the street looked at us amazed. As we arrived at the door of the Mother's house, I heard Mother say, "Now Gaurdasi has come making a spectacle in the street!" After going there I realized that Gauri-Ma was the last one to worship the Mother that day; all others had finished their worship. Gauri-Ma worshipped the Mother for a long time as one does in the Kali Puja. The worship was worth seeing indeed. Afterwards everyone present partook of Prasada. Gauri-Ma said to the Mother, "I have brought Kshirode here again. She told me that this wasn't your instruction. But I said to her that I would mention it to you." The Mother replied approvingly, "You have done very well." I spent the night at the Mother's house. I shall never forget in this life the joy I experienced on that night.
A year prior to my becoming a widow, I had one day cut and dressed a number of papayas and prepared a curry with them. The juice of the papayas caused an itching sensation on my fingers which became very much swollen, and the skin of my fingers cracked within a few hours. This created such a bad sore on my hand that various kinds of medical treatment failed to cure it. I suffered from it for twelve years. I had to use a spoon for taking my food. At times the condition would subside. But when it became aggravated, the contact of my hands with water made the sore septic. Though I had been in close association with the Holy Mother for the last one year, I had never shown my hands to her. I had decided never to say anything to her about this impermanent physical body of mine. And I had kept this chronic disease a secret from her lest it should somehow infect her too. I avoided visiting her when the disease became aggravated. One day, however, I went to see her when the sore was rather bad. On reaching her place I avoided making Pranam to her lest she should notice the sore while I touched her feet. But this thought made me quite restless. Just then I saw that a widow took the dust of Mother's feet, wrapping her hand with the loose end of her Sari. This gladdened my heart. And so I too took the dust of her feet, wrapping my hand with the end of my Sari. No sooner did I salute her than the Mother asked in surprise, "Daughter, why did you take the dust of my feet wrapping your hand with your cloth? Is there anything wrong with your hand?"
I was now in a fix, and my heart began to quiver. I thought, "Mother could have questioned the other woman. But instead of