"Father, I want to invite Master and four friends to accompany me to the Himalayan foothills during my summer vacation. May I have six train passes to Kashmir and enough money to cover our travel expenses?"
As I had expected, Father laughed heartily. "This is the third time you have given me the same cock-and-bull story. Didn't you make a similar request last summer, and the year before that? At the last moment, Sri Yukteswarji refuses to go."
"It is true, Father; I don't know why my guru will not give me his definite word about Kashmir. 20-1 But if I tell him that I have already secured the passes from you, somehow I think that this time he will consent to make the journey."
Father was unconvinced at the moment, but the following day, after some good-humored gibes, he handed me six passes and a roll of ten- rupee bills.
"I hardly think your theoretical trip needs such practical props," he remarked, "but here they are."
That afternoon I exhibited my booty to Sri Yukteswar. Though he smiled at my enthusiasm, his words were noncommittal: "I would like to go; we shall see." He made no comment when I asked his little hermitage disciple, Kanai, to accompany us. I also invited three other friends- Rajendra Nath Mitra, Jotin Auddy, and one other boy. Our date of departure was set for the following Monday.
On Saturday and Sunday I stayed in Calcutta, where marriage rites for a cousin were being celebrated at my family home. I arrived in Serampore with my luggage early Monday morning. Rajendra met me at the hermitage door.
"Master is out, walking. He has refused to go."
I was equally grieved and obdurate. "I will not give Father a third chance to ridicule my chimerical plans for Kashmir. Come; the rest of us will go anyhow."
Rajendra agreed; I left the ashram to find a servant. Kanai, I knew, would not take the trip
without Master, and someone was needed to look after the luggage. I bethought myself of Behari, previously a servant in my family home, who was now employed by a Serampore schoolmaster. As I walked along briskly, I met my guru in front of the Christian church near Serampore Courthouse.
"Where are you going?" Sri Yukteswar's face was unsmiling.
"Sir, I hear that you and Kanai will not take the trip we have been planning. I am seeking Behari. You will recall that last year he was so anxious to see Kashmir that he even offered to serve without pay."
"I remember. Nevertheless, I don't think Behari will be willing to go."
I was exasperated. "He is just eagerly waiting for this opportunity!"
My guru silently resumed his walk; I soon reached the schoolmaster's house. Behari, in the courtyard, greeted me with a friendly warmth that abruptly vanished as soon as I mentioned Kashmir. With a murmured word of apology, the servant left me and entered his employer's house. I waited half an hour, nervously assuring myself that Behari's delay was being caused by preparations for his trip. Finally I knocked at the front door.
"Behari left by the back stairs about thirty minutes ago," a man informed me. A slight smile hovered about his lips.
I departed sadly, wondering whether my invitation had been too coercive or whether Master's unseen influence were at work. Passing the Christian church, again I saw my guru walking slowly toward me. Without waiting to hear my report, he exclaimed:
"So Behari would not go! Now, what are your plans?"
I felt like a recalcitrant child who is determined to defy his masterful father. "Sir, I am going to ask my uncle to lend me his servant, Lal Dhari."
YOU ARE READING
Autobiography of a Yogi
Non-FictionRead AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A YOGI by PARAMAHANSA YOGANANDA on Wattpad. "Let my soul smile through my heart and my heart smile through my eyes, that I may scatter rich smiles in sad hearts" - Paramahansa...