With my guru’s words, the excruciating suffering
left me. I sat up feebly. A doctor soon
arrived and examined me carefully.
“You appear to have passed through the worst,”
he said. “I will take some specimens with
me for laboratory tests.”
The following morning the physician arrived hurriedly.
I was sitting up, in good spirits.
“Well, well, here you are, smiling and chatting
as though you had had no close call with death.”
He patted my hand gently. “I hardly expected
to find you alive, after I had discovered from the
specimens that your disease was Asiatic cholera.
You are fortunate, young man, to have a guru with
divine healing powers! I am convinced of it!”
I agreed wholeheartedly. As the doctor was preparing
to leave, Rajendra and Auddy appeared at the door.
The resentment in their faces changed into sympathy
as they glanced at the physician and then at my somewhat
wan countenance.
“We were angry when you didn’t turn up
as agreed at the Calcutta train. You have been
sick?”
“Yes.” I could not help laughing
as my friends placed the luggage in the same corner
it had occupied yesterday. I quoted: “There
was a ship that went to Spain; when it arrived, it
came back again!”
Master entered the room. I permitted myself a
convalescent’s liberty, and captured his hand
lovingly.
“Guruji,” I said, “from my twelfth
year on, I have made many unsuccessful attempts to
reach the Himalayas. I am finally convinced that
without your blessings the Goddess Parvati {FN20-2}
will not receive me!”
{FN20-1} Although Master failed to make any explanation,
his reluctance to visit Kashmir during those two summers
may have been a foreknowledge that the time was not
ripe for his illness there (see chapter 22).
{FN20-2} Literally, “of the mountains.”
Parvati, mythologically represented as a daughter
of Himavat or the sacred mountains, is a name given
to the Shakti or “consort” of Shiva.
WE VISIT KASHMIR
“You are strong enough now to travel. I
will accompany you to Kashmir,” Sri Yukteswar
informed me two days after my miraculous recovery
from Asiatic cholera.
That evening our party of six entrained for the north.
Our first leisurely stop was at Simla, a queenly city
resting on the throne of Himalayan hills. We
strolled over the steep streets, admiring the magnificent
views.
“English strawberries for sale,” cried
an old woman, squatting in a picturesque open market
place.
Master was curious about the strange little red fruits.
He bought a basketful and offered it to Kanai and
myself, who were near-by. I tasted one berry
but spat it hastily on the ground.
“Sir, what a sour fruit! I could never
like strawberries!”
My guru laughed. “Oh, you will like them-in
America. At a dinner there, your hostess will
serve them with sugar and cream. After she has
mashed the berries with a fork, you will taste them
and say: ‘What delicious strawberries!’
Then you will remember this day in Simla.”
