"Rose."

"Be it so."

To my great surprise, the charming fragrance of rose was wafted
strongly from the center of my palm. I smilingly took a large white
scentless flower from a near-by vase.

"Can this odorless blossom be permeated with jasmine?"

"Be it so."

A jasmine fragrance instantly shot from the petals. I thanked the
wonder-worker and seated myself by one of his students. He informed
me that Gandha Baba, whose proper name was Vishudhananda, had
learned many astonishing yoga secrets from a master in Tibet. The
Tibetan yogi, I was assured, had attained the age of over a thousand
years.

"His disciple Gandha Baba does not always perform his perfume-feats
in the simple verbal manner you have just witnessed." The student
spoke with obvious pride in his master. "His procedure differs
widely, to accord with diversity in temperaments. He is marvelous!
Many members of the Calcutta intelligentsia are among his followers."

I inwardly resolved not to add myself to their number. A guru too
literally "marvelous" was not to my liking. With polite thanks to
Gandha Baba, I departed. Sauntering home, I reflected on the three
varied encounters the day had brought forth.