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Updated: June 2, 2025
The soothing drops descended during the two hours of the parade. The exact instant at which our group returned to the ashram, the clouds and rain passed away tracelessly. "You see how God feels for us," Master replied after I had expressed my gratitude. "The Lord responds to all and works for all. Just as He sent rain at my plea, so He fulfills any sincere desire of the devotee.
One afternoon during my early months at the ashram, found Sri Yukteswar's eyes fixed on me piercingly. "You are too thin, Mukunda." His remark struck a sensitive point. That my sunken eyes and emaciated appearance were far from my liking was testified to by rows of tonics in my room at Calcutta. Nothing availed; chronic dyspepsia had pursued me since childhood.
Eight o'clock was the supper hour, and sometimes found lingering guests. My guru would not excuse himself to eat alone; none left his ashram hungry or dissatisfied. Sri Yukteswar was never at a loss, never dismayed by unexpected visitors; scanty food would emerge a banquet under his resourceful direction. Yet he was economical; his modest funds went far.
On the central dais in the ashram hall sat a blind sadhu, Pragla Chakshu, profoundly learned in the SHASTRAS and highly revered by all sects. After I had given a brief discourse in Hindi on VEDANTA, our group left the peaceful hermitage to greet a near-by swami, Krishnananda, a handsome monk with rosy cheeks and impressive shoulders. Reclining near him was a tame lioness.
In Sri Yukteswar's words Dijen found an incentive to those attempts-first painful, then effortlessly liberating-to locate a realer self within his bosom than the humiliating ego of a temporary birth, seldom ample enough for the Spirit. As Dijen and I were both pursuing the A.B. course at Serampore College, we got into the habit of walking together to the ashram as soon as classes were over.
Ashram disciples passed to and fro with some thirty courses. Rather than "meal," the description can only be "sumptuous repast." Since arriving on this planet, Jitendra and I had never before tasted such delicacies. "Dishes fit for princes indeed, Honored Mother! What your royal patrons could have found more urgent than attending this banquet, I cannot imagine!
Gone was the stately Kumar with serenely glowing face. Only an undistinguished peasant stood before us, one who had lately acquired a number of evil habits. Master summoned me and brokenheartedly discussed the fact that the boy was now unsuited to the monastic hermitage life. "Mukunda, I will leave it to you to instruct Kumar to leave the ashram tomorrow; I can't do it!"
Master spoke quietly, his eyes calm and gentle. My heart was palpitating in fear. "Please send someone to take charge of our ashram at Puri," Sri Yukteswar went on. "I leave everything in your hands. You will be able to successfully sail the boat of your life and that of the organization to the divine shores." In tears, I was embracing his feet; he rose and blessed me endearingly.
A group of very young disciples then chanted a few sacred hymns; the meeting concluded with SANKIRTAN. From ten o'clock until midnight, the ashram residents washed pots and pans, and cleared the courtyard. My guru called me to his side. "I am pleased over your cheerful labors today and during the past week of preparations. I want you with me; you may sleep in my bed tonight."
In the early afternoon I fulfilled a neighborly NRI YAJNA by a visit to Gandhi's ashram for little girls. Mr. Wright accompanied me on the ten-minute drive. Laughing, Mr. Wright and I climbed aboard the car and sped back to MAGANVADI amidst sheets of driving silver. Such tropical intensity and splash!
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