Autobiography of a Yogi 

      by Paramhansa Yogananda 

      Original First Edition, Copyright 1946, 
      by Paramhansa Yogananda 

      First Online Edition 


      

      Chapter 22
      The Heart of a Stone Image   


            "As a loyal Hindu wife, I do not wish to complain of my husband. 
But I yearn to see him turn from his materialistic views. He delights in 
ridiculing the pictures of saints in my meditation room. Dear brother, I have 
deep faith that you can help him. Will you?" 

            My eldest sister Roma gazed beseechingly at me. I was paying a 
short visit at her Calcutta home on Girish Vidyaratna Lane. Her plea touched 
me, for she had exercised a profound spiritual influence over my early life, 
and had lovingly tried to fill the void left in the family circle by Mother's 
death. 

            "Beloved sister, of course I will do anything I can." I smiled, 
eager to lift the gloom plainly visible on her face, in contrast to her usual 
calm and cheerful expression. 

            Roma and I sat awhile in silent prayer for guidance. A year 
earlier, my sister had asked me to initiate her into Kriya Yoga, in which she 
was making notable progress. 

            An inspiration seized me. "Tomorrow," I said, "I am going to the 
Dakshineswar temple. Please come with me, and persuade your husband to 
accompany us. I feel that in the vibrations of that holy place, Divine Mother 
will touch his heart. But don't disclose our object in wanting him to go." 

            Sister agreed hopefully. Very early the next morning I was pleased 
to find that Roma and her husband were in readiness for the trip. As our 
hackney carriage rattled along Upper Circular Road toward Dakshineswar, my 
brother-in-law, Satish Chandra Bose, amused himself by deriding spiritual gurus 
of the past, present, and future. I noticed that Roma was quietly weeping. 

            "Sister, cheer up!" I whispered. "Don't give your husband the 
satisfaction of believing that we take his mockery seriously." 

            "Mukunda, how can you admire worthless humbugs?" Satish was saying. 
"A sadhu's very appearance is repulsive. He is either as thin as a skeleton, or 
as unholily fat as an elephant!" 

            I shouted with laughter. My good-natured reaction was annoying to 
Satish; he retired into sullen silence. As our cab entered the Dakshineswar 
grounds, he grinned sarcastically. 

            "This excursion, I suppose, is a scheme to reform me?" 

            As I turned away without reply, he caught my arm. "Young Mr. Monk," 
he said, "don't forget to make proper arrangements with the temple authorities 
to provide for our noon meal." 

            "I am going to meditate now. Do not worry about your lunch," I 
replied sharply. "Divine Mother will look after it." 

            "I don't trust Divine Mother to do a single thing for me. But I do 
hold you responsible for my food." Satish's tones were threatening. 

            I proceeded alone to the colonnaded hall which fronts the large 
temple of Kali, or Mother Nature. Selecting a shady spot near one of the 
pillars, I arranged my body in the lotus posture. Although it was only about 
seven o'clock, the morning sun would soon be oppressive. 

            The world receded as I became devotionally entranced. My mind was 
concentrated on Goddess Kali, whose image at Dakshineswar had been the special 
object of adoration by the great master, Sri Ramakrishna Paramhansa. In answer 
to his anguished demands, the stone image of this very temple had often taken a 
living form and conversed with him. 

            "Silent Mother with stony heart," I prayed, "Thou becamest filled 
with life at the request of Thy beloved devotee Ramakrishna; why dost Thou not 
also heed the wails of this yearning son of Thine?" 

            My aspiring zeal increased boundlessly, accompanied by a divine 
peace. Yet, when five hours had passed, and the Goddess whom I was inwardly 
visualizing had made no response, I felt slightly disheartened. Sometimes it is 
a test by God to delay the fulfillment of prayers. But He eventually appears to 
the persistent devotee in whatever form he holds dear. A devout Christian sees 
Jesus; a Hindu beholds Krishna, or the Goddess Kali, or an expanding Light if 
his worship takes an impersonal turn. 

