Passed now into the
archives of memory, the scene of loving reunion vividly endures,
unforgettable in my heart.
As for my meeting with Sri Yukteswar, words fail me; let the
following description from my secretary suffice.
"Today, filled with the highest anticipations, I drove Yoganandaji
from Calcutta to Serampore," Mr. Wright recorded in his travel diary.
"We passed by quaint shops, one of them the favorite eating haunt
of Yoganandaji during his college days, and finally entered a narrow,
walled lane. A sudden left turn, and there before us towered the
simple but inspiring two-story ashram, its Spanish-style balcony
jutting from the upper floor. The pervasive impression was that of
peaceful solitude.
"In grave humility I walked behind Yoganandaji into the courtyard
within the hermitage walls. Hearts beating fast, we proceeded up
some old cement steps, trod, no doubt, by myriads of truth-seekers.
The tension grew keener and keener as on we strode. Before us, near
the head of the stairs, quietly appeared the Great One, Swami Sri
Yukteswarji, standing in the noble pose of a sage.
"My heart heaved and swelled as I felt myself blessed by the
privilege of being in his sublime presence. Tears blurred my eager
sight when Yoganandaji dropped to his knees, and with bowed head
offered his soul's gratitude and greeting, touching with his hand
his guru's feet and then, in humble obeisance, his own head.
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