Hearing rapid
footsteps behind me, I quickened my speed. I dared not look back.
But with a bound, the youth rejoined me, jovially clasping my
shoulder.
"I forgot to tell you of Gandha Baba (Perfume Saint), who is gracing
yonder house." He pointed to a dwelling a few yards distant. "Do
meet him; he is interesting. You may have an unusual experience.
Good-by," and he actually left me.
The similarly worded prediction of the SADHU at Kalighat Temple
flashed to my mind. Definitely intrigued, I entered the house and
was ushered into a commodious parlor. A crowd of people were sitting,
Orient-wise, here and there on a thick orange-colored carpet. An
awed whisper reached my ear:
"Behold Gandha Baba on the leopard skin. He can give the natural
perfume of any flower to a scentless one, or revive a wilted blossom,
or make a person's skin exude delightful fragrance."
I looked directly at the saint; his quick gaze rested on mine. He
was plump and bearded, with dark skin and large, gleaming eyes.
"Son, I am glad to see you. Say what you want. Would you like some
perfume?"
"What for?" I thought his remark rather childish.
"To experience the miraculous way of enjoying perfumes."
"Harnessing God to make odors?"
"What of it? God makes perfume anyway."
"Yes, but He fashions frail bottles of petals for fresh use and
discard. Can you materialize flowers?"
"I materialize perfumes, little friend.
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