and run away. The old work of teaching the leather-dealers’ children seemed, in its unalloyed prose, to be now calling me back.
One afternoon when the Master was taking his siesta, and the weary disciples were at rest, Satish for some reason went off into his own room at this unusual hour. His progress was suddenly arrested at the threshold. There was Damini, her thick tresses dishevelled, lying prone on the floor, beating her head on it as she moaned: ‘Oh, you stone, you stone, have mercy on me, have mercy and kill me outright!’
Satish, trembling from head to foot with a nameless fear, fled from the room.
It was a rule with Swami Lilananda to go off once a year to some remote, out-of-the-way place, away from the crowd. With the month of Magh[1] came round the time for his journey. Satish was to attend on him.
I asked to go too. I was worn to the very bone with the incessant emotional excitement of our cult, and felt greatly in need of physical movement as well as of mental quiet.
- ↑ January-February.
