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.

“Master, a gift for you! I planted these six huge cauliflowers with my own hands. I 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.”

“Thank you!” Sri Yukteswar smiled warmly with appreciation. “Please keep them in your room. I’ll need them tomorrow for a special dinner.”

MY GURU’S SEASIDE HERMITAGE AT PURI

MY GURU’S SEASIDE HERMITAGE IN PURI

A steady stream of visitors poured from the world into the hermitage tranquillity. A number of learned men came with the expectation of meeting an orthodox religionist. A supercilious smile or a glance of amused tolerance occasionally betrayed that the newcomers anticipated nothing more than a few pious platitudes. Yet their reluctant departure would bring an expressed conviction that Sri Yukteswar had shown precise insight into their specialized fields of knowledge.

A steady stream of visitors came from the outside world into the quiet hermitage. A number of scholars arrived expecting to meet a conventional religious teacher. Occasionally, a superior smile or an amused, tolerant glance revealed that the newcomers expected only a few pious clichés. Yet when they reluctantly left, they expressed their conviction that Sri Yukteswar had shown precise insight into their specialized fields.

My guru always had young resident disciples in his hermitage. He directed their minds and lives with that careful discipline in which the word “disciple” is etymologically rooted.

My guru always had young disciples living in his hermitage. He guided their minds and lives with careful discipline. The word “disciple” has its roots in such discipline.

I had just arrived in Puri [^15] 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 had just arrived in Puri [^15] to spend my college summer vacation with my guru at his seaside hermitage. Master and his disciples had built the cheerful little two-story retreat, which faces 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.

I woke early the next morning, refreshed by the salty sea breezes and the charm of my surroundings. Sri Yukteswar’s musical voice was calling me. I looked at my cherished cauliflowers and tucked 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.

“Come, let's go to the beach.” Master led the way. Several young disciples and I followed in a scattered group. Our guru looked us over with mild disapproval.

“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.

“When our Western brothers walk, they usually take pride in moving together. Now, please march in two rows. Keep your steps in rhythm with one another.” Sri Yukteswar watched as we obeyed. He began to sing: “Boys go to and fro, in a pretty little row.” I couldn’t help admiring how easily Master kept up with his young students’ brisk pace.

“Halt!” My guru’s eyes sought mine. “Did you remember to lock the back door of the hermitage?”

“Stop!” My guru tried to meet my eyes. “Did you remember to lock the back door of the hermitage?”

“I think so, sir.”

“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.”

Sri Yukteswar was silent for a few minutes, holding back a smile. “No, you forgot,” he finally said. “Contemplating God must not become an excuse for neglecting practical matters. You have neglected your duty to keep the ashram safe. You must be punished.”

I thought he was obscurely joking when he added: “Your six cauliflowers will soon be only five.”

I thought he was making a puzzling joke 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.

At Master’s orders, we turned around and marched back until we were near 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.”

“Rest for a while. Mukunda, look across the compound to our left. Notice the road beyond it. A certain man will arrive there soon. He will be the means of your punishment.”

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.”

I hid my annoyance at these puzzling remarks. A peasant soon appeared on the road. He was dancing strangely and throwing his arms around in meaningless gestures. Almost frozen with curiosity, I couldn’t take my eyes off the hilarious sight. As the man reached a spot on the road where he would disappear from view, Sri Yukteswar spoke. “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 peasant immediately changed direction and headed for the back of the ashram. He crossed a sandy stretch and entered the building through the back door. I had left the door unlocked, just as my guru had said. The man came out shortly afterward, holding one of my prized cauliflowers. He now strode along like a respectable man, carrying himself with the dignity of someone who owned something.

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.

The unfolding farce seemed to cast me as its confused victim. But I was not too rattled to give chase in anger. I was halfway to the road when Master called me back. 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!”

“That poor crazy man has been longing for a cauliflower,” he explained between bursts of laughter. “I thought it would be a good idea if he got one of your poorly guarded cauliflowers!”

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 rushed to my room and found that the thief had apparently been obsessed with vegetables. He had left my gold rings, watch, and money untouched, all lying openly on the blanket. Instead, he had crawled under the bed, where one of my cauliflowers was completely hidden from casual view. That cauliflower had become the sole object of his desire.

