“M. Claude explained how the sea could
be turned by oxygen transformations into many millions
of pounds of horsepower; how water which boils is
not necessarily burning; how little mounds of sand,
by a single whiff of the oxygen blowpipe, could be
changed into sapphires, rubies, and topazes; and he
predicted the time when it will be possible for men
to walk on the bottom of the ocean minus the diver’s
equipment. Finally the scientist amazed his onlookers
by turning their faces black by taking the red out
of the sun’s rays.”
This noted French scientist has produced liquid air
by an expansion method in which he has been able to
separate the various gases of the air, and has discovered
various means of mechanical utilization of differences
of temperature in sea water.
THE TIGER SWAMI
“I have discovered the Tiger Swami’s address.
Let us visit him tomorrow.”
This welcome suggestion came from Chandi, one of my
high school friends. I was eager to meet the
saint who, in his premonastic life, had caught and
fought tigers with his naked hands. A boyish
enthusiasm over such remarkable feats was strong within
me.
The next day dawned wintry cold, but Chandi and I
sallied forth gaily. After much vain hunting
in Bhowanipur, outside Calcutta, we arrived at the
right house. The door held two iron rings, which
I sounded piercingly. Notwithstanding the clamor,
a servant approached with leisurely gait. His
ironical smile implied that visitors, despite their
noise, were powerless to disturb the calmness of a
saint’s home.
Feeling the silent rebuke, my companion and I were
thankful to be invited into the parlor. Our long
wait there caused uncomfortable misgivings. India’s
unwritten law for the truth seeker is patience; a
master may purposely make a test of one’s eagerness
to meet him. This psychological ruse is freely
employed in the West by doctors and dentists!
Finally summoned by the servant, Chandi and I entered
a sleeping apartment. The famous Sohong {FN6-1}
Swami was seated on his bed. The sight of his
tremendous body affected us strangely. With bulging
eyes, we stood speechless. We had never before
seen such a chest or such football-like biceps.
On an immense neck, the swami’s fierce yet calm
face was adorned with flowing locks, beard and moustache.
A hint of dovelike and tigerlike qualities shone in
his dark eyes. He was unclothed, save for a tiger
skin about his muscular waist.
Finding our voices, my friend and I greeted the monk,
expressing our admiration for his prowess in the extraordinary
feline arena.
“Will you not tell us, please, how it is possible
to subdue with bare fists the most ferocious of jungle
beasts, the royal Bengals?”
“My sons, it is nothing to me to fight tigers.
I could do it today if necessary.” He gave
a childlike laugh. “You look upon tigers
as tigers; I know them as pussycats.”
