Yoga's Path to Bliss

An Indian Monk. By Shri Purobit Swami. With an Introduction by W. B. Yeats. (Macmillan. 7s. 6d.)

• "In the shadow of Mount Girnar I learned the alphabet of the spiritual life from pilgrims of every condition and language while walking the streets with my begging bowl."

Tins sentence sets the key to a curious and interesting book.

The Bralunin who tells Us- here of his quest for the noble path of wisdom of his forefathers pursued a very different way from that of the Christian Mystics, and it will be hard for the reader, with perhaps a Franciscan ideal of joyousness in his mind, to enter into the self-centred yet self-abased attitude of the Indian. But if he can do so, he will have learned much of a race that is doubtless the subtlest-minded of mankind.

It was fortunate for Shri Purohit Swami that he came to Europe, and attracted the attention of Mr. Sturge Moore, Sir Francis Younghusband, and Mr. W. B. Yeats, who writes a discerningly sympathetic introduction, for without such helpful counsel and powerful support I doubt if he would have been able to prepare so sincere and striking an account of an Indian mystic's life, or to find a publisher for it when written.

"The reader of the lives of European devotees," says Mr. Yeats, "may at first be disappointed in this book ; the

author's life is modelled on no sacred example, ordered by no well-tried conventual discipline . . . and yet he has what we

have not, though we once had it—the heroic ecstatic passion prolonged through years."

The Swami begins his story with his infancy at Badnera.

We are told that after he was born, "when according to kindly custom mothers came to visit my mother and the

babies were passed round that they might benefit by other milks," a Mahratta lady wished to suckle him, but that his

grandmother forbade it, saying the Mahrattani ate fish, eggs and meat—" do you think we can let you nurse our son

At the age of nine he was invested with the sacred thread of the Brahmins, amidst feasting and rejoicing. His father then communicated to him the sacred Gayatri Mantra,- and he was taught the Vedas. Shortly afterwards he met his first Mahatma, "who looked as if he were fifteen and was always

stark naked." At school he studied philosophy diligently, and passed all his examinations with ease, but a professor said : "My dear boy, do not think these books will help. you in achieving what you wish to attain. They are all dry bones. You must go to some Yogi, who will initiate you in the pro- cesses of life."

Through many trials and temptations, physical and mental,

the Swami was gradually led to a life of contemplation and to the feeling-realization of monism. He passed his nights in meditation, weaning his mind from the objects of sensual desire, until at last he met his own Mahatma . . .

"As I entered, the Swami, who was sitting on a tiger's skin, row., our eyes met, and I flew to meet him, and he fondly clasped me in his arms. What a great bliss it was to be in the arms of that great blessed soul I It was the purest form of bliss I had over enjoyed. 'Our -colninon friend; -who had introduced mo to tho- Swami, -was dumbfounded when he saw how familiar we were with each other. That was love at first sight. It was pure, divine love, and it shines to-day in the hearts of both as it did on that, first day. The Swami, while still embracing me, said softly, with music in his voice, 'We meet again after such a long time!' Yes, he was right, we had known each other in past incazmations. He knew it, I did not."

However, the Swami did pot entirely neglect his worldly affairs. He took his LL.B. degree, and he married ; the chapters telling of his life as a householder are among the strangest and most striking in the book. He loved his wife ; they meditated together ; he had children by her, yet eventually, with her consent, they separated for ever, she to continue to look after his children, and he to follow his destiny to the supreme initiation. That is an attitude very hard for the Western mind to understand.

The steps along the Swami's mystic way are delightfully contrasted with his life in the world. He meditates in a forest and plays ping-pong with some students, he climbs the sacred Mount Girnar and enters for his University examinations, he visits the famous shrine of Kedarnath in Kashmir and on the way down meets an Englishman who regales him with biscuits and café-au-lait. We read some amazing stories of the habits and powers of Mahatmas. One was able to stop a railway. train from starting. Another could 'vanish from a locked room. A third stayed in the house of a courtesan, and consorted with drunkards, yet was renowned for his sanctity. Although some parts of the Swami's story are incredible, we must not ask of him that the world of his thought and_ sense-perception should square with ours. For instance, in this account of a vigil in the temple where the Lord Dattatreya is traditionally reputed to take His rest, we may accept the spirit of the Swami's devotion without straining our belief ' in the miraculous : `,` I decked the bed of the Lord with garlands till everything looked beautiful. I was sure that the Lord would be pleased with this service. The room was locked, and the priest took away the key. I squatted on the floor as usual . . . The door opened at His knock. I stood aghast while it was silently closed ; then I heard the creaking noise of the bed as if someone was lying down on it- I moved to the door and could hear sounds quite clearly as though someone was turning over from side to side. The whole atmosphere was surcharged with perfume. I watched xvith rapt attention. There was no doubt in my mind that the Lord was enjoying His rest. In the morning the door opened and was shut again ; the sound of the Lord's pattens was heard going away, and sweet perfume filled the air. The Lord had gone."

I do not know whether Shri Purohit Swami is acknowledged as a guru in his own country. I should be inclined to doubt it He has literary charm, but not perhaps the intellectual- vigour which is so characteristic of the great teachers of. India. I doubt also whether experiences as alien as his are to the mind Of the West can be of inueh practical assistance to a European desirous of following the practice of Yoga. But as a story of spiritual enlightenment, the narrative is enchanting and will reveal to the sympathetic reader much of the mind