sounded piercingly. Notwithstanding the clamor, a servant approached
with leisurely gait. His ironical smile implied that visitors,
despite their noise, were powerless to disturb the calmness of a
saint's home.

Feeling the silent rebuke, my companion and I were thankful to be
invited into the parlor. Our long wait there caused uncomfortable
misgivings. India's unwritten law for the truth seeker is patience;
a master may purposely make a test of one's eagerness to meet him.
This psychological ruse is freely employed in the West by doctors
and dentists!

Finally summoned by the servant, Chandi and I entered a sleeping
apartment. The famous Sohong {FN6-1} Swami was seated on his bed.
The sight of his tremendous body affected us strangely. With bulging
eyes, we stood speechless. We had never before seen such a chest or
such football-like biceps. On an immense neck, the swami's fierce
yet calm face was adorned with flowing locks, beard and moustache.
A hint of dovelike and tigerlike qualities shone in his dark eyes.
He was unclothed, save for a tiger skin about his muscular waist.

Finding our voices, my friend and I greeted the monk, expressing
our admiration for his prowess in the extraordinary feline arena.

"Will you not tell us, please, how it is possible to subdue with
bare fists the most ferocious of jungle beasts, the royal Bengals?"

"My sons, it is nothing to me to fight tigers. I could do it today
if necessary." He gave a childlike laugh. "You look upon tigers as
tigers; I know them as pussycats."