Extracts from-C H A P T E R : 10 I Meet my Master, Sri Yukteswar - Autobiography of a Yogi Torn by spiritual anguish, I entered the attic one dawn, resolved to pray until answer was vouchsafed. “Merciful Mother of the Universe, teach me Thyself through visions, or through a guru sent by Thee!” The passing hours found my sobbing pleas without response. Suddenly I felt lifted as though bodily to a sphere uncircumscribed. “Thy Master cometh today!” A divine womanly voice came from everywhere and nowhere. This supernal experience was pierced by a shout from a definite locale. A young priest nicknamed Habu was calling me from the downstairs kitchen. “Mukunda, enough of meditation! You are needed for an errand.” Another day I might have replied impatiently; now I wiped my tear-swollen face and meekly obeyed the summons. Together Habu and I set out for a distant market place in the Bengali section of Benares. The ungentle Indian sun was not yet at zenith as we made our purchases in the bazaars. We pushed our way through the colorful medley of housewives, guides, priests, simply-clad widows, dignified Brahmins, and the ubiquitous holy bulls. Passing an inconspicuous lane, I turned my head and surveyed the narrow length. A Christlike man in the ocher robes of a swami stood motionless at the end of the road. Instantly and anciently familiar he seemed; my gaze fed hungrily for a trice. Then doubt assailed me.“You are confusing this wandering monk with someone known to you,” I thought. “Dreamer, walk on.” After ten minutes, I felt heavy numbness in my feet. As though turned to stone, they were unable to carry me farther. Laboriously I turned around; my feet regained normalcy. I faced the opposite direction; again the curious weight oppressed me. “The saint is magnetically drawing me to him!” With this thought, I heaped my parcels into the arms of Habu. He had been observing my erratic footwork with amazement, and now burst into laughter. “What ails you? Are you crazy?” My tumultuous emotion prevented any retort; I sped silently away. Retracing my steps as though wing-shod, I reached the narrow lane. My quick glance revealed the quiet figure, steadily gazing in my direction. A few eager steps and I was at his feet. “Gurudeva!” The divine face was none other than he of my thousand visions. These halcyon eyes, in leonine head with pointed beard and flowing locks, had oft peered through gloom of my nocturnal reveries, holding a promise I had not fully understood. “O my own, you have come to me!” My guru uttered the words again and again in Bengali, his voice tremulous with joy. “How many years I have waited for you!” We entered a oneness of silence; words seemed the rankest superfluities. Eloquence flowed in soundless chant from heart of master to disciple. With an antenna of irrefragable insight I sensed that my guru knew God, and would lead me to Him. The obscuration of this life disappeared in a fragile dawn of prenatal memories. Dramatic time! Past, present, and future are its cycling scenes. This was not the first sun to find me at these holy feet! ~As narrated by Paramhamsa Yogananda Blessed is the moment when an aspiring, longing devotee meets his/her eternal guide and teacher. _/\_ Blessed are we who have found our God realized master when Satgurudev Yogivah Giri came in our lives! _/\_ Glory to all great masters of truth! _/\_ Glory to our revered Satguru Sri Yogivah ji_/\_
Posted on: Fri, 05 Sep 2014 15:47:26 +0000
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