There I made a second pilgrimage to the famous shrine,
and prostrated myself fully before the altar.
The round stone enlarged before my inner vision until
it became the cosmical spheres, ring within ring,
zone after zone, all dowered with divinity.
I entrained happily an hour later for Calcutta.
My travels ended, not in the lofty mountains, but
in the Himalayan presence of my Master.
{FN13-1} Hand-played drums, used only for devotional
music.
{FN13-2} One is reminded here of Dostoevski’s
observation: “A man who bows down to nothing
can never bear the burden of himself.”
{FN13-3} See chapter 35.
AN EXPERIENCE IN COSMIC CONSCIOUSNESS
“I am here, Guruji.” My shamefacedness
spoke more eloquently for me.
“Let us go to the kitchen and find something
to eat.” Sri Yukteswar’s manner was
as natural as if hours and not days had separated us.
“Master, I must have disappointed you by my
abrupt departure from my duties here; I thought you
might be angry with me.”
“No, of course not! Wrath springs only
from thwarted desires. I do not expect anything
from others, so their actions cannot be in opposition
to wishes of mine. I would not use you for my
own ends; I am happy only in your own true happiness.”
“Sir, one hears of divine love in a vague way,
but for the first time I am having a concrete example
in your angelic self! In the world, even a father
does not easily forgive his son if he leaves his parent’s
business without warning. But you show not the
slightest vexation, though you must have been put
to great inconvenience by the many unfinished tasks
I left behind.”
We looked into each other’s eyes, where tears
were shining. A blissful wave engulfed me; I
was conscious that the Lord, in the form of my guru,
was expanding the small ardors of my heart into the
incompressible reaches of cosmic love.
A few mornings later I made my way to Master’s
empty sitting room. I planned to meditate, but
my laudable purpose was unshared by disobedient thoughts.
They scattered like birds before the hunter.
“Mukunda!” Sri Yukteswar’s voice
sounded from a distant inner balcony.
I felt as rebellious as my thoughts. “Master
always urges me to meditate,” I muttered to
myself. “He should not disturb me when he
knows why I came to his room.”
He summoned me again; I remained obstinately silent.
The third time his tone held rebuke.
“Sir, I am meditating,” I shouted protestingly.
“I know how you are meditating,” my guru
called out, “with your mind distributed like
leaves in a storm! Come here to me.”
Snubbed and exposed, I made my way sadly to his side.
“Poor boy, the mountains couldn’t give
what you wanted.” Master spoke caressively,
comfortingly. His calm gaze was unfathomable.
“Your heart’s desire shall be fulfilled.”
