Beauty ＆ Pure 23

I can’t recall where I slept that night, but I do 
remember that before going to bed I sat and talked 
with a number of people, Indians and foreigners, 
at Osborne’s place. One of them was a diplomat 
from some European country, stationed in China. 
He talked about seeing spirits and even conversing 
with them, and it struck me as funny that anyone 
should be interested in such things at a place like 
this. 

Sitting in the hall next day I saw that the Maharshi’s 
smile was tender and gracious. I not only lost my 
fears but felt at ease. I had no questions to ask. 
Before coming I had prepared a number of questions that had been worrying me to ask the Maharshi, but now I couldn’t remember them. 
My doubts had simply evaporated. Questions seemed 
unimportant. 

I felt that there was nothing strange about the Maharshi. He was just a man who was himself, whereas all of us were growing away from ourselves. 
He was natural; it was we who were not. 
We call him a saint or sage, but I felt that to be 
like him is the inheritance of everybody; only we 
throw it away.