In plain words
Guileless Prema Is a Mother's Prema Alone
A mother's blessing is needed, beyond all doubt. To show such a mother's Prema, I, Swami, too, though Swami has no worldly Prema for a mother and father, used to go to their samādhi on their birthday, to hold out the ideal of a human birth. Why did I keep going? Whatever I do, I have been showing others an ideal. Precisely on account of this feeling, a mother's noble heart keeps melting. It is now thirty years since the mother of this body died. But she moves about still living, still in her body. Three boys sleep in My room. They too saw this sight. Why am I telling this today? Because the life of an ideal mother is truly a life full of amṛta. After bhajan I went inside and took My food. At half past nine at night. To Easwaramma, who had come, I put the question, “Why have you come in your body?” “Swami! I have come to put one thing before You,” she said. “You know everything. You are all-knowing. But one thing alone You must keep in check,” she said. “What is it? Every devotee, every student, now and then hands You a handkerchief. But grant my prayer, and do not take anyone's handkerchief. The times are not good. They smear poison all over a handkerchief. You take it as a matter of course and wipe Yourself with it. Take only from those who are faithful to You, who are true devotees. Do not touch everyone's handkerchief,” Easwaramma prayed. A mother's Prema remains alive still, even after she has died. Twice more she came, at night too. Those who sleep in My room saw her too. They had never seen her before. Who is this old woman? “How did she get here?” they wondered. The key to the Lift is right here with us. There are no stairs to it. As the boys were asking, “How did she get here?”, I got up. “Don't you ask anything,” I said, and I asked her, “Why have you come, then?” Easwaramma said, “Now and then I cannot bear to be without seeing You. Only when I see You, even once, does joy come. I have come to see You and go.” Then she said a few words more.