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, Nirmalas 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