From these words, Swarup understood it all, and told the fisherman gently, "I am a great ghost-doctor, and I know how to lay spirits." He uttered some verses, laid his hand on the fisherman's head, gave him three slaps, and cried out "The evil spirit has left you. Fear no more." The man now became a little composed. Swarup reassured him, "He whom you have taken for an evil spirit, is no ghost, but the Lord Sri Krishna-Chaitanya. In a transport of love He had jumped into the sea. Him have you raised in your net. His touch has thrilled you with Krishna's love, which you have mistaken for the possession of a ghost. Now that your fear is gone and your mind has been calmed, show me where you have landed Him."
The fisherman said, "I have often beheld the Master. It cannot be He; it is more than man's size."
The fisherman led them all to the place. They beheld Him lying on the ground, huge-bodied, pale-skinned from immersion in water, coated with sea-sand. His limbs were abnormally long, loose and with the skin flapping. Over such a long path they could not carry Him home; so they removed His wet loin-cloth and put a dry one on Him, and laid Him down on a sheet of cloth after brushing away the sand. Then they lifted up the chant of Krishna's kirtan and poured it into His ears. After a time the word entered His brain and He leaped up with a roar; His limbs were rejoined and returned to their proper places. Half-unconscious still, He looked hither and thither [in perplexity]. He spoke, as if from the sky, "Beholding the Jamuna [in the ocean] I went to Brindában, and there found Braja's darling sporting in the water; with Radha and the other milkmaids. I stood on the bank gazing on the scene, while one of the sakhis (female comrades of Radha) pointed out the mysteries to me. [A long but highly poetical description, not translated.] Krishna, Radha, and their companions rose from the water, dressed themselves, partook of a rich picnic, and all retired to sleep. My heart was filled with bliss at the sight. Just then you caught hold of me, and with a great noise brought me here. Ah! where is the Jamuna, where Brindában, where Krishna, and where the milkmaids? You have destroyed that bliss!"
Then Swarup made Him bathe [in the sea] and brought Him home, to the delight of all.
CHAPTER XXVII
The Master's last year on earth
Thus did the Master in love-madness for Krishna lament night and day. Jagadananda Pandit was very dear unto Him, and was every year sent by Him to Nadia to console his forlorn mother Shachi. "Go to Nadia", so the Master charged Jagadananda, "convey my salutation to mother, touch her feet on my behalf. Tell her to remember that I go there daily (in the spirit) to bow to her. That I have taken the sannyasi's vow leaving her service only shows that I am mad and have really undone all dharma. Mother! pardon this fault of mine. I am obedient to thee, I am thy son. It is at thy bidding that I am living at Niláchal. I cannot leave thee while life remains to me." The Master presented to His mother (at the Puri's suggestion) the consecrated cloth that He had received at the Gopa-lilá with choice prasád of Jagannáth. He was the crowning example of filial piety, for even though a sannyasi He served His mother.
After receiving an enigmatic message in verse from the Acharya Goswámi (of Shantipur) through Jagadananda when he returned to Puri, the Master plunged into a deeper trance. His ecstasy at Krishna-separation was doubled. He raved frantically day and night, identifying Himself with Radha. Suddenly imagining that Krishna was leaving Brindában for Mathura, He (in the character of Radha) was seized with dizziness and developed madness, mourning deliriously while clasping the neck of Rámánanda and addressing Swarup as one of the sakhis (i.e., Radha's companions). He repeated the verse which Radha had spoken to Vishákhá (her handmaid) and held forth on it.
Thus did Gauránga weep, saying, "Alas! alas for Krishna! where hast thou gone?" Swarup and Rámánanda consoled Him in many ways, singing joyous songs, which calmed Him a little.
These lamentations were carried on to midnight. Then Swarup laid the Master to bed in His room. Rámánanda left for his home, and Govinda lay down at the door of the room. Love for Krishna was thrilling the Master's heart; He awoke and began to sing the Name; the pang of separation convulsed His heart, and He began to rub His face against the wall; His face, cheeks, nose were all lacerated, but in the vehemence of ecstasy He knew not of the blood streaming down.