I asked Sri Yukteswar that evening to explain the incident which had, I thought, a few baffling features.

That evening, I asked Sri Yukteswar to explain the incident. A few details had puzzled me.

My guru shook his head slowly. “You will understand it someday. Science will soon discover a few of these hidden laws.”

My guru slowly shook his head. “You’ll 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.

When the wonders of radio amazed the world some years later, I remembered Master’s prediction. Age-old ideas about time and space were shattered. No peasant’s home was too small for London or Calcutta to enter! Even the dullest minds expanded before undeniable proof of one aspect of humanity’s ability to be everywhere at once.

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. [^15] 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.

The “plot” of the cauliflower comedy is best understood through a radio analogy. Sri Yukteswar was a perfect human radio. Thoughts are nothing more than very gentle vibrations moving through the ether. A sensitive radio picks up a particular piece of music from thousands of other programs coming from every direction. Just as a radio selects a program, my guru had picked up the thought of a simple-minded man craving a cauliflower. He had caught that thought among the countless thoughts broadcast by human wills around the world. [^15] Through his powerful will, Master was also a human broadcasting station. He had successfully directed the peasant to turn back and go to a certain room for a single cauliflower.

Intuition [^15] 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.

Intuition [^15] is guidance from the soul. It arises naturally in people during moments when their minds are calm. Nearly everyone has had an inexplicably correct “hunch” or has successfully passed their thoughts 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.

When free from the static of restlessness, the human mind can use intuition as an antenna. Through this antenna, the mind can perform all the functions of complex radio equipment. It can send and receive thoughts and tune out unwanted ones. Just as a radio’s power depends on how much electrical current it can use, the human radio depends on willpower. Each person’s strength of will determines how much energy their human radio receives.

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.

All thoughts vibrate forever in the cosmos. Through deep concentration, a master can detect the thoughts of any mind, living or dead. Thoughts are rooted in the universe, not in individuals. A truth cannot be created, but only perceived. People's mistaken thoughts come from flaws in their understanding. The goal of the science of yoga is to calm the mind. Then the mind may reflect the divine vision in the universe without distortion.

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.

Radio and television have instantly brought the sounds and images of distant people into millions of homes. These are the first faint scientific hints that human beings are spirits present everywhere. We are not bodies confined to one point in space, but vast souls. The ego tries in vain, in the most brutal ways, to confine the soul.

“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.”

“Very strange, very wonderful, seemingly very unlikely phenomena may still appear. Once established, these phenomena will astonish us no more than everything science has taught us over the last century,” declared Charles Robert Richet, Nobel Prize winner in physiology. “People assume that the phenomena we now accept without surprise no longer astonish us because we understand them. But that is not true. These phenomena do not surprise us because they are familiar, not because we understand them. For if everything we do not understand should surprise us, we should be surprised at everything. A stone thrown into the air falls. An acorn becomes an oak. Mercury expands when heated. A magnet attracts iron. Phosphorus burns when rubbed. . . . Today’s science amounts to very little. Over a hundred thousand years, science will undergo revolutions and developments far beyond the boldest predictions. The truths our descendants will discover, those surprising, amazing, unforeseen truths, are already all around us. Those truths are staring us in the eyes, so to speak, yet we do not see them. But saying we do not see them is not enough. We do not wish to see them. For as soon as an unexpected and unfamiliar fact appears, we try to fit that fact into familiar, established knowledge. And we are outraged 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.

Something funny happened a few days after a cauliflower had been stolen from me in such an unlikely way. A kerosene lamp had gone missing. I had just witnessed my guru’s all-knowing insight, so I thought he would show how easily he could find 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.

Master noticed my expectation. With exaggerated seriousness, he questioned everyone living at the ashram. A young disciple admitted he had used the lamp to go to the well in the backyard.

Sri Yukteswar gave the solemn counsel: “Seek the lamp near the well.”

Sri Yukteswar gave this solemn advice: “Look for 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.

I rushed there. No lamp! Disappointed, I returned to my guru. He was now laughing heartily, without feeling the least bit sorry for my disappointment.

