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> 第九十四章 The Woman Yogi Who Never Eats
第九十四章 The Woman Yogi Who Never Eats
“Sir，whither are we bound this morning？”Mr。Wright was driving the Ford。
“God willing，”I replied devoutly，“we are on our way to see an eighth wonder of the world-a woman saint whose diet is thin air！”
Mr。Wright laughed eagerly just the same；he even accelerated the speed of the car。More extraordinary grist for his travel diary！
Besides my secretary and myself，three Bengali friends were in the party。“Sir，we would like to know more of the fasting saint。”
“Her name is Giri Bala，”I informed my companions。“I frst heard about her years ago from a scholarly gentleman，Sthiti Lal Nundy。He often came to the Gurpar Road home to tutor my brother Bishnu。”
‘I know Giri Bala well，’Sthiti Babu told me。‘She employs a certain yoga technique which enables her to live without eating。I was her close neighbor in Nawabganj near Ichapur。I made it a point to watch her closely；never did I fnd evidence that she was taking either food or drink。My interest fnally mounted so high that I approached the Maharaja of Burdwan and asked him to conduct an investigation。Astounded at the story，he invited her to his palace。She agreed to a test and lived for two months locked up in a small section of his home。Later she returned for a palace visit of twenty days；and then for a third test of ffteen days。The Maharaja himself told me that these three rigorous scrutinies had convinced him beyond doubt of her non-eating state。’
“This story of Sthiti Babus has remained in my mind for over twenty-fve years，”I concluded。“Sometimes in America I wondered if the river of time would not swallow the yogini before I could meet her。She must be quite aged now。I do not even know where，or if，she lives。But in a few hours we shall reach Purulia；her brother has a home there。”By ten-thirty our little group was conversing with the brother，Lambadar Dey，a lawyer of Purulia。
“Yes，my sister is living。She sometimes stays with me here，but at present she is at our family home in Biur。”Lambadar Babu glanced doubtfully at the Ford。“I hardlythink，Swamiji，it might be best if you all resign yourselves to the ancient jolt of the bullock cart！”
As one voice our party pledged loyalty to the Pride of Detroit。
“The Ford comes from America，”I told the lawyer。“It would be a shame to deprive it of an opportunity to get acquainted with the heart of Bengal！”
“May Ganesh go with you！”Lambadar Babu said，laughing。He added courteously，“If you ever get there，I am sure Giri Bala will be glad to see you。She is approaching her seventies，but continues in excellent health。”
“Please tell me，sir，if it is absolutely true that she eats nothing？”I looked directly into his eyes，those telltale windows of the mind。
“It is true。”His gaze was open and honorable。“In more than fve decades I have never seen her eat a morsel。If the world suddenly came to an end，I could not be more astonished than by the sight of my sisters taking food！”
“Giri Bala has never sought an inaccessible solitude for her yoga practices，”Lambadar Babu went on。“She has lived her entire life surrounded by her family and friends。”
Our little party thanked him warmly and set out toward Biur。
“Sir，”Mr。Wright remarked，“we should reach Giri Bala before the sun sets，to have enough light for photographs。”He added with a grin，“The Westerners are a skeptical lot；we cant expect them to believe in the lady without any pictures！”
This bit of wisdom was indisputable；I turned my back on temptation and reentered the car。
“Lambadar Babu spoke truly，”Sailesh acknowledged。“The car is not carrying us；we are carrying the car！”
Our climb-in，climb-out auto tedium was beguiled ever and anon by the appearance of a village，each one a scene of quaint simplicity。
Mr。Wright has recorded in his travel diary，under date of May，1936.
