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Updated: June 10, 2025
I speak of Gi-ri, literally the Right Reason, but which came in time to mean a vague sense of duty which public opinion expected an incumbent to fulfil. In its original and unalloyed sense, it meant duty, pure and simple, hence, we speak of the Giri we owe to parents, to superiors, to inferiors, to society at large, and so forth.
His family doubtless possesses some record of the Maharaja's three investigations of Giri Bala. We like to see our food, to smell it, to taste it the Hindu likes also to touch it!" One does not mind HEARING it, either, if no one else is present at the meal! Wright also took moving pictures of Sri Yukteswar during his last Winter Solstice Festival in Serampore.
On our second MELA day my companions and I entered various ashrams and temporary huts, offering PRONAMS to saintly personages. We received the blessing of the leader of the GIRI branch of the Swami Order-a thin, ascetical monk with eyes of smiling fire. Our next visit took us to a hermitage whose guru had observed for the past nine years the vows of silence and a strict fruitarian diet.
Giri thus understood is a severe taskmaster, with a birch-rod in his hand to make sluggards perform their part. It is a secondary power in ethics; as a motive it is infinitely inferior to the Christian doctrine of love, which should be the law.
A face of rare peace and innocent poise-a wide, childlike, quivering lip, a feminine nose, narrow, sparkling eyes, and a wistful smile." Mr. Wright's impression of Giri Bala was shared by myself; spirituality enfolded her like her gently shining veil. She PRONAMED before me in the customary gesture of greeting from a householder to a monk.
Our driver guided the car warily among the early peasants and the two-wheeled carts, slowly drawn by yoked, hump-shouldered bullocks, inclined to dispute the road with a honking interloper. "Sir, we would like to know more of the fasting saint." "Her name is Giri Bala," I informed my companions. "I first heard about her years ago from a scholarly gentleman, Sthiti Lal Nundy.
"Giri Bala," I said as the saint opened her eyes, "please give me a keepsake-a strip of one of your SARIS." She soon returned with a piece of Benares silk, extending it in her hand as she suddenly prostrated herself on the ground. "Mother," I said reverently, "rather let me touch your own blessed feet!"
"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.
Lambadar Babu said, laughing. He added courteously, "If you ever get there, I am sure Giri Bala will be glad to see you. She is approaching her seventies, but continues in excellent health." "Please tell me, sir, if it is absolutely true that she eats nothing?" I looked directly into his eyes, those telltale windows of the mind.
To shew the loose way in which the conclusions of a man's own mind are presented as facts admitted by others, Sismondi says, that Tasso's "passion" was the cause of his return to Ferrara. Or che negli altri giri Tu godi, a te si deve onor, non lutto: A me versato il mio dolor sia tutto."
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