of display and seething with people of many races and religions, many of them scantily clothed and barefooted peoples of every color, from light brown to black: Afghans, Sikhs, Tibetans, Singhalese, Baghdad Jews, Japanese, Chinese, and many others. But, ah, the poorer and more emaciated groups: thin bodies, sunken chests, many of them running with jinrikishas here and there about the city, past beautiful buildings, richly ornamented temples, the university, all bordered with palms: coconut, date, palmyra, areca catechu, fruit and nut, as well as gum trees. In sum, new tropic sights and peoples, which held their constant interest until they finally left Bombay by train for Nagpur, a city lying to the east of Bombay on the main line to Calcutta.
The reason for this was that they chose to follow the directions offered them by Lord Severence, who had advised that they search out one Guru Borodandaj, who was spoken of by him as the Dissolver of Matter and Controller of Energy, and who resided near the city of Nagpur, where travelers were accepted from time to time at a simple frame building of ancient design overlooking a square in the heart of the city.
No sooner were they settled than Berenice, eager to continue her quest of the Guru, started out with her letter of instructions from Lord Severence. As directed she followed the main north and south highway which ran through Nagpur until it came to an old and somewhat dilapidated structure which looked like an abandoned mill. Then she took a sharp turn to the right and walked along a deserted cottonfield for about half a mile, which brought her to a grove of large blackwood and teakwood trees, so closely planted as to shut out the bright heat of the sun. She knew instinctively that this was the abode of the Guru, for Severence had described it accurately. Hesitating and looking about dubiously, she saw a rough and narrow path winding inward toward the center of the grove. This she followed to the point where it ended. There she saw a large square, semi-decayed wooden structure, which, as she learned later, had once been a government administration building controlling the forests of which this grove formed a part. There were several large openings in the walls which had never been repaired, and these, in turn, gave into other chambers, equally dilapidated. In fact as she later learned, the abandoned building had been given to Guru Borodandaj for his classes in meditation and his demonstrations of power, through Yogi, to control all internal physical energy.
As she somewhat timidly approached, the silence and shade of the tall, overhanging trees somehow suggested a realm in which solitude and peace prevailed: to her a much needed peace, since the world she had left behind was entirely unacceptable and unsatisfactory to her. As she walked toward one of the inner buildings, a dark and elderly Hindu woman appeared before her and beckoned her toward an arched-over court, which led to a rear building, saying at the same time: “Come right through here. The Master awaits you.”
Berenice followed the woman through a shattered segment of wall, past some broken bowls scattered about a few logs which were evidently used for benches. The Hindu woman then pushed open a large, heavy door, and Berenice, after removing her shoes, stepped across the threshold.
Her eyes fell on a dark, lean-faced, lengthy figure, seated, Yogi fashion, on a large white cloth in the center of the room. His hands were folded between his knees as though he might have been praying. However, he neither stirred nor said anything, merely turned on her his deep, almost black, penetrating and searching eyes. And then he spoke:
“Where have you been?” he asked. “It has been all of four months since your husband died, and I have been expecting you.”
Startled by this inquiry and his attitude in general, Berenice involuntarily receded several paces as though she were truly fearful.
“Do not be frightened,” said the Guru. “Fear has no place in Brahman, the Reality which you are seeking. Instead, daughter, come and be seated.” And he waved a long thin arm toward the white cloth on which he was sitting, indicating the corner of it which she was to occupy. As she sat down, he began to speak.
“You have come a long way to find that which will give you peace. You seek your own Samadhi, or your union with God. Is that not true?”
“Oh, yes, Master,” replied Berenice, in great wonder and awe. “That is true.”
“And you feel that you have suffered greatly from the ills of the world,” he continued. “And now you are ready for the change.”
“Yes, yes, Master, yes. I am ready for the change. For now I feel that perhaps I have injured the world.”
“And now you are ready to repair that injury, if possible?”
“Oh, yes; oh, yes!” she said, softly.
“But are you ready to devote some years to this labor, or is this a passing interest?”
“I am ready to devote years to the study of how I can repair the injuries I have caused. I want to know. I feel that I must learn.” Her voice was anxious.
“Yet that, you know, requires patience, labor, self-discipline. You become great by obeying that which Brahman teaches.”
“Oh, I will do anything that is necessary,” said Berenice. “It is for that purpose I came. I know I must learn to concentrate and meditate in order to be wise enough to repay or even repair.”
“Only he who meditates can realize truth,” said the Guru, as he continued to study Berenice, until at last he added: “Yes, I will take you as a disciple. Your sincerity is your admission to my class. You can attend tomorrow the class in breath control. We will discuss high breathing, mid-breathing, Yogi complete breathing, nostril breathing. Holding the breath is like holding life in the body. It is the first step. And this is the foundation on which you will build your new world. Through it you will achieve non-attachment. You will lose the suffering that comes from desire.”
“Master, for rest of the spirit I would give up many things,” said Berenice.
The Guru paused for a few moments of silence, and then he began, almost solemnly:
“The man who gives up living in fine houses, wearing fine clothes, and eating good food, and goes into the desert, may be a most attached person. His only possession, his own body, may become everything to him, and as he lives, he may be simply struggling for the sake of his body. In truth, non-attachment does not mean anything that we may do in relation to our eternal body. It is all in the mind. A man may be on a throne and perfectly non- attached; another may be in rags and very much attached. But when man is endowed with spiritual discrimination and illumined by knowledge of the Atman, all his doubts are dispelled. He does not shrink from doing what is disagreeable to him, nor does he long to do what is agreeable. No human being can give up action altogether, but he who gives up the fruits of action is said to be non-attached.”
“Oh, Master, if I could gain but a slight portion of this great knowledge!” said Berenice.
“All knowledge, my daughter,” he continued, “is a gift of the spirit; and only to those who are grateful in the spirit will knowledge unfold like the petals of the lotus. From your Western teachers you will learn of art and the sciences, but from your Eastern masters, you will discover the inner mystery of wisdom. You are not educated when merely you are well-schooled. You are truly educated only when you are enlightened by inner truth. For inner truth takes dead facts and makes them live; it inspires the heart to the use of knowledge for the service of others. It is through the heart, not the intellect, that the Lord is seen. Do good for its own sake. Then alone will come perfect non-attachment.”
“I will work hard to learn the breathing exercises, Master,” said Berenice. “I know enough about Yoga to realize that it is the foundation of all illumination. I know that breath is life.”
“Not necessarily,” said the Guru. “If you wish to see, I will show you now that there is life where there is no breath.”
He picked up a small mirror, which he handed to her, saying:
“When I stop breathing, hold this mirror in front of my nose and mouth, to see if you can detect any moisture on it.”
He closed his eyes, and then by degrees his body became more erect and statue-like in its steadiness. He seemed to have fallen into a deep stupor. Observing him, Berenice waited, holding her palm near to his nostrils. Minutes passed before she felt his breathing to be lighter on her hand. And then, to her surprise, it stopped. There was no least trace of rhythmic breathing. She waited. And then she took the mirror and held it in front of his nose and mouth for a few seconds. There was no trace of moisture on it. Rather, as she could now see, respiration had ceased, and he seemed like an image cut in stone. At that, she nervously consulted her watch. Ten long minutes passed before she saw a trace of respiration, and then it assumed perfect normalcy. For the Guru, seeming very tired, opened his eyes and looked at her and smiled.
“What a wonderful demonstration!” she exclaimed.
“I can hold my breath thus for hours,” said the Guru. “And some Yogins keep the locked breath for months.
