"
"Sir, one hears of divine love in a vague way, but for the first
time I am having a concrete example in your angelic self! In the
world, even a father does not easily forgive his son if he leaves
his parent's business without warning. But you show not the slightest
vexation, though you must have been put to great inconvenience by
the many unfinished tasks I left behind."
We looked into each other's eyes, where tears were shining. A
blissful wave engulfed me; I was conscious that the Lord, in the
form of my guru, was expanding the small ardors of my heart into
the incompressible reaches of cosmic love.
A few mornings later I made my way to Master's empty sitting room.
I planned to meditate, but my laudable purpose was unshared by
disobedient thoughts. They scattered like birds before the hunter.
"Mukunda!" Sri Yukteswar's voice sounded from a distant inner
balcony.
I felt as rebellious as my thoughts. "Master always urges me to
meditate," I muttered to myself. "He should not disturb me when he
knows why I came to his room."
He summoned me again; I remained obstinately silent. The third time
his tone held rebuke.
"Sir, I am meditating," I shouted protestingly.
"I know how you are meditating," my guru called out, "with your
mind distributed like leaves in a storm! Come here to me."
Snubbed and exposed, I made my way sadly to his side.
"Poor boy, the mountains couldn't give what you wanted.
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