Autobiography of a Yogi
He laughed. “I mean a pension of fathomless peace-a reward for many
years of deep meditation. I never crave money now. My few material
needs are amply provided for. Later you will understand the
significance of a second pension.”
Abruptly terminating our conversation, the saint became gravely
motionless. A sphinxlike air enveloped him. At first his eyes
sparkled, as if observing something of interest, then grew dull. I
felt abashed at his pauciloquy; he had not yet told me how I could
meet Father’s friend. A trifle restlessly, I looked about me in
the bare room, empty except for us two. My idle gaze took in his
wooden sandals, lying under the platform seat.
“Little sir, {FN3-1} don’t get worried. The man you wish to see
will be with you in half an hour.” The yogi was reading my mind-a
feat not too difficult at the moment!
Again he fell into inscrutable silence. My watch informed me that
thirty minutes had elapsed.
The swami aroused himself. “I think Kedar Nath Babu is nearing the
door.”
I heard somebody coming up the stairs. An amazed incomprehension
arose suddenly; my thoughts raced in confusion: “How is it possible
that Father’s friend has been summoned to this place without the
help of a messenger? The swami has spoken to no one but myself
since my arrival!”
Abruptly I quitted the room and descended the steps. Halfway down
I met a thin, fair-skinned man of medium height. He appeared to be
in a hurry.
“Are you Kedar Nath Babu?” Excitement colored my voice.
“Yes. Are you not Bhagabati’s son who has been waiting here to meet
me?” He smiled in friendly fashion.
“Sir, how do you happen to come here?” I felt baffled resentment
over his inexplicable presence.
“Everything is mysterious today! Less than an hour ago I had just
finished my bath in the Ganges when Swami Pranabananda approached
me. I have no idea how he knew I was there at that time.
“‘Bhagabati’s son is waiting for you in my apartment,’ he said.
‘Will you come with me?’ I gladly agreed. As we proceeded hand in
hand, the swami in his wooden sandals was strangely able to outpace
me, though I wore these stout walking shoes.
“‘How long will it take you to reach my place?’ Pranabanandaji
suddenly halted to ask me this question.
“‘About half an hour.’
“‘I have something else to do at present.’ He gave me an enigmatical
glance. ‘I must leave you behind. You can join me in my house,
where Bhagabati’s son and I will be awaiting you.’
“Before I could remonstrate, he dashed swiftly past me and disappeared
in the crowd. I walked here as fast as possible.”
This explanation only increased my bewilderment. I inquired how
long he had known the swami.
“We met a few times last year, but not recently. I was very glad
to see him again today at the bathing GHAT.”
“I cannot believe my ears! Am I losing my mind? Did you meet him
in a vision, or did you actually see him, touch his hand, and hear
the sound of his feet?”
“I don’t know what you’re driving at!” He flushed angrily. “I am
not lying to you. Can’t you understand that only through the swami
could I have known you were waiting at this place for me?”
“Why, that man, Swami Pranabananda, has not left my sight a moment
since I first came about an hour ago.” I blurted out the whole
story.
His eyes opened widely. “Are we living in this material age, or
are we dreaming? I never expected to witness such a miracle in my
life! I thought this swami was just an ordinary man, and now I find
he can materialize an extra body and work through it!” Together we
entered the saint’s room.
“Look, those are the very sandals he was wearing at the GHAT,”
Kedar Nath Babu whispered. “He was clad only in a loincloth, just
as I see him now.”
As the visitor bowed before him, the saint turned to me with a
quizzical smile.
“Why are you stupefied at all this? The subtle unity of the phenomenal
world is not hidden from true yogis. I instantly see and converse
with my disciples in distant Calcutta. They can similarly transcend
at will every obstacle of gross matter.”
It was probably in an effort to stir spiritual ardor in my young
breast that the swami had condescended to tell me of his powers of
astral radio and television. {FN3-2} But instead of enthusiasm, I
experienced only an awe-stricken fear. Inasmuch as I was destined
to undertake my divine search through one particular guru-Sri
Yukteswar, whom I had not yet met-I felt no inclination to accept
Pranabananda as my teacher. I glanced at him doubtfully, wondering
if it were he or his counterpart before me.
The master sought to banish my disquietude by bestowing a soul-awakening
gaze, and by some inspiring words about his guru.
“Lahiri Mahasaya was the greatest yogi I ever knew. He was Divinity
Itself in the form of flesh.”
If a disciple, I reflected, could materialize an extra fleshly form
at will, what miracles indeed could be barred to his master?
“I will tell you how priceless is a guru’s help. I used to meditate
with another disciple for eight hours every night. We had to work at
the railroad office during the day. Finding difficulty in carrying
on my clerical duties, I desired to devote my whole time to God.
For eight years I persevered, meditating half the night. I had
wonderful results; tremendous spiritual perceptions illumined my
mind. But a little veil always remained between me and the Infinite.
Even with super-human earnestness, I found the final irrevocable
union to be denied me. One evening I paid a visit to Lahiri Mahasaya
and pleaded for his divine intercession. My importunities continued
during the entire night.
“‘Angelic Guru, my spiritual anguish is such that I can no longer
bear my life without meeting the Great Beloved face to face!’
“‘What can I do? You must meditate more profoundly.’
“‘I am appealing to Thee, O God my Master! I see Thee materialized
before me in a physical body; bless me that I may perceive Thee in
Thine infinite form!’
