A Britisher, C. Hasellwright by name, had come to India on official business for the Heinz Tomato Company. While he was in India, he had one of the strangest experiences of his life. He was stationed at Bombay.
One night, he had a dream. A figure appeared before him, as handsome as a prince, and as radiant as God. He saw a turban, a sherwaani and chooridaars. The typical dress of a Maharaja. But who was he? The year was 1935.
Hasellwright, a voice rang out in the dream, look upon this figure. He is the Divine Being who will bring peace to your heart.
Hasellwright woke up, his body thrilling with a new experience, the chords of his soul vibrating. He had been restlessly in search of peace of mind, but now a new restlessness took possession of him. It was as if he knew he was approaching his goal. He tried to dismiss the vision from his mind as just an ordinary dream, but the vision persisted.
The beautiful, radiant personality would appear before his mind’s eye again and again. He would recall the dream; the urge to search for the Face would grip him. Whenever he would walk in the streets, he would look at the faces around him. The sight of a turban, a sherwaani or chooridaars would cause him to turn his head. But the Face he had seen was no ordinary one. It belonged to no ordinary mortal. Hasellwright could never forget it.
Six months later, he was in Kohmurri, a hill station in the Punjab. He visited a general merchant’s shop, Mehra Sons, and was about to make his purchases, when he saw a photograph in the shop. It was the face and figure of his dream! For a few moments he was struck speechless with astonishment. And then he asked the general merchant:
Whose photograph is this?
It is the photograph of my Lord and Master, Shri Nathji, said the general merchant.
Is he still alive? Hasellwright asked.
Alive? said the general merchant, a trifle offended, of course he is alive! He is young still!
Hasellwright found a wild excitement take possession of him. For a moment, the whole thing appeared to be a dream.
Where is he? Hasellwright asked.
In Mussoorie, said the general merchant.
Hasellwright took Shri Nathji’s address from the man and immediately left Kohmurri for Mussoorie. The journey was long but it came at the end of a longer journey of life for Hasellwright. Mussoorie was hundreds of miles away from Kohmurri.
Those were the days when Shri Nathji was staying at Kahkashan Cottage in Mussoorie. He was sitting in the verandah of the house, drinking tea. Ram Rattan Khanna was in attendance. The two were alone. It was March 1936.
Look, Khannaji! Shri Nathji said, that tall Englishman coming down from Savoy Hotel–he is searching for me!
Khanna was dismayed. Shri Nathji had barely had a few minutes to himself, and now, with the coming of another visitor, the tea was sure to get cold.
The Englishman came down to the cottage and asked: Is this where His Holiness Bhola Nathji lives?
Khanna was at the door. He immediately went into the verandah and informed Shri Nathji of the Englishman’s arrival.
Nathji, said Khanna, you were right. The Englishman was searching for you. But how did you know?
Khannaji, would I not know of those who are searching for me? Shri Nathji replied.
The Englishman came inside and introduced himself. I am Hasellwright, he said and began a long stare at Shri Nathji, taking in his figure from head to toe, again and again.
Yes! said Hasellwright, the glow of his soul revealing itself through his eyes, Yes! This is the very figure of my dreams!
He sat down at the table, and narrated his tale.
Shri Nathji offered him tea, even as he spoke to him. And Hasellwright replied: I have already taken tea at the Savoy, but I cannot refuse this tea. It is holy water.
Mr. Hasellwright, Shri Nathji, said, do you have faith in a dream?
In this dream–yes, said Hasellwright, because it was not an ordinary dream. An object seen in the wakeful state can appear in one’s dream, but an object seen in one’s dream cannot appear in the wakeful state.
If you get peace from me, Shri Nathji said, then your dream is of significance. If not, then it does not matter whether I am the figure of your dream or not.
Sir, I am feeling at peace, this very moment, said Hasellwright.
Then the dream was not a dream, Shri Nathji said, it was a call from God.
As Shri Nathji spoke to him, Hasellwright’s soul awakened to a hitherto unexperienced state. The torment of years of anguish and searching was washed away in a brief moment.
Divine Love flooded the depths of his inner being, his soul was filled with an overflowing bliss, and his mind settled down to a state of absolute and complete peace. God had brought a searching soul to Himself through the medium of a dream.
Hasellwright became greatly devoted to Shri Nathji. He was loathe to part from him. But he had to return to Bombay to conclude his business, and was thereafter to return to London. He pleaded with Shri Nathji to accompany him to Bombay.
The weather in Bombay was hot and humid during those days, and Shri Nathji’s devotees were against his taking such a trip, since Shri Nathji was not accustomed to heat. But Hasellwright insisted.
He said to Shri Nathji:
Nathji, you yourself have said that every genuine desire must find fulfilment.