“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!”

“Too bad I couldn’t tell you where the missing lamp was. I’m not a fortune teller!” With twinkling eyes, he added, “I’m not even a decent Sherlock Holmes!”

I realized that Master would never display his powers when challenged, or for a triviality.

I realized that Master would never show his powers in response to a challenge or for anything trivial.

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.

Delightful weeks flew by. Sri Yukteswar was planning a religious procession. He asked me to lead the disciples through the town and along the beach in Puri. The day of the celebration began as one of the hottest of the summer.

“Guruji, how can I take the barefooted students over the fiery sands?” I spoke despairingly.

“Guruji, how can I take the barefoot students across the burning hot sand?” I asked in despair.

“I will tell you a secret,” Master responded. “The Lord will send an umbrella of clouds; you all shall walk in comfort.”

“I’ll tell you a secret,” Master replied. “The Lord will send an umbrella of clouds. You will all walk in comfort.”

I happily organized the procession; our group started from the ashram with a Sat-Sanga banner. [^15] Designed by Sri Yukteswar, it bore the symbol of the single [^15] eye, the telescopic gaze of intuition.

I happily organized the procession. Our group set out from the ashram with a Sat-Sanga banner. [^15] Designed by Sri Yukteswar, the banner showed the symbol of the single [^15] 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 clouds and rain passed away tracelessly.

As soon as we left the hermitage, the sky overhead filled with clouds as though by magic. Amid astonished cries from all sides, a very light shower cooled the city streets and the scorching seashore. The soothing drops fell throughout the two-hour parade. At the exact moment our group returned to the ashram, the clouds and rain vanished without a trace.

“You see how God feels for us,” Master replied after I had expressed my gratitude. “The Lord responds to all and works for all. Just as He sent rain at my plea, so He fulfills any sincere desire of the devotee. Seldom do men realize how often God heeds their prayers. He is not partial to a few, but listens to everyone who approaches Him trustingly. His children should ever have implicit faith in the loving-kindness of their Omnipresent Father.” [^15]

“You see how God cares for us,” Master replied after I had thanked him. “The Lord responds to everyone and works for everyone. Just as he sent rain when I pleaded, so he fulfills any sincere desire of a devotee. People rarely realize how often God answers their prayers. He does not favor a few, but listens to everyone who approaches him with trust. His children should always trust completely in the loving kindness of their Father, who is present everywhere.” [^15]

Sri Yukteswar sponsored four yearly festivals, at the equinoxes and solstices, when his students gathered from far and near. The winter solstice celebration was held in Serampore; the first one I attended left me with a permanent blessing.

Sri Yukteswar sponsored four festivals each year, at the equinoxes and solstices. His students came from near and far to gather for these festivals. The winter solstice celebration took place in Serampore. The first one I attended left me with a lasting blessing.

The festivities started in the morning with a barefoot procession along the streets. The voices of a hundred students rang out with sweet religious songs; a few musicians played the flute and khol kartal (drums and cymbals). Enthusiastic townspeople strewed the path with flowers, glad to be summoned from prosaic tasks by our resounding praise of the Lord’s blessed name. The long tour ended in the courtyard of the hermitage. There we encircled our guru, while students on upper balconies showered us with marigold blossoms.

The festivities began in the morning with a barefoot procession through the streets. A hundred students sang sweet religious songs, their voices ringing out. A few musicians played the flute and khol kartal (drums and cymbals). Enthusiastic townspeople scattered flowers along our path. They were glad our resounding praise of the Lord’s blessed name had called them away from their everyday tasks. The long procession ended in the courtyard of the hermitage. There we gathered around our guru, while students on the upper balconies showered us with marigold blossoms.

Many guests went upstairs to receive a pudding of channa and oranges. I made my way to a group of brother disciples who were serving today as cooks. Food for such large gatherings had to be cooked outdoors in huge cauldrons. The improvised wood-burning brick stoves were smoky and tear-provoking, but we laughed merrily at our work. Religious festivals in India are never considered troublesome; each one does his part, supplying money, rice, vegetables, or his personal services.

