"Who are you?" I spoke aloud.

"We are the Himalayan yogis." The celestial response is difficult
to describe; my heart was thrilled.

"Ah, I long to go to the Himalayas and become like you!" The vision
vanished, but the silvery beams expanded in ever-widening circles
to infinity.

"What is this wondrous glow?"

"I am Iswara.{FN1-11} I am Light." The voice was as murmuring
clouds.

"I want to be one with Thee!"

Out of the slow dwindling of my divine ecstasy, I salvaged a permanent
legacy of inspiration to seek God. "He is eternal, ever-new Joy!"
This memory persisted long after the day of rapture.

Another early recollection is outstanding; and literally so, for
I bear the scar to this day. My elder sister Uma and I were seated
in the early morning under a NEEM tree in our Gorakhpur compound.
She was helping me with a Bengali primer, what time I could spare
my gaze from the near-by parrots eating ripe margosa fruit. Uma
complained of a boil on her leg, and fetched a jar of ointment. I
smeared a bit of the salve on my forearm.

"Why do you use medicine on a healthy arm?"