Greeting
me affably, Master would invite me to lunch. I invariably accepted
with alacrity, glad to banish the thought of college for the day.
After hours with Sri Yukteswar, listening to his incomparable flow of
wisdom, or helping with ashram duties, I would reluctantly depart
around midnight for the PANTHI. Occasionally I stayed all night with
my guru, so happily engrossed in his conversation that I scarcely
noticed when darkness changed into dawn.
One night about eleven o'clock, as I was putting on my shoes
{FN23-3} in preparation for the ride to the boardinghouse, Master
questioned me gravely.
"When do your A.B. examinations start?"
"Five days hence, sir."
"I hope you are in readiness for them."
Transfixed with alarm, I held one shoe in the air. "Sir," I
protested, "you know how my days have been passed with you rather
than with the professors. How can I enact a farce by appearing for
those difficult finals?"
Sri Yukteswar's eyes were turned piercingly on mine. "You must
appear." His tone was coldly peremptory. "We should not give cause
for your father and other relatives to criticize your preference
for ashram life. Just promise me that you will be present for the
examinations; answer them the best way you can."
Uncontrollable tears were coursing down my face. I felt that
Master's command was unreasonable, and that his interest was, to
say the least, belated.
"I will appear if you wish it," I said amidst sobs.
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