India, materially
poor for the last two centuries, yet has an inexhaustible fund of
divine wealth; spiritual "skyscrapers" may occasionally be encountered
by the wayside, even by worldly men like this policeman.
We thanked the officer for relieving our tedium with his marvelous
story. He was probably intimating that he was more fortunate than
we: he had met an illumined saint without effort; our earnest search
had ended, not at the feet of a master, but in a coarse police
station!
So near the Himalayas and yet, in our captivity, so far, I told
Amar I felt doubly impelled to seek freedom.
"Let us slip away when opportunity offers. We can go on foot to
holy Rishikesh." I smiled encouragingly.
But my companion had turned pessimist as soon as the stalwart prop
of our money had been taken from us.
"If we started a trek over such dangerous jungle land, we should
finish, not in the city of saints, but in the stomachs of tigers!"
Ananta and Amar's brother arrived after three days. Amar greeted
his relative with affectionate relief. I was unreconciled; Ananta
got no more from me than a severe upbraiding.
"I understand how you feel." My brother spoke soothingly. "All I
ask of you is to accompany me to Benares to meet a certain saint,
and go on to Calcutta to visit your grieving father for a few days.
Then you can resume your search here for a master."
Amar entered the conversation at this point to disclaim any intention
of returning to Hardwar with me.
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