"
I had just arrived in Puri {FN15-1} to spend my college summer
vacation with my guru at his seaside hermitage. Built by Master
and his disciples, the cheerful little two-storied retreat fronts
on the Bay of Bengal.
I awoke early the following morning, refreshed by the salty sea
breezes and the charm of my surroundings. Sri Yukteswar's melodious
voice was calling; I took a look at my cherished cauliflowers and
stowed them neatly under my bed.
"Come, let us go to the beach." Master led the way; several young
disciples and myself followed in a scattered group. Our guru surveyed
us in mild criticism.
"When our Western brothers walk, they usually take pride in unison.
Now, please march in two rows; keep rhythmic step with one another."
Sri Yukteswar watched as we obeyed; he began to sing: "Boys go to
and fro, in a pretty little row." I could not but admire the ease
with which Master was able to match the brisk pace of his young
students.
"Halt!" My guru's eyes sought mine. "Did you remember to lock the
back door of the hermitage?"
[Illustration: MY GURU'S SEASIDE HERMITAGE AT PURI A steady stream
of visitors poured from the world into the hermitage tranquillity.
A number of learned men came with the expectation of meeting an
orthodox religionist. A supercilious smile or a glance of amused
tolerance occasionally betreayed that the newcomers anticipated
nothing more than a few pious platitudes.
Pages:
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214