a. Obligation to have the Required Sponsorship Throughout the Period of the

I have just received a letter from Madras, informing me that my passage has been booked on a steamer sailing in a fortnight from Colombo. It means that in a few days I shall have to leave the Ashram and Maharshi. It means that the ecstatic evenings at the Master's feet which have transformed my whole being, showing vistas of a new and eternal life, have now to end.

Then what? Will there be a return to the old life? The mind does not give any answer—its silence is a trap. I know that it would be only too glad to resume its old habits of reasonings, doubts and looking for by-paths. But times have changed. Its life is no more My life, because my consciousness is now able to function without its medium and even in spite of it. It is not in the mind that I now concentrate my hope and trust. I remember well Maharshi's words:

'The mind has its role in the development of men, but this role is limited and can lead only to a certain level. Beyond it a new one begins'.

I see that the strongest weapon of the mind—curiosity and the passion for investigating transient things—does not find in me such a ready supporter as before. It now meets with criticism, born of a firm conviction that such a search leads nowhere, that it is just a vicious circle.

This reflection suffices to re-establish peace.

Oh yes, I know that nothing can push me back into the former bypaths, whether I remain in the Ashram for the rest of my life, or leave it to wander through the world.

This awareness brings an incredible, overwhelming wave ofjoy, a stream of buss beyond all words. It somewhat resembles the feeling of an all-embracing life which can never be extinguished.

I had not noticed how and when I got rid of the thought of and belief in the existence of death, not through reasoning, but through immediate experience. I only now seem to remember that in my subconsciousness there were definite and repeated attempts to imagine myself facing death, forsaking my personality, and ob-serving what then remained of myself. These almost unconscious exercises have proved that when I discard the instinctive attach-ment to the form and conditions of

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earthly life, when I am fully aware that the thing which has 'my name and appearance' m this conditioned world is only a dream, then still 'something' remains, independent and self-sufficient.

The readiness to leave 'everything' at any moment is the gate which opens the way to the infinite.

I had not noticed that in almost all circumstances, in happy as well as in painful happenings and experiences, in the background of my mind there is now always the hidden thought: 'All this has no real meaning'.

In what mysterious way the radiant vibrations of the conscious-ness of the Saint had been penetrating into the darkest comers of my mind, so limited, narrow and full of shadows, I did not know, nor did I see any reason to investigate. I understood well, not by the mind, but with all my heart, the joyous words of the great poet and mystic of India—Kabir, who, to the questions of his pupils: 'How do you know the mysteries of spiritual life ?' and 'What can be known about the aim and destiny of human life i' answered in ecstatic rapture:

'Truth exists whether we know It or not, just like the Sun which always shines, whether a blind man sees it or not. It is not im- portant whether I 'know' about the facts you ask, for—He knows, HE KNOWS'.

I remembered again from the biography of Maharshi that the life of Kabir had attracted his attention when he was a schoolboy of only fourteen, before he had met with any book about the higher spiritual life.

My pain, felt some time ago at the very thought of separation from the Master has now disappeared. Some of his words come to me in a strange way, like Irving answers, not from without as if from another man, but from within, from the depths of my own being. Just now I used a wrong expression, for can one say there are 'other men i Immediately a correction came and I grasped it and understood. How can I express my infinite gratitude for die immensity of kindness and assistance I am given

? And once more the Master says without word or voice: 'Why have you this thought? Do earthly parents expect gratitude from their infant children for all their love and protection?'

The world does not know those occult ties between the sparks of consciousness which on the physical plane take human forms. The world may even laugh at things which are beyond its com-prehension, not being contained in the sphere of three dimensions where weights and measures

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exist. Some yean ago my reaction would have been an inner revolt and criticism. Today it is silence.

This silence tells me that in every fellow-man down here, the Master dwells, and that I should see Him in everyone's eyes. Where are all the 'differences' when one abides in the land of reality? Who has ever seen a shadow there ?

