I walked away feeling grateful.
A wave of joy washed over me. I saw the disciples, including my brother
and Atmananda, gazing lovingly at Chinmoy. I felt touched by a power
which seemed greater and more romantic than that of the world of reason.
"How many people get a gift from a *fully* enlightened guru?"
I wondered.
"Don't just stare at it," my brother reproved, explaining that
oranges were poor retainers of Spiritual Light. "Eat it!"
Moments later, the Guru announced in a lilting voice,
"Atmananda, pleeeez bring."
Atmananda led the five or six potential initiates to the front
of the chapel. He had found, inspired, and persuaded them through
his lectures. While Atmananda watched the Guru initiate them,
he did not return to his seat. Instead, he remained in front,
several feet away.
Chinmoy rapidly oscillated his eyes at the new recruits. His eyes were
still flickering when he placed his hand on each of their foreheads.
When his eyes returned to normal, he flashed a smile at Atmananda,
at the new disciples, and at the rest of the audience. Then he left
the chapel in a flurry of whites and saris.
As I watched him leave, I felt secure that he and Atmananda knew a lot
about the unknown. I glanced across the room at the disciples.
Pages:
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45