Picture of Ambassador Sen and Paramhansa Yogananda
Another devotee recalls a few incidents of the following day—Friday, March 7th, the Day of Destiny not only for the incomparable Master but for all his disciples. She writes:
“On the morning of the banquet, Master said, under his breath, ‘I have a very important engagement in March.’ I reminded him, ‘This is March, Sir,’ and he said, ‘Yes, it is.’ What engagement do you have that is so very important, Sir?’ I went on. ‘Is it the one with the Ambassador tonight?’ ‘No,’ he replied, ‘this one is very important.’ I questioned the other disciples, but no one knew of any engagement except the banquet for the Ambassador that evening.”
**************
Miss Faye Wright, Yoganandaji’s disciple since 1931, gives her recollection of his last day at the SRF headquarters: “Throughout the long day of March 7th, Master was very quiet, asking that no one speak in his presence, and that those in adjoining rooms tiptoe softly about their work. Through the years the devotees had come to recognize this request as one that indicated that his consciousness was inwardly withdrawn to an even greater extent than usual. Often that day the disciples saw his eyes turn upward to the spiritual-eye center in the forehead. When he spoke at all, it was in terms of great affection, appreciation, and kindness.
“Most noticeable of all was the influence, felt by everyone who entered his sitting room, of the vibrations of intense divine love that emanated from him. The disciples felt as though they were standing in the presence of the Great Mother Herself. She had taken complete possession of him, it seemed and was using him as a perfect channel to send out waves of love to all creation.
“His prayer, the one he quoted most often, is: “May Thy love shine forever on the sanctuary of my devotion, and may I be able to awaken Thy love in all hearts.’ To the very end, then, Master’s ardent desire was fulfilled—that the hearts of others be inflamed with love for God.”
***********
Miss Sahly has written the following account of March 7th: ‘On the morning he sent for me about 10 a.m. My first impression as I entered his room was of an unusually deep and holy quiet, pervaded by Aum vibration. He was meditating. I sat down and meditated with him—blessed privilege?—for ten minutes.
“He gave me some instructions about the trip to the Biltmore Hotel. A suite of two rooms had been engaged there for him, because it was his plan to go early and rest until it was time to take his place at the speakers’ table in the banquet room of the hotel.
“An incident occurred that showed how Divine Mother granted Master’s little wishes. He had asked me to be sure to get possession of the key to his hotel suite so he would not be delayed in reaching it. But the desk clerk had refused permission for the key to be taken away. However, two disciples went to the hotel on Friday afternoon to register for Master and to see the suite. The room attendant, they discovered, was a man who had long wanted to meet Master and was eager to be of service to him. He readily granted permission for the key, then in the door lock, to be carried off.
“At Mt. Washington that afternoon I packed an overnight bag for Master in case he decided to remain all night at the hotel, since the banquet and reception would not be over until late. I then went to my room. Returning to Master’s sitting room about 3:30 p.m., I opened the door quietly. A feeling of shock or apprehension came over me, for Master was lying in his large reclining chair in a position of such relaxation as to suggest the stillness of death. This was the thought that fled across my mind. I softly spoke a word of greeting. He opened his eyes a little, smiled, and touched my forehead with his blessed little hand. About four o’clock he went downstairs and, after a talk with several devotees, smilingly entered his car. The rain had stopped earlier, but the day was still misty. Nevertheless, as Master left the Mt. Washington Center, the sun came out briefly. It was the hour of heavy traffic; we did not reach the Biltmore until nearly 5 p.m. Having the room key with him enabled Master to go directly to his suite. He had been silent for the most part during the drive; the deep quiet still prevailed in his hotel room. I made one or two remarks, but he only replied: ‘Do not disturb my thoughts. My thoughts must not be disturbed.’ He spoke very softly and slowly, conveying to me a sense of his remoteness. I seated myself to wait till he was ready to go downstairs.
“As I look back over this day I see a singular significance in many apparently trifling happenings, all of which struck me with a queer little shock at the time, for fleeting seconds, as though it were all a picture; something ‘crystallized in time’ were the words that later came to my mind.’”
************
“’On the last day,’ according to another disciple, ‘Master sat in his chair with his eyes half-closed almost the entire day, wanting no talking around him, and no one to speak until he spoke. He appeared to be completely withdrawn from everything, as though a veil were forming between him and the mundane world.
“In his hotel suite that evening, I noticed a strange look in his eyes, and asked him questions, hoping to receive satisfaction that all was well. But he evaded the questions many times. Looking back now, I realize that he knew he was soon to leave the body, for his eyes were veiled with a faraway look that I had never seen in them before. I asked him if he planned to remain at the hotel all night, and he replied, ‘I won’t be staying here tonight.’
**************
“Another disciple recalls that, just before Yoganandaji entered his car at Mt. Washington Center, he spoke to various monks and sisters, reminded them of the prime importance of their spiritual progress. Then he said: ‘Imagine! I have a room at the Biltmore. I am going back to where it all started.
(He was referring to his early days in Los Angeles, when he lived for many months at the Biltmore Hotel. From his room there, in 1925, he was able to look out of his window and see the many thousands of people queued around the block on each night that he was scheduled to lecture at the nearby Philharmonic Auditorium. “It looks like Times Square in New York during the rush hour,” one Los Angeles reporter wrote at the time. One evening in 1925 Master gazed down from his room at the waiting crowds near the Philharmonic and said to a disciple: ‘Babaji told me it would be like this.’)