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Some years hence I shall send you a disciple whom you can train for yoga dissemination in the West. The vibrations there of many spiritually seeking souls come floodlike to me. I perceive potential saints in America and Europe, waiting to be awakened." At this point in his story, Sri Yukteswar turned his gaze fully on mine.
"Lord," I prayed, "may Thy Love shine forever on the sanctuary of my devotion, and may I be able to awaken that Love in other hearts." On a previous occasion, before I had joined the monastic order, Sri Yukteswar had made a most unexpected remark. "How you will miss the companionship of a wife in your old age!" he had said.
We would often see Sri Yukteswar standing on his second-floor balcony, welcoming our approach with a smile. One afternoon Kanai, a young hermitage resident, met Dijen and me at the door with disappointing news. "Master is not here; he was summoned to Calcutta by an urgent note." The following day I received a post card from my guru. "I shall leave Calcutta Wednesday morning," he had written.
Eight o'clock was the supper hour, and sometimes found lingering guests. My guru would not excuse himself to eat alone; none left his ashram hungry or dissatisfied. Sri Yukteswar was never at a loss, never dismayed by unexpected visitors; scanty food would emerge a banquet under his resourceful direction. Yet he was economical; his modest funds went far.
As I covered page after page with praise of my guru, I smiled to realize that my muttered prediction was coming true: "I will fill up the sheets with your teachings!" I had not felt inclined to question Romesh about my course in philosophy. Trusting my long training under Sri Yukteswar, I safely disregarded the textbook explanations.
Under Master's unsparing rod, however, I soon recovered from the agreeable delusions of irresponsibility. "Those who are too good for this world are adorning some other," Sri Yukteswar remarked. "So long as you breathe the free air of earth, you are under obligation to render grateful service. I will not fail to let you know when you have attained the final perfection."
Sri Yukteswar was silent for a few minutes, a half-suppressed smile on his lips. "No, you forgot," he said finally. "Divine contemplation must not be made an excuse for material carelessness. You have neglected your duty in safeguarding the ashram; you must be punished." I thought he was obscurely joking when he added: "Your six cauliflowers will soon be only five."
Occasionally they transmit their prophecies through messengers in an ordinary way, that the final fulfillment of their words may infuse greater divine faith in a wide circle of men who later learn the story. "I soon left Benares, and set to work in Serampore on the scriptural writings requested by Babaji," Sri Yukteswar continued.
It will help you." "I can't afford one. Anyhow, dear guruji, if trouble comes, I fully believe you will protect me." "In a year you will bring three sapphires," Sri Yukteswar replied cryptically. "They will be of no use then." Variations on this conversation took place regularly. "I can't reform!" Sasi would say in comical despair.
Resuming the way of brute procreation, Adam and Eve fell from the state of heavenly joy natural to the original perfect man. "Knowledge of 'good and evil' refers to the cosmic dualistic compulsion. As Sri Yukteswar ended his discourse, I glanced with new respect at the pages of GENESIS. "Dear Master," I said, "for the first time I feel a proper filial obligation toward Adam and Eve!"
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