Kalinath Baba: The Clairvoyant Sadhu

THIS INCIDENT HAPPENED a few years ago. At that time, I was living in a rented house at number four, Shaileshwar. One morning, my spiritual brother Shri Giridharilalji came to meet me. He was the grandson of the late renowned Raja Munshi Madholalji and the younger brother of Kunwar Nandlalji. I had known him for a long time. He was a highly religious person and had a deep interest in spiritual company (satsang). Whenever any good sadhu (saint) came to Kashi, he would meet them with devotion and honor them.

When he met me, he said, “I have received news that in a few days, a good sadhu is going to arrive in Kashi.  The sadhu’s elderly mother lives in Kashi. To take care of her, the sadhu’s younger brother, Naresh, is also staying in Kashi. I am acquainted with him, which is how I received the information about the Mahatma’s arrival from him. Many people know about the Mahatma’s extraordinary powers. When he arrives, I will inform you. You too will be able to go and have his darshan.” 

Hearing this, I expressed my happiness and told him that I should be informed when the Mahatma arrives.

Some time passed after this conversation. One day, Giridhariji informed me that the Sadhu had arrived. He would stay for a few days, and arrangements would need to be made to go for his darshan. 

I said, “Alright, there should be no delay. We can go tomorrow morning itself, and it would be good if arrangements can be made accordingly. However, there is one thing —please tell the Sadhu’s brother that when we meet him, no outsiders should be present there. We want to have his darshan in private. If people with worldly desires and outsiders keep coming and going, intimate discussions cannot take place. When any sadhu arrives, it is mostly such people who gather in large numbers.”

Giridhari-dada spoke to the Mahatma’s brother and made the arrangements accordingly. 

The next day, 14 July 1935, in the morning, he came to my place, and both of us set off for Ram Ghat. The Mahatma was staying there in a house on the banks of the Ganga. When we arrived, we saw that the arrangements had been made exactly as we had wished. The Mahatma was seated in a room on the ground floor. Arrangements for us to sit had also been made in the same place. There was no external pomp or show of any kind. He was seated on a mat. Nearby, another mat had been spread for us. A large cushion was placed on his seat. Close by, there were some papers and pencils.

As soon as we entered, the Mahatma welcomed us with respect and invited us to sit. We sat down close to him. We finally had his darshan. He appeared full of wisdom. He was naked except for a saffron-coloured loincloth. He had a serene and cheerful face, shaved head, had no beard or moustache and was of a stout build. A sharp brilliance of intelligence shone in both his eyes.

He asked us, “What do you people wish to see?”

I replied, “We don’t wish to see anything; we have come only for your darshan.”

It seemed as though my answer did not satisfy him, as if he wanted to demonstrate some of his powers. 

After that, the Mahatma took some pieces of paper from a file kept nearby and began writing something or other on each of them. Then, stacking them one on top of the other, he pressed them under the cushion. Leaning back on the cushion, he looked specifically at me and asked, “In which year did you pass your Matriculation?”

I said that when I had passed out from Calcutta University, the examination was called Entrance and not Matric. The year was 1908.

He said, “Alright. At that time, in your textbooks, among the subjects for study, was there English prose and poetry?”

I said, “Yes, there was.”

He said, “Can you recall and recite even one line from any poem in that poetry collection?”

I stirred my memory and began to think. Recollections of some poems started coming to mind. After that, my attention was particularly drawn to one line from a poem, which was from Longfellow’s Psalm of Life, verse 6: ‘Trust no Future, however pleasant.’

I recited this line. Before reciting, memories of various lines from different poems had arisen, but in the end, I settled on this line.

As soon as he heard it, he took out the first piece of paper from under the cushion and showed it to me. That exact line was written on it.

I was astonished upon seeing it. I began to think that this is some extraordinary phenomenon; this cannot even be telepathy, because no thought about that line had arisen in my mind, but he had already written it before the discussion. I thought that this cannot even be thought-transference, nor could it be called clairvoyance. Such speculations had just occurred in my mind but the Mahatma had already grasped them  and said, “What you are thinking is nothing. Have you read any play by Shakespeare?”

“Yes, I read some during Intermediate and B.A.”

Then Babaji said, “Alright, recall and recite one line from any play you have read.”

After thinking a lot, I recited a line from The Merchant of Venice: “The quality of mercy is not strained.”

As soon as he heard this, he said, “Here you are,” and pulled out the second piece of paper from under the cushion. I saw that the very line I had uttered was written on it.

After this, Giridharilalji asked, “Babaji, I have one question; may I ask it?”

Babaji replied, “Wait a little.” 

Then he took out the next piece of paper from under the cushion and showed it to us. This is how it read: “He wishes to know the mystery of his brother’s death.”

In fact, Giridharilalji was trying to uncover the mystery surrounding the death of his elder brother, Kunwar Nandlalji. Kunwar Nandlalji’s death was shrouded in mystery. 

A few days earlier, after returning from watching a cinema, he was staying in his garden at Lahurabir. That very night, his body was found below the garden house. Various speculations were made: whether he was murdered, or whether he had fallen from the roof due to excessive drinking, and so on. The Civil Surgeon had examined the body and had given his opinion. Babaji had written on the paper that what the Civil Surgeon had concluded was the truth.

Giridharilalji said, “I do not want to know the question. Can you clearly tell me or not who committed the murder?”

Babaji said, “I can tell that too, but I will not. It would cause trouble with the police. What the Civil Surgeon decided is correct. If you want to know the exact truth, meet me sometime in private. Do not discuss this matter here.”

To be continued