The Master's love-sickness for Krishna; His visions and transports of
bhakti
The Master felt his separation from Krishna just as the milk-maids did
after Krishna had left Brinidaban for Mathura. Gradually He began to
break out in wild lamentations, even as Radha had talked in delirium on
meeting with Uddhav. Ever did the Master consider Himself as Radha, and
felt [and acted] like her. No wonder, for such is the course of
_divya-unmad_ (spiritual ecstasy).
One night when He was sleeping, He dreamt of Krishna in the _rasa_
dance; the god was bending his body gracefully and playing on the flute,
wearing a yellow garment and garlands of flowers, and looking like the
picture of Love; the milkmaids were dancing in a circle, joining their
hands together, while in the centre Krishna frolicked with Radha. The
sight inspired the Master with the same mood; He felt that He was at
Brindaban and had gained Krishna's company.
As He was late in rising, Govinda wakened Him; but He saddened when He
became conscious of the real world. After performing the necessary acts
of the morning He went to behold Jagannath. He stood close to the image
of Garuda, while hundreds of thousands of worshippers thronged in front
of Him. An Oriya woman, unable to see the god on account of the crowd,
climbed upon the Garuda and rested one foot on the Master's shoulder.
Govinda saw it and hurriedly pushed her a way, but the Master forbade
him to make her dismount from His shoulder, saying, "Don't remove her.
Let her gaze at Jagannath to her heart's content". The woman, however,
quickly got down on seeing the Master and fell at His feet. The Master
remarked, "Jagannath has not inspired _me_ with this woman's passionate
longing for him. Her body mind and soul are so absorbed in the God that
she did not notice that she was treading on my shoulder! She is blessed.
Let me worship her feet that I too may have her intensity of devotion."
Sadly did the Master return home, and sitting down on the ground began
to draw lines on the floor with His finger-nails. Tears streamed from
His eyes and blinded His vision. "Alas!" He cried, "after gaining
Krishna, I have lost him. Who has taken away my Krishna? Where have I
come?" In His trances He quivered with delight; but when He regained
consciousness, He felt that He had lost His treasure, and sang and
danced like mad, though He went through His bath, dinner etc. by
mechanical habit.
The ten forms of love-sickness possessed Him day and night, never giving
Him rest. Ramananda Ray by reciting verses [from Vidyapati, Chandidas
and _Git-Govinda_] and Swarup by singing songs on Krishna's acts,
brought the Master somewhat back to His senses. At midnight they laid
Him to bed in the inner room, and Ramananda returned to his own house,
while Swarup and Govinda slept at the door. It was the Master's wont to
wake all night, loudly chanting Krishna's name. [To-night] noticing the
silence within, Swarup pushed the door open. He found the other three
doors [also] closed from within, but the Master was not in the room.
They became alarmed at His absence, lighted their lanterns, and went out
in search of Him.
They found the Master lying on an open space a little north of the
Lion-gate of the temple. His body was 5 or 6 cubits long; He was
unconscious and His breathing had ceased! Each arm and leg was three
cubits long and consisted only of bones and skin. His hands feet neck
and waist were disjointed from the trunk by half a cubit and the places
of junction were covered with the bare skin. He was foaming at the mouth
and His eyes were fixed in a deadly stare.
This sight of Him made the _bhaktas_ very life go out of their bodies.
Then Swarup with all the disciples loudly dinned the name of Krishna
into the Master's ears. After a long while the name entered His heart,
and He shouted _Hari-bol!_ He became conscious and His limbs were
joined to His trunk again, as before. This miracle of the Master has
been reported by Raghunath-das in his _Chaitanya-staba-kalpa-briksha_.
As Raghunath-das always lived with the Master, I accept as true and
write here what I have heard from him.
One day the Master, on the way to the sea, suddenly looked at the Chatak
hillock, and taking it to be the Govardhan hill, He ran towards it in
rapture with the speed of the wind. Govinda could not overtake Him.
A hue and cry was raised and there was a great bustle. Everyone ran up
from where he was,--Swarup, Jagadananda, Gadadhar, Ramai, Nandai, Nilai
Pandit, Shankar Puri, Bharati Goswami, all went to the sea-shore. The
lame Bhagaban Acharya hobbled slowly behind.
After running at first like the wind, the Master suddenly became stiff
on the way, unable to move further. Every pore of His skin swelled like
a boil, the hair stood on end on them like the _kadamba_ flower. Blood
ran out of His pores like sweat. His throat gurgled, not a syllable
could He utter. Ceaseless tears ran down both His cheeks He lost colour
and became death-pale like a conch-shell. Then a quivering burst over
His frame like a tempest on the bosom of the sea. Trembling, He fell
down on the ground, and then Govinda came up with Him, sprinkled Him
with water from the flask, and fanned Him with his sheet. Swarup and the
rest now arrived and all began to weep at the Master's plight. They
loudly sang the _kirtan_ in His hearing and sprinkled Him with cold
water. After they had done so many times, He rose up with the cry of
_Hari-bol!_ The Vaishnavs in delight shouted _Hari! Hari!_ The sound
of joy rose up from all sides. Half-conscious again, the Master
addressed Swarup, "You have brought me back from Govardhan to here. You
have snatched me away from viewing Krishna's lila among the herds of
cows and calves, Radha and her handmaids, on Govardhan hill Why have you
brought me away thence, only to cause me grief?" So saying, He wept, and
the Vaishnavs wept at His plight.
