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| Chapter16 Chapter17 Chapter18 Chapter19 | ||
Jitendra and
I, fresh from the train (a figure of speech merely; we were covered with dust), had just
arrived at the home of Ananta, recently transferred from Calcutta to the ancient city of
Agra. Brother was a supervising accountant for the Bengal-Nagpur Railway. "You
well know, Ananta, I seek my inheritance from the Heavenly Father." "Money
first; God can come later! Who knows? Life may be too long." "God
first; money is His slave! Who can tell? Life may be too short." My retort was
summoned by the exigencies of the moment, and held no presentiment. Yet the leaves of time
unfolded to early finality for Ananta; a few years later he entered the
land where bank notes avail neither first nor last. "Wisdom
from the hermitage, I suppose! But I see you have left Benares." Ananta's eyes
gleamed with satisfaction; he yet hoped to secure my pinions in the family nest. "My
sojourn in Benares was not in vain! I found there everything my heart had been longing
for! You may be sure it was not your pundit or his son!" Ananta joined
me in reminiscent laughter; he had had to admit that the Benares "clairvoyant"
he selected was a shortsighted one. "What
are your plans, my wandering brother?" "Jitendra
persuaded me to Agra. We shall view the beauties of the Taj Mahal here," I
explained. "Then we are going to my newly-found guru, who has a hermitage in
Serampore." Ananta
hospitably arranged for our comfort. Several times during the evening I noticed his eyes
fixed on me reflectively. "I know
that look!" I thought. "A plot is brewing!" The
denouement took place during our early breakfast. "So you
feel quite independent of Father's wealth." Ananta's gaze was innocent as he resumed
the barbs of yesterday's conversation. "I am
conscious of my dependence on God." "Words
are cheap! Life has shielded you thus far! What a plight if you were forced to look to the
Invisible Hand for your food and shelter! You would soon be begging on the streets!" "Never!
I would not put faith in passers-by rather than God! He can devise for His devotee a
thousand resources besides the begging-bowl!" "More
rhetoric! Suppose I suggest that your vaunted philosophy be put to a test in this tangible
world?" "I would
agree! Do you confine God to a speculative world?" "We
shall see; today you shall have opportunity either to enlarge or to confirm my own
views!" Ananta paused for a dramatic moment; then spoke slowly and seriously. "I
propose that I send you and your fellow disciple Jitendra this morning to the near-by city
of Brindaban. You must not take a single rupee; you must not beg, either for food or
money; you must not reveal your predicament to anyone; you must not go without your meals;
and you must not be stranded in Brindaban. If you return to my bungalow here before twelve
o'clock tonight, without having broken any rule of the test, I shall be the most
astonished man in Agra!" "I
accept the challenge." No hesitation was in my words or in my heart. Grateful
memories flashed of the Instant Beneficence: my healing of deadly cholera through appeal
to Lahiri Mahasaya's picture; the playful gift of the two kites on the Lahore roof with
Uma; the opportune amulet amidst my discouragement; the decisive message through the
unknown Benares sadhu outside the compound of
the pundit's home; the vision of Divine Mother and Her majestic words of love; Her swift
heed through Master Mahasaya to my trifling embarrassments; the last-minute guidance which
materialized my high school diploma; and the ultimate boon, my living Master from the mist
of lifelong dreams. Never could I admit my "philosophy" unequal to any tussle on
the world's harsh proving ground! "Your
willingness does you credit. I'll escort you to the train at once." Ananta turned to
the openmouthed Jitendra. "You must go along as a witness and, very likely, a fellow
victim!" A half hour
later Jitendra and I were in possession of one-way tickets for our impromptu trip. We
submitted, in a secluded corner of the station, to a search of our persons. Ananta was
quickly satisfied that we were carrying no hidden hoard; our simple dhotis concealed
nothing more than was necessary. As faith
invaded the serious realms of finance, my friend spoke protestingly. "Ananta, give me
one or two rupees as a safeguard. Then I can telegraph you in case of misfortune." "Jitendra!"
