The Levitating Saint (Nagendra Nath Bhaduri)

the levitating saint i saw a yogi remain in the air several feet above the ground last night at a group meeting my friend apendra mohan chowdhury spoke impressively i gave him an enthusiastic smile perhaps i can guess his name road? Apendra nodded, a little crestfallen not to be a news-bearer. My inquisitiveness about saints was well known among my friends. They delighted in setting me on a fresh track. The yogi lives so close to my home that I often visit him. My words brought keen interest to Apendra's face, and I made a further confidence.

I have seen him in remarkable feats he has expertly mastered the various pranayamas of the ancient eightfold yoga outlined by patanjali once badori mahasaya performed bastrika pranayama before me with such amazing force that it seemed an actual storm had arisen in the room then he extinguished the thundering breath and remained motionless in a high state of superconsciousness. The aura of peace after the storm was vivid beyond forgetting. I heard that the saint never leaves his home. I penned that his term was a trifling credulous. Indeed, it is true.

He has lived indoors for the past twenty years he slightly relaxes his self-imposed rule at the times of our holy festivals when he goes as far as his front sidewalk beggars gather there because st badruri is known for his tender heart body loses its grossness after use of certain pranayamas then it will levitate or hop about like a leaping frog even saints who do not practise a formal yoga have been known to levitate during a state of intense devotion to god apendra's eyes were sparkling with curiosity yes i go often i am vastly entertained by the wit in his wisdom occasionally my prolonged laughter general public a lone disciple occupying the ground floor guarded his master's privacy the student was something of a martinet he now inquired formally if i had an engagement just in time to save me from some re-ejection.

Let Mukunda come when he will. The sage's eyes twinkled. My rule of seclusion is not for my own comfort, but for that of others. Worldly people do not like the candour which shatters their delusions. Saints are not only rare, but disconcerting. Even in scripture, they are often found embarrassing. I followed Baduri Mahasaya to his austere quarters on the top floor from which he seldom stirred masters often ignore the panorama of the world's ado out of focus till centred in the ages present. Maharishi, you are the first yogi I have known who always stays indoors.

God plants his saints sometimes in unexpected soil, lest we think we may reduce him to a rule. The sage locked his vibrant body in the lotus posture. In his seventies he displayed no unpleasing signs of age or sedentary life. Stole water and straight, he was ideal in every respect. His face was that of a rishi, as described in the ancient texts. Noble-headed, abundantly bearded, he always sat firmly upright, his quiet eyes fixed on omnipresence. The saint and I entered the meditative state. After an hour, his gentle voice roused me.

You go often into the silence, but have you developed anubhava? He was reminding me to love God more than meditation. Do not mistake the technique for the goal. He offered me some mangoes. With that good-humoured wit that I found so delightful in his grave nature, he remarked, people in general are more fond of Jala Yoga, union with food, than of Dhyana Yoga, union with God. His yogic pun affected me uproariously. What a laugh you have! An affectionate gleam came into his gaze. His own face was always serious, yet touched with an ecstatic smile.

His large, lotus eyes held a hidden divine laughter those letters come from far-off america the sage indicated several thick envelopes on a table i correspond with a few societies there whose members are interested in yoga they are discovering india anew with a better sense of direction than columbus i am glad to help them the knowledge of yoga is free to all who will receive like the un garnishable daylight what rishis perceive as essential for human salvation need not be diluted for the west alike in soul though diverse in outer experience neither west nor East will flourish if some form of disciplinary yoga be not practised.

The saint held me with his tranquil eyes. I did not realise that his speech was a veiled prophetic guidance. It is only now, as I write these words, that I understand the full meaning in the causal intimations he often gave me that some day I would carry india's teachings to america sir i inquired why do you not write a book on and the unnatural interpretations of the critics. Baduri's wit put me into another gale of laughter. I remained alone with the yogi until his disciples arrived in the evening.

Baduri Mahasaya entered one of his inimitable discourses. Like a peaceful flood, he swept away the mental debris of his listeners, floating them godward. His striking parables were expressed in flawless Bengali. That evening, Baduri expounded various philosophical points connected with the life of Mirabai, a medieval Rajputani princess, who abandoned her court life to seek the company of sadhus. One great sannyasi refused to receive her because she was a woman her reply brought him humbly to her feet tell the master she had said that i did not know there was any male in the universe save god are we all not females before him conception of the Lord as the only positive creative principle, his creation being naught but a passive maya, Mirabai composed many ecstatic songs, which are still treasured in India.

I translate one of them here. If by bathing daily God could be realized, sooner would I be a whale in the deep. If by eating roots and fruits he could be known, gladly would I choose the form of a goat. If the counting of rosaries uncovered him, I would say my prayers on mammoth beads. If bowing before stone images unveiled him, a flinting mountain I would humbly worship. If by drinking milk the Lord could be imbibed, many calves and children would know him. If abandoning one's wife would summon God god would not thousands be eunuchs mirabai knows that to find the divine one the only indispensable is love his side as he sat in yoga posture.

This respectful offering, customary in India, indicates that the disciple places his material goods at the guru's feet. Grateful friends are only the lord in disguise looking after his own. Master, you are wonderful. A student, taking his leave, gazed ardently at the patriarchal sage. You have renounced riches and comforts to seek God and teach us wisdom it was well known that budorima hasaya had forsaken great family wealth in his early childhood when single-mindedly he entered the yogic path you are reversing the case rebuke i have left a few paltry rupees a few petty pleasures for a cosmic empire of endless bliss how thenled at his paradoxical view of renunciation one which puts the cap of croesus on any saintly beggar whilst transforming all proud millionaires into unconscious martyrs any insurance company.

The master's concluding words were the realized creed of his faith. The world is full of uneasy believers in an outward security. Their bitter thoughts are like scars on their foreheads. The one who gave us errand milk from our first breath knows how to provide day by day for his devotees. I continued my after-school pilgrimage to the saint's door. With silent zeal he aided me to attain Anubhava. One day he moved to Ram Mohan Roy Road, away from the neighborhood of my Gurpa Road home. His loving disciples had built him a new hermitage, known as Nagendra Math.

Although it throws me ahead of my story by a number of years, I will recount here the last words given to me by baduri mahasaya shortly before i embarked for the west i sought him out and humbly knelt for his farewell blessing hoary India for your shield. Victory is written on your brow. The noble distant people will well receive you.