Asking for a guide among a group of worshipers on their way home from a temple prayer（out in the lonely field），we were besieged by a dozen scantily clad lads who clambered on the sides of the car，eager to conduct us to Giri Bala。
The road led toward a grove of date palms sheltering a group of mud huts，but before we had reached it，the Ford was momentarily tipped at a dangerous angle，tossed up and dropped down。The narrow trail led around trees and tank，over ridges，into holes and deep ruts。The car became anchored on a clump of bushes，then grounded on ahillock，requiring a lift of earth clods；on we proceeded，slowly and carefully；suddenly the way was stopped by a mass of brush in the middle of the cart track，necessitating a detour down a precipitous ledge into a dry tank，rescue from which demanded some scraping，adzing，and shoveling。Again and again the road seemed impassable，but the pilgrimage must go on；obliging lads fetched spades and demolished the obstacles（shades of Ganesh！）while hundreds of children and parents stared。
What a sensation we created-a group piloted by an American and pioneering in a snorting car right into their hamlet fastness，invading the ancient privacy and sanctity！
Halting by a narrow lane we found ourselves within a hundred feet of Giri Balas ancestral home。We felt the thrill of fulfillment after the long road struggle crowned by a rough finish。We approached a large，two-storied building of brick and plaster，dominating the surrounding adobe huts；the house was under the process of repair，for around it was the characteristically tropical framework of bamboos。
With feverish anticipation and suppressed rejoicing we stood before the open doors of the one blessed by the Lord‘s’hungerlesstouch。Constantly agape were the villagers，young and old，bare and dressed，women aloof somewhat but inquisitive too，men and boys unabashedly at our heels as they gazed on this unprecedented spectacle。
Soon a short fgure came into view in the doorway-Giri Bala！She was swathed in a cloth of dull，goldish silk；in typically Indian fashion，she drew forward modestly and hesitatingly，peering slightly from beneath the upper fold of her swadeshi cloth。Her eyes glistened like smouldering embers in the shadow of her head piece。
Meekly she approached and silently assented to our snapping a number of pictures with our‘still’and‘movie’cameras。Patiently and shyly she endured our photo techniques of posture adjustment and light arrangement。Finally we had recorded for posterity many photographs of the only woman in the world who is known to have lived without food or drink for over ffty years。
“Therese Neumann，of course，has fasted since 1923.）Most motherly was Giri Balas expression as she stood before us，completely covered in the loose-fowing cloth，nothing of her body visible but her face with its downcast eyes，her hands，and her tiny feet。”
Mr。Wrights impression of Giri Bala was shared by myself；spirituality enfolded her like her gently shining veil。She pronamed before me in the customary gesture of greeting from a householder to a monk。Her simple charm and quiet smile gave us a welcome beyond that of honeyed oratory；forgotten was our diffcult，dusty trip。
The little saint seated herself cross-legged on the verandah。Though bearing the scars of age，she was not emaciated；her olive-colored skin had remained clear and healthy in tone。
“Mother，”I said in Bengali，“for over twenty-fve years I have thought eagerly of this very pilgrimage！I heard about your sacred life from Sthiti Lal Nundy Babu。”
She nodded in acknowledgment。“Yes，my good neighbor in Nawabganj。”
“The sublime drama that you are here playing so inconspicuously should be blazoned before a world that has long forgotten the inner food divine。”
The saint lifted her eyes for a minute，smiling with serene interest。
“Baba（honored father）knows best，”she answered meekly。
“Mother，”I went on，“please forgive me，then，for burdening you with many questions。Kindly answer only those that please you；I shall understand your silence，also。”
She spread her hands in a gracious gesture。“I am glad to reply，insofar as an insignifcant person like myself can give satisfactory answers。”
“Oh，no，not insignifcant！”I protested sincerely。“You are a great soul。”
“I am the humble servant of all。”She added quaintly，“I love to cook and feed people。”
A strange pastime，I thought，for a non-eating saint！
“Tell me，Mother，from your own lips-do you live without food？”
