. But that night in my meditation Christ came to me to stay.
The next morning, a monk coming from France brought me a parcel. He unpacked it and
slowly turned towards me the portrait it contained. A spontaneous Pranayama moved deep in my
body as I looked at the picture of Christ, the controversial photo made of the Shroud of Turin (the
cloth that wrapped Christ’s dead body and on which the impression of his face was revealed by
some scientific means). And I knew. But Krishna and Rama never left me and my devotion to them
grew all the more. Swamiji had brought Ma to me and together they had made me find my way.
They had taught me that God is one but delights in revealing Himself in different forms.
Swamiji once said, “God sends us dreams not only to test us, but also to guide us.” But I was
blind. Sometimes the experiences of the previous births which are lodged in the causal body float
out during the dream state. It was long before Swamiji came to my house. I was very ill, and it did
not seem that I would last much longer when one night I had a dream. I was so struck by it that I got
up and wrote it down, although even the effort to do so was exhausting for me. The next morning I
read it to my husband, my son and my daughter. I asked them to interpret it as I was trying to do
myself but with no success. Everyone had a different interpretation, but I seemed to know that that
dream had a message in it. My husband was driving. It was a road on a cliff overlooking the sea. The
road was very narrow, very stony, very dangerous. Suddenly the road seemed to give way and we
fell into the sea. My husband swam out to the shore. I was alone, sinking deeper and deeper into the
sea. Fear was paralysing me. I was choking and dying when suddenly some thought came back to
me and I realised that the thin, black-veil scarf that I had round my neck had spread out in the water
and was covering my face. I tried to lift it off, but it had got into a knot. The knot was very difficult
to untie for it was wet and the veil was thin. But I seemed to think that if I untied the knot I would see
more clearly where I was, where to swim, where to go. So I struggled and struggled. I was choking
and bursting, the pain was unbearable. But still I struggled. Finally, the black veil drifted off my
face. I could see. I put my arms up and went to the surface. The sun was shining on the small silvery
ripples of the sea. I floated there in peace, and the sea seemed to become calmer and calmer, the
ripples seemed to disappear. The sea surface was like a mirror reflecting the sun; I could hear a far,
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