L āhirī Mahāśaya’s kuṭīra was adjacent to that of Vaiṣṇava. dāsa. A few mango and jackfruit trees stood nearby, and the entire area was adorned with small betel plants. In the courtyard there was a large circular platform, which had been there for many years, since the time of Pradyumna Brahmacārī. The Vaiṣṇavas had since called it the Surabhi Terrace, and would circumambulate it, offering daṇḍavat-praṇāma with faith.
The evening twilight had just yielded to dusk. Śrī Vaiṣṇava dāsa was sitting in his cottage on a mat of leaves, chanting hari-nāma. It was the dark fortnight of the moon, and the night gradually settled into darkness. A lamp was flickering in Lāhirī Mahāśaya’s kuṭīra, and by its light, he suddenly noticed what appeared to be a snake by his doorway. He quickly adjusted the lamp and took up a stick to kill the snake, but it had already vanished.
“Be careful!” he told Vaiṣṇava dāsa. “A snake may have just entered your kuṭīra.”
“Lāhirī Mahāśaya, why are you so disturbed about a snake?” replied Vaiṣṇava dāsa. “Come and sit inside my kuṭīra with me, and don’tbe afraid.”
Lāhirī Mahāśaya entered Vaiṣṇava dāsa’s kuṭīra and sat on a mat of leaves, but he still felt some mental anxiety about the snake. “Ogreat soul,” he said, “our Śāntipura is good in this respect, for there is no fear of snakes, scorpions and other such creatures there. In Nadiyā, there is always danger from snakes. It