None of my
relatives made the pointed remarks I had feared about the reappearance
of the "soaring bird."
I climbed to my little attic and bestowed affectionate glances,
as though on a living presence. "You have witnessed my meditations,
and the tears and storms of my SADHANA. Now I have reached the
harbor of my divine teacher."
"Son, I am happy for us both." Father and I sat together in the
evening calm. "You have found your guru, as in miraculous fashion
I once found my own. The holy hand of Lahiri Mahasaya is guarding
our lives. Your master has proved no inaccessible Himalayan saint,
but one near-by. My prayers have been answered: you have not in
your search for God been permanently removed from my sight."
Father was also pleased that my formal studies would be resumed;
he made suitable arrangements. I was enrolled the following day at
the Scottish Church College in Calcutta.
Happy months sped by. My readers have doubtless made the perspicacious
surmise that I was little seen in the college classrooms. The
Serampore hermitage held a lure too irresistible. Master accepted
my ubiquitous presence without comment. To my relief, he seldom
referred to the halls of learning. Though it was plain to all that
I was never cut out for a scholar, I managed to attain minimum
passing grades from time to time.
Daily life at the ashram flowed smoothly, infrequently varied. My
guru awoke before dawn.
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