Autobiography of a Yogi
can give unerring counsel.”
{FN14-1} “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God,
and the Word was God.”-JOHN 1:1.
{FN14-2} “For the Father judgeth no man, but hath committed all
judgment unto the Son.”-JOHN 5:22. “No man hath seen God at any
time; the only begotten Son, which is in the bosom of the Father,
he hath declared him.”-JOHN 1:18. “Verily, verily, I say unto you,
he that believeth on me, the works that I do shall he do also;
and greater works than these shall he do; because I go unto my
Father.”-JOHN 14:12. “But the Comforter, which is the Holy Ghost,
whom the Father will send in my name, he shall teach you all things,
and bring all things to your remembrance, whatsoever I have said
to you.”-JOHN 14:26.
These Biblical words refer to the threefold nature of God as Father,
Son, Holy Ghost (SAT, TAT, AUM in the Hindu scriptures). God the
Father is the Absolute, Unmanifested, existing BEYOND vibratory
creation. God the Son is the Christ Consciousness (Brahma or
KUTASTHA CHAITANYA) existing WITHIN vibratory creation; this Christ
Consciousness is the “only begotten” or sole reflection of the
Uncreated Infinite. Its outward manifestation or “witness” is AUM
or Holy Ghost, the divine, creative, invisible power which structures
all creation through vibration. AUM the blissful Comforter is heard
in meditation and reveals to the devotee the ultimate Truth.
CHAPTER: 15
THE CAULIFLOWER ROBBERY
“Master, a gift for you! These six huge cauliflowers were planted
with my hands; I have watched over their growth with the tender
care of a mother nursing her child.” I presented the basket of
vegetables with a ceremonial flourish.
“Thank you!” Sri Yukteswar’s smile was warm with appreciation.
“Please keep them in your room; I shall need them tomorrow for a
special dinner.”
I had just arrived in Puri {FN15-1} to spend my college summer
vacation with my guru at his seaside hermitage. Built by Master
and his disciples, the cheerful little two-storied retreat fronts
on the Bay of Bengal.
I awoke early the following morning, refreshed by the salty sea
breezes and the charm of my surroundings. Sri Yukteswar’s melodious
voice was calling; I took a look at my cherished cauliflowers and
stowed them neatly under my bed.
“Come, let us go to the beach.” Master led the way; several young
disciples and myself followed in a scattered group. Our guru surveyed
us in mild criticism.
“When our Western brothers walk, they usually take pride in unison.
Now, please march in two rows; keep rhythmic step with one another.”
Sri Yukteswar watched as we obeyed; he began to sing: “Boys go to
and fro, in a pretty little row.” I could not but admire the ease
with which Master was able to match the brisk pace of his young
students.
“Halt!” My guru’s eyes sought mine. “Did you remember to lock the
back door of the hermitage?”
“I think so, sir.”
Sri Yukteswar was silent for a few minutes, a half-suppressed smile
on his lips. “No, you forgot,” he said finally. “Divine contemplation
must not be made an excuse for material carelessness. You have
neglected your duty in safeguarding the ashram; you must be punished.”
I thought he was obscurely joking when he added: “Your six cauliflowers
will soon be only five.”
We turned around at Master’s orders and marched back until we were
close to the hermitage.
“Rest awhile. Mukunda, look across the compound on our left; observe
the road beyond. A certain man will arrive there presently; he will
be the means of your chastisement.”
I concealed my vexation at these incomprehensible remarks. A peasant
soon appeared on the road; he was dancing grotesquely and flinging
his arms about with meaningless gestures. Almost paralyzed with
curiosity, I glued my eyes on the hilarious spectacle. As the man
reached a point in the road where he would vanish from our view,
Sri Yukteswar said, “Now, he will return.”
The peasant at once changed his direction and made for the rear
of the ashram. Crossing a sandy tract, he entered the building by
the back door. I had left it unlocked, even as my guru had said.
The man emerged shortly, holding one of my prized cauliflowers. He
now strode along respectably, invested with the dignity of possession.
The unfolding farce, in which my role appeared to be that of bewildered
victim, was not so disconcerting that I failed in indignant pursuit.
I was halfway to the road when Master recalled me. He was shaking
from head to foot with laughter.
“That poor crazy man has been longing for a cauliflower,” he explained
between outbursts of mirth. “I thought it would be a good idea if
he got one of yours, so ill-guarded!”
I dashed to my room, where I found that the thief, evidently one
with a vegetable fixation, had left untouched my gold rings, watch,
and money, all lying openly on the blanket. He had crawled instead
under the bed where, completely hidden from casual sight, one of
my cauliflowers had aroused his singlehearted desire.
I asked Sri Yukteswar that evening to explain the incident which
had, I thought, a few baffling features.
My guru shook his head slowly. “You will understand it someday.
Science will soon discover a few of these hidden laws.”
