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 [11-8] 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.”