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ubiquitous holy bulls. Passing an inconspicuous lane, I turned my head and surveyed the narrow length. A Christlike man in the ocher robes of a swami stood motionless at the end of the road. Instantly and anciently familiar he seemed; my gaze fed hungrily for a trice. Then doubt assailed me. "You are confusing this wandering monk with someone known to you," I thought. "Dreamer, walk on." After ten minutes, I felt heavy numbness in my feet. As though turned to stone, they were unable to carry me farther. Laboriously I turned around; my feet regained normalcy. I faced the opposite direction; again the curious weight oppressed me. "The saint is magnetically drawing me to him!" With this thought, I heaped my parcels into the arms of Habu. He had been observing my erratic footwork with amazement, and now burst into laughter. "What ails you? Are you crazy?" My tumultuous emotion prevented any retort; I sped silently away. 42 Retracing my steps as though wing-shod, I reached the narrow lane. My quick glance revealed the quiet figure, steadily gazing in my direction. A few eager steps and I was at his feet. "Gurudeva!" {FN10-7} The divine face was none other than he of my thousand visions. These halcyon eyes, in leonine head with pointed beard and flowing locks, had oft peered through gloom of my nocturnal reveries, holding a promise I had not fully understood. "O my own, you have come to me!" My guru uttered the words again and again in Bengali, his voice tremulous with joy. "How many years I have waited for you!" We entered a oneness of silence; words seemed the rankest superfluities. Eloquence flowed in soundless chant from heart of master to disciple. With an antenna of irrefragable insight I sensed that my guru knew God, and would lead me to Him. The obscuration of this life disappeared in a fragile dawn of prenatal memories. Dramatic time! Past, present, and future are its cycling scenes. This was not the first sun to find me at these holy feet! My hand in his, my guru led me to his temporary residence in the Rana Mahal section of the city. His athletic figure moved with firm tread. Tall, erect, about fifty-five at this time, he was active and vigorous as a young man. His dark eyes were large, beautiful with plumbless wisdom. Slightly curly hair softened a face of striking power. Strength mingled subtly with gentleness. As we made our way to the stone balcony of a house overlooking the Ganges, he said affectionately: "I will give you my hermitages and all I possess." "Sir, I come for wisdom and God-contact. Those are your treasure-troves I am after!" The swift Indian twilight had dropped its half-curtain before my master spoke again. His eyes held unfathomable tenderness. "I give you my unconditional love." Precious words! A quarter-century elapsed before I had another auricular proof of his love. His lips were strange to ardor; silence became his oceanic heart. "Will you give me the same unconditional love?" He gazed at me with childlike trust. "I will love you eternally, Gurudeva!" "Ordinary love is selfish, darkly rooted in desires and satisfactions. Divine love is without condition, without boundary, without change. The flux of the human heart is gone forever at the transfixing touch of pure love." He added humbly, "If ever you find me falling from a state of God-realization, please promise to put my head on your lap and help to bring me back to the Cosmic Beloved we both worship." He rose then in the gathering darkness and guided me to an inner room. As we ate mangoes and almond sweetmeats, he unobtrusively wove into his conversation an intimate knowledge of my nature. I was awestruck at the grandeur of his wisdom, exquisitely blended with an innate humility. "Do not grieve for your amulet. It has served its purpose." Like a divine mirror, my guru apparently had caught a reflection of my whole life. "The living reality of your presence, Master, is joy beyond any symbol." "It is time for a change, inasmuch as you are unhappily situated in the hermitage." I had made no references to my life; they now seemed superfluous! By his natural, unemphatic manner, I understood that he wished no astonished ejaculations at his clairvoyance. "You should go back to Calcutta. Why exclude relatives from your love of humanity?" 