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A few of Akshay Babu's compositions find place in the Valmiki Pratibha and also adaptations from Vihari Chakravarti's Sarada Mangal series of songs. I used to take the leading part in the performance of these musical dramas. From my early years I had a taste for acting, and firmly believed that I had a special aptitude for it. I think I proved that my belief was not ill-founded.
He spent several hours of that afternoon and of succeeding days in coaching me in my various subjects. "I believe many questions in English literature will be centered in the route of Childe Harold," he told me. "We must get an atlas at once." I hastened to the home of my Uncle Sarada and borrowed an atlas. Romesh marked the European map at the places visited by Byron's romantic traveler.
At this time Viharilal Chakravarti's series of songs called Sarada Mangal were coming out in the Arya Darsan. My sister-in-law was greatly taken with the sweetness of these lyrics. Most of them she knew by heart. She used often to invite the poet to our house and had embroidered for him a cushion-seat with her own hands. This gave me the opportunity of making friends with him.
Hindus regard it with the same veneration that Catholics give to the Lourdes sanctuary in France. Innumerable healing miracles have occurred at Tarakeswar, including one for a member of my family. "I sat in the temple there for a week," my eldest aunt once told me. "Observing a complete fast, I prayed for the recovery of your Uncle Sarada from a chronic malady.
The compilations from the old poets by Sarada Mitter and Akshay Sarkar were also of great interest to me. Our elders were subscribers, but not very regular readers, of these series, so that it was not difficult for me to get at them. Vidyapati's quaint and corrupt Maithili language attracted me all the more because of its unintelligibility.
He had worked his will through Behari and my Uncle Sarada and Rajendra and the others in such an inconspicuous manner that probably everyone but myself thought the situations had been logically normal. As Sri Yukteswar never failed to observe his social obligations, he instructed Kanai to go for a specialist, and to notify my uncle. "Master," I protested, "only you can heal me.
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.
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