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Yogananda, Paramahansa, 1893-1952

"Autobiography of a Yogi"


"I see no sign that God is going to supply our next meal!"
"Be quiet, doubting Thomas; the Lord is working with us."
"Can you also arrange that He hurry? Already I am famished merely
at the prospect before us. I left Benares to view the Taj's mausoleum,
not to enter my own!"
"Cheer up, Jitendra! Are we not to have our first glimpse of the
sacred wonders of Brindaban? {FN11-4} I am in deep joy at thought
of treading the ground hallowed by feet of Lord Krishna."
The door of our compartment opened; two men seated themselves. The
next train stop would be the last.
"Young lads, do you have friends in Brindaban?" The stranger opposite
me was taking a surprising interest.
"None of your business!" Rudely I averted my gaze.
"You are probably flying away from your families under the enchantment
of the Stealer of Hearts. {FN11-5} I am of devotional temperament
myself. I will make it my positive duty to see that you receive
food, and shelter from this overpowering heat."
"No, sir, let us alone. You are very kind; but you are mistaken in
judging us to be truants from home."
No further conversation ensued; the train came to a halt. As Jitendra
and I descended to the platform, our chance companions linked arms
with us and summoned a horse cab.
We alit before a stately hermitage, set amidst the evergreen trees
of well-kept grounds. Our benefactors were evidently known here; a
smiling lad led us without comment to a parlor.


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