I Return to India

chapter forty of autobiography of a yogi by paramhansa yogananda i returned to india gratefully i was inhaling the blessed air of india huge harbor of bombay even this my first day off the ship was a foretaste of the year ahead twelve months of ceaseless activity friends had gathered at the dock with garlands and greetings soon at our suite in the taj mahal hotel there was a stream of reporters and photographers. Bombay was a city new to me. I found it energetically modern with many innovations from the West.

Palms line the spacious boulevards. Magnificent state structures vie for interest with ancient temples. Very little time was given to sightseeing, however. I was impatient, eager to see my beloved guru and other dear ones. Consigning the Ford to a baggage car, our party was soon speeding eastward by train toward Calcutta. Our arrival at hauro station found such an immense crowd assembled to greet us that for a while we were unable to dismount from the train the young maharajah of kusin bazar and my brother bishnu headed the reception committee i was unprepared for the warmth and magnitude of our welcome.

Proceeded by a line of automobiles and motorcycles, and amidst the joyous sounds of drums and conch shells, Miss Fletch, Mr. Wright, and myself, flower-garlanded from head to foot drove slowly to my father's home my aged parent embraced me as one returning from the dead long we gazed on each other speechless with joy of years long past were grouped around me not a dry eye among us passed now into the archives of memory the scene of loving reunion vividly endures unforgettable in my heart fail me let the following description from my secretary suffice to-day filled with the highest anticipations i drove Yoganandaji during his college days, and finally entered a narrow walled lane.

A sudden left turn and there before us towered the simple but inspiring two-story ashram, its Spanish-style balcony jutting from the upper floor. The pervasive impression was that of peaceful solitude in grave humility i walked behind yoganandaji into the courtyard within the hermitage walls up some old cement steps trod no doubt by myriads of truth seekers the tension grew keener and keener as on we strode before us near the head of the stairs quietly appeared the great one swami she teshwas ji standing in the noble pose of a sage my heart heaved and swelled as I felt myself blessed by the privilege of being in his sublime presence.

Tears blurred my eager sight when Yoganandaji dropped to his knees and with bowed head offered his soul's gratitude and greeting, touching with his hand his guru's feet and then, in humble obeisance, his own own head he rose then and was embraced on both sides of the bosom by sri no words passed at the beginning but the most intense feeling was expressed in the mute phrases of the soul how their eyes sparkled and were fired with the warmth of renewed soul union. A tender vibration surged through the quiet patio, and even the sun eluded the clouds to add a sudden blaze of glory.

On bended knee, before the Master, I gave my own unexpressed love and thanks, touching his feet, calloused by time and service, and receiving his blessing. I stood then and faced two beautiful deep eyes, smoldering with introspection, yet radiant with joy. We entered his sitting-room, whose whole side opened to the outer balcony first seen from the street. The master braced himself against a worn Davenport, sitting on a covered mattress on the cement floor. Yogananda Ji and I sat near the guru's feet with orange-colored pillows to lean against and ease our positions on the straw mat.

I tried and tried to penetrate the Bengali conversation between the two Swamijis for English. I discovered is null and void when they are together, although Swamiji Maharaj, as the great Guru is called by others, can and often does speak it. But I perceived the saintliness of the Great One through his heartwarming smile and twinkling eyes. One quality easily discernible in his merry serious conversation is a decided positiveness in statement, the mark of a wise man who knows he knows because he knows god his great wisdom strength of purpose and determination are apparent in every way studying him reverently from time to time i noted that he is of large athletic stature hardened by the trials and sacrifices of renunciation.

