'
"My smouldering reflections on social reform were interrupted by
the voice of a tall sannyasi who halted before me.
"'Sir,' he said, 'a saint is calling you.'
"'Who is he?'
"'Come and see for yourself.'
"Hesitantly following this laconic advice, I soon found myself
near a tree whose branches were sheltering a guru with an attractive
group of disciples. The master, a bright unusual figure, with
sparkling dark eyes, rose at my approach and embraced me.
"'Welcome, Swamiji,' he said affectionately.
"'Sir,' I replied emphatically, 'I am NOT a swami.'
"'Those on whom I am divinely directed to bestow the title
of "swami" never cast it off.' The saint addressed me simply, but
deep conviction of truth rang in his words; I was engulfed in an
instant wave of spiritual blessing. Smiling at my sudden elevation
into the ancient monastic order, {FN36-1} I bowed at the feet of
the obviously great and angelic being in human form who had thus
honored me.
"Babaji-for it was indeed he-motioned me to a seat near him under
the tree. He was strong and young, and looked like Lahiri Mahasaya;
yet the resemblance did not strike me, even though I had often
heard of the extraordinary similarities in the appearance of the
two masters. Babaji possesses a power by which he can prevent any
specific thought from arising in a person's mind. Evidently the
great guru wished me to be perfectly natural in his presence, not
overawed by knowledge of his identity.
Pages:
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450