There would be Shri Nathji sitting in a dark and smelly printing press with all the noise of machines clanging in his ears, discussing the rate quotations of press managers; there would be Shri Nathji in the paper sellers market of Chawri Bazaar, siting in a small dingy shop looking at the samples of paper being shown to him, listening to the rates being quoted, and generally accepting everything that was offered to him.
It was an ordeal getting inside Chawri Bazaar and getting out of it; the crowds, the filth and the flies, the narrow streets where cars could barely crawl and the hot weather all made the trip impossible.
However Shri Nathji bore it all for the sake of Priya Nath. Those were the days when, for a while, Shri Nathji had become so absorbed in the process of printing a book that anyone would have thought that publishing was his profession!
This was Shri Nathji’s way of giving his darshan and blessings to the world of printing, to the poor in the streets of Chawri Bazaar, to the paper merchants and the press managers and the binders. Had Shri Nathji not gone to these places, these souls would have been left bereft of the darshan and blessings of God in human form. It was to bless them that Shri Nathji was placing his own delicate body into such torment.
This was the great face of Shri Nathji’s divinity. He could assume any role and play it with perfect enthusiasm at any time in his life, and yet his divinity would stay unaffected by the role, and would shine out brighter than ever.