When the wonders of radio burst some years later on an astounded
world, I remembered Master’s prediction. Age-old concepts of time
and space were annihilated; no peasant’s home so narrow that London
or Calcutta could not enter! The dullest intelligence enlarged
before indisputable proof of one aspect of man’s omnipresence.
The “plot” of the cauliflower comedy can be best understood by a
radio analogy. Sri Yukteswar was a perfect human radio. Thoughts
are no more than very gentle vibrations moving in the ether. Just
as a sensitized radio picks up a desired musical number out of
thousands of other programs from every direction, so my guru had
been able to catch the thought of the half-witted man who hankered
for a cauliflower, out of the countless thoughts of broadcasting
human wills in the world. {FN15-2} By his powerful will, Master was
also a human broadcasting station, and had successfully directed
the peasant to reverse his steps and go to a certain room for a
single cauliflower.
Intuition {FN15-3} is soul guidance, appearing naturally in man during
those instants when his mind is calm. Nearly everyone has had the
experience of an inexplicably correct “hunch,” or has transferred
his thoughts effectively to another person.
The human mind, free from the static of restlessness, can perform
through its antenna of intuition all the functions of complicated
radio mechanisms-sending and receiving thoughts, and tuning out
undesirable ones. As the power of a radio depends on the amount of
electrical current it can utilize, so the human radio is energized
according to the power of will possessed by each individual.
All thoughts vibrate eternally in the cosmos. By deep concentration, a
master is able to detect the thoughts of any mind, living or dead.
Thoughts are universally and not individually rooted; a truth
cannot be created, but only perceived. The erroneous thoughts of
man result from imperfections in his discernment. The goal of yoga
science is to calm the mind, that without distortion it may mirror
the divine vision in the universe.
Radio and television have brought the instantaneous sound and sight
of remote persons to the firesides of millions: the first faint
scientific intimations that man is an all-pervading spirit. Not
a body confined to a point in space, but the vast soul, which the
ego in most barbaric modes conspires in vain to cramp.
“Very strange, very wonderful, seemingly very improbable phenomena
may yet appear which, when once established, will not astonish us
more than we are now astonished at all that science has taught us
during the last century,” Charles Robert Richet, Nobel Prizeman in
physiology, has declared. “It is assumed that the phenomena which
we now accept without surprise, do not excite our astonishment
because they are understood. But this is not the case. If they do
not surprise us it is not because they are understood, it is because
they are familiar; for if that which is not understood ought to
surprise us, we should be surprised at everything-the fall of a
stone thrown into the air, the acorn which becomes an oak, mercury
which expands when it is heated, iron attracted by a magnet,
phosphorus which burns when it is rubbed. . . . The science of
today is a light matter; the revolutions and evolutions which it
will experience in a hundred thousand years will far exceed the
most daring anticipations. The truths-those surprising, amazing,
unforeseen truths-which our descendants will discover, are even
now all around us, staring us in the eyes, so to speak, and yet
we do not see them. But it is not enough to say that we do not see
them; we do not wish to see them; for as soon as an unexpected and
unfamiliar fact appears, we try to fit it into the framework of
the commonplaces of acquired knowledge, and we are indignant that
anyone should dare to experiment further.”
A humorous occurrence took place a few days after I had been so
implausibly robbed of a cauliflower. A certain kerosene lamp could
not be found. Having so lately witnessed my guru’s omniscient
insight, I thought he would demonstrate that it was child’s play
to locate the lamp.
Master perceived my expectation. With exaggerated gravity he
questioned all ashram residents. A young disciple confessed that
he had used the lamp to go to the well in the back yard.
Sri Yukteswar gave the solemn counsel: “Seek the lamp near the
well.”
I rushed there; no lamp! Crestfallen, I returned to my guru. He
was now laughing heartily, without compunction for my disillusionment.
“Too bad I couldn’t direct you to the vanished lamp; I am not a
fortune teller!” With twinkling eyes, he added, “I am not even a
satisfactory Sherlock Holmes!”
I realized that Master would never display his powers when challenged,
or for a triviality.
Delightful weeks sped by. Sri Yukteswar was planning a religious
procession. He asked me to lead the disciples over the town and
beach of Puri. The festive day dawned as one of the hottest of the
summer.
“Guruji, how can I take the barefooted students over the fiery
sands?” I spoke despairingly.
“I will tell you a secret,” Master responded. “The Lord will send
an umbrella of clouds; you all shall walk in comfort.”
I happily organized the procession; our group started from the
ashram with a SAT-SANGA banner. {FN15-4} Designed by Sri Yukteswar,
it bore the symbol of the single {FN15-5} eye, the telescopic gaze
of intuition.
No sooner had we left the hermitage than the part of the sky which
was overhead became filled with clouds as though by magic. To the
accompaniment of astonished ejaculations from all sides, a very
light shower fell, cooling the city streets and the burning seashore.
The soothing drops descended during the two hours of the parade.
The exact instant at which our group returned to the ashram, the