            Reluctantly I opened my eyes, and saw that the temple doors were 
being locked by a priest, in conformance with a noon-hour custom. I rose from 
my secluded seat under the open, roofed hall, and stepped into the courtyard. 
Its stone floor was scorching under the midday sun; my bare feet were painfully 
burned. 

            "Divine Mother," I silently remonstrated, "Thou didst not come to 
me in vision, and now Thou art hidden in the temple behind closed doors. I 
wanted to offer a special prayer to Thee today on behalf of my brother-in-law." 

            My inward petition was instantly acknowledged. First, a delightful 
cold wave descended over my back and under my feet, banishing all discomfort. 
Then, to my amazement, the temple became greatly magnified. Its large door 
slowly opened, revealing the stone figure of Goddess Kali. Gradually it changed 
into a living form, smilingly nodding in greeting, thrilling me with joy 
indescribable. As if by a mystic syringe, the breath was withdrawn from my 
lungs; my body became very still, though not inert. 

            An ecstatic enlargement of consciousness followed. I could see 
clearly for several miles over the Ganges River to my left, and beyond the 
temple into the entire Dakshineswar precincts. The walls of all buildings 
glimmered transparently; through them I observed people walking to and fro over 
distant acres. 

            Though I was breathless and my body in a strangely quiet state, yet 
I was able to move my hands and feet freely. For several minutes I experimented 
in closing and opening my eyes; in either state I saw distinctly the whole 
Dakshineswar panorama. 

            Spiritual sight, x-raylike, penetrates into all matter; the divine 
eye is center everywhere, circumference nowhere. I realized anew, standing 
there in the sunny courtyard, that when man ceases to be a prodigal child of 
God, engrossed in a physical world indeed dream, baseless as a bubble, he 
reinherits his eternal realms. If "escapism" be a need of man, cramped in his 
narrow personality, can any escape compare with the majesty of omnipresence? 

            In my sacred experience at Dakshineswar, the only 
extraordinarily-enlarged objects were the temple and the form of the Goddess. 
Everything else appeared in its normal dimensions, although each was enclosed 
in a halo of mellow lightwhite, blue, and pastel rainbow hues. My body seemed 
to be of ethereal substance, ready to levitate. Fully conscious of my material 
surroundings, I was looking about me and taking a few steps without disturbing 
the continuity of the blissful vision. 

            Behind the temple walls I suddenly glimpsed my brother-in-law as he 
sat under the thorny branches of a sacred bel tree. I could effortlessly 
discern the course of his thoughts. Somewhat uplifted under the holy influence 
of Dakshineswar, his mind yet held unkind reflections about me. I turned 
directly to the gracious form of the Goddess. 

            "Divine Mother," I prayed, "wilt Thou not spiritually change my 
sister's husband?" 

            The beautiful figure, hitherto silent, spoke at last: "Thy wish is 
granted!" 

            I looked happily at Satish. As though instinctively aware that some 
spiritual power was at work, he rose resentfully from his seat on the ground. I 
saw him running behind the temple; he approached me, shaking his fist. 

            The all-embracing vision disappeared. No longer could I see the 
glorious Goddess; the towering temple was reduced to its ordinary size, minus 
its transparency. Again my body sweltered under the fierce rays of the sun. I 
jumped to the shelter of the pillared hall, where Satish pursued me angrily. I 
looked at my watch. It was one o'clock; the divine vision had lasted an hour. 

            "You little fool," my brother-in-law blurted out, "you have been 
sitting there cross-legged and cross-eyed for six hours. I have gone back and 
forth watching you. Where is my food? Now the temple is closed; you failed to 
notify the authorities; we are left without lunch!" 

            The exaltation I had felt at the Goddess' presence was still 
vibrant within my heart. I was emboldened to exclaim, "Divine Mother will feed 
us!" 

