In plain words
Rāmulu was walking in front of Me. Subbamma was coming behind Me. By the time the two of us got there, the whole place was filled with a most sacred fragrance. “Where did you bring this fragrance from?” I asked. “Swami! We have not brought anything. This fragrance is coming from You Yourself,” he said. I stepped inside. Subbamma, too, came in with Me, very happy. She was 62 years old at that time. They served Me a little rice on an aluminium plate. That was all they had! Stainless steel plates had not yet come in those days. For Subbamma they served on another plate. At first Subbamma had the pride of being a brahmin. But after Swami spoke, a change came in her. ‘Chī, I must not hold on to pride like this,’ she thought. She too ate with Me in their house.
Subbamma, a blessed soul who found fulfilment in Swami's service
By the time we came back into the village, the whole village had joined together and began to jeer, “Subbamma has become a Māla, Subbamma has become a Māla.” “Nobody is to touch her,” they said. Then she: “That is just what I want too! Let no one touch me. If Swami alone touches me, that is enough. I have no children. I have no need to give a child of mine to anyone else; I have no need to bring home someone else's child. It is enough for me to have Swami alone,” she said. She would cook and serve food to every devotee who came to her house. Good fortune came to match it: on the lands that were hers, two or three crops a year grew in plenty, and the whole house would fill with grain. Since the sacks of rice could not be carried in through the door, she would pour them in through a window up above. In this way Subbamma found fulfilment in Swami's service.
One day I asked Subbamma, “Subbamma! What do you want?” “I want nothing, Swami; it is enough if, before I die, You pour a little water into my mouth with Your own hands,” she said.