Listen, all -- what can I say, describing this again and again: never has such an incarnation been seen or heard of before. Such exceeding power was wielded, Hari having taken a human body; in ages past, in the scriptures of old, nothing like this has ever been heard. Exceedingly uncommon accounts he brought and displayed in this world; seeing such wonder, the people remain absorbed in their minds. Having accomplished such great deeds, Maharaj himself went to Goloka; the devotees, without his darshan, remained sorrowful, grieving as they remembered him.
At every moment, remembering that bliss, at every instant sorrow arises. Sometimes they remember him seated upon a couch, sandal anointed upon his beautiful limbs; around his neck many camphor garlands, camphor earrings in his ears; sometimes they remember the flower-garlands, the flower-bouquets the Merciful One wore. Sometimes they remember him in a brocade robe, his dark head bound with a brocade turban; sometimes they remember him wearing a crown, seated joyfully upon a fine swing.
Sometimes they remember him throwing gulal, playing joyfully in sport; sometimes taking a syringe in hand, throwing colored water upon his companions' heads. Sometimes remembered mounted upon a horse -- thus is the Support of Life remembered. Sometimes remembered bathing in the river, clapping and singing with his companions. Sometimes splashing water with his hands, playing joyfully with his companions; sometimes remembered eating a meal, giving prasad to his devotee, merciful one.
Sometimes remembered moving among the rows of diners, giving darshan, capturing hearts; placing jalebis in someone's mouth with his own hand, feeding them, touching their feet to his own forehead in humility. Sometimes remembered meeting his devotees, placing their feet upon his own chest in blessing; sometimes remembered conversing, the sadhus becoming joyful upon understanding.
Sometimes remembered being worshipped by devotees, with flower-garlands and fine sandal; sometimes remembered before the arti and praises, the devotee falling at his feet with love. Sometimes remembered lying in bed, rising, washing his face and wiping it; sometimes remembered brushing his teeth, sometimes remembered seated in his place. Sometimes remembered bathing, Nath, his body scrubbed and washed by hand; sometimes remembered the Life of the World eating, clapping and playing with his devotees.
Sometimes such thoughts arise: his rings, bangles and bracelets; sometimes remembered seated in a palanquin, sometimes upon an elephant together with a peacock. Sometimes remembered Maharaj upon a terrace; sometimes conversing lovingly; sometimes playing with the sadhus, singing and clapping with both hands. Sometimes remembered seated on his seat; sometimes remembered having his body massaged; sometimes remembered being anointed with oil; sometimes remembered his feet being worshipped.
Sometimes remembered warming himself by a fire, Nath preparing dishes with his own hands; sometimes eating and feeding his devotees, serving them himself, being pleased. Sometimes in a chariot, carriage, cart or on horseback, riding along with his companions; sometimes under a mango or tamarind tree, seated wearing many garlands about his neck. Sometimes taking up a garland gracefully -- thus he is remembered again and again.
Wherever the Life of the World wandered, that his devotees contemplate. Wherever Hari performed his divine plays, that his devotees contemplate together. Wherever festivals were held, that too his devotees contemplate. Whatever deeds Maharaj performed, these the men and women contemplate. Remembering this brings both joy and sorrow to the body; the separation is never forgotten from the mind. Such happiness Maharaj gave that even forgotten, it is remembered again today. Remembering brings happiness, yet the body suffers; thus weeping remains in the heart.
He does not show himself outwardly to his devotees, yet within they remain always sorrowful. Like a snake without its jewel, so wander the men and women. Like a poor man without wealth, thus remain the destitute devotees. Like children without mother or father -- who then cares for them? Like a wife without her husband -- thus have they now become. Like a kingdom whose king has gone away, they find not a moment's happiness.
Thus, whoever suffers separation from the Beloved, know it as a disease though without physical illness. From where would such a person find bodily happiness -- their eyes remain filled with tears. Like a calf without its mother-cow, restless; like a fish gasping without water -- thus, without the Life of the World, the devotees remain in constant anguish, day and night. Like a body without life-breath, like a universe without the sun, like a night without the moon, like rain without the earth to receive it -- thus all the people became dimmed, with the one Life-Giver gone. No one retained their luster; all pined away, becoming dim.
Like a plantain tree without fruit, like a pond without water, like a lake without swans -- thus remained all the men and women. Like a city without inhabitants, like a house without people -- thus everything seemed empty; what more can I say? Wherever Nath used to sit, remembering it, the heart cannot remain composed. Like a dish without salt, like food without ghee, like a wedding party without the groom, like betel-leaf without lime -- thus the world became tasteless, with the one Support of Life gone.
No one found even a moment's happiness, once Bhagwan, the Lord of Life, departed. The joys of home and household no longer remained -- they say, "In what happiness do we remain here?" The delight in laughter and play remained no more; though alive, their condition became like that of the dead. In this way Hari's devotees complete the remaining days of their bodily lives.
At various times much joy is remembered, so no one's face retains its glow. Remembering signs of their beloved Lord pains them; their very life-breath suffers from that pain. Speaking again and again the words of love once shared, these now cause pain, day and night. Having shown such love and won their hearts, this is never forgotten, day or night. Thus, remembering again and again, the devotees weep within their hearts. He took all happiness with him, leaving his devotees orphaned behind.
Such is the condition of these devotees -- I have shown but a part of it. Whoever's life-purpose has departed with him -- do not marvel at this grief. I have told this account briefly; it cannot be told exactly as it is. Whatever I have seen and heard with my ears, from that I have written down something, in brief.
Telling the glory of Hari at length, this account has become a fine and beautiful one. I have told the deeds of the manifest Lord, exceedingly holy and supremely pure. For satsangis this is a treasury of bliss, a full, blissful renown. In difficult times the devotee contemplates it, and suffering of the body departs, bringing happiness. Such an uncommon scripture has come to be, a source of bliss for satsangi people. I have told it as it became known to me; let all understand and accept it thus.
All the deeds of Shri Hari -- how far can they be told, they are so very many. I have told them all in brief, to whatever extent came to my knowledge. Hari's deeds are without limit; they cannot be fully told by a single tongue. Not even in the whole creation of Brahma could anyone fully recount Hari's virtues in complete detail. Even Shesha, Ganesh, and Sharada themselves say they cannot reach its end. So I resolved in my own mind: Hari's glory is boundless. Whatever account came into my knowledge, all of that I have related to everyone.
Seeing the pure devotees of Shri Hari, telling this account brings me delight. When the listener's mind is pure, in the telling the speaker too becomes pleased. This is called an exceedingly uncommon story; hearing it, the listener's mind becomes pure. Knowing this dialogue-account thus, whoever tells it, hears it, and keeps it in memory, shall attain supreme bliss -- thus truly says Nishkulanand.
Thus ends the one hundred and sixty-second chapter of the Bhaktachintamani, describing the separation from Hari and how the devotees were afflicted by that grief.