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I hastened to send Sri Yukteswar pictures of these distant American activities. He replied with a postcard in Bengali, which I here translate: 11th August, 1926 Child of my heart, O Yogananda! Seeing the photos of your school and students, what joy comes in my life I cannot express in words. I am melting in joy to see your yoga students of different cities.
Two clear teardrops stood in Sri Yukteswar's eyes. "Yogananda, I love you always." "Your answer is my passport to heaven." I felt a weight lift from my heart, dissolved forever at his words. Often had I wondered at his silence. Realizing that he was unemotional and self-contained, yet sometimes I feared I had been unsuccessful in fully satisfying him.
Now my finer fleshly body-which you behold and are even now embracing rather closely!-is resurrected on another finer dream-planet of God. Someday that finer dream-body and finer dream-planet will pass away; they too are not forever. All dream-bubbles must eventually burst at a final wakeful touch. Differentiate, my son Yogananda, between dreams and Reality!"
"Yogananda," he said with unusual gravity, "you have been surrounded from birth by direct disciples of Lahiri Mahasaya. The great master lived his sublime life in partial seclusion, and steadfastly refused to permit his followers to build any organization around his teachings. He made, nevertheless, a significant prediction.
It is a long time since our last meeting; I am pleased to greet you once more. "The deathless master blessed me with some words of spiritual help, then added: 'I give you a message for Yogananda. He will pay you a visit on his return to India. Many matters connected with his guru and with the surviving disciples of Lahiri will keep Yogananda fully occupied.
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.
Tonight my guru was sitting there quietly, a semicircle of disciples at his feet. He smiled as I quickly entered the room. "Yogananda, are you leaving now for Calcutta? Please return here tomorrow. I have certain things to tell you." "It now formally supersedes your former title of SWAMI," he said as I knelt before him. "My task on earth is now finished; you must carry on."
"No, I teach from memory those people who wish to hear me." "What else do you do?" "I roam by the Ganges." At these quiet words, I was overpowered by a yearning for the simplicity of his life. I remembered America, and all the responsibilities that lay on my shoulders. "No, Yogananda," I thought, sadly for a moment, "in this life roaming by the Ganges is not for you."
One of the greatest expounders of the BHAGAVAD GITA, Swami Maharaj was a great disciple of Yogiraj Sri Shyama Charan Lahiri Mahasaya of Benares. It was Sri Yukteswarji's prophetic powers and deep realization that inspired Swami Yogananda to cross the oceans and spread in America the message of the masters of India.
"I will give you the privilege of choosing it yourself," he said, smiling. "Yogananda," I replied, after a moment's thought. "Be it so. Forsaking your family name of Mukunda Lal Ghosh, henceforth you shall be called Yogananda of the Giri branch of the Swami Order." As I knelt before Sri Yukteswar, and for the first time heard him pronounce my new name, my heart overflowed with gratitude.
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