Many guests went upstairs for a pudding of channa and oranges. I joined a group of fellow disciples who were serving as cooks that day. Food for such large gatherings had to be cooked outdoors in huge pots. The makeshift wood-burning brick stoves gave off smoke that made our eyes water, but we laughed happily as we worked. Religious festivals in India are never seen as a burden. Everyone does their part, contributing money, rice, vegetables, or their own labor.

Master was soon in our midst, supervising the details of the feast. Busy every moment, he kept pace with the most energetic young student.

Master soon joined us, overseeing the details of the feast. Busy every moment, he kept up with the most energetic young student.

A sankirtan (group chanting), accompanied by the harmonium and hand- played Indian drums, was in progress on the second floor. Sri Yukteswar listened appreciatively; his musical sense was acutely perfect.

A sankirtan (group chanting) was underway on the second floor, accompanied by a harmonium and hand-played Indian drums. Sri Yukteswar listened with appreciation. His musical sense was exceptionally sharp and flawless.

“They are off key!” Master left the cooks and joined the artists. The melody was heard again, this time correctly rendered.

“They are off key!” Master left the cooks and joined the musicians. The melody played again, correctly this time.

In India, music as well as painting and the drama is considered a divine art. Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva-the Eternal Trinity-were the first musicians. The Divine Dancer Shiva is scripturally represented as having worked out the infinite modes of rhythm in His cosmic dance of universal creation, preservation, and dissolution, while Brahma accentuated the time-beat with the clanging cymbals, and Vishnu sounded the holy mridanga or drum. Krishna, an incarnation of Vishnu, is always shown in Hindu art with a flute, on which he plays the enrapturing song that recalls to their true home the human souls wandering in maya -delusion. Saraswati, goddess of wisdom, is symbolized as performing on the vina , mother of all stringed instruments. The Sama Veda of India contains the world’s earliest writings on musical science.

In India, music, painting, and drama are considered divine arts. Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva, the Eternal Trinity, were the first musicians. Scripture portrays Shiva, the Divine Dancer, as creating the infinite forms of rhythm through his cosmic dance. This dance creates, preserves, and dissolves the universe. As Shiva danced, Brahma marked the beat with clanging cymbals, and Vishnu played the holy mridanga, or drum. Krishna, an incarnation of Vishnu, is always shown in Hindu art with a flute. On this flute, he plays an enchanting song that calls human souls wandering in maya, or delusion, back to their true home. Saraswati, goddess of wisdom, is depicted playing the vina, the mother of all stringed instruments. India’s Sama Veda contains the world’s earliest writings on the science of music.

The foundation stone of Hindu music is the ragas or fixed melodic scales. The six basic ragas branch out into 126 derivative raginis (wives) and putras (sons). Each raga has a minimum of five notes: a leading note (vadi or king), a secondary note (samavadi or prime minister), helping notes (anuvadi , attendants), and a dissonant note (vivadi , the enemy).

Hindu music is built on the ragas, or fixed melodic scales. The six basic ragas branch into 126 related raginis (wives) and putras (sons). Each raga has at least five notes. These include a leading note (vadi or king) and a secondary note (samavadi or prime minister). There are also supporting notes (anuvadi, attendants) and a dissonant note (vivadi, the enemy).

Each one of the six basic ragas has a natural correspondence with a certain hour of the day, season of the year, and a presiding deity who bestows a particular potency. Thus, (1) the Hindole Raga is heard only at dawn in the spring, to evoke the mood of universal love; (2) Deepaka Raga is played during the evening in summer, to arouse compassion; (3) Megha Raga is a melody for midday in the rainy season, to summon courage; (4) Bhairava Raga is played in the mornings of August, September, October, to achieve tranquillity; (5) Sri Raga is reserved for autumn twilights, to attain pure love; (6) Malkounsa Raga is heard at midnights in winter, for valor.

Each of the six basic ragas naturally corresponds to a particular time of day and season of the year. Each also has a presiding deity who gives it a particular power. Thus, (1) the Hindole Raga is heard only at dawn in spring, to evoke a feeling of universal love. (2) Deepaka Raga is played on summer evenings, to awaken compassion. (3) Megha Raga is a midday melody for the rainy season, to summon courage. (4) Bhairava Raga is played on mornings in August, September, and October, to bring peace of mind. (5) Sri Raga is reserved for autumn twilight, to attain pure love. (6) Malkounsa Raga is heard at midnight in winter, to inspire bravery.

