AT THE DUSK OF the early dawn, Ramananda, the great Brahmin
Teacher, stood in the sacred water of the Ganges waiting long for the cleansing touch of the stream to flow over his heart.
He wondered why it was not granted him this morning.
The sun rose and he prayed for the divine light to bless his
thoughts and open his life to truth.
But his mind remained dark and distraught.
The sun climbed high over the sal forest and the fishermen's
boats spread their sails, the milk-maids with milk-vessels on head went to the market.
The Guru started up, left the water and walked along the sand
amidst weeds and rushes and clamorous saliks, busy digging holes for their nests on the slope of the river bank.
He reached the lane which took him to the evil-smelling village
of the tanners where lean dogs were crunching bones at the wayside and kites swooped down upon casual morsels of flesh.
Bhajan sat before his cottage door under an ancient tamarind tree
working at camel's saddle.
His body shrank with awe when he saw the Guru fresh from his bath
come to the unclean neighbourhood and the grizzly old tanner bowed himself down to the dust from a distance.
Ramananda drew him to his heart and Bhajan, his eyes filled with
tears, cried in dismay, 'Master, why bringest upon thee such pollution!'
And Master said, 'While on my way to my bath I shunned your
village and thus my heart missed the blessings of the Ganges whose mother's love is for all.
'Her own touch comes down at last upon me at the touch of your
body with mine and I am purified.
'I cried this morning to the Sun, "The divine Person who is in
thee is also within me but why do I not meet thee in my mind?"
I have met him at this moment when his light descends upon your
forehead as well as on mine, and there is no need for me today to go to the temple.'

AGE AFTER AGE, hast Thou, O Lord, sent Thy messengers into this pitiless world, who have left their word: 'Forgive all. Love all. Cleanse your hearts from the blood-red stains of hatred.'
Adorable are they, ever to be remembered; yet from the outer door have I turned them away to-day-this evil daywith unmeaning salutation.
Have I not seen secret malignance strike down the helpless under the cover of hypocritical night?
Have I not heard the silenced voice of Justice weeping in solitude at might's defiant outrages?
Have I not seen in what agony reckless youth, running mad, has vainly shattered its life against insensitive rocks?
Choked is my voice, mute are my songs to-day, and darkly my world lies imprisoned in a dismal dream; and I ask Thee, O Lord, in tears: 'Hast Thou Thyself forgiven, hast even Thou loved those who are poisoning Thy air, and blotting out Thy light?'

THE SUNLIGHT opens for me the world's gate,
love's light its treasure.