“That is true。From the age of twelve years four months down to my present age of sixty-eight-a period of over ffty-six years-I have not eaten food or taken liquids。”
“Are you never tempted to eat？”
“If I felt a craving for food，I would have to eat。”Simply yet regally she stated this axiomatic truth！
“But you do eat something！”My tone held a note of remonstrance。
“Of course！”She smiled in swift understanding。
“Your nourishment derives from the fner energies of the air and sunlight，and from the cosmic power which recharges your body through the medulla oblongata。”
“Baba knows。”Again she acquiesced，her manner soothing and unemphatic。
“Mother，please tell me about your early life。It holds a deep interest for all of India，and even for our brothers and sisters beyond the seas。”
Giri Bala put aside her habitual reserve，relaxing into a conversational mood。
“So be it。”Her voice was low and firm。I was born in these forest regions。Mychildhood was unremarkable save that I was possessed by an insatiable appetite。I had been betrothed in early years。
‘Child，’my mother often warned me，‘try to control your greed。When the time comes for you to live among strangers in your husband’s family，what will they think of you if your days are spent in nothing but eating？
The calamity she had foreseen came to pass。I was only twelve when I joined my husbands people in Nawabganj。My mother-in-law shamed me morning，noon，and night about my gluttonous habits。Her scoldings were a blessing in disguise，however；they roused my dormant spiritual tendencies。One morning her ridicule was merciless。
‘I shall soon prove to you，’I said，stung to the quick，‘that I shall never touch food again as long as I live。’
My mother-in-law laughed in derision。‘So！’she said，‘how can you live without eating，when you cannot live without overeating？’
This remark was unanswerable！Yet an iron resolution scaffolded my spirit。In a secluded spot I sought my Heavenly Father。
‘Lord，’I prayed incessantly，‘please send me a guru，one who can teach me to live by Thy light and not by food。’
A divine ecstasy fell over me。Led by a beatifc spell，I set out for the Nawabganj ghat on the Ganges。On the way I encountered the priest of my husbands family。
‘Venerable sir，’I said trustingly，‘kindly tell me how to live without eating。’
He stared at me without reply。Finally he spoke in a consoling manner。‘Child，’he said，‘come to the temple this evening；I will conduct a special Vedic ceremony for you。’
This vague answer was not the one I was seeking；I continued toward the ghat。The morning sun pierced the waters；I purifed myself in the Ganges，as though for a sacred initiation。As I left the river bank，my wet cloth around me，in the broad glare of day my master materialized himself before me！
“Dear little one，’he said in a voice of loving compassion，‘I am the guru sent here by God to fulfll your urgent prayer。He was deeply touched by its very unusual nature！From today you shall live by the astral light，your bodily atoms fed from the infnite current。’”
The saint resumed the tale，her gentle voice barely audible。“He initiated me into a kria technique which frees the body from dependence on the gross food of mortals。The technique includes the use of a certain mantra and a breathing exercise more diffcult than the average person could perform。No medicine or magic is involved；nothing＆nbsp；beyond the kria。”
“I have never had any children；many years ago I became a widow。I sleep very little，as sleep and waking are the same to me。I meditate at night，attending to my domestic duties in the daytime。I slightly feel the change in climate from season to season。I have never been sick or experienced any disease。I feel only slight pain when accidentally injured。I have no bodily excretions。I can control my heart and breathing。I often see my guru as well as other great souls，in vision。”
“Mother，”I asked，“why dont you teach others the method of living without food？”
My ambitious hopes for the worlds starving millions were nipped in the bud。
“No。”She shook her head。“I was strictly commanded by my guru not to divulge the secret。It is not his wish to tamper with Gods drama of creation。The farmers would not thank me if I taught many people to live without eating！The luscious fruits would lie uselessly on the ground。It appears that misery，starvation，and disease are whips of our karma which ultimately drive us to seek the true meaning of life。”
