Divine Attention was elsewhere, however; the plodding clock covered
the hours. Darkness was descending as our leader entered the door.
My greeting was one of unfeigned joy.
"Dyanandaji will bathe and meditate before we can serve food."
Jitendra approached me again as a bird of ill omen.
I was in near-collapse. My young stomach, new to deprivation,
protested with gnawing vigor. Pictures I had seen of famine victims
passed wraithlike before me.
"The next Benares death from starvation is due at once in this
hermitage," I thought. Impending doom averted at nine o'clock.
Ambrosial summons! In memory that meal is vivid as one of life's
perfect hours.
Intense absorption yet permitted me to observe that Dyananda ate
absent-mindedly. He was apparently above my gross pleasures.
"Swamiji, weren't you hungry?" Happily surfeited, I was alone with
the leader in his study.
"O yes! I have spent the last four days without food or drink.
I never eat on trains, filled with the heterogenous vibrations of
worldly people. Strictly I observe the SHASTRIC {FN10-6} rules for
monks of my particular order.
"Certain problems of our organizational work lie on my mind.
Tonight at home I neglected my dinner. What's the hurry? Tomorrow
I'll make it a point to have a proper meal." He laughed merrily.
Shame spread within me like a suffocation. But the past day of my
torture was not easily forgotten; I ventured a further remark.
Pages:
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128