beautiful life was chiseled for the ages. He was one of the great
masters who are India's sole remaining wealth. Emerging in every
generation, they have bulwarked their land against the fate of
Babylon and Egypt.

I find my earliest memories covering the anachronistic features of
a previous incarnation. Clear recollections came to me of a distant
life, a yogi {FN1-3} amidst the Himalayan snows. These glimpses of
the past, by some dimensionless link, also afforded me a glimpse
of the future.

The helpless humiliations of infancy are not banished from my mind.
I was resentfully conscious of not being able to walk or express
myself freely. Prayerful surges arose within me as I realized
my bodily impotence. My strong emotional life took silent form as
words in many languages. Among the inward confusion of tongues,
my ear gradually accustomed itself to the circumambient Bengali
syllables of my people. The beguiling scope of an infant's mind!
adultly considered limited to toys and toes.

Psychological ferment and my unresponsive body brought me to many
obstinate crying-spells. I recall the general family bewilderment
at my distress. Happier memories, too, crowd in on me: my mother's
caresses, and my first attempts at lisping phrase and toddling
step. These early triumphs, usually forgotten quickly, are yet a
natural basis of self-confidence.

My far-reaching memories are not unique. Many yogis are known
to have retained their self-consciousness without interruption by
the dramatic transition to and from "life" and "death." If man be