“Lahiri Mahasaya extended his hand in a benign gesture. ‘You may
go now and meditate. I have interceded for you with Brahma.’ {FN3-3}
“Immeasurably uplifted, I returned to my home. In meditation that
night, the burning Goal of my life was achieved. Now I ceaselessly
enjoy the spiritual pension. Never from that day has the Blissful
Creator remained hidden from my eyes behind any screen of delusion.”
Pranabananda’s face was suffused with divine light. The peace of
another world entered my heart; all fear had fled. The saint made
a further confidence.
“Some months later I returned to Lahiri Mahasaya and tried to
thank him for his bestowal of the infinite gift. Then I mentioned
another matter.
“‘Divine Guru, I can no longer work in the office. Please release
me. Brahma keeps me continuously intoxicated.’
“‘Apply for a pension from your company.’
“‘What reason shall I give, so early in my service?’
“‘Say what you feel.’
“The next day I made my application. The doctor inquired the grounds
for my premature request.
“‘At work, I find an overpowering sensation rising in my spine.
{FN3-4} It permeates my whole body, unfitting me for the performance
of my duties.’
“Without further questioning the physician recommended me highly
for a pension, which I soon received. I know the divine will of
Lahiri Mahasaya worked through the doctor and the railroad officials,
including your father. Automatically they obeyed the great guru’s
spiritual direction, and freed me for a life of unbroken communion
with the Beloved.” {FN3-5}
After this extraordinary revelation, Swami Pranabananda retired
into one of his long silences. As I was taking leave, touching his
feet reverently, he gave me his blessing:
“Your life belongs to the path of renunciation and yoga. I shall
see you again, with your father, later on.” The years brought
fulfillment to both these predictions. {FN3-6}
Kedar Nath Babu walked by my side in the gathering darkness. I
delivered Father’s letter, which my companion read under a street
lamp.
“Your father suggests that I take a position in the Calcutta office
of his railroad company. How pleasant to look forward to at least
one of the pensions that Swami Pranabananda enjoys! But it is
impossible; I cannot leave Benares. Alas, two bodies are not yet
for me!”
{FN3-1} CHOTO MAHASAYA is the term by which a number of Indian
saints addressed me. It translates “little sir.”.
{FN3-2} In its own way, physical science is affirming the validity
of laws discovered by yogis through mental science. For example,
a demonstration that man has televisional powers was given on Nov.
26, 1934 at the Royal University of Rome. “Dr. Giuseppe Calligaris,
professor of neuro-psychology, pressed certain points of a subject’s
body and the subject responded with minute descriptions of other
persons and objects on the opposite side of a wall. Dr. Calligaris
told the other professors that if certain areas on the skin are
agitated, the subject is given super-sensorial impressions enabling
him to see objects that he could not otherwise perceive. To enable
his subject to discern things on the other side of a wall, Professor
Calligaris pressed on a spot to the right of the thorax for fifteen
minutes. Dr. Calligaris said that if other spots of the body were
agitated, the subjects could see objects at any distance, regardless
of whether they had ever before seen those objects.”.
{FN3-3} God in His aspect of Creator; from Sanskrit root BRIH, to
expand. When Emerson’s poem BRAHMA appeared in the ATLANTIC MONTHLY
in 1857, most the readers were bewildered. Emerson chuckled. “Tell
them,” he said, “to say ‘Jehovah’ instead of ‘Brahma’ and they will
not feel any perplexity.”
{FN3-4} In deep meditation, the first experience of Spirit is on the
altar of the spine, and then in the brain. The torrential bliss is
overwhelming, but the yogi learns to control its outward manifestations.
{FN3-5} After his retirement, Pranabananda wrote one of the most
profound commentaries on the BHAGAVAD GITA, available in Bengali
and Hindi.
{FN3-6} See chapter 27.
CHAPTER: 4
MY INTERRUPTED FLIGHT TOWARD THE HIMALAYAS
“Leave your classroom on some trifling pretext, and engage a hackney
carriage. Stop in the lane where no one in my house can see you.”
These were my final instructions to Amar Mitter, a high school
friend who planned to accompany me to the Himalayas. We had chosen
the following day for our flight. Precautions were necessary,
as Ananta exercised a vigilant eye. He was determined to foil the
plans of escape which he suspected were uppermost in my mind. The
amulet, like a spiritual yeast, was silently at work within me.
Amidst the Himalayan snows, I hoped to find the master whose face
often appeared to me in visions.
The family was living now in Calcutta, where Father had been
permanently transferred. Following the patriarchal Indian custom,
Ananta had brought his bride to live in our home, now at 4 Gurpar
Road. There in a small attic room I engaged in daily meditations
and prepared my mind for the divine search.
The memorable morning arrived with inauspicious rain. Hearing the
wheels of Amar’s carriage in the road, I hastily tied together a
blanket, a pair of sandals, Lahiri Mahasaya’s picture, a copy of
the BHAGAVAD GITA, a string of prayer beads, and two loincloths.
This bundle I threw from my third-story window. I ran down the
steps and passed my uncle, buying fish at the door.
“What is the excitement?” His gaze roved suspiciously over my
person.
I gave him a noncommittal smile and walked to the lane. Retrieving
my bundle, I joined Amar with conspiratorial caution. We drove to