“Mother，”I said slowly，“what is the use of your having been singled out to live without eating？”
“To prove that man is Spirit。”Her face lit with wisdom。“To demonstrate that by divine advancement he can gradually learn to live by the Eternal Light and not by food。”
The saint sank into a deep meditative state。
The tropical darkness had fallen。It was the painful hour of parting；a slow，tedious journey lay before our little party。
“Giri Bala，”I said as the saint opened her eyes，“please give me a keepsake-a strip of one of your saris。”
She soon returned with a piece of Benares silk，extending it in her hand as she suddenly prostrated herself on the ground。
“Mother，”I said reverently，“rather let me touch your own blessed feet！”
“God willing，”I replied devoutly，“we are on our way to see an eighth wonder of the world-a woman saint whose diet is thin air！”
Mr。Wright laughed eagerly just the same；he even accelerated the speed of the car。More extraordinary grist for his travel diary！
Besides my secretary and myself，three Bengali friends were in the party。“Sir，we would like to know more of the fasting saint。”
“Her name is Giri Bala，”I informed my companions。“I frst heard about her years ago from a scholarly gentleman，Sthiti Lal Nundy。He often came to the Gurpar Road home to tutor my brother Bishnu。”
‘I know Giri Bala well，’Sthiti Babu told me。‘She employs a certain yoga technique which enables her to live without eating。I was her close neighbor in Nawabganj near Ichapur。I made it a point to watch her closely；never did I fnd evidence that she was taking either food or drink。My interest fnally mounted so high that I approached the Maharaja of Burdwan and asked him to conduct an investigation。Astounded at the story，he invited her to his palace。She agreed to a test and lived for two months locked up in a small section of his home。Later she returned for a palace visit of twenty days；and then for a third test of ffteen days。The Maharaja himself told me that these three rigorous scrutinies had convinced him beyond doubt of her non-eating state。’
“This story of Sthiti Babus has remained in my mind for over twenty-fve years，”I concluded。“Sometimes in America I wondered if the river of time would not swallow the yogini before I could meet her。She must be quite aged now。I do not even know where，or if，she lives。But in a few hours we shall reach Purulia；her brother has a home there。”By ten-thirty our little group was conversing with the brother，Lambadar Dey，a lawyer of Purulia。
“Yes，my sister is living。She sometimes stays with me here，but at present she is at our family home in Biur。”Lambadar Babu glanced doubtfully at the Ford。“I hardlythink，Swamiji，it might be best if you all resign yourselves to the ancient jolt of the bullock cart！”
As one voice our party pledged loyalty to the Pride of Detroit。
“The Ford comes from America，”I told the lawyer。“It would be a shame to deprive it of an opportunity to get acquainted with the heart of Bengal！”
“May Ganesh go with you！”Lambadar Babu said，laughing。He added courteously，“If you ever get there，I am sure Giri Bala will be glad to see you。She is approaching her seventies，but continues in excellent health。”
“Please tell me，sir，if it is absolutely true that she eats nothing？”I looked directly into his eyes，those telltale windows of the mind。
“It is true。”His gaze was open and honorable。“In more than fve decades I have never seen her eat a morsel。If the world suddenly came to an end，I could not be more astonished than by the sight of my sisters taking food！”
“Giri Bala has never sought an inaccessible solitude for her yoga practices，”Lambadar Babu went on。“She has lived her entire life surrounded by her family and friends。”
Our little party thanked him warmly and set out toward Biur。
“Sir，”Mr。Wright remarked，“we should reach Giri Bala before the sun sets，to have enough light for photographs。”He added with a grin，“The Westerners are a skeptical lot；we cant expect them to believe in the lady without any pictures！”
This bit of wisdom was indisputable；I turned my back on temptation and reentered the car。
“Lambadar Babu spoke truly，”Sailesh acknowledged。“The car is not carrying us；we are carrying the car！”
Our climb-in，climb-out auto tedium was beguiled ever and anon by the appearance of a village，each one a scene of quaint simplicity。
Mr。Wright has recorded in his travel diary，under date of May，1936.