Thus did the Master live at Nilachal, plunging day and night in the
ocean of grief at separation from Krishna. In the early autumn nights
radiant with the moon in a cloudless sky, He roamed up and down with His
disciples, visiting garden after garden in delight and reciting or
listening to the songs of _rasa lila_. At times, overcome with love, He
danced and sang; at other times He imitated the _rasa lila_ in that
mood; at times in a transport of passion He ran hither and thither, at
others He rolled on the ground in a faint. As soon as He recollected a
verse of the _rasa lila_ He expounded it.
I cannot describe all the acts He performed from day to day in these
twelve years [of residence at Puri], lest it should make my poem too
long.
While rambling thus, the Master one night suddenly caught a sight of the
sea from _Ai-tota_. The moonlight silvered the heaving billows they
sparkled like the water of the Jamuna. Unseen by others, the Master went
to the sea and leaped into it. He fainted and knew not what He was
doing;--the waves now sank Him, now floated Him; on the waves He was
carried about like a dry tree-trunk. On the waves He drifted towards
Konarak, now under water, now above it,--and he dreamt all the time of
Krishna sporting in the Jamuna with the milkmaids.
In the meantime, Swarup and other followers were startled when they
missed Him. Uncertain whither He had gone, to the Jagannath or any other
temple, to some other garden, the _Gundicha_ house or the Narendra
tank, to the Chatak hill or to Konarak,--they searched for Him
everywhere. A party of them came to the beach and there walked, looking
out for Him, till near daybreak, when they concluded that He had
disappeared from the earth. They all thought that the worst had
happened.
They took counsel on the beach, and some of them went towards the
Chirayu hill, while Swarup moved east wards with a party searching for
the Master in the sea-water. Overwhelmed with sorrow, almost out of
their senses, they still walked on searching for Him in their love.
They met a fisherman coming towards them with his net on his shoulders,
laughing weeping dancing and singing "Hari! Hari!" Swarup questioned him
in surprise, "Tell us, fisherman, have you met a man on this side? Why
are you in this mood?" The fisherman answered, "I have not seen any man
here. But a dead body was caught in my net, and I carefully dragged it
ashore, thinking it to be a big fish. The sight of a corpse frightened
me, and when I was clearing my net I happened to touch it. At once the
spirit of the dead entered my body, striking me with tremor, weeping,
choking of voice, and bristling up of hair. It lay stiff as a corpse,
with a fixed stare in the eyes, but at times it groaned, at others
remained inert. If I die of the possession of this ghost, how will my
wife and children live? If I can find an exorcist, he will expel the
evil spirit from me. I work at my trade of catching fish alone at night,
but no ghost can seize me as I remember the god Nrisingha. This ghost,
however, holds me with a double grip when I repeat Nrisingha's name.
Don't go there, I advise you, lest this ghost should possess you, too."
From these words, Swarup understood it all, and told the fisherman
gently, "I am a great ghost-doctor, and I know how to lay spirits." He
uttered some verses, laid his hand on the fisherman's head, gave him
three slaps, and cried out "The evil spirit has left you. Fear no more."
The man now became a little composed. Swarup reassured him, "He whom you
have taken for an evil spirit, is no ghost, but the Lord Sri
Krishna-Chaitanya. In a transport of love He had jumped into the sea.
Him have you raised in your net. His touch has thrilled you with
Krishna's love, which you have mistaken for the possession of a ghost.
Now that your fear is gone and your mind has been calmed, show me where
you have landed Him."
The fisherman said, "I have often beheld the Master. It cannot be He; it
is more than man's size."
The fisherman led them all to the place. They beheld Him lying on the
ground, huge-bodied, pale-skinned from immersion in water, coated with
sea-sand. His limbs were abnormally long, loose and with the skin
flapping. Over such a long path they could not carry Him home; so they
removed His wet loin-cloth and put a dry one on Him, and laid Him down
on a sheet of cloth after brushing away the sand. Then they lifted up
the chant of Krishna's _kirtan_ and poured it into His ears. After a
time the word entered His brain and He leaped up with a roar; His limbs
were rejoined and returned to their proper places. Half-unconscious
still, He looked hither and thither [in perplexity]. He spoke, as if
from the sky, "Beholding the Jamuna [in the ocean] I went to Brindaban,
and there found Braja's darling sporting in the water; with Radha and
the other milkmaids. I stood on the bank gazing on the scene, while one
of the _sakhis_ (female comrades of Radha) pointed out the mysteries to
me. [A long but highly poetical description, _not translated_.]
Krishna, Radha, and their companions rose from the water, dressed
themselves, partook of a rich picnic, and all retired to sleep. My heart
was filled with bliss at the sight. Just then you caught hold of me, and
with a great noise brought me here. Ah! where is the Jamuna, where
Brindaban, where Krishna, and where the milkmaids? You have destroyed
that bliss!"
Then Swarup made Him bathe [in the sea] and brought Him home, to the
delight of all.