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Now, what are your plans?" I felt like a recalcitrant child who is determined to defy his masterful father. "Sir, I am going to ask my uncle to lend me his servant, Lal Dhari." "See your uncle if you want to," Sri Yukteswar replied with a chuckle. "But I hardly think you will enjoy the visit." Apprehensive but rebellious, I left my guru and entered Serampore Courthouse.
In that felicitous state, he was consciously aware of being dead to the delusive sensory world of MAYA. The yogi is fully aware of his bodily condition of suspended animation. "KRIYA YOGA is an instrument through which human evolution can be quickened," Sri Yukteswar explained to his students.
But Sri Kala had a follower, named Sigalo, who offered to lead the host to battle against the Spaniards, and to exterminate them, or die in the attempt. The chief accepted his offer, and Sigalo, with a chosen few, marched towards the fort, leaving the rest of the mountaineers in readiness to join them at an appointed signal, and rush into the fort en masse.
"Master, did you ever meet Babaji?" It was a calm summer night in Serampore; the large stars of the tropics gleamed over our heads as I sat by Sri Yukteswar's side on the second-story balcony of the hermitage. "Yes." Master smiled at my direct question; his eyes lit with reverence. "Three times I have been blessed by the sight of the deathless guru.
On his return to Serampore during the next fortnight, I was grieved to find my guru's body reduced to half its usual weight. Fortunately for his disciples, Sri Yukteswar burned many of their sins in the fire of his severe fever in Kashmir. The metaphysical method of physical transfer of disease is known to highly advanced yogis.
Eager to see Sri Yukteswar, I was disappointed to hear that he had left Serampore and was now in Puri, about three hundred miles to the south. "Come to Puri ashram at once." This telegram was sent on March 8th by a brother disciple to Atul Chandra Roy Chowdhry, one of Master's chelas in Calcutta.
"I recommend an unheard-of experiment. Examine your thoughts unremittingly for twenty-four hours. Then wonder no longer at God's absence." A celebrated pundit received a similar jolt. With ostentatious zeal, the scholar shook the ashram rafters with scriptural lore. "I am waiting to hear you." Sri Yukteswar's tone was inquiring, as though utter silence had reigned. The pundit was puzzled.
Finally we shall merge as one in the Cosmic Beloved; our smiles shall be His smile, our unified song of joy vibrating throughout eternity to be broadcast to God-tuned souls!" Sri Yukteswar gave me light on certain matters which I cannot reveal here. During the two hours that he spent with me in the Bombay hotel room he answered my every question.
May all fortunate enough to have come near him inculcate in themselves the true spirit of India's culture and SADHANA which was personified in him. I returned to Calcutta. Not trusting myself as yet to go to the Serampore hermitage with its sacred memories, I summoned Prafulla, Sri Yukteswar's little disciple in Serampore, and made arrangements for him to enter the Ranchi school.
"My son Yogananda," Sri Yukteswar went on, "you must do your part in spreading that message, and in writing that sacred life." Fifty years after Lahiri Mahasaya's passing in 1895 culminated in 1945, the year of completion of this present book. I cannot but be struck by the coincidence that the year 1945 has also ushered in a new age-the era of revolutionary atomic energies.
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