A disciple said to his Guru that his wife loved him very much and so he could not renounce the world. The disciple used to practise Hathayoga. To convince him of the hollowness of his plea, the Guru taught him some secrets of this branch of Yoga. One day all on a sudden there was great consternation in the disciple's house and wailings and sobbings were heard all around. The neighbours came running to the house and saw the Hatha Yogi disciple in a room, quite motionless, in a peculiar convoluted posture. They all thought that life was extinct in the body. The wife of the man was crying: "Alas! where have you gone, dear? Why have you forsaken us? Ah! we never knew that such a calamity would befall us!" In the meantime the relatives brought a cot to take the corpse out for cremation. Then they found themselves face to face with a serious difficulty. As the man was in a contorted posture, his body would not come out through the door. Seeing that, one of the neighbours brought an axe and began to cut the wooden frame of the door. Till then the wife was weeping in an uncontrollable fit of sorrow; but no sooner did she hear the sound of the axe than she ran to the spot, and though still weeping, anxiously enquired what they were about. One of the neighbours told her that they were cutting the door as her husband's body could not otherwise be taken out owing to its peculiar posture. "No, no," cried out the wife, "don't do so now. I have been widowed and there is none to look after me. I have to bring up my fatherless children. If you now cut the door, it cannot be repaired again. Whatever was to happen has happened to my husband. You had better cut his hands and legs and take him out." Hearing this, the Hatha Yogi at once stood up, the effect of the drug having gone by this time and bawled out, "Woman, you want to cut my hands and legs!" And so saying, he went away with his Guru renouncing hearth 'and home.

Once upon a time conceit entered into the heart of Narada and he thought there was no greater devotee than himself. Reading his heart, the Lord said, "Narada, go to such and such a place, a great devotee of mine is living there. Cultivate his acquaintance; for he is truly devoted to me." Narada went there and found an agriculturist who rose early in the morning, pronounced the name of Hari (God)only once, and taking his plough, went out and tilled the ground all day long. At night,. he went to bed after pronouncing the name of Hari once more. Narada said to himself "How can this rustic be a lover of God? Isee him busily engaged in worldly duties and he has no signs of a pious man about him." Then Narada went back to the Lord, and spoke what he thought of his new acquaintance. Thereupon the Lord said, "Narada,take this cup of oil and go round this city and come back with it. But take care that you do not spill even a single drop of it." Narada did as he was told, and on his return the Lord asked him, "Well, Narada, how many times did you remember me in the course of your walk round the city?" "Not once, my Lord," said Narada, "and how could I, when I had to watch this cup brimming over with oil?" The Lord then said, "This one cup of oil did so divert your attention that even you did forget me altogether. But look at that rustic, who, though carrying the heavy burden of a family, still remembers me twice every day."

In a certain village there lived a very pious weaver. Everyone loved and trusted him. The weaver used to go to the market to sell his cloths. If a customer asked the price of a piece of cloth, he would say: "By the will of Ram a, the yarn costs one rupee; by the will of Rama, the labour costs four annas; by the will of Rama, the profit is two annas; by the will of Rama the price of the cloth as it stands is one rupee and six annas." People used to have such confidence in him that they would immediately pay the price and take the cloth. The man was a true devotee. At night after supper he would sit for a long time and meditate on God and repeat His holy 'name.'

Once it was late in the night. The weaver hid not yet gone to sleep. He was sitting alone in the courtyard near the entrance, smoking. A gang of robbers was passing that way. They wanted a porter and seeing this man, they dragged him away with them. Then they broke into a house and stole a great many things, some of which they piled on the poor weaver's head. At this moment the watchman came. The robbers at once ran away, but the poor weaver was caught with his load. He had to spend that night in confinement. Next morning he was brought before the magistrate. The people of the village, hearing what had happened, came to see the weaver. They unanimously declared, "Your Honour, this man is incapable of stealing anything." The magistrate then asked the weaver to describe what had occurred. The weaver said: "Your Honour, by the will of Rama, I was sitting in the courtyard. By the will of Rama, it was very late in the night. By the will of Rama, I was meditating upon God and repeating His holy 'name.' By the will of Rama, a band of robbers passed that way. By the will of Rama, they dragged me away with them. By the will of Rama, they broke into a house. By the will of Rama, they piled a load on my head. By the will of Rama, I was caught. Then by the will of Rama, I was kept in prison and this morning I am brought before your Honour." The magistrate, seeing the innocence and spirituality of the man, ordered him to be acquitted. Coming out, the weaver said to his friends, "By the will of Rama, I have been released." Whether you live in the world or renounce it, everything depends upon the will of Rama. Throwing your whole responsibility upon God, do your work in the world.

A group of fisher-women who were on their way home from a distant market held on an afternoon, were overtaken by a heavy hail-storm at nightfall and were compelled to take shelter in a florist's cottage nearby. Their kindly host allowed them to sleep that night in a room where he had kept some baskets of sweet-smelling flowers for supplying his customers on the morrow. The atmosphere of the room, filled with the fragrance of flowers, was too good for the fisher-women and they could not, therefore, get even a wink of sleep. At last one of them suggested a remedy. "Let us sprinkle," she said, "a little water on our empty fish-baskets and place them close to us. That would keep this troublesome smell of flowers from spoiling our sleep." Every one gladly agreed to the proposal and acted accordingly; and soon all began to snore. Such indeed is the power and influence of habit! The worldly soul brought up in and accustomed to materialistic thoughts and surroundings cannot breathe long in an atmosphere of purity and renunciation without feeling restlessness and discomfort.

Extreme longing is the surest way to God-vision. One should have faith like an innocent child, and a child's longing for its mother.

There was a boy named Jatila. He used to go to school alone through the woods. Often he felt lonely and afraid. He told his mother about it and she said to him, "Why are you afraid, my child? You call aloud for Krishna when you get frightened," "Who is Krishna, mother?" the boy asked. The mother answered, "Krishna is your brother." After that, when Jatila was passing through the woods alone and felt frightened, he called aloud, "Brother Krishna!" When no one came, he called again, "O brother Krishna, where are you? Come to me and protect me. I am frightened." Hearing the call of the child, so full of faith, Krishna could no longer remain away. He appeared in the form of a young boy and said, "Here am I, your brother! Why are you frightened? Come, I will take you to school." Then having escorted. him to school Lord Krishna said to him, "I will come to you whenever you call me. Do not be afraid." Such is the power of true faith in the Lord and of real longing for Him.

Of course you must understand, there is a difference between desire and desire. The master said, "My child, if you desire after God, God shall come to you." The disciple did not understand his master fully. One day both went to bathe in a river, and the master said, "Plunge in", and the boy did so. In a moment the master was upon him, holding him down. He would not let the boy come up. When the boy struggled and was exhausted, he let him go. "Yes, my child, how did you feel there;" "Oh, the desire for a breath of air!" "Do you have that kind of desire for God?" "No, sir." "Have that kind of desire for God and you shall have God."

(Notes from a lecture 'Sadhana or preparations for higher life')