Brother Ananta and Sister Nalini — Autobiography of a Yogi

dropped it on the floor, crying out, "I have bought this for my dear dead brother!" A clear realization had swept over me that his soul was just being freed in the Infinite. The souvenir was sharply and symbolically cracked by its fall; amidst sobs, I wrote on the bamboo surface: "For my beloved Ananta, now gone." My companion, the doctor, had been observing me with a sardonic smile. "Save your tears," he remarked. "Why shed them until you are sure he is dead?"

When our boat reached Calcutta, Dr. Misra again accompanied me. My youngest brother Bishnu was waiting to greet me at the dock. "I know Ananta has departed this life," I said to Bishnu, before he had had time to speak. "Please tell me, and the doctor here, when Ananta died." Bishnu named the date, which was the very day that I had bought the souvenirs in Shanghai. "Look here!" Dr. Misra ejaculated. "Don't let any word of this get around! The professors will be adding a year's study of mental telepathy to the medical course, which is already long enough!"

Father embraced me warmly as I entered our home. "You have come," he said tenderly. Two large tears dropped from his eyes. Ordinarily undemonstrative, he had never before shown me these external signs of affection. Outwardly the grave father, inwardly he possessed the melting heart of a mother. In all family affairs he played this dual parental role. Soon after Ananta's passing, my younger sister Nalini was brought back from death's door by a divine healing. Before relating the story, I will refer to a few phases of our earlier life.

The childhood relationship between Nalini and me had not been of the happiest nature. I was very thin; she was thinner still. Through an unconscious motive that psychologists will have no difficulty in identifying, I would often tease my sister about her appearance. Her retorts would be equally imbued with the callous frankness of extreme youth. Sometimes Mother would intervene, temporarily ending the childish quarrels by a gentle box on my ear (as the elder ear).