AN UNCOMMON GIRL

Always happy and laughing, Nirmala grew into a young girl, with the trees and

plants, the sunshine and the open air as her playmates. Unaffected by heat or cold,

she would play in the hot sun, and sing and dance in the rain. She was frequently

seen talking to plants and animals, and to entities visible only to herself. As she

and some girls from the village were returning from the forest one afternoon, they

were confronted by a herd of cows blocking the road ahead. As her scared

companions scurried up a hill to bypass the herd, they looked down and saw that all

the cows had surrounded Nirmala, and were affectionately licking her hands and

touching their heads to her feet.

Her mother grew concerned that perhaps her young daughter was somewhat

mentally retarded, for she frequently manifested states of complete inner

absorption and abstraction. Didima, not realising that this was a manifestation of

the highest states of yogic samadhi, mistook this for absent-mindedness or some

illness. Sometimes, while she was eating, Nirmala’s hand would freeze midway and

she would remain still, staring up into the sky. Years later, when Didima asked her

about this, Ma laughingly replied that she was watching the gods and goddesses

passing in procession in the sky, before her inner gaze.

At every stage of life, Nirmala manifested the ideal fulfillment of that stage of

human dharma. As a child, she was sweet and selfless. As she grew into a young

girl, she manifested every virtue natural to that age. She was totally obedient to her

parents and teachers, and naturally shunned any form of dishonesty or cunning. On

one occasion, while visiting a neighbouring village with relatives, she was told to

wait outside the temple while the women went for some shopping in the local

bazaar. After shopping for several hours, the women suddenly remembered little

Nirmala and rushed back to the spot, expecting to find her gone. But, on arriving,

they found her sitting in the exact position and spot that they had left her in. She

had sat unmoving, in perfect obedience to that simple command, for hours!

Nirmala was drawn to all religious observances, and was loved by the Muslims

as much as by the Hindus of the village. One night, she secretly left the house to

watch a camp meeting being held by a group of visiting Christian missionaries and

to listen to their hymns. She loved to spend her evening hours singing religious

bhajans with her father.

A carefree girl, Nirmala would often amaze her playmates and elders with her

profound knowledge and wisdom. Once, when playing in a pile of sand, she made a

perfectly round ball from the wet sand. Holding it up in her hand, she said, “As

Narayana is present in the Shaligram, so do I see all devas and forms in this.

All is in One, and the One is in all.” So saying, she broke the ball and merrily went

her way.

Sometimes, while playing, she would suddenly become still and indrawn, and

her face would shine with a luminosity that was described by onlookers as ‘a play

of lightning across the sky.’ At times, when she was in this state, holy mantras

would issue from her mouth in immaculate Sanskrit.

At this stage of her life, young Nirmala not only went to school, but she also

learned all the household skills required of a young Indian girl, and excelled in

sewing and cooking. Although she was of a sweet temperament and gentle

behaviour, her elders came to realise that she was a power not to be trifled with.

Once when she was asked to fill a pot with curds and bring it into the kitchen, it

was seen that she had obediently filled the pot brimful, leaving no space at the top.

“Foolish girl!” she was admonished, “You will get no curd for yourself today!”

Suddenly, at these words, the pot, which was across the room, cracked apart,

spilling the curd all over the floor.

Young Nirmala with her parents Bipin Bhattacharya and Mokshada Devi