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I knelt at his feet; the supreme guru patted me kindly on the shoulder. "'Child, you must meditate more, he said. 'Your gaze is not yet faultless-you could not see me hiding behind the sunlight. With these words in the voice of a celestial flute, Babaji disappeared into the hidden radiance. "That was one of my last visits to Benares to see my guru," Sri Yukteswar concluded.
"My son," he said, smiling in the moonlight, "you are the disciple that, years ago, Babaji promised to send me." I was happy to learn that Babaji had directed my steps to Sri Yukteswar, yet it was hard for me to visualize myself in the remote West, away from my beloved guru and the simple hermitage peace. "Babaji then spoke of the BHAGAVAD GITA," Sri Yukteswar went on.
"Nay, nay, my son, go away now! Your wise words are not for me! I am not your disciple!" Sri Yukteswar backed away without further argument, like a scolded child. I was touched at his great respect for his mother even in her unreasonable moods. She saw him only as her little boy, not as a sage.
I felt his power, and shall carry that feeling as my divine blessing." From America, Europe, and Palestine I had brought many presents for Sri Yukteswar. He received them smilingly, but without remark. For my own use, I had bought in Germany a combination umbrella-cane. In India I decided to give the cane to Master. "This gift I appreciate indeed!"
This variety of snake is much feared in India, where it causes more than five thousand deaths annually. The dangerous encounter took place at Puri, where Sri Yukteswar had a second hermitage, charmingly situated near the Bay of Bengal. Prafulla, a young disciple of later years, was with Master on this occasion. "We were seated outdoors near the ashram," Prafulla told me.
Master led the way; several young disciples and myself followed in a scattered group. Our guru surveyed us in mild criticism. "When our Western brothers walk, they usually take pride in unison. Now, please march in two rows; keep rhythmic step with one another." Sri Yukteswar watched as we obeyed; he began to sing: "Boys go to and fro, in a pretty little row."
A feebly extenuating circumstance is that my proposal was made when I had been only six months with Sri Yukteswar. Not yet had I fully surveyed his towering stature. "Many hillmen live in the Himalayas, yet possess no God-perception." My guru's answer came slowly and simply. "Wisdom is better sought from a man of realization than from an inert mountain."
I silently agreed, recalling my prayer in the Benares hermitage, followed by the meeting with Sri Yukteswar in a crowded lane. "Are you able to have a little room where you can close the door and be alone?" "Yes." I reflected that this saint descended from the general to the particular with disconcerting speed. "That is your cave."
"Sir, you are a master; your word of her recovery is enough But if you insist I shall immediately get her a pearl." My guru nodded. "Yes, do that." He went on to correctly describe the physical and mental characteristics of Nalini, whom he had never seen. "Sir," I inquired, "is this an astrological analysis? You do not know her birth day or hour." Sri Yukteswar smiled.
New disciples often joined Sri Yukteswar in exhaustive criticism of others. Wise like the guru! Models of flawless discrimination! But he who takes the offensive must not be defenseless. The same carping students fled precipitantly as soon as Master publicly unloosed in their direction a few shafts from his analytical quiver.
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