My guru could never be bribed, even by love. He showed no leniency
to anyone who, like myself, willingly offered to be his disciple.
Whether Master and I were surrounded by his students or by strangers,
or were alone together, he always spoke plainly and upbraided
sharply. No trifling lapse into shallowness or inconsistency escaped
his rebuke. This flattening treatment was hard to endure, but my
resolve was to allow Sri Yukteswar to iron out each of my psychological
kinks. As he labored at this titanic transformation, I shook many
times under the weight of his disciplinary hammer.

"If you don't like my words, you are at liberty to leave at any
time," Master assured me. "I want nothing from you but your own
improvement. Stay only if you feel benefited."

For every humbling blow he dealt my vanity, for every tooth in my
metaphorical jaw he knocked loose with stunning aim, I am grateful
beyond any facility of expression. The hard core of human egotism
is hardly to be dislodged except rudely. With its departure, the
Divine finds at last an unobstructed channel. In vain It seeks to
percolate through flinty hearts of selfishness.

Sri Yukteswar's wisdom was so penetrating that, heedless of remarks,
he often replied to one's unspoken observation. "What a person
imagines he hears, and what the speaker has really implied, may
be poles apart," he said. "Try to feel the thoughts behind the
confusion of men's verbiage."

But divine insight is painful to worldly ears; Master was not popular
with superficial students. The wise, always few in number, deeply
revered him. I daresay Sri Yukteswar would have been the most