My tumultuous emotion prevented any retort; I sped silently away.

Retracing my steps as though wing-shod, I reached the narrow lane.
My quick glance revealed the quiet figure, steadily gazing in my
direction. A few eager steps and I was at his feet.

"Gurudeva!" {FN10-7} The divine face was none other than he of my
thousand visions. These halcyon eyes, in leonine head with pointed
beard and flowing locks, had oft peered through gloom of my nocturnal
reveries, holding a promise I had not fully understood.

"O my own, you have come to me!" My guru uttered the words again
and again in Bengali, his voice tremulous with joy. "How many years
I have waited for you!"

We entered a oneness of silence; words seemed the rankest
superfluities. Eloquence flowed in soundless chant from heart of
master to disciple. With an antenna of irrefragable insight I sensed
that my guru knew God, and would lead me to Him. The obscuration
of this life disappeared in a fragile dawn of prenatal memories.
Dramatic time! Past, present, and future are its cycling scenes.
This was not the first sun to find me at these holy feet!

My hand in his, my guru led me to his temporary residence in the
Rana Mahal section of the city. His athletic figure moved with firm
tread. Tall, erect, about fifty-five at this time, he was active
and vigorous as a young man. His dark eyes were large, beautiful with
plumbless wisdom. Slightly curly hair softened a face of striking
power. Strength mingled subtly with gentleness.