A supper of vegetable curry was
served by two young disciples who were receiving hermitage training.
"Guruji, please tell me something of your life." I was squatting
on a straw mat near his tiger skin. The friendly stars were very
close, it seemed, beyond the balcony.
"My family name was Priya Nath Karar. I was born {FN12-2} here
in Serampore, where Father was a wealthy businessman. He left me
this ancestral mansion, now my hermitage. My formal schooling was
little; I found it slow and shallow. In early manhood, I undertook
the responsibilities of a householder, and have one daughter, now
married. My middle life was blessed with the guidance of Lahiri
Mahasaya. After my wife died, I joined the Swami Order and received
the new name of Sri Yukteswar Giri. {FN12-3} Such are my simple
annals."
Master smiled at my eager face. Like all biographical sketches,
his words had given the outward facts without revealing the inner
man.
"Guruji, I would like to hear some stories of your childhood."
"I will tell you a few-each one with a moral!" Sri Yukteswar's
eyes twinkled with his warning. "My mother once tried to frighten
me with an appalling story of a ghost in a dark chamber. I went
there immediately, and expressed my disappointment at having missed
the ghost. Mother never told me another horror-tale. Moral: Look
fear in the face and it will cease to trouble you.
"Another early memory is my wish for an ugly dog belonging to
a neighbor.
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