My ejaculation was sharply reproachful. "I will not proceed with the test if you take
any money as final security." "There
is something reassuring about the clink of coins." Jitendra said no more as I
regarded him sternly. "Mukunda,
I am not heartless." A hint of humility had crept into Ananta's voice. It may be that
his conscience was smiting him; perhaps for sending two insolvent boys to a strange city;
perhaps for his own religious skepticism. "If by any chance or grace you pass
successfully through the Brindaban ordeal, I shall ask you to initiate me as your
disciple." This promise
had a certain irregularity, in keeping with the unconventional occasion. The eldest
brother in an Indian family seldom bows before his juniors; he receives respect and
obedience second only to a father. But no time remained for my comment; our train was at
point of departure. Jitendra
maintained a lugubrious silence as our train covered the miles. Finally he bestirred
himself; leaning over, he pinched me painfully at an awkward spot. "I see
no sign that God is going to supply our next meal!" "Be
quiet, doubting Thomas; the Lord is working with us." "Can you
also arrange that He hurry? Already I am famished merely at the prospect before us. I left
Benares to view the Taj's mausoleum, not to enter my own!" "Cheer
up, Jitendra! Are we not to have our first glimpse of the sacred wonders of Brindaban? I am
in deep joy at thought of treading the ground hallowed by feet of Lord Krishna." The door of
our compartment opened; two men seated themselves. The next train stop would be the last. "Young
lads, do you have friends in Brindaban?" The stranger opposite me was taking a
surprising interest. "None of
your business!" Rudely I averted my gaze. "You are
probably flying away from your families under the enchantment of the Stealer of Hearts. I am
of devotional temperament myself. I will make it my positive duty to see that you receive
food, and shelter from this overpowering heat." "No,
sir, let us alone. You are very kind; but you are mistaken in judging us to be truants
from home." No further
conversation ensued; the train came to a halt. As Jitendra and I descended to the
platform, our chance companions linked arms with us and summoned a horse cab. We alit
before a stately hermitage, set amidst the evergreen trees of well-kept grounds. Our
benefactors were evidently known here; a smiling lad led us without comment to a parlor.
We were soon joined by an elderly woman of dignified bearing. "Gauri
Ma, the princes could not come." One of the men addressed the ashram hostess.
"At the last moment their plans went awry; they send deep regrets. But we have
brought two other guests. As soon as we met on the train, I felt drawn to them as devotees
of Lord Krishna." "Good-by,
young friends." Our two acquaintances walked to the door. "We shall meet again,
if God be willing." "You are
welcome here." Gauri Ma smiled in motherly fashion on her two unexpected charges.
"You could not have come on a better day. I was expecting two royal patrons of this
hermitage. What a shame if my cooking had found none to appreciate it!" These
appetizing words had disastrous effect on Jitendra: he burst into tears. The
"prospect" he had feared in Brindaban was turning out as royal entertainment;
his sudden mental adjustment proved too much for him. Our hostess looked at him with
curiosity, but without remark; perhaps she was familiar with adolescent quirks. |
Lunch
was announced; Gauri Ma led the way to a dining patio, spicy with savory odors. She
vanished into an adjoining kitchen. I had been
premeditating this moment. Selecting the appropriate spot on Jitendra's anatomy, I
administered a pinch as resounding as the one he had given me on the train. "Doubting
Thomas, the Lord works—in a hurry, too!" The hostess
reentered with a punkha. She steadily fanned
us in the Oriental fashion as we squatted on ornate blanket-seats. Ashram disciples passed
to and fro with some thirty courses. Rather than "meal," the description can
only be "sumptuous repast." Since arriving on this planet, Jitendra and I had
never before tasted such delicacies. "Dishes
fit for princes indeed, Honored Mother! What your royal patrons could have found more
urgent than attending this banquet, I cannot imagine! You have given us a memory for a
lifetime!" Silenced
as we were by Ananta's requirement, we could not explain to the gracious lady that our
thanks held a double significance. Our sincerity at least was patent. We departed with her
blessing and an attractive invitation to revisit the hermitage. The heat
outdoors was merciless. My friend and I made for the shelter of a lordly cadamba tree at
the ashram gate. Sharp words followed; once again Jitendra was beset with misgivings. "A fine
mess you have got me into! Our luncheon was only accidental good fortune! How can we see
the sights of this city, without a single pice between us? And how on earth are you going
to take me back to Ananta's?" "You
forget God quickly, now that your stomach is filled." My words, not bitter, were
accusatory. How short is human memory for divine favors! No man lives who has not seen
certain of his prayers granted. "I am
not likely to forget my folly in venturing out with a madcap like you!" "Be
quiet, Jitendra! The same Lord who fed us will show us Brindaban, and return us to
Agra." A slight
young man of pleasing countenance approached at rapid pace. Halting under our tree, he
bowed before me. "Dear
friend, you and your companion must be strangers here. Permit me to be your host and
guide." It is
scarcely possible for an Indian to pale, but Jitendra's face was suddenly sickly. I
politely declined the offer. "You are
surely not banishing me?" The stranger's alarm would have been comic in any other
circumstances. "Why
not?" "You are
my guru." His eyes sought mine trustfully. "During my midday devotions, the
blessed Lord Krishna appeared in a vision. He showed me two forsaken figures under this
very tree. One face was yours, my master! Often have I seen it in meditation! What joy if
you accept my humble services!" "I too
am glad you have found me. Neither God nor man has forsaken us!" Though I was
motionless, smiling at the eager face before me, an inward obeisance cast me at the Divine
Feet. "Dear
friends, will you not honor my home for a visit?" "You are
kind; but the plan is unfeasible. Already we are guests of my brother in Agra." "At
least give me memories of touring Brindaban with you." I gladly
consented. The young man, who said his name was Pratap Chatterji, hailed a horse carriage.
