. Winter India . ion, and the welfareof his soul, learning the great yoga mysteries andpassing continually to higher stages. Two disciplesearly attached themselves to him, begged for him,and devoutly served him, accompanying the holyman on his pilgrimages to sacred places, and finallyto his home, where with tearless indifference helearned of the death of his son, and addressingwords of wisdom to his parents and wife, passed money, with only a shred of clothing, andno care for the morrow, he traveled all India, and,preserved through heat and snow, flood, storm, cold,hunger, and sick
. Winter India . ion, and the welfareof his soul, learning the great yoga mysteries andpassing continually to higher stages. Two disciplesearly attached themselves to him, begged for him,and devoutly served him, accompanying the holyman on his pilgrimages to sacred places, and finallyto his home, where with tearless indifference helearned of the death of his son, and addressingwords of wisdom to his parents and wife, passed money, with only a shred of clothing, andno care for the morrow, he traveled all India, and,preserved through heat and snow, flood, storm, cold,hunger, and sickness, he came finally to Benareswhen he felt that he had attained supreme wisdomand triumphed over the world. A pious raja putthe beautiful Annanbag (Garden of Happiness) athis disposal, and, dropping the one bit of raiment,his last earthly possession, Paribrajakacharya SriBhaskarananda Saraswati Swamji lives, air clad,in the same state of nature as primeval man,sitting beneath the trees by day discoursing to the. BENARES 171 circle of disciples, sleeping uncovered on the bareearth at night, and eating only the offerings of fruitand rice which his devotees bring him. A jeweledyouth with a great caste-mark on his brow was sit-ting with the holy man when we were announcedby Chaturgam Lai and the favor of an audienceasked; and the worshiping youth threw his ownsilky white chudda around the saint as we ad-vanced down the garden path. The holy man satthere with knees bent, soles turned upward, andhand lifted in precisely the attitude of the Bud-dha in art. Birds twittered and the rustling treesoverhead cast checkered shadows on the lean andwrinkled old ascetic beneath. He had a kindly face,a gentle, benevolent manner; he was very gracious,courteous, and human, and the living god began atonce to talk of the impermanence of the world, of thedelusions and fleeting joys of which we mistakenlymake so much. His richly turbaned native visitorssoon forgot our interruption, listening with ra
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