The ancient rishis discovered these laws of sound alliance between nature and man. Because nature is an objectification of Aum , the Primal Sound or Vibratory Word, man can obtain control over all natural manifestations through the use of certain mantras or chants. [^15] Historical documents tell of the remarkable powers possessed by Miyan Tan Sen, sixteenth century court musician for Akbar the Great. Commanded by the Emperor to sing a night raga while the sun was overhead, Tan Sen intoned a mantra which instantly caused the whole palace precincts to become enveloped in darkness.

The ancient rishis discovered these laws linking nature and humanity through sound. Nature is a physical expression of Aum, the Primal Sound or Vibratory Word. Because of this, people can control all natural manifestations by using certain mantras or chants. [^15] Historical documents describe the remarkable powers of Miyan Tan Sen, a sixteenth-century court musician for Akbar the Great. The Emperor commanded Tan Sen to sing a night raga while the sun was overhead. Tan Sen chanted a mantra that instantly covered the entire palace grounds in darkness.

Indian music divides the octave into 22 srutis or demi-semitones. These microtonal intervals permit fine shades of musical expression unattainable by the Western chromatic scale of 12 semitones. Each one of the seven basic notes of the octave is associated in Hindu mythology with a color, and the natural cry of a bird or beast-Do with green, and the peacock; Re with red, and the skylark; Mi with golden, and the goat; Fa with yellowish white, and the heron; Sol with black, and the nightingale; La with yellow, and the horse; Si with a combination of all colors, and the elephant.

Indian music divides the octave into 22 srutis, or half-semitones. These tiny intervals allow subtle shades of musical expression that the Western chromatic scale of 12 semitones cannot achieve. In Hindu mythology, each of the octave’s seven basic notes is linked to a color and an animal’s natural call. Do is linked to green and the peacock. Re is linked to red and the skylark. Mi is linked to gold and the goat. Fa is linked to yellowish white and the heron. Sol is linked to black and the nightingale. La is linked to yellow and the horse. Si is linked to a combination of all colors and the elephant.

Three scales-major, harmonic minor, melodic minor-are the only ones which Occidental music employs, but Indian music outlines 72 thatas or scales. The musician has a creative scope for endless improvisation around the fixed traditional melody or raga ; he concentrates on the sentiment or definitive mood of the structural theme and then embroiders it to the limits of his own originality. The Hindu musician does not read set notes; he clothes anew at each playing the bare skeleton of the raga , often confining himself to a single melodic sequence, stressing by repetition all its subtle microtonal and rhythmic variations. Bach, among Western composers, had an understanding of the charm and power of repetitious sound slightly differentiated in a hundred complex ways.

Western music uses only three scales: major, harmonic minor, and melodic minor. But Indian music sets out 72 thatas or scales. The musician has endless scope to improvise around the fixed traditional melody or raga. He focuses on the feeling or defining mood of the underlying theme. Then he embellishes the theme as far as his originality allows. The Hindu musician does not read written notes. At each performance, he gives fresh expression to the bare framework of the raga. He often limits himself to a single melodic sequence, emphasizing all its subtle microtonal and rhythmic variations through repetition. Among Western composers, Bach understood the charm and power of repeated sounds varied slightly in a hundred complex ways.

Ancient Sanskrit literature describes 120 talas or time-measures. The traditional founder of Hindu music, Bharata, is said to have isolated 32 kinds of tala in the song of a lark. The origin of tala or rhythm is rooted in human movements-the double time of walking, and the triple time of respiration in sleep, when inhalation is twice the length of exhalation. India has always recognized the human voice as the most perfect instrument of sound. Hindu music therefore largely confines itself to the voice range of three octaves. For the same reason, melody (relation of successive notes) is stressed, rather than harmony (relation of simultaneous notes).

