"Sir, I am not returning home. But I will follow you anywhere.
Please give me your address, and your name."

"Swami Sri Yukteswar Giri. My chief hermitage is in Serampore, on
Rai Ghat Lane. I am visiting my mother here for only a few days."

I wondered at God's intricate play with His devotees. Serampore is
but twelve miles from Calcutta, yet in those regions I had never
caught a glimpse of my guru. We had had to travel for our meeting
to the ancient city of Kasi (Benares), hallowed by memories of
Lahiri Mahasaya. Here too the feet of Buddha, Shankaracharya and
other Yogi--Christs had blessed the soil.

"You will come to me in four weeks." For the first time, Sri
Yukteswar's voice was stern. "Now I have told my eternal affection,
and have shown my happiness at finding you-that is why you disregard
my request. The next time we meet, you will have to reawaken my
interest: I won't accept you as a disciple easily. There must be
complete surrender by obedience to my strict training."

I remained obstinately silent. My guru easily penetrated my
difficulty.

"Do you think your relatives will laugh at you?"

"I will not return."

"You will return in thirty days."