43 His suggestion dismayed me. My family was predicting my return, though I had been unresponsive to many pleas by letter. "Let the young bird fly in the metaphysical skies," Ananta had remarked. "His wings will tire in the heavy atmosphere. We shall yet see him swoop toward home, fold his pinions, and humbly rest in our family nest." This discouraging simile fresh in my mind, I was determined to do no "swooping" in the direction of Calcutta. "Sir, I am not returning home. But I will follow you anywhere. Please give me your address, and your name." "Swami Sri Yukteswar Giri. My chief hermitage is in Serampore, on Rai Ghat Lane. I am visiting my mother here for only a few days." I wondered at God's intricate play with His devotees. Serampore is but twelve miles from Calcutta, yet in those regions I had never caught a glimpse of my guru. We had had to travel for our meeting to the ancient city of Kasi (Benares), hallowed by memories of Lahiri Mahasaya. Here too the feet of Buddha, Shankaracharya and other Yogi--Christs had blessed the soil. "You will come to me in four weeks." For the first time, Sri Yukteswar's voice was stern. "Now I have told my eternal affection, and have shown my happiness at finding you-that is why you disregard my request. The next time we meet, you will have to reawaken my interest: I won't accept you as a disciple easily. There must be complete surrender by obedience to my strict training." I remained obstinately silent. My guru easily penetrated my difficulty. "Do you think your relatives will laugh at you?" "I will not return." "You will return in thirty days." "Never." Bowing reverently at his feet, I departed without lightening the controversial tension. As I made my way in the midnight darkness, I wondered why the miraculous meeting had ended on an inharmonious note. The dual scales of MAYA, that balance every joy with a grief ! My young heart was not yet malleable to the transforming fingers of my guru. The next morning I noticed increased hostility in the attitude of the hermitage members. My days became spiked with invariable rudeness. In three weeks, Dyananda left the ashram to attend a conference in Bombay; pandemonium broke over my hapless head. "Mukunda is a parasite, accepting hermitage hospitality without making proper return." Overhearing this remark, I regretted for the first time that I had obeyed the request to send back my money to Father. With heavy heart, I sought out my sole friend, Jitendra. "I am leaving. Please convey my respectful regrets to Dyanandaji when he returns." "I will leave also! My attempts to meditate here meet with no more favor than your own." Jitendra spoke with determination. "I have met a Christlike saint. Let us visit him in Serampore." And so the "bird" prepared to "swoop" perilously close to Calcutta! {FN10-1} SANSKRITA, polished; complete. Sanskrit is the eldest sister of all Indo-European tongues. Its alphabetical script is DEVANAGARI, literally "divine abode." "Who knows my grammar knows God!" Panini, great philologist of ancient India, paid this tribute to the mathematical and psychological perfection in Sanskrit. He who would track language to its lair must indeed end as omniscient. {FN10-2} He was not Jatinda (Jotin Ghosh), who will be remembered for his timely aversion to tigers! {FN10-3} Path or preliminary road to God. {FN10-4} Hindu scriptures teach that family attachment is delusive if it prevents the devotee from seeking the Giver of all boons, including the one of loving relatives, not to mention life itself. Jesus similarly taught: "Who is my mother? and who are my brethren?" (MATTHEW 12:48.) {FN10-5} JI is a customary respectful suffix, particularly used in direct address; thus "swamiji," "guruji," "Sri Yukteswarji," "param-hansaji." 44 {FN10-6} Pertaining to the SHASTRAS, literally, "sacred books," comprising four classes of scripture: the SHRUTI, SMRITI, PU-RANA, and TANTRA. These comprehensive treatises cover every aspect of religious and social life, and the fields of law, medicine, architecture, art, etc. The SHRUTIS are the "directly heard" or "revealed" scriptures, the VEDAS. The SMRITIS or "remembered" lore was finally written down in a remote past as the world's longest epic poems, the MAHABHARATA and the RAMAYANA. PURANAS are literally "ancient" allegories; TANTRAS literally mean "rites" or "rituals"; these treatises convey profound truths under a veil of detailed symbolism. {FN10-7} "Divine teacher," the customary Sanskrit term for one's spiritual preceptor. I have rendered it in English as simply "Mas-ter." CHAPTER: 11 TWO PENNILESS BOYS IN BRINDABAN "It would serve you right if Father disinherited you, Mukunda! How foolishly you are throwing away your life!" An elder-brother sermon was assaulting my ears. Jitendra and I, fresh from the train (a figure of speech merely; we were covered with dust), had just arrived at the home of Ananta, recently transferred from Calcutta to the ancient city of Agra. Brother was a supervising accountant for the Bengal-Nagpur Railway. "You well know, Ananta, I seek my inheritance from the Heavenly Father." "Money first; God can come later! Who knows? Life may be too long." "God first; money is His slave! Who can tell? Life may be too short." My retort was summoned by the exigencies of the moment, and held no presentiment. Yet the leaves of time unfolded to early final- ity for Ananta; a few years later {FN11-1} he entered the land where bank notes avail neither first nor last. "Wisdom from the hermitage, I suppose! But I see you have left Benares." Ananta's eyes gleamed with satisfaction; he yet hoped