Asking for a guide among a group of worshipers on their way home from a temple prayer（out in the lonely field），we were besieged by a dozen scantily clad lads who clambered on the sides of the car，eager to conduct us to Giri Bala。
The road led toward a grove of date palms sheltering a group of mud huts，but before we had reached it，the Ford was momentarily tipped at a dangerous angle，tossed up and dropped down。The narrow trail led around trees and tank，over ridges，into holes and deep ruts。The car became anchored on a clump of bushes，then grounded on ahillock，requiring a lift of earth clods；on we proceeded，slowly and carefully；suddenly the way was stopped by a mass of brush in the middle of the cart track，necessitating a detour down a precipitous ledge into a dry tank，rescue from which demanded some scraping，adzing，and shoveling。Again and again the road seemed impassable，but the pilgrimage must go on；obliging lads fetched spades and demolished the obstacles（shades of Ganesh！）while hundreds of children and parents stared。
What a sensation we created-a group piloted by an American and pioneering in a snorting car right into their hamlet fastness，invading the ancient privacy and sanctity！
Halting by a narrow lane we found ourselves within a hundred feet of Giri Balas ancestral home。We felt the thrill of fulfillment after the long road struggle crowned by a rough finish。We approached a large，two-storied building of brick and plaster，dominating the surrounding adobe huts；the house was under the process of repair，for around it was the characteristically tropical framework of bamboos。
With feverish anticipation and suppressed rejoicing we stood before the open doors of the one blessed by the Lord‘s’hungerlesstouch。Constantly agape were the villagers，young and old，bare and dressed，women aloof somewhat but inquisitive too，men and boys unabashedly at our heels as they gazed on this unprecedented spectacle。
Soon a short fgure came into view in the doorway-Giri Bala！She was swathed in a cloth of dull，goldish silk；in typically Indian fashion，she drew forward modestly and hesitatingly，peering slightly from beneath the upper fold of her swadeshi cloth。Her eyes glistened like smouldering embers in the shadow of her head piece。
Meekly she approached and silently assented to our snapping a number of pictures with our‘still’and‘movie’cameras。Patiently and shyly she endured our photo techniques of posture adjustment and light arrangement。Finally we had recorded for posterity many photographs of the only woman in the world who is known to have lived without food or drink for over ffty years。
“Therese Neumann，of course，has fasted since 1923.）Most motherly was Giri Balas expression as she stood before us，completely covered in the loose-fowing cloth，nothing of her body visible but her face with its downcast eyes，her hands，and her tiny feet。”
Mr。Wrights impression of Giri Bala was shared by myself；spirituality enfolded her like her gently shining veil。She pronamed before me in the customary gesture of greeting from a householder to a monk。Her simple charm and quiet smile gave us a welcome beyond that of honeyed oratory；forgotten was our diffcult，dusty trip。
The little saint seated herself cross-legged on the verandah。Though bearing the scars of age，she was not emaciated；her olive-colored skin had remained clear and healthy in tone。
“Mother，”I said in Bengali，“for over twenty-fve years I have thought eagerly of this very pilgrimage！I heard about your sacred life from Sthiti Lal Nundy Babu。”
She nodded in acknowledgment。“Yes，my good neighbor in Nawabganj。”
“The sublime drama that you are here playing so inconspicuously should be blazoned before a world that has long forgotten the inner food divine。”
The saint lifted her eyes for a minute，smiling with serene interest。
“Baba（honored father）knows best，”she answered meekly。
“Mother，”I went on，“please forgive me，then，for burdening you with many questions。Kindly answer only those that please you；I shall understand your silence，also。”
She spread her hands in a gracious gesture。“I am glad to reply，insofar as an insignifcant person like myself can give satisfactory answers。”
“Oh，no，not insignifcant！”I protested sincerely。“You are a great soul。”
“I am the humble servant of all。”She added quaintly，“I love to cook and feed people。”
A strange pastime，I thought，for a non-eating saint！
“Tell me，Mother，from your own lips-do you live without food？”
“That is true。From the age of twelve years four months down to my present age of sixty-eight-a period of over ffty-six years-I have not eaten food or taken liquids。”
“Are you never tempted to eat？”
“If I felt a craving for food，I would have to eat。”Simply yet regally she stated this axiomatic truth！
“But you do eat something！”My tone held a note of remonstrance。
