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Thakur Ramakrishna’s Tapestry of Disciples
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In a garden of souls, diverse and true,
Thakur Ramakrishna’s wisdom grew.
A tapestry woven with threads of grace,
Disciples gathered in his sacred embrace.
M’s devotion, like a silent stream,
Reflecting Thakur’s radiance, a luminous dream.
Gospel of Ramakrishna, his pen set free,
Sharing the saint’s words for all to see.
Sarada Devi, Holy Mother so kind,
Thakur’s spiritual consort, heart and mind.
Silent strength, her presence pure,
Guiding disciples to endure.
Vivid is the memory of Rakhal’s devotion,
Swami Brahmananda, in tranquil motion.
First among equals, a spiritual guide,
Thakur’s love forever by his side.
Virtuous Premananda, his heart a shrine,
Singing Thakur’s glories, the Divine.
Rishi-like, he taught in silent verse,
Ramakrishna’s essence, a universal curse.
Reminiscent of Thakur’s ecstasies rare,
Swami Vivekananda, his soul laid bare.
Igniting minds at the Parliament’s stage,
A new era dawning, wisdom’s age.
Yogin Ma, in solitude’s retreat,
Her meditation pure, her devotion complete.
Thakur’s teachings, her guiding light,
A beacon through day and night.
Abhedananda, explorer of the mind,
Seeking truths beyond confines.
Thakur’s conversations, a treasure trove,
In Vedanta’s ocean, he dove.
Niranjanananda, humility’s grace,
A life of service, a steady pace.
Thakur’s compassion, a flame inside,
In every action, he’d confide.
Sister Nivedita, a devotee so ardent,
Thakur’s ideals in her heart were sent.
Education, service, her life’s creed,
Following his call with fiery speed.
From East to West, disciples dispersed,
Thakur’s wisdom shared, revered, and nursed.
A lineage formed, a spiritual stream,
Whispering truths like a timeless dream.
In the realm of spirit, their souls entwined,
Guided by Thakur’s love, refined.
Interactions profound, a tapestry’s art,
A symphony played in each disciple’s heart.
A title bestowed, a legacy told,
“Whispers of Wisdom,” stories unfold.
Thakur Ramakrishna’s disciples’ grace,
In every moment, their spirits embrace.
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The Last journey of Thakur Sri Ramkrishna Paramhansa Dev
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On this day, Sri Ramakrishna bid adieu,
A few minutes past midnight, his journey anew,
Sixteenth of August, a significant date,
Morning broke, sealing his fate.
News spread swiftly in every corner,
Many couldn’t believe, a saintly mourner,
Skeptics thought he might not have passed away,
Perhaps, deep in meditation, he’d chosen to stay.
To Dr. Mahendralal Sarkar, people rushed,
Anxiously, their hopes they hushed,
The doctor arrived without delay,
Gazing at Ramakrishna’s form, in quiet sway.
With fixed gaze and tearful eyes,
For a moment, he pondered, silent ties,
Then softly he said, “Prepare the pyre,
Arrange for the last rites, no desire higher.”
Dr. Mahendralal Sarkar took his leave,
A dutiful task he had to achieve,
Yet, who would quarrel with such a soul,
As Ramakrishna’s life took its toll?
A long sigh heaved from his chest,
From his pocket, a ten-rupee note he addressed,
Said, “Keep this, no need to fuss,
Capture his photo, a final remembrance.”
As if a pang in his heart was laid,
In his chest, something seemed frayed,
A life devoid of romantic love’s embrace,
But one soul recognized his grace.
In that moment, with twenty rupees in hand,
Dr. Mahendralal Sarkar began to understand,
Today, no more would he enter his chamber’s door,
A heavy heart he bore, grieving to the core.
Today, Mahendralal’s house remains shuttered,
His soul burdened, emotions uncluttered,
The sky today wears a clouded veil,
As the afternoon sun begins to pale.
Around five in the evening, a somber mood,
From Dakshineswar, they carried him, subdued,
Laid his body on a simple bier,
White flowers adorned, a tribute sincere.
Resting on a bed of serenity,
Ramakrishna, in tranquil divinity,
As the sky turns dusk, a fading hue,
His earthly journey bids adieu.
