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Out of my candid sincerity I had plucked off a few mangoes. A child I was and I had all the childlike attitude in me. My father, being a Brahmin, had fought for his truth, tooth and nail. But, how could I understand the inner significance of getting those raw and sour mangoes from that garden. Hardly had I committed one sin, than, in no time, I had committed the next sin. That is, ticketless I started traveling right up to a place* which was just on the border of Orissa and Madras.
Ethics to me in that tender age was no better than in bounded books. Only once I had robbed the mangoes off my neighbours garden and I had the reward in its worst form. However, restless and careless and homeless as I had been, I had wanted to hide in a place. Actually I could go to a place which was something like a desolate valley.
Slumber took me over forthwith. I fell fast asleep with a groaning pain in my temple. Half dead and cut off from my stock, completely, I could feel a sweet touch of a caressing hand. Pains subsided immediately and I opened my eyes.
Gradually senses dawned in me. I realized the state of affair. I found in my front a Sanyasin of a very tall height with all the galaxy of Jyoti (personality) over his countenance. Charming as he was, he was so very sweet, too. Smilingly he influenced me.
At the outset with his very appearance I was scared. But, in the next phase I had not the slightest fear in me.
First, I was given five hand-made breads to eat. Secondly, I was given a shallow log of wood, one foot long approximately, from a nearby tree, and thirdly, another thing about which I was not prepared even to understand the severe outcome.
The log and the wood was a miracle. Prior to handing over the same to me the Sanyasin at first touched my deeply-cut wound over my hip with that. Instantly I felt I had recovered from that horrible pain and that enabled me to understand the efficacy of that piece of wood. It was as if a magic wand. It acted in me likewise the first rising sun that sweeps off the mist. There was no pain anywhere. Only the scar and the cut mark is as yet over there. I hold the same piece of wood with me even today and still it acts like a miracle as and when I would wish to utilise for anybody in his troubles.
The third display that the Sanyasin had administered on me was something queer. He paused for a while, and then lifted a dried leaf with a very tough stem at the other side. Actually to get this type of a leaf he had to search for nearby. All along during that time the prevalence of the language barrier kept both of us shut from giving any expression. Hence by means of a signal he asked me to elongate my tongue which I did accordingly. So very swiftly and sharply he caught hold of my tongue and etched a line with that stem by all his effort which meant profuse bleeding and also a severe pain.
It was a supremely forceful thrust on me. I do not know the actual effect of the anesthesia which is perpetrated in time on any vital operation; nevertheless, the sense in me was lost. I lost my own existence. How long I had that reaction within my heart of hearts remained for me a matter of unfathomable reach.
As I was developing in years I could feel that the essence of the Universe is hidden in the secret core of our heart. The characteristic of lead is that it marks the paper. Similarly, a man who has attained the plane of ecstasy becomes a Superman or a God-man. By a sheer will of this person the whole world might crumble to pieces. But, this if ever achieved, one shall forget all his ego. It is the ego in a man which brings in all the grim phases in his career. So, a superman always is a contrary to an ordinary being. He sees in him the only Him and everywhere, and in all he finds nothing but oneness.
Whatsoever, that Sanyasin had the power to instill and infuse within any that he could wish for. What is ordained will take place in due course. I was destined to be whirled away by virtue of being a thief for a moment. My father had punished me according to his estimation. There he did not care to risk his son at the altar of death. Although I did not die, yet, that stroke of the ax made me half dead. It was due to my sheer luck that I was saved by that Sanyasin. Wasnt this a resurrection? Probably so.
Yes, it was a new life for me. With the very day break I found that I was alone there in that valley. The trace of the graceful Sadhu was but a matter of dew drops on grass getting dried up with the very rising of the morning sun on the horizon. Instead I could see the end of a burning sacred fire covered with ashes and just in the nearby place I could see a few coins, scattered.
* This place is known as Simachal
Next Chapter: Under the Sky