Akhandananda reminisced: “Early one morning I washed my hands and feet in the Ganges and was approaching the bazar when I discovered a Muslim girl of about fourteen, clad in dirty rags, weeping bitterly. She held at her waist an earthen pitcher, the bottom of which had given way.” When the swami inquired the cause of her grief, she said: “Father, there is famine, and we have nothing at home to eat. At home we have only this pitcher for carrying water and two earthen cooking pots. There is no second vessel to carry water. My mother will beat me, so I am crying out of fear.”
Akhandananda happened to have four annas in his pocket. He took the girl to a shop and bought a pitcher for her as well as some puffed rice. Before he got his balance of three annas from the shopkeeper, he was encircled by a dozen children crying for food. He bought more puffed rice with the remaining coins and distributed it among the hungry children. At night he decided to leave that place as soon as possible, because he felt completely helpless and unable to relieve the poor. As he was leaving the village in the morning, a middle-aged woman approached him, saying: “Father, Gaya Vaishnavi, an old woman, is dying. Please do something for her.” The swami expressed his inability to do anything, but later relented at her insistence. He went to see this old woman, who was suffering from diarrhoea and covered in filth. To save her life, the swami rushed to Jivan Krishna Das, the landlord of the village, and arranged daily food for her. He even begged for a piece of cloth from a clerk for that woman. The old woman expressed her gratitude with tearful eyes, “Father, you must have been my son in my previous life.” Akhandananda replied: “Why your previous life? I am your son in this life.” (Source: God Lived with Them)