I Return to India Gratefully I was inhaling the blessed air of India. Our boat Rajputana docked on August 22, 1935, in the huge harbor of Bombay. Even this, my first day off the ship, was a foretaste of the ceaselessly busy year ahead. Friends had gathered at the dock to welcome us with flower garlands; soon, at our suite in the Taj Mahal Hotel, we received several groups 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 sight-seeing, 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.¹
Our arrival at Howrah Station found such an immense crowd assembled to greet us that for a while we were unable to disembark from the train. The young Maharaja of Kasimbazar and my brother Bishnu headed the reception committee; I was unprepared for the warmth and magnitude of our welcome. Preceded by a line of automobiles and motorcycles, and amidst the joyous sounds of drums and conchs, Miss Bletsch, Mr. Wright, and I, 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. Brothers and sisters, uncles, aunts, and cousins, students and friends 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. As for my meeting with Sri Yukteswar, words fail me; let the following description from my secretary suffice:
"Today, filled with the highest anticipations, I drove Yoganandaji from Calcutta to Serampore," Mr. Wright recorded in his travel diary. "We passed by quaint shops — one of them the favorite eating place of Yoganandaji during his college days — and finally entered a narrow, walled lane. A sudden left turn, and there before us stood the two-story brick ashram of the master, its grilled 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. Hearts beating fast, we proceeded up some old cement steps; trod, no doubt, by countless truth seekers. Our tension grew keener and keener as on we strode. Before us, near the head of the stairs, quietly appeared the Great One, Swami Sri Yukteswarji, standing in the noble pose of a sage.
"My heart heaved and swelled at the blessing 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 the guru's feet, and then, in humble obeisance, his own forehead. He rose then and was embraced on both sides on the bosom by Sri Yukteswarji. "No words passed in the beginning, but intense feeling was expressed in the mute phrases of the soul. How their eyes sparkled with the warmth of reunion! A tender vibration surged through the quiet patio, and the sun suddenly eluded the clouds to add a 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 gazed into his beautiful eyes — deep with introspection yet radiant with joy. "We entered his sitting room, whose whole side opens to the balcony first seen from the street. The master sat on a covered mattress placed on the cement floor, bracing himself against a worn davenport. Yoganandaji and I sat near the guru's feet, with orange-colored pillows to lean against and to ease our positions on the straw mat.
"I tried without much success to understand the gist of the talk in Bengali between the two Swamijis (for they do not use English, I discovered, when they are together; although Swamiji Maharaj, as the great guru is called by others, can and often does speak it). But I easily perceived the saintliness of the Great One through his heart-warming smile and twinkling eyes. Quickly discernible in his merry or serious conversation is a positiveness in statement: the mark of a sage — one who knows he knows, because he knows God. The master's great wisdom, strength of purpose, and determination are apparent in every way.
"He was simply clad; his dhoti and shirt, once dyed an ocher color, are now a faded orange. Studying him reverently from time to time, I noted that he is of large, athletic stature; his body hardened by the trials and sacrifices of a renunciant's life. His poise is majestic. He moves with dignified tread and erect posture. A jovial and rollicking laugh comes from the depths of his chest, causing his whole body to shake and quiver.
"His austere face strikingly conveys an impression of divine power. His hair, parted in the middle, is white around the forehead, streaked elsewhere with silvery gold and silvery black, and ends in ringlets at his shoulders. His beard and moustache are scant or thinned out, and seem to enhance his features. His forehead slopes, as though seeking the heavens. His dark eyes are haloed by an ethereal blue ring. 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. In repose his mouth is stern, yet subtly touched with tenderness.
SRI YUKTESWAR AND YOGANANDAJI, CALCUTTA, 1935 "Because of my guru's unspectacular guise, only a few of his contemporaries recognized him as a superman," Sri Yogananda said. "Though born a mortal like all others, Sri Yukteswar achieved identity with the Ruler of time and space. Master found no insuperable obstacle to the mergence of human and Divine. No such barrier exists, I came to understand, save in man's spiritual unadventurousness." "Glancing here and there, I observed that the somewhat dilapidated room suggests the owner's nonattachment to material comforts. The weather-stained white walls of the long chamber are streaked with fading blue plaster. At one end of the room hangs the unique picture of Lahiri Mahasaya, devotionally adorned with a simple garland. There is also an old photograph showing Yoganandaji at the time of his arrival in Boston, standing with other delegates to the Congress of Religions.