His poise is majestic, a decidedly sloping forehead, as if seeking the heavens dominates his divine countenance. He has a rather large and homely nose, with which he amuses himself in idle moments, flipping and wiggling it with his fingers like a child. His powerful dark eyes are haloed by an ethereal blue ring. His hair, parted in the middle, begins as silver and changes to streaks of silvery gold and silvery black, ending in ringlets at his shoulders. His beard and mustache are scant or thinned out, yet seem to enhance his features and, like his his character are deep and light at the same time he has a jovial and rollicking laugh which comes from deep in his chest causing him to shake and quiver throughout his body his face and stature are starking in their power as are his muscular fingers he moves with a dignified tread and erect posture he was clad simply in the common dhoti and shirt both once dyed a strong ochre color but now a faded orange glancing about i observed that this dilapidated room suggested the owner's non-attachment to material comforts the weather-stained white walls of the long chamber were streaked with fading blue plaster mahasa ya garlanded in simple devotion there was also an old picture showing yoganandaji as he had first arrived in boston standing with the other delegates to the congress of religions modernity and antiquation.

A huge cut glass candlelight chandelier was covered with cobwebs through disuse, and on the wall was a bright, up-to-date calendar. The whole room emanated a fragrance of peace and calmness. Beyond the balcony I could see coconut trees towering over the hermitage in silent protection. It is interesting to observe that the master has merely to clap his hands together, and before finishing, he is served or attended by some small disciple. Incidentally, I am much attracted to one of them, a thin lad named Prafula, with long black hair to his shoulders, a most penetrating pair of sparkling black eyes, and a heavenly smile.

His eyes twinkle as the corners of his mouth rise, like the stars and the crescent moon appearing at twilight. Swami Sri Yukeswari's joy is obviously intense at the return of his product, and he seems to be somewhat inquisitive about the product's product. However, predominance of the wisdom aspect in the Great One's nature hinders his outward expression of feeling yoganandaji presented him with some gifts as is the custom when the disciple returns to his guru were vegetable and rice combinations. Sri Yukteswarji was pleased at my use of a number of Indian customs, finger-eating, for example.

After several hours of flying, Bengali phrases, and the exchange of warm smiles and joyful glances, we paid obeisance at his feet, bade adieu with a pronan, and departed for Calcutta with an everlasting memory of a sacred meeting and greeting. Although I write chiefly of my external impressions of him, yet I was always conscious of the true basis of the saint his spiritual glory i felt his power and shall carry that feeling as my divine blessing from america europe and palestine i had brought many presents for shri yukta shwar he received them smilingly but without remark for my own use i had bought in germany a combination umbrella cane in ind all the presents it was the cane that he singled out to display to visitors master please permit me to get a new carpet for the sitting-room i had noticed that jri yukteswar's tiger skin was placed over a torn rug do so if it pleases you my guru's voice was not enthusiastic behold my tiger mat is back once again i am a young disciple purified in the daily fires of chastisement Ranchi.

What a welcome there, a veritable ovation. Tears stood in my eyes as I embraced the selfless teachers who had kept the banner of the school flying during my 15 years' absence. The bright faces and happy smiles of the residential and day students were ample testimony to the worth of their many-sided school and yoga training. Yet, alas, the Ranchi institution was in dire financial difficulties. Sir Manindra Chandra Nandi, the old Maharaja whose Kassim Bazaar palace had been converted into the central school building and who had made many princely donations was now dead many free benevolent features of the school were now seriously endangered for lack of sufficient public support learning some of its practical wisdom, its undaunted spirit before obstacles.

For one week, I remained in Ranchi, wrestling with critical problems. Then came interviews in Calcutta with prominent leaders and educators, a long talk with the young Maharaja of Kassim Bazar, a financial appeal to my father, and lo, the shaky foundations of Ranchi began to be righted. Many donations, including one check, arrived in the nick of time from my American students. Within a few months after my arrival in India, I had the joy of seeing the Ranchi School legally incorporated. My lifelong dream of a permanently endowed yoga educational center stood fulfilled.

