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I told my friend details of the way in which our guru would approach us. As I finished my description, Sri Yukteswar came into view, wearing the same clothes I had seen a short time earlier. He walked slowly in the wake of a small lad bearing a silver jug. For a moment a wave of cold fear passed through me, at the unprecedented strangeness of my experience.
He would rather hint: "Don't you think it may happen?" But his simple speech hid vatic power. There was no recanting; never did his slightly veiled words prove false. Sri Yukteswar was reserved and matter-of-fact in demeanor. There was naught of the vague or daft visionary about him. His feet were firm on the earth, his head in the haven of heaven. Practical people aroused his admiration.
His only "marvelous" aura was one of perfect simplicity. In conversation he avoided startling references; in action he was freely expressive. Others talked of miracles but could manifest nothing; Sri Yukteswar seldom mentioned the subtle laws but secretly operated them at will. "A man of realization does not perform any miracle until he receives an inward sanction," Master explained.
"Sir, you look a picture of health," I protested. "There is a chance that I may even leave this earth." "Guruji!" I fell at his feet with an imploring gesture. "Please promise that you won't leave your body now. I am utterly unprepared to carry on without you." Sri Yukteswar was silent, but smiled at me so compassionately that I felt reassured. Reluctantly I left him. "Master dangerously ill."
On many other occasions I coaxed my gentle Sanskrit tutor to repeat the story, which was later told me in substantially the same words by Sri Yukteswar. Both these Lahiri Mahasaya disciples had heard the awesome tale direct from the lips of their guru. "My first meeting with Babaji took place in my thirty-third year," Lahiri Mahasaya had said.
The following days in the examination halls were a justification of my seemingly haphazard procedure. I passed all the tests, though by a hairbreadth. The congratulations of my friends and family were ludicrously mixed with ejaculations betraying their astonishment. On his return from Puri, Sri Yukteswar gave me a pleasant surprise. "Your Calcutta studies are now over.
Self-realized masters in every century have hallowed her soil; modern Christlike sages, like Lahiri Mahasaya and his disciple Sri Yukteswar, rise up to proclaim that the science of yoga is more vital than any material advances to man's happiness and to a nation's longevity. Very scanty information about the life of Lahiri Mahasaya and his universal doctrine has ever appeared in print.
"No; but the deathblow already had been struck in your mind." "I don't understand." "Patanjali's meaning was the removal of DESIRE to kill." Sri Yukteswar had found my mental processes an open book. "This world is inconveniently arranged for a literal practice of AHIMSA. Man may be compelled to exterminate harmful creatures. He is not under similar compulsion to feel anger or animosity.
The following weeks were a nightmare of excruciating pain. Reluctant to disturb my guru, I thought I would bravely endure my trial alone. But twenty-three days of torture weakened my resolution; I entrained for Benares. There Sri Yukteswar greeted me with unusual warmth, but gave me no opportunity to tell him my woes in private. It was not until after the evening meal that all guests had departed.
My heart was too heavy for sightseeing. On the return trip to India, the boat touched at Shanghai. There Dr. Misra, the ship's physician, guided me to several curio shops, where I selected various presents for Sri Yukteswar and my family and friends. For Ananta I purchased a large carved bamboo piece.
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