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Updated: June 24, 2025
For the shameful way I have been acting, I will punish myself by not talking to Mukunda until I have progressed in the spiritual path. Deeply I will seek the Divine Mother from now on; someday I must surely find Her!" Years later, I visited my brother-in-law in Delhi. I was overjoyed to perceive that he had developed highly in self-realization, and had been blessed by the vision of Divine Mother.
But as soon as Mukunda said, "During our ecstasies in the Himalayan caves, tigers will be spellbound and sit around us like tame pussies," my spirits froze; beads of perspiration formed on my brow. "What then?" I thought. "If the vicious nature of the tigers be not changed through the power of our spiritual trance, shall they treat us with the kindness of house cats?"
I have rendered it in English as simply "Master." "It would serve you right if Father disinherited you, Mukunda! How foolishly you are throwing away your life!" An elder-brother sermon was assaulting my ears. Brother was a supervising accountant for the Bengal-Nagpur Railway. "You well know, Ananta, I seek my inheritance from the Heavenly Father." "Money first; God can come later! Who knows?
But it lacked the art of Swami Pranabananda, who easily appeared in two places at one time. My educational dilemma was plainly a matter for the Infinite Ingenuity. This was my reasoning, though to many it seems illogic. The devotee's irrationality springs from a thousand inexplicable demonstrations of God's instancy in trouble. "Hello, Mukunda! I catch hardly a glimpse of you these days!"
"Mukunda is a parasite, accepting hermitage hospitality without making proper return." Overhearing this remark, I regretted for the first time that I had obeyed the request to send back my money to Father. With heavy heart, I sought out my sole friend, Jitendra. "I am leaving. Please convey my respectful regrets to Dyanandaji when he returns." "I will leave also!
How lovingly and tirelessly had he labored, that the boy Mukunda be someday transformed into the monk Yogananda! I joyfully sang a few verses from the long Sanskrit chant of Lord Shankara: "Mind, nor intellect, nor ego, feeling; Sky nor earth nor metals am I. I am He, I am He, Blessed Spirit, I am He! No birth, no death, no caste have I; Father, mother, have I none.
My paternal uncle, Sarada Ghosh, a government attorney, welcomed me affectionately. "I am leaving today with some friends for Kashmir," I told him. "For years I have been looking forward to this Himalayan trip." "I am happy for you, Mukunda. Is there anything I can do to make your journey more comfortable?" These kind words gave me a lift of encouragement.
In a few hours, we entrained for Hardwar, via Bareilly. Changing trains at Moghul Serai, we discussed a vital matter as we waited on the platform. "Amar, we may soon be closely questioned by railroad officials. I am not underrating my brother's ingenuity! No matter what the outcome, I will not speak untruth." "All I ask of you, Mukunda, is to keep still. Don't laugh or grin while I am talking."
Occasionally I hear college men remark that very little of their crammed knowledge remained with them after graduation. That admission consoles me a bit for my undoubted academic deficiencies. On the day I received my degree from Calcutta University, I knelt at my guru's feet and thanked him for all the blessings flowing from his life into mine. "Get up, Mukunda," he said indulgently.
Staging a mock rebuke, he admonished a few near-by disciples. "Don't bother Mukunda. He will learn our ways." I politely concealed my doubt. The students left the room, not overly bent with their chastisement. Dyananda had further words for me. "Mukunda, I see your father is regularly sending you money. Please return it to him; you require none here.
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