"The darkness of MAYA is silently approaching. Let us hie homeward
within." With these words at dusk Master constantly reminded his
disciples of their need for KRIYA YOGA. A new student occasionally
expressed doubts regarding his own worthiness to engage in yoga
practice.
"Forget the past," Sri Yukteswar would console him. "The vanished
lives of all men are dark with many shames. Human conduct is ever
unreliable until anchored in the Divine. Everything in future will
improve if you are making a spiritual effort now."
Master always had young CHELAS {FN12-13} in his hermitage. Their
spiritual and intellectual education was his lifelong interest:
even shortly before he passed on, he accepted for training two
six-year-old boys and one youth of sixteen. He directed their minds
and lives with that careful discipline in which the word "disciple"
is etymologically rooted. The ashram residents loved and revered
their guru; a slight clap of his hands sufficed to bring them
eagerly to his side. When his mood was silent and withdrawn, no one
ventured to speak; when his laugh rang jovially, children looked
upon him as their own.
Master seldom asked others to render him a personal service, nor would
he accept help from a student unless the willingness were sincere.
My guru quietly washed his clothes if the disciples overlooked that
privileged task. Sri Yukteswar wore the traditional ocher-colored
swami robe; his laceless shoes, in accordance with yogi custom,
were of tiger or deer skin.
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