"Have you heard that your Master is gone?" He left me without another
word; I never discovered who he was nor how he had known where to
find me.
Stunned, I swayed against the platform wall, realizing that in
diverse ways my guru was trying to convey to me the devastating
news. Seething with rebellion, my soul was like a volcano. By the
time I reached the Puri hermitage I was nearing collapse. The inner
voice was tenderly repeating: "Collect yourself. Be calm."
I entered the ashram room where Master's body, unimaginably lifelike,
was sitting in the lotus posture-a picture of health and loveliness.
A short time before his passing, my guru had been slightly ill with
fever, but before the day of his ascension into the Infinite, his
body had become completely well. No matter how often I looked at
his dear form I could not realize that its life had departed. His
skin was smooth and soft; in his face was a beatific expression of
tranquillity. He had consciously relinquished his body at the hour
of mystic summoning.
"The Lion of Bengal is gone!" I cried in a daze.
I conducted the solemn rites on March 10th. Sri Yukteswar was buried
{FN42-12} with the ancient rituals of the swamis in the garden of
his Puri ashram. His disciples later arrived from far and near to
honor their guru at a vernal equinox memorial service. The AMRITA
BAZAR PATRIKA, leading newspaper of Calcutta, carried his picture
and the following report:
The death BHANDARA ceremony for Srimat Swami Sri Yukteswar Giri
Maharaj, aged 81, took place at Puri on March 21.
Pages:
515
516
517
518
519
520
521
522
523
524
525
526
527
528
529
530
531
532
533
534
535
536
537
538
539