"I noted a quaint concurrence of old and new. A huge cut-glass candlelight chandelier is covered with cobwebs through long disuse; and on the wall hangs a bright up-to-date calendar. The room emanates a fragrance of peace and happiness. "Beyond the balcony, coconut palms tower over the hermitage as though in silent protection. "The master needs merely to clap his hands; before finishing, he is attended by some small disciple. One of them, a thin lad named Prafulla,² has long black hair, sparkling black eyes, and a heavenly smile: his eyes twinkle as the corners of his mouth rise, like stars and a crescent moon suddenly appearing at twilight. "Swami Sri Yukteswarji's joy is obviously intense at the return of his 'product' (and he seems to be somewhat inquisitive about me, the 'product's product'). However, the predominance of wisdom in the Great One's nature hinders his outward expression of feeling.
"Yoganandaji presented him with some gifts, as is the custom when a disciple returns to his guru. We sat down later to a simple but well-cooked meal of vegetables and rice. Sri Yukteswarji was pleased at my observance 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 pranam,² and departed for Calcutta with an everlasting memory of a sacred meeting. Although I write chiefly of my external impressions of the master, yet I was always conscious of his spiritual glory. I felt his power, and shall ever retain that feeling as my divine blessing."
From America, Europe, and Palestine I had brought many presents for Sri Yukteswar. He received them smilingly, but without remark. For my own use, I had bought in Germany a combination umbrella-cane. In India I decided to give the cane to Master. "This gift I appreciate indeed!" My guru's eyes were turned on me with affectionate understanding as he made the unwonted comment. From 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 Sri 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 nice and clean; I am monarch in my own little kingdom. Beyond it is the vast world, interested only in externals." As he uttered these words I felt the years roll back; once again I am a young disciple, purified daily in fires of chastisement!
Second-floor dining balcony of Sri Yukteswar's hermitage at Serampore, 1935. Sri Yogananda (center) is seated near his guru (standing, right). As soon as I could tear myself away from Serampore and Calcutta, I set out, with Mr. Wright, for Ranchi. What a welcome there, a touching ovation! Tears stood in my eyes as I embraced the selfless teachers who had kept the banner of the school flying during my fifteen years' absence. The bright faces and happy smiles of the residential and day students were ample testimony to the worth of their careful school and yoga training.
Yet, alas, the Ranchi institution was in dire financial difficulties. Sir Manindra Chandra Nundy, the old Maharaja whose Kasimbazar 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 seriously endangered for lack of sufficient public support. I had not spent years in America without 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 Kasimbazar, a financial appeal to my father, and lo! the shaky foundations of the Ranchi school began to be righted. Many donations 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 was fulfilled. That aspiration had guided me in the humble beginnings in 1917 with a group of seven boys. The school, Yogoda Satsanga Brahmacharya Vidyalaya, conducts outdoor classes in grammar- and high-school subjects. The resident students and day scholars also receive vocational training of some kind.
The boys themselves regulate many of their activities through autonomous committees. Very early in my career as an educator I discovered that boys who may 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 football² practice. Ranchi students often win the cup at competitive events. The boys are taught the Yogoda method of muscle recharging through will power; mental direction of life energy to any part of the body. They also learn asanas (postures) and sword and lathi (stick) play. Trained in first aid, the Ranchi students have given praiseworthy service to their province in tragic times of flood or famine. The boys work in the garden and grow their own vegetables.
Instruction in Hindi in primary-school subjects is provided for Kols, Santals, and Mundas, aboriginal tribes of the province. Classes for girls only are conducted 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. In 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.
