There was the Muslim, Professor Arfi of Delhi University, who came along with a Muslim friend of his from Hyderabad. They had heard about Shri Nathji from Anil Kapoor, a boyhood friend of Priya Nath, and Professor Arfi had talked to Shri Nathji on the phone and had been astonished by Shri Nathji’s words. “Urr ke parvaanaa shammaa ki lene jo gayaa khabar,“The moth flew away to find out where burnt the flame,Shri Nathji said: “Such is the state of the true lovers of God. When they reach God, they merge into Him completely, and never return!”“Shammaa ne aag rakhli sar pe kasam khaane ko“The flame carried fire on its head to swear,Shri Nathji would also ask:“Whose sacrifice is greater? That of the moth or that of the flame? Mazaa hasti kaa letaa hoon gulo bulbul judaa bankarI take the joy of existence, in separation, as the Rose and the Nightingale,Those, who could even fathom a bit of what Shri Nathji was saying, would find themselves transported to another world. But it was not necessary to understand the meaning of what he said–his mere presence and his love and his light divine were sufficient to flood the human soul with divine bliss and an indefinable intoxication that nothing on earth could match.