The old breeze was still fresh 

And I turned open the book

Of grateful Sarajubala who was blessed with

A part of Maa as she took

Away the prasaad and a kiss

Offered pranaams, received bliss;

As like a child she would come running

To Maa whenever she would miss.

Jagatjanani was she and 

Saraju- a mere simple human,

And love flowed midst them

Like a drop resting upon an ocean

Of kindness, patience and forbearance;

The Divine manifested, a fountain of grace.

But Saraju witnessed her mother ailing

Of diseases may nobody face!

Then I turned the pages further

And the breeze kissed me again,

Mingled with the fragrant incense

And the devotion in me ascends.

The smell of mogras and the marigolds

Transported me to the times old- 

When Maa marveled upon a flower crimson

Like the border that her sari beholds!

In a little space she lived 

With her magnificence looming large,

Feeding her children with love and care,

Divine compassion continuously discharged

From her soft eyes and lovely form

As love is all she knew.

In love she had adorned

Herself in a yellow sari

That once Saraju gave her, she wore!

She is worshipped, she is loved.

Divine Mother of the universe rests above.

She is the foremost among all

Empathy and grace sprouts from 

Her simply sweet and Divine form! 

Pranaam to Maa Sharada! 


(Recently, I came accross a book titled ‘The Gospel of the Holy Mother’. This book has accounts of various devotees who met Maa Sharda, the spiritual consort of Sri Ramakrishna Paramhansa. Sarajubala Devi had received deeksha from Maa Sharada and in this poem, I have included some incidents from her retelling of her interactions with Maa Sharada Devi as per the book. No offense to anyone intended.)


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