In the morning at eight o'clock, we gather again at the same place for his discourse - He will be answering our questions, and many people are handing in pieces of paper to a man who is working as His secretary. I gather courage and write down my experience, asking Him what is happening to me, I hand in my question, and sit a little away, among the others, trying to hide myself.
Here He comes again, with His beauty and grace, namastes everyone, and sitting in the lotus posture starts reading the question. My heart starts beating fast when I see my pink paper in His hand. Somehow, I am feeling ashamed, wondering what He will think about me after reading my question. To my surprise, after reading the question-- actually it is not a question but a description of the experience I felt when I first heard Him... of being pulled by a magnet, a sensation like dying -- He starts looking at the audience from His far left, and when His eyes rest on me, He looks no further. I bow down, frozen, knowing that He knows it is my question. He has read it to Himself, and passes on to other questions.
After the discourse is over, people are going near Him to touch His feet, and He is touching their heads. I am watching all this from the distance, not daring to go near him. Finally, when He gets up to leave, I rush towards Him and as I approach Him He gives me a smile and says, "You wrote that?" I nod my head in affirmation and bow down to touch His feet. He places His hand on my head, and as I get up He says, "Come and see me in the afternoon."
One Hundred Tales for Ten Thousand Buddhas
Ma Dharm Jyoti