* * *

During the last few days we were not allowed to meditate as usual for hours in the hall in the presence of Maharshi, for he was very weak after some new treatment. We could only enter through one door, salute the Saint, and go out through another one. This was chiefly done by visitors who came for a brief period and by the Hindu inmates of the Ashram.

One afternoon when only a young Brahmin, one of the two permanent attendants, was present, I also came into see Maharshi, at least for a moment. I felt a strange urge to obtain his approval, as it were, of all my efforts and of the modifications taking place in my consciousness under his influence. Intuition told me that I could not possibly put my side' to others. We try to hide our disharmonies, fearing that the person whose friendship we seek will turn away from us. We have to watch over our words and gestures to avoid any possible discord. All this is neither natural nor sincere. Hypocrisy, although in a subtle form, hides its head behind such actions. But nothing of this kind can exist with Maharshi, we are certain that he knows and understands every-thing in us, that he never judges and that his attitude towards us can never be changed in spite of ah1 our sins and imperfections, so clearly seen by him. And that is just the secret of his magic influ-ence, of his wonderful way of helping us most efficiently to rid ourselves of all our defects and weaknesses. But I also know that there are certain conditions which make this inner change possible; not to adhere to them is a definite hindrance to our spiritual pro-gress. Even the best camera cannot give a good picture unless the shutter opens properly, and if the shutter of our consciousness remains closed in

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the presence of the Master, how can we hope to receive the Light radiated by him?

In this I see the explanation of the fact that out of thousands of people who visited the Ashram of the Sage of Arunachala, very few were able to take full advantage of his light. Just now, in his presence, I see it clearly, but I may forget it when I have to return to worldly life and plunge into far less propitious circumstances. I am therefore anxious to write down my impressions now. Often people are unable to get rid of old prejudices, theories or accepted beliefs, and when they see Maharshi they try to give him the name of a 'Yogi', a 'Saint', a 'Mahatma', thus looking at him through their own inner coloured glasses, and labelling him by some well-known term to suit their own ideas which are the outcome of their spiritual ignorance.

Their reasoning runs more or less as follows: 'Yes, he is un-doubtedly a Saint, yet there have been greater ones in the world—

Buddha, Christ. They have certainly been quite different. We have Their teachings, and nobody can deny Their greatness'. Others say: 'In the far-off Himalayas there are Yogis who are miracle workers, they have been living for hundreds of years and controlling the forces of Nature; are they not greater, or at least equal to Maharshi ?' And so, instead of taking advantage of the living Presence, they dream about other Masters.

To these people I would like to say: 'Was it not about such as you that Christ said:'

'Having eyes, see ye not ? And having ears, hear ye not »'

Not knowing anything about other great teachers save second-hand information learned from books about Them written by Their pupils or by later historians; not having themselves seen those personages during Their earthly wanderings, such people compare Them with a living presence, whose mission is to give us the eternal truth in a form most suitable for our times. Finding them-selves face to face with the dignified and venerable presence of Maharshi, unable to feel his spiritual magnitude and glory, they still seem dissatisfied, perhaps longing to see some 'supernatural' phenomena, some dazzling light over the head of the Sage, or the instantaneous healing of their physical bodies, so immersed in sin and selfishness as they are. And if these wonders did happen, they might still disbelieve and look for hidden electric wires and lamps as agents of the 'miracles' performed, or attribute the healing to some new medicine recently taken.

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If such people had lived two thousand years ago and had seen the Great Teacher whose authority they now quote being led through the streets to an apparently ignominious and terrible death, they would have shouted brutally with the crowd when He was on the Cross:

'Ifthou be the Son of God, come down from the Cross . It is about them that He said:

' . . . They seek a sign, and there shall no sign be given them'.

Are not all 'miracles' when performed among materialistic men utterly aimless ? The reason why they take place so rarely and only under peculiar circumstances seems clear to me: Providence only allows them to happen if their results can bring a definite good.

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