Yogoda Satsanga Sevashram ("Home of Service") Hospital on the Ranchi estate offers free surgical and medical aid to many thousands of India's poor. Ranchi lies 2000 feet above sea level; the climate is mild and equable. The twenty-five-acre site, by a large bathing pond, includes one of the finest private orchards in India: five hundred fruit trees — mango, date, guava, litchi, jackfruit. The Ranchi library contains numerous magazines and 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 precious stones and archaeological, geological, and anthropological exhibits: trophies, to a great extent, of my wanderings over the Lord's varied earth.⁵
Branch high schools, with the residential and yoga features of Ranchi, have been opened and are now flourishing. These are Yogoda Satsanga Vidyapith (School) for boys at Lakhanpur in West Bengal, and the high school and hermitage at Ejmalichak in Midnapore, Bengal.⁶ A stately Yogoda Math (ashram) in Dakshineswar, fronting the Ganges, was dedicated in 1939. Only a few miles north of Calcutta, the hermitage affords a haven of peace for city dwellers. The Dakshineswar Math is the headquarters in India of Yogoda Satsanga Society and its schools, centers, and hermitages in various parts of India. Yogoda Satsanga Society of India is legally affiliated with the international headquarters: Self-Realization Fellowship in Los Angeles, California, U.S.A. Yogoda Satsanga⁷ activities include publication of the quarterly Yogoda Magazine and fortnightly mailings of lessons to students in all parts of India. These lessons give detailed instruction in the Self-Realization Fellowship Energization, Concentration, and Meditation Techniques. Their faithful practice constitutes the essential groundwork for the higher instruction in Kriya Yoga, which is given in subsequent lessons to qualified students.
Yogoda educational, religious, and humanitarian activities require the 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. Mr. Wright formed many friendships with Ranchi boys; clad in a simple dhoti, he lived for a while among them. In Bombay, Ranchi, Calcutta, Serampore, everywhere he went, my secretary, who has a gift of vivid description, would write in a travel diary 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." Sri Yogananda on a boat trip down the Yamuna River, 1935, at Mathura, a holy city associated with the birth and childhood of Bhagavan Krishna. (Seated, center to right) Daughter of Ananta Lal Ghosh (elder brother of Sri Yogananda); Sananda Lal Ghosh (Yoganandaji's younger brother); and C. Richard Wright. PARAMAHANSA YOGANANDA Photograph taken on December 18, 1935, at Damodar, India, during a visit to the site of his first school for boys, founded in nearby Dihika in 1917. He is meditating in the doorway of a crumbling tower that had once been a favorite nook for seclusion.
Sri Yogananda (center) and his secretary, C. Richard Wright (right, seated), in Ranchi, July 17, 1936. They are surrounded by teachers and students of Sri Yogananda's School for Aborigine Girls. Sri Yogananda with teachers and students of Yogoda Satsanga Society school for boys, Ranchi, 1936. The school, founded by Yoganandaji, was moved to this site from Dihika, Bengal, in 1918, under the patronage of the Maharaja of Kasimbazar. Procession of teachers and students of the Ranchi school, March 1938, in annual commemoration of the school's founding
Students of Yogoda Satsanga Society school for boys, Ranchi, 1970. In keeping with Yoganandaji's ideals in founding the school, many classes are held outdoors, and the boys receive yoga training as well as academic and vocational instruction. YOGODA MATH, DAKSHINESWAR, INDIA Yogoda Satsanga Society of India headquarters, on the Ganges River, near Calcutta, founded by Paramahansa Yogananda in 1939 1 We broke our journey in Central Provinces, halfway across the continent, to see Mahatma Gandhi in Wardha. Those days are described in chapter 44.
2 Prafulla was the lad who was present with Master when a cobra approached. 3 Lit., "complete salutation," from Sanskrit root nam, to salute or bow down; and the prefix pra, completely. A pranam salutation is made chiefly before monks and other respected persons. 4 English-style football is called soccer in America. 5 A museum in the West, with similar exhibits collected by Paramahansa Yogananda, is located at Self-Realization Fellowship Lake Shrine in Pacific Palisades, California. (Publisher's Note)
6 From this original nucleus many YSS educational institutions for both boys and girls are now thriving in several locales in India. Their curricula range from primary to college level.