“Of course！”She smiled in swift understanding。
“Your nourishment derives from the fner energies of the air and sunlight，and from the cosmic power which recharges your body through the medulla oblongata。”
“Baba knows。”Again she acquiesced，her manner soothing and unemphatic。
“Mother，please tell me about your early life。It holds a deep interest for all of India，and even for our brothers and sisters beyond the seas。”
Giri Bala put aside her habitual reserve，relaxing into a conversational mood。
“So be it。”Her voice was low and firm。I was born in these forest regions。Mychildhood was unremarkable save that I was possessed by an insatiable appetite。I had been betrothed in early years。
‘Child，’my mother often warned me，‘try to control your greed。When the time comes for you to live among strangers in your husband’s family，what will they think of you if your days are spent in nothing but eating？
The calamity she had foreseen came to pass。I was only twelve when I joined my husbands people in Nawabganj。My mother-in-law shamed me morning，noon，and night about my gluttonous habits。Her scoldings were a blessing in disguise，however；they roused my dormant spiritual tendencies。One morning her ridicule was merciless。
‘I shall soon prove to you，’I said，stung to the quick，‘that I shall never touch food again as long as I live。’
My mother-in-law laughed in derision。‘So！’she said，‘how can you live without eating，when you cannot live without overeating？’
This remark was unanswerable！Yet an iron resolution scaffolded my spirit。In a secluded spot I sought my Heavenly Father。
‘Lord，’I prayed incessantly，‘please send me a guru，one who can teach me to live by Thy light and not by food。’
A divine ecstasy fell over me。Led by a beatifc spell，I set out for the Nawabganj ghat on the Ganges。On the way I encountered the priest of my husbands family。
‘Venerable sir，’I said trustingly，‘kindly tell me how to live without eating。’
He stared at me without reply。Finally he spoke in a consoling manner。‘Child，’he said，‘come to the temple this evening；I will conduct a special Vedic ceremony for you。’
This vague answer was not the one I was seeking；I continued toward the ghat。The morning sun pierced the waters；I purifed myself in the Ganges，as though for a sacred initiation。As I left the river bank，my wet cloth around me，in the broad glare of day my master materialized himself before me！
“Dear little one，’he said in a voice of loving compassion，‘I am the guru sent here by God to fulfll your urgent prayer。He was deeply touched by its very unusual nature！From today you shall live by the astral light，your bodily atoms fed from the infnite current。’”
The saint resumed the tale，her gentle voice barely audible。“He initiated me into a kria technique which frees the body from dependence on the gross food of mortals。The technique includes the use of a certain mantra and a breathing exercise more diffcult than the average person could perform。No medicine or magic is involved；nothing＆nbsp；beyond the kria。”
“I have never had any children；many years ago I became a widow。I sleep very little，as sleep and waking are the same to me。I meditate at night，attending to my domestic duties in the daytime。I slightly feel the change in climate from season to season。I have never been sick or experienced any disease。I feel only slight pain when accidentally injured。I have no bodily excretions。I can control my heart and breathing。I often see my guru as well as other great souls，in vision。”
“Mother，”I asked，“why dont you teach others the method of living without food？”
My ambitious hopes for the worlds starving millions were nipped in the bud。
“No。”She shook her head。“I was strictly commanded by my guru not to divulge the secret。It is not his wish to tamper with Gods drama of creation。The farmers would not thank me if I taught many people to live without eating！The luscious fruits would lie uselessly on the ground。It appears that misery，starvation，and disease are whips of our karma which ultimately drive us to seek the true meaning of life。”
“Mother，”I said slowly，“what is the use of your having been singled out to live without eating？”
“To prove that man is Spirit。”Her face lit with wisdom。“To demonstrate that by divine advancement he can gradually learn to live by the Eternal Light and not by food。”
The saint sank into a deep meditative state。
The tropical darkness had fallen。It was the painful hour of parting；a slow，tedious journey lay before our little party。
“Giri Bala，”I said as the saint opened her eyes，“please give me a keepsake-a strip of one of your saris。”
She soon returned with a piece of Benares silk，extending it in her hand as she suddenly prostrated herself on the ground。
“Mother，”I said reverently，“rather let me touch your own blessed feet！”