That vision had guided me in the humble beginnings in 1917 with a group of seven boys. In the decades since 1935, Ranchi has enlarged its scope far beyond the boys' school. Widespread humanitarian activities are now carried on there in the Shaima, Sharan, Lahiri, Mahasaya mission. The school, or Yogara Satsunga brahmachara vidya laya conducts outdoor classes in grammar and high school subjects regulate most of their activities through autonomous committees. Very early in my career as an educator, I discovered that boys who impishly delight in outwitting a teacher will cheerfully accept disciplinary rules that are set by their fellow students.

Never a model pupil myself, I had a ready sympathy for all boyish pranks and problems. Sports and games are encouraged. The fields resound with hockey and football practice. Raunchy students often win the cup at competitive events. The outdoor gymnasium is known far and wide. Muscle recharging through willpower is the Yogada feature, mental direction of life energy to any part of the body. The boys are also taught asanas, postures, sword and lathi, dick play, and jujitsu. The Yogada health exhibitions at the Ranchi Vidaya Laya have been attended by thousands.

Instruction in primary subjects is given in Hindi to the Khols, Santals, and Mundas, aboriginal tribes of the province. Classes for girls only have been organized in nearby villages. The unique feature at Ranchi is the initiation into Kriya Yoga. The boys daily practice their spiritual exercises, engage in Gita chanting, and are taught by precept and example the virtues of simplicity, self-sacrifice, honor, and truth. Evil is pointed out to them as being that which produces misery, good as those actions which result in true happiness. Evil may be compared to poisoned honey, tempting but laden with death.

Overcoming restlessness of body and mind by concentration techniques has achieved astonishing results it is no novelty at ranchi to see an appealing little figure aged nine or ten years sitting for an hour or more in unbroken poise the unwinking gaze directed to the spiritual eye. Often the picture of these Ranchi students has returned to my mind as I observed collegians over the world who are hardly able to sit still through one class period. Ranchi lies 2,000 feet above sea level. The climate is mild and equable.

The 25-acre site by a large bathing pond includes one of the finest orchards in India, 500 fruit trees, mango, guava, lychee, jackfruit, date. The boys grow their own vegetables and spin at their chakras. A guesthouse is hospitably open for Western visitors. The Ranchi Library contains numerous magazines and about a thousand volumes in English and Bengali, donations from the West and the East. There is a collection of the scriptures of the world. A well-classified museum displays archaeological, geological, and anthropological exhibits, trophies to a great extent of my wanderings over the Lord's varied earth.

The charitable hospital and dispensary of the Lahiri Mahasaya Mission, with many outdoor branches in distant villages, have already ministered to one hundred fifty thousand of india's poor the ranchi students are trained in first aid and have given praiseworthy service to their province at tragic times of flood or famine the orchard stands a Shiva temple with a statue of the blessed master Lahiri Mahasaya. Daily prayers and scripture classes are held in the garden under the mango bowers. Branch high schools with the residential and yoga features of Ranchi have been opened and are now flourishing.

These are the Yogara Satsunga Vidyapi schools for boys at Lakshmanpur in Bihar and the Yogara Satsunga High School and Hermitage at Ismalichak in Vindapur. A stately Yogara math was dedicated nine at dakshaneswar directly on the ganges only a few miles north of calcutta the new hermitage affords a haven of peace for city dwellers are available for Western guests and particularly for those seekers who are intensely dedicating their lives to spiritual realization. The activities at the Yogada Math include a fortnightly mailing of self-realization fellowship teachings to students in various parts of India.

It is needless to say that all these educational and humanitarian activities have required the self-sacrificing service and devotion of many teachers and workers. I do not list their names here because they are so numerous, but in my heart each one has a lustrous niche inspired by the ideals of Lahiri Mahasaya. These teachers have abandoned promising worldly goals to serve humbly, to give greatly. Mr. Wright formed many fast friendships with Ranchi boys. Clad in a simple dhoti. He lived for a while among them, at Ranchi, Calcutta, Serampore, everywhere he went.

My secretary, who has a vivid gift of description, hauled out his travel diary to record his adventures. One evening I asked him a question. dick what is your impression of india peace he said thoughtfully the racial aura is peace chapter forty