            Satish was beside himself with rage. "Once and for all," he 
shouted, "I would like to see your Divine Mother giving us food here without 
prior arrangements!" 

            His words were hardly uttered when a temple priest crossed the 
courtyard and joined us. 

            "Son," he addressed me, "I have been observing your face serenely 
glowing during hours of meditation. I saw the arrival of your party this 
morning, and felt a desire to put aside ample food for your lunch. It is 
against the temple rules to feed those who do not make a request beforehand, 
but I have made an exception for you." 

            I thanked him, and gazed straight into Satish's eyes. He flushed 
with emotion, lowering his gaze in silent repentance. When we were served a 
lavish meal, including out-of-season mangoes, I noticed that my 
brother-in-law's appetite was meager. He was bewildered, diving deep into the 
ocean of thought. On the return journey to Calcutta, Satish, with softened 
expression, occasionally glanced at me pleadingly. But he did not speak a 
single word after the moment the priest had appeared to invite us to lunch, as 
though in direct answer to Satish's challenge. 

            The following afternoon I visited my sister at her home. She 
greeted me affectionately. 

            "Dear brother," she cried, "what a miracle! Last evening my husband 
wept openly before me. 

            "'Beloved devi,'1 he said, 'I am happy beyond expression that this 
reforming scheme of your brother's has wrought a transformation. I am going to 
undo every wrong I have done you. From tonight we will use our large bedroom 
only as a place of worship; your small meditation room shall be changed into 
our sleeping quarters. I am sincerely sorry that I have ridiculed your brother. 
For the shameful way I have been acting, I will punish myself by not talking to 
Mukunda until I have progressed in the spiritual path. Deeply I will seek the 
Divine Mother from now on; someday I must surely find Her!'" 

            Years later, I visited my brother-in-law in Delhi. I was overjoyed 
to perceive that he had developed highly in self-realization, and had been 
blessed by the vision of Divine Mother. During my stay with him, I noticed that 
Satish secretly spent the greater part of every night in divine meditation, 
though he was suffering from a serious ailment, and was engaged during the day 
at his office. 

            The thought came to me that my brother-in-law's life span would not 
be a long one. Roma must have read my mind. 

            "Dear brother," she said, "I am well, and my husband is sick. 
Nevertheless, I want you to know that, as a devoted Hindu wife, I am going to 
be the first one to die.2 It won't be long now before I pass on." 

            Taken aback at her ominous words, I yet realized their sting of 
truth. I was in America when my sister died, about a year after her prediction. 
My youngest brother Bishnu later gave me the details. 

            "Roma and Satish were in Calcutta at the time of her death," Bishnu 
told me. "That morning she dressed herself in her bridal finery. 

            "'Why this special costume?' Satish inquired. 

            "'This is my last day of service to you on earth,' Roma replied. A 
short time later she had a heart attack. As her son was rushing out for aid, 
she said: 

            "'Son, do not leave me. It is no use; I shall be gone before a 
doctor could arrive.' Ten minutes later, holding the feet of her husband in 
reverence, Roma consciously left her body, happily and without suffering. 

            "Satish became very reclusive after his wife's death," Bishnu 
continued. "One day he and I were looking at a large smiling photograph of 
Roma. 

            "'Why do you smile?' Satish suddenly exclaimed, as though his wife 
were present. 'You think you were clever in arranging to go before me. I shall 
prove that you cannot long remain away from me; soon I shall join you.' 

            "Although at this time Satish had fully recovered from his 
sickness, and was enjoying excellent health, he died without apparent cause 
shortly after his strange remark before the photograph." 

            Thus prophetically passed my dearly beloved eldest sister Roma, and 
her husband Satishhe who changed at Dakshineswar from an ordinary worldly man 
to a silent saint. 



            1 Goddess.
            Back to text 

            2 The Hindu wife believes it is a sign of spiritual advancement if 
she dies before her husband, as a proof of her loyal service to him, or "dying 
in harness."
            Back to text 
           
     

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