“Why don’t you go to sleep?”
“Sir, how can I sleep in the presence of lightning, blazing whether my eyes are shut or open?”
“You are blessed to have this experience; the spiritual radiations are not easily seen.” The saint added a few words of affection.
At dawn Ram Gopal gave me rock candies and said I must depart. I felt such reluctance to bid him farewell that tears coursed down my cheeks.
“I will not let you go empty-handed.” The yogi spoke tenderly. “I will do something for you.”
He smiled and looked at me steadfastly. I stood rooted to the ground, peace rushing like a mighty flood through the gates of my eyes. I was instantaneously healed of a pain in my back, which had troubled me intermittently for years. Renewed, bathed in a sea of luminous joy, I wept no more. After touching the saint’s feet, I sauntered into the jungle, making my way through its tropical tangle until I reached Tarakeswar.
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.
[13-1:] Hand-played drums, used only for devotional music.
[13-2:] One is reminded here of Dostoevski’s observation: “A man who bows down to nothing can never bear the burden of himself.”