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Updated: May 5, 2025
My despair reached an occasional zenith when I asked myself if it were worth-while to carry on this life with a body so unsound. "Medicines have limitations; the creative life-force has none. Believe that: you shall be well and strong." Sri Yukteswar's words aroused a conviction of personally-applicable truth which no other healer-and I had tried many!-had been able to summon within me.
I ventured this question after a long silence, during which I had tried to assimilate Sri Yukteswar's noble exposition. "It is only when a traveler has reached his goal that he is justified in discarding his maps. During the journey, he takes advantage of any convenient short cut. The ancient rishis discovered many ways to curtail the period of man's exile in delusion.
Built by Master and his disciples, the cheerful little two-storied retreat fronts on the Bay of Bengal. I awoke early the following morning, refreshed by the salty sea breezes and the charm of my surroundings. Sri Yukteswar's melodious voice was calling; I took a look at my cherished cauliflowers and stowed them neatly under my bed. "Come, let us go to the beach."
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.
I have helped an artist to draw a true picture of the great Yogi-Christ of modern India; it appears in this book. The eve of my departure for the United States found me in Sri Yukteswar's holy presence. "Forget you were born a Hindu, and don't be an American. Take the best of them both," Master said in his calm way of wisdom. "Be your true self, a child of God.
I entrained happily an hour later for Calcutta. My travels ended, not in the lofty mountains, but in the Himalayan presence of my Master. "I am here, Guruji." My shamefacedness spoke more eloquently for me. "Let us go to the kitchen and find something to eat." Sri Yukteswar's manner was as natural as if hours and not days had separated us.
Sometimes, too, a master purposely ignores a canon in order to uphold its principle as superior to and independent of form. Thus Jesus plucked ears of corn on the day of rest. Outside of the scriptures, seldom was a book honored by Sri Yukteswar's perusal. Yet he was invariably acquainted with the latest scientific discoveries and other advancements of knowledge.
"Sir, I have made an unpardonable blunder. I don't deserve the divine blessings through Romesh; I am quite unworthy." "Cheer up, Mukunda." Sri Yukteswar's tones were light and unconcerned. He pointed to the blue vault of the heavens. "It is more possible for the sun and moon to interchange their positions in space than it is for you to fail in getting your degree!"
These six huge cauliflowers were planted with my hands; I have watched over their growth with the tender care of a mother nursing her child." I presented the basket of vegetables with a ceremonial flourish. "Thank you!" Sri Yukteswar's smile was warm with appreciation. "Please keep them in your room; I shall need them tomorrow for a special dinner."
"The year is now up; both his lungs are gone. He has ignored my counsel; tell him I don't want to see him." Half stunned by Sri Yukteswar's sternness, I raced down the stairway. Sasi was ascending. "O Mukunda! I do hope Master is here; I had a hunch he might be." "Yes, but he doesn't wish to be disturbed." Sasi burst into tears and brushed past me.
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