THE CLOUDS thicken till the morning light seems like a bedraggled fringe to the rainy night. A little girl stands at her window, still as a rainbow at the gate of a broken-down storm. She is my neighbour, and has come upon the earth like some god's rebellious laughter. Her mother in anger calls her incorrigible; her father smiles and calls her mad. She is like a runaway waterfall leaping over boulders, like the topmost bamboo twig rustling in the restless wind. She stands at her window looking out into the sky. Her sister, comes to say, 'Mother calls you.' She shakes her head. Her little brother with his toy boat comes and tries to pull her off to play; she snatches her hand from his. The boy persists and she gives him a slap on the back. The first great voice was the voice of wind and water in the beginning of earth's creation. That ancient cry of nature-her dumb call to unborn life-has reached this child's heart and leads it out alone beyond the fence of our times: so there she stands, possessed by eternity!
AT THE DUSK OF the early dawn, Ramananda, the great Brahmin Teacher, stood in the sacred water of the Ganges waiting long for the cleansing touch of the stream to flow over his heart. He wondered why it was not granted him this morning. The sun rose and he prayed for the divine light to bless his thoughts and open his life to truth. But his mind remained dark and distraught. The sun climbed high over the sal forest and the fishermen's boats spread their sails, the milk-maids with milk-vessels on head went to the market. The Guru started up, left the water and walked along the sand amidst weeds and rushes and clamorous saliks, busy digging holes for their nests on the slope of the river bank. He reached the lane which took him to the evil-smelling village of the tanners where lean dogs were crunching bones at the wayside and kites swooped down upon casual morsels of flesh. Bhajan sat before his cottage door under an ancient tamarind tree working at camel's saddle. His body shrank with awe when he saw the Guru fresh from his bath come to the unclean neighbourhood and the grizzly old tanner bowed himself down to the dust from a distance. Ramananda drew him to his heart and Bhajan, his eyes filled with tears, cried in dismay, 'Master, why bringest upon thee such pollution!' And Master said, 'While on my way to my bath I shunned your village and thus my heart missed the blessings of the Ganges whose mother's love is for all. 'Her own touch comes down at last upon me at the touch of your body with mine and I am purified. 'I cried this morning to the Sun, "The divine Person who is in thee is also within me but why do I not meet thee in my mind?" I have met him at this moment when his light descends upon your forehead as well as on mine, and there is no need for me today to go to the temple.'
