Would I have the courage to bear it? Or would I die out of sheer shock? How could I think of consigning to the flames, the dear, soft, delicate body of Pitaji which had never even felt the slightest burn before?O God – Why? Why? Why?I had once said to Pitaji that God should not have made death such an unpleasant experience – and that whenever a person died, his body should either simply vanish, or else be lifted up into the heavens. Cremation and burial were so dreadful.“Kudrat ke jo banaaye neeyam hain unhen to“The laws made by Nature have to be followed.”The time was approaching close when Pitaji’s body would be consigned to the flames. Never again would I see that most Beautiful, most ‘buggoo’ of all faces – the Face of my Dear, Dear, Pitiji, my Dear, Dear Father, my one and only Pitiji, my Dear Beloved, beloved Pitiji. “SHRI BHOLA NATHJI BHAGWAN KI JAI!”He was carried on the shoulders of the devotees to the loud cries of “Jai!” Many amongst them were weeping. “Main vo “I am not that light which rests only upon your feet. I am that light which rests upon your feet as well.”And there was His verse:“Khaake pasti se agar daaman teraa ham dam naheen“If thy light does not play with the particles of dust,The Pandit asked me to sit by the side of the head of Pitaji and to sprinkle water and flowers in rhythm to his chants. Later he asked me to drop an empty matka, pot of clay, near Pitaji’s head, which I did hesitantly as I was afraid the pieces might hit Pitaji, – and then to take a ‘parikramaa’ of Pitaji, to walk around His prostrate form.