Papaji, HWL Pooja Explaining The Subtle Details Of Method Of Self Realization Leading To Liberation

Shri HWL Poonja: His Advaita Vedanta Teachings About Self Realization Leading To Ultimate Liberation.
Sri H.W.L. Poonja, lovingly referred to as Papaji, was born on October 13, 1910, in a part of the Punjab that is now in Pakistan.
He had his first direct experience of the Self at the age of nine. He met his Master, Sri Ramana Maharshi, in 1944. Shortly afterwards he realized the Self in the presence of his Master. Being a householder, he continued to work and support the many members of his extended family until his retirement in 1966. After extensive travel Papaji settled down in Lucknow, India, where he received visitors from around the world. He left the body on September 6, 1997.
I have just read the biography of Papaji which is on your website which I found by accident, and felt very fortunate about it because it is so profound and it made me understand much better. And I watched a lot of Papaji's Satsangs on YouTube and feel very much for him so I feel very blessed on my way to realize the truth to come in touch with Papaji, because he was the first one I saw who gave me an experience in my heart which is difficult to describe, and although he is no longer in his physical form, he is alive forever in my understanding.So thank you very very much and greetings from Germany.Pranams,
My earliest memory is of a striking experience which occurred when I was about eight years old. The year was 1919. The British, having recently triumphed in the First World War, had given all schoolchildren a one-month holiday so that they could join in the victory celebrations. They even gave us a little badge to wear to commemorate the victory. We were living in Faisalabad at the time, in a part of the Punjab that is now in Pakistan. My mother de­cided that this unscheduled vacation would be an ideal time to go and visit some of our relatives who lived in Lahore. The visit must have taken place in the summer of that year because I distinctly remember that mangoes were in season at the time.
One evening, while we were all sitting in my relative’s house in Lahore, someone started to prepare a mango, milk and almond drink for everyone. It should have been a mouth-watering treat for a boy of my age, but when a glassful of it was offered to me, I made no attempt to stretch out my hand to receive it. It was not that I didn’t want to drink it. The truth was, I had just been consumed and engulfed by an experience that made me so peaceful and happy, I was unable to respond to the offered glass. My mother and the other women present were both aston­ished and alarmed by my sudden inactivity. They all gathered around me, trying to decide what had happened and what to do