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We only know that he was married and had a son, that he taught in northern and perhaps central India and died at Maghar in the district of Gorakhpur. There is significance, however, in the legend which relates that after his decease Hindus and Mohammedans disputed as to whether his body should be burned or buried.
He blinked his piercing eyes and leveled them on your father. "'Bhagabati, you are too hard on your employee! His words were the same as those he had used two days before in the Gorakhpur field. He added, 'I am glad that you have allowed Abinash to visit me, and that you and your wife have accompanied him. Lahiri Mahasaya took a definite interest in your own birth.
During travels in numerous lands, I have listened to early recollections from the lips of veracious men and women. I was born in the last decade of the nineteenth century, and passed my first eight years at Gorakhpur. This was my birthplace in the United Provinces of northeastern India. We were eight children: four boys and four girls.
"Ananta cannot live; the sands of his karma for this life have run out." These inexorable words reached my inner consciousness as I sat one morning in deep meditation. Shortly after I had entered the Swami Order, I paid a visit to my birthplace, Gorakhpur, as a guest of my elder brother Ananta. A sudden illness confined him to his bed; I nursed him lovingly.
The solemn inward pronouncement filled me with grief. I felt that I could not bear to remain longer in Gorakhpur, only to see my brother removed before my helpless gaze. Amidst uncomprehending criticism from my relatives, I left India on the first available boat. It cruised along Burma and the China Sea to Japan. I disembarked at Kobe, where I spent only a few days.
Out of the slow dwindling of my divine ecstasy, I salvaged a permanent legacy of inspiration to seek God. "He is eternal, ever-new Joy!" This memory persisted long after the day of rapture. Another early recollection is outstanding; and literally so, for I bear the scar to this day. My elder sister Uma and I were seated in the early morning under a NEEM tree in our Gorakhpur compound.
But the stories, though they may go a little way to help us in regard to the incident of Peeping Tom, throw no light on the origin of the legend, or of the procession. Let us therefore turn to one or two curious religious ceremonies, which may have some bearing upon it. A potent spell to bring rain was reported as actually practised during the Gorakhpur famine of 1873-4.
"Years ago, before you were born, I asked my superior officer-your father-to give me a week's leave from my Gorakhpur duties in order to visit my guru in Benares. Your father ridiculed my plan. "'Are you going to become a religious fanatic? he inquired. 'Concentrate on your office work if you want to forge ahead.
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