We visited Madanamohana Temple and other Krishna shrines. Night descended while we were at
our temple devotions. "Excuse
me while I get sandesh."
Pratap entered a shop near the railroad station. Jitendra and I sauntered along the wide
street, crowded now in the comparative coolness. Our friend was absent for some time, but
finally returned with gifts of many sweetmeats. "Please
allow me to gain this religious merit." Pratap smiled pleadingly as he held out a
bundle of rupee notes and two tickets, just purchased, to Agra. The reverence
of my acceptance was for the Invisible Hand. Scoffed at by Ananta, had Its bounty not far
exceeded necessity? We sought out
a secluded spot near the station. "Pratap,
I will instruct you in the Kriya of Lahiri
Mahasaya, the greatest yogi of modern times. His technique will be your guru." The
initiation was concluded in a half hour. "Kriya
is your chintamani," I
told the new student. "The technique, which as you see is simple, embodies the art of
quickening man's spiritual evolution. Hindu scriptures teach that the incarnating ego
requires a million years to obtain liberation from
maya. This natural period is greatly shortened through Kriya Yoga. Just as Jagadis Chandra Bose has
demonstrated that plant growth can be accelerated far beyond its normal rate, so man's
psychological development can be also speeded by an inner science. Be faithful in your
practice; you will approach the Guru of all gurus." "I am
transported to find this yogic key, long sought!" Pratap spoke thoughtfully.
"Its unshackling effect on my sensory bonds will free me for higher spheres. The
vision today of Lord Krishna could only mean my highest good." We sat awhile
in silent understanding, then walked slowly to the station. Joy was within me as I boarded
the train, but this was Jitendra's day for tears. My affectionate farewell to Pratap had
been punctuated by stifled sobs from both my companions. The journey once more found
Jitendra in a welter of grief. Not for himself this time, but against himself. "How
shallow my trust! My heart has been stone! Never in future shall I doubt God's
protection!" Midnight was
approaching. The two "Cinderellas," sent forth penniless, entered Ananta's
bedroom. His face, as he had promised, was a study in astonishment. Silently I showered
the table with rupees. "Jitendra,
the truth!" Ananta's tone was jocular. "Has not this youngster been staging a
holdup?" But as the
tale was unfolded, my brother turned sober, then solemn. "The law
of demand and supply reaches into subtler realms than I had supposed." Ananta spoke
with a spiritual enthusiasm never before noticeable. "I understand for the first time
your indifference to the vaults and vulgar accumulations of the world." Late as it
was, my brother insisted that he receive diksha into Kriya Yoga. The "guru" Mukunda had to
shoulder the responsibility of two unsought disciples in one day. Breakfast the
following morning was eaten in a harmony absent the day before. I smiled at Jitendra. "You
shall not be cheated of the Taj. Let us view it before starting for Serampore." Bidding
farewell to Ananta, my friend and I were soon before the glory of Agra, the Taj Mahal.
White marble dazzling in the sun, it stands a vision of pure symmetry. The perfect setting
is dark cypress, glossy lawn, and tranquil lagoon. The interior is exquisite with lacelike
carvings inlaid with semiprecious stones. Delicate wreaths and scrolls emerge intricately
from marbles, brown and violet. Illumination from the dome falls on the cenotaphs of
Emperor Shah-Jahan and Mumtaz Mahall, queen of his realm and his heart. Enough of
sight-seeing! I was longing for my guru. Jitendra and I were shortly traveling south by
train toward Bengal. "Mukunda,
I have not seen my family in months. I have changed my mind; perhaps later I shall visit
your master in Serampore." My friend,
who may mildly be described as vacillating in temperament, left me in Calcutta. By local
train I soon reached Serampore, twelve miles to the north. A throb of
wonderment stole over me as I realized that twenty-eight days had elapsed since the
Benares meeting with my guru. "You will come to me in four weeks!" Here I was,
heart pounding, standing within his courtyard on quiet Rai Ghat Lane. I entered for the
first time the hermitage where I was to spend the best part of the next ten years with
India's Jyanavatar, "incarnation of
wisdom." |
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