Ancient Sanskrit literature describes 120 talas, or measures of time. Bharata, traditionally considered the founder of Hindu music, is said to have identified 32 kinds of tala in a lark’s song. The origin of tala, or rhythm, lies in human movements. Walking has a two-beat rhythm, while breathing during sleep has a three-beat rhythm, with inhalation lasting twice as long as exhalation. India has always recognized the human voice as the most perfect instrument of sound. Hindu music therefore stays largely within the voice’s three-octave range. For the same reason, Hindu music emphasizes melody (the relationship between successive notes) rather than harmony (the relationship between simultaneous notes).

The deeper aim of the early rishi-musicians was to blend the singer with the Cosmic Song which can be heard through awakening of man’s occult spinal centers. Indian music is a subjective, spiritual, and individualistic art, aiming not at symphonic brilliance but at personal harmony with the Oversoul. The Sanskrit word for musician is bhagavathar , “he who sings the praises of God.” The sankirtans or musical gatherings are an effective form of yoga or spiritual discipline, necessitating deep concentration, intense absorption in the seed thought and sound. Because man himself is an expression of the Creative Word, sound has the most potent and immediate effect on him, offering a way to remembrance of his divine origin.

The deeper aim of the early rishi-musicians was to unite the singer with the Cosmic Song. This song can be heard by awakening the hidden spiritual centers in the spine. Indian music is a subjective, spiritual, and individualistic art. It seeks not symphonic brilliance but personal harmony with the Oversoul. The Sanskrit word for musician is bhagavathar, “he who sings the praises of God.” The sankirtans, or musical gatherings, are an effective form of yoga, or spiritual discipline. They require deep concentration and intense absorption in the central thought and sound. Because human beings are themselves expressions of the Creative Word, sound has the most powerful and immediate effect on them. Sound offers a way to remember their divine origin.

The sankirtan issuing from Sri Yukteswar’s second-story sitting room on the day of the festival was inspiring to the cooks amidst the steaming pots. My brother disciples and I joyously sang the refrains, beating time with our hands.

On the festival day, sankirtan came from Sri Yukteswar’s second-floor sitting room, inspiring the cooks among the steaming pots. My fellow disciples and I sang the refrains joyfully, keeping time with our hands.

By sunset we had served our hundreds of visitors with khichuri (rice and lentils), vegetable curry, and rice pudding. We laid cotton blankets over the courtyard; soon the assemblage was squatting under the starry vault, quietly attentive to the wisdom pouring from Sri Yukteswar’s lips. His public speeches emphasized the value of Kriya Yoga, and a life of self-respect, calmness, determination, simple diet, and regular exercise.

By sunset we had served our hundreds of visitors khichuri (rice and lentils), vegetable curry, and rice pudding. We spread cotton blankets over the courtyard. Soon everyone was squatting beneath the stars, listening quietly to the wisdom Sri Yukteswar shared. His public talks emphasized the value of Kriya Yoga and a life of self-respect, calmness, and determination. He also emphasized a simple diet and regular exercise.

A group of very young disciples then chanted a few sacred hymns; the meeting concluded with sankirtan . From ten o’clock until midnight, the ashram residents washed pots and pans, and cleared the courtyard. My guru called me to his side.

A group of very young disciples then chanted a few sacred hymns. The meeting ended with sankirtan. From ten o’clock until midnight, the ashram residents washed pots and pans and cleaned up the courtyard. My guru called me to his side.

“I am pleased over your cheerful labors today and during the past week of preparations. I want you with me; you may sleep in my bed tonight.”

“I’m pleased with your cheerful work today and throughout the past week of preparations. I want you with me. You may sleep in my bed tonight.”

This was a privilege I had never thought would fall to my lot. We sat awhile in a state of intense divine tranquillity. Hardly ten minutes after we had gotten into bed, Master rose and began to dress.

This was a privilege I had never expected to have. We sat for a while in deep, divine peace. Hardly ten minutes after we had gotten into bed, Master got up and began to dress.

“What is the matter, sir?” I felt a tinge of unreality in the unexpected joy of sleeping beside my guru.

“What’s wrong, sir?” The unexpected joy of sleeping beside my guru felt slightly unreal.

“I think that a few students who missed their proper train connections will be here soon. Let us have some food ready.”

“I think a few students who missed their train connections will be here soon. Let’s have some food ready.”

