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Updated: May 3, 2025
Amulaya Babu, a brother disciple, made this remark to me one afternoon; I felt a cold wave of premonition. To my pressing inquiries, Sri Yukteswar only replied, "I shall go to Kidderpore no more." For a moment, Master trembled like a frightened child. "Guruji," I entreated him with a sob, "don't say that! Never utter those words to me!" Sri Yukteswar's face relaxed in a peaceful smile.
Master lowered his gaze. "Yogananda, must I bring out into the cold realms of speech the warm sentiments best guarded by the wordless heart?" "Guruji, I know you love me, but my mortal ears ache to hear you say so." "Be it as you wish. During my married life I often yearned for a son, to train in the yogic path. But when you came into my life, I was content; in you I have found my son."
"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."
"What is your question?" Master looked about the room as though he were seeking escape. "Guruji, I came to you as a high-school youth; now I am a grown man, even with a gray hair or two. Though you have showered me with silent affection from the first hour to this, do you realize that once only, on the day of meeting, have you ever said, 'I love you'?" I looked at him pleadingly.
Let us have some food ready." "Guruji, no one would come at one o'clock in the morning!" "Stay in bed; you have been working very hard. But I am going to cook." At Sri Yukteswar's resolute tone, I jumped up and followed him to the small daily-used kitchen adjacent to the second-floor inner balcony. Rice and DHAL were soon boiling. My guru smiled affectionately.
His eyes twinkled at me mischievously. "'Yukteswar, he said, 'surely henceforth you will not fail to carry with you a bottle of castor oil! Whenever you see a corpse, just administer the oil! "'Guruji, you are ridiculing me. I don't understand; please point out the nature of my error. "'I told you twice that Rama would be well; yet you could not fully believe me, Lahiri Mahasaya explained.
My head in a whirl, I sought out Sri Yukteswar in Serampore. "Guruji, I have just been invited to address a religious congress in America. Shall I go?" "All doors are open for you," Master replied simply. "It is now or never." "But, sir," I said in dismay, "what do I know about public speaking? Seldom have I given a lecture, and never in English."
A supper of vegetable curry was served by two young disciples who were receiving hermitage training. "Guruji, please tell me something of your life." I was squatting on a straw mat near his tiger skin. The friendly stars were very close, it seemed, beyond the balcony. "My family name was Priya Nath Karar. He left me this ancestral mansion, now my hermitage.
I realized that Master would never display his powers when challenged, or for a triviality. Delightful weeks sped by. Sri Yukteswar was planning a religious procession. He asked me to lead the disciples over the town and beach of Puri. The festive day dawned as one of the hottest of the summer. "Guruji, how can I take the barefooted students over the fiery sands?" I spoke despairingly.
"Miracles of a permanent and beneficial nature are performed by true saints because they have attuned themselves to the omnipotent Creator. Afzal was merely an ordinary man with an extraordinary power of penetrating a subtle realm not usually entered by mortals until death." "I understand now, Guruji. The after-world appears to have some charming features." Master agreed.
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