"Baba usually sat on the narrow wooden balcony that was supported by poles. One could only see his head with the unkempt, long hair and the aged bluish eyes. His arms were hanging down from the balustrade and he often raised his hands to give generously his blessing. Occasionally he was not there. Then he either was in the small room behind the balcony or took a bath in the Ganga, and all of us, who had come for his darshan, were sitting in the burning sand, from time to time dipping a handkerchief into the Ganges and placing it on our heads to cool down. Sometimes we waited for half an hour and not a single tree nearby to give us shade. The Indians quietly chanted “Siya Ram, Jay Siya Ram”. They could chant those names hundred, thousand and probably even million times without feeling tired."