“Guruji, no one would come at one o’clock in the morning!”

“Guruji, no one would come at one in the morning!”

“Stay in bed; you have been working very hard. But I am going to cook.”

“Stay in bed. You’ve been working very hard. But I’m going to cook.”

At Sri Yukteswar’s resolute tone, I jumped up and followed him to the small daily-used kitchen adjacent to the second-floor inner balcony. Rice and dhal were soon boiling.

At Sri Yukteswar’s firm tone, I jumped up and followed him to the small kitchen used every day. The kitchen was next to the inner balcony on the second floor. Rice and dhal were soon boiling.

My guru smiled affectionately. “Tonight you have conquered fatigue and fear of hard work; you shall never be bothered by them in the future.”

My guru smiled warmly. “Tonight you have overcome fatigue and fear of hard work. Neither will ever bother you again.”

As he uttered these words of lifelong blessing, footsteps sounded in the courtyard. I ran downstairs and admitted a group of students.

As he spoke these words of lifelong blessing, footsteps sounded in the courtyard. I ran downstairs and let in a group of students.

“Dear brother, how reluctant we are to disturb Master at this hour!” One man addressed me apologetically. “We made a mistake about train schedules, but felt we could not return home without a glimpse of our guru.”

“Dear brother, we’re so reluctant to disturb Master at this hour!” one man said to me apologetically. “We got the train schedules wrong, but felt we couldn’t return home without at least a glimpse of our guru.”

“He has been expecting you and is even now preparing your food.”

“He’s been expecting you and is preparing your food right now.”

Sri Yukteswar’s welcoming voice rang out; I led the astonished visitors to the kitchen. Master turned to me with twinkling eyes.

Sri Yukteswar’s welcoming voice rang out. I led the astonished visitors to the kitchen. Master turned to me, his eyes twinkling.

“Now that you have finished comparing notes, no doubt you are satisfied that our guests really did miss their train!”

“Now that you’ve finished comparing notes, you’re no doubt convinced that our guests really did miss their train!”

I followed him to his bedroom a half hour later, realizing fully that I was about to sleep beside a godlike guru.

Half an hour later, I followed him to his bedroom. I was fully aware that I was about to sleep beside a godlike guru.

15-1: Puri, about 310 miles south of Calcutta, is a famous pilgrimage city for devotees of Krishna; his worship is celebrated there with two immense annual festivals, Snanayatra and Rathayatra .

15-1: Puri is about 310 miles south of Calcutta. It is a famous pilgrimage city for devotees of Krishna. Two huge annual festivals, Snanayatra and Rathayatra, celebrate the worship of Krishna there.

15-2: The 1939 discovery of a radio microscope revealed a new world of hitherto unknown rays. “Man himself as well as all kinds of supposedly inert matter constantly emits the rays that this instrument ‘sees,’” reported the Associated Press . “Those who believe in telepathy, second sight, and clairvoyance, have in this announcement the first scientific proof of the existence of invisible rays which really travel from one person to another. The radio device actually is a radio frequency spectroscope. It does the same thing for cool, nonglowing matter that the spectroscope does when it discloses the kinds of atoms that make the stars. . . . The existence of such rays coming from man and all living things has been suspected by scientists for many years. Today is the first experimental proof of their existence. The discovery shows that every atom and every molecule in nature is a continuous radio broadcasting station. . . . Thus even after death the substance that was a man continues to send out its delicate rays. The wave lengths of these rays range from shorter than anything now used in broadcasting to the longest kind of radio waves. The jumble of these rays is almost inconceivable. There are millions of them. A single very large molecule may give off 1,000,000 different wave lengths at the same time. The longer wave lengths of this sort travel with the ease and speed of radio waves. . . . There is one amazing difference between the new radio rays and familiar rays like light. This is the prolonged time, amounting to thousands of years, which these radio waves will keep on emitting from undisturbed matter.”

15-2: The discovery of a radio microscope in 1939 revealed a new world of previously unknown rays. “Humans and all kinds of supposedly inert matter constantly emit rays that this instrument ‘sees,’” reported the Associated Press. “For believers in telepathy, second sight, and clairvoyance, this announcement offers the first scientific proof of invisible rays. These rays really travel from one person to another. The radio device is actually a radio frequency spectroscope. It does for cool, nonglowing matter what the spectroscope does when it reveals the kinds of atoms making up stars. . . . Scientists have suspected for many years that humans and all living things emit such rays. Today brings the first experimental proof that these rays exist. The discovery shows that every atom and every molecule in nature is a continuously broadcasting radio station. . . . Thus, even after death, the substance that made up a person continues to send out its delicate rays. These rays range in wavelength from shorter than anything now used in broadcasting to the longest radio waves. The jumble of these rays is almost unimaginable. There are millions of them. A single very large molecule may give off 1,000,000 different wavelengths at the same time. The longer wavelengths of this kind travel with the ease and speed of radio waves. . . . There is one amazing difference between the new radio rays and familiar rays like light. Undisturbed matter will keep emitting these radio waves for thousands of years.”

15-3: One hesitates to use “intuition”; Hitler has almost ruined the word along with more ambitious devastations. The Latin root meaning of intuition is “inner protection.” The Sanskrit word agama means intuitional knowledge born of direct soul-perception; hence certain ancient treatises by the rishis were called agamas .

15-3: One hesitates to use “intuition.” Hitler has almost ruined the word, alongside his more ambitious acts of destruction. The Latin root meaning of intuition is “inner protection.” The Sanskrit word agama means intuitive knowledge born of direct perception by the soul. So certain ancient treatises by the rishis were called agamas.

15-4: Sat is literally “being,” hence “essence; reality.” Sanga is “association.” Sri Yukteswar called his hermitage organization Sat-Sanga , “fellowship with truth.”

15-4: Sat literally means “being,” and therefore “essence, reality.” Sanga means “association.” Sri Yukteswar called his hermitage organization Sat-Sanga, “fellowship with truth.”

15-5: “If therefore thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light.”-Matthew 6:22. During deep meditation, the single or spiritual eye becomes visible within the central part of the forehead. This omniscient eye is variously referred to in scriptures as the third eye, the star of the East, the inner eye, the dove descending from heaven, the eye of Shiva, the eye of intuition, etc.

15-5: “Therefore, if your eye is single, your whole body will be full of light.” Matthew 6:22. During deep meditation, the single or spiritual eye becomes visible in the center of the forehead. Scriptures give this all-knowing eye various names. These include the third eye, the star of the East, the inner eye, and the dove descending from heaven. Other names include the eye of Shiva, the eye of intuition, and others.

15-6: “He that planted the ear, shall he not hear? he that formed the eye, shall he not see? . . . he that teacheth man knowledge, shall he not know?”-Psalm 94:9-10.

15-6: “Does he who made the ear not hear? Does he who formed the eye not see? . . . Does he who teaches people knowledge not know?” Psalm 94:9-10.

15-7: Folklore of all peoples contains references to incantations with power over nature. The American Indians are well-known to have developed sound rituals for rain and wind. Tan Sen, the great Hindu musician, was able to quench fire by the power of his song. Charles Kellogg, the California naturalist, gave a demonstration of the effect of tonal vibration on fire in 1926 before a group of New York firemen. “Passing a bow, like an enlarged violin bow, swiftly across an aluminum tuning fork, he produced a screech like intense radio static. Instantly the yellow gas flame, two feet high, leaping inside a hollow glass tube, subsided to a height of six inches and became a sputtering blue flare. Another attempt with the bow, and another screech of vibration, extinguished it.”

15-7: The folklore of all peoples includes references to chants with power over nature. American Indians are well known for developing sound rituals for rain and wind. Tan Sen, the great Hindu musician, could put out fire through the power of his song. In 1926, Charles Kellogg, the California naturalist, demonstrated the effect of sound vibrations on fire to New York firefighters. “He quickly drew a bow, like a large violin bow, across an aluminum tuning fork. The tuning fork produced a screech like intense radio static. A yellow gas flame was leaping two feet high inside a hollow glass tube. Instantly, the flame shrank to six inches and became a sputtering blue flare. Another stroke of the bow produced another screeching vibration and put out the flame.”