The deeper aim of the early rishi-musicians was to blend the singer with the Cosmic Song which can be heard through awakening of man’s occult spinal centers. Indian music is a subjective, spiritual, and individualistic art, aiming not at symphonic brilliance but at personal harmony with the Oversoul. The Sanskrit word for musician is BHAGAVATHAR, “he who sings the praises of God.” The SANKIRTANS or musical gatherings are an effective form of yoga or spiritual discipline, necessitating deep concentration, intense absorption in the seed thought and sound. Because man himself is an expression of the Creative Word, sound has the most potent and immediate effect on him, offering a way to remembrance of his divine origin. The SANKIRTAN issuing from Sri Yukteswar’s second-story sitting room on the day of the festival was inspiring to the cooks amidst the steaming pots. My brother disciples and I joyously sang the refrains, beating time with our hands. By sunset we had served our hundreds of visitors with KHICHURI (rice and lentils), vegetable curry, and rice pudding. We laid cotton blankets over the courtyard; soon the assemblage was squatting under the starry vault, quietly attentive to the wisdom pouring from Sri Yukteswar’s lips. His public speeches emphasized the value of KRIYA YOGA, and a life of self-respect, calmness, determination, simple diet, and regular exercise. A group of very young disciples then chanted a few sacred hymns; the meeting concluded with SANKIRTAN. From ten o’clock until midnight, the ashram residents washed pots and pans, and cleared the courtyard. My guru called me to his side. “I am pleased over your cheerful labors today and during the past week of preparations. I want you with me; you may sleep in my bed tonight.” This was a privilege I had never thought would fall to my lot. We sat awhile in a state of intense divine tranquillity. Hardly ten minutes after we had gotten into bed, Master rose and began to dress. “What is the matter, sir?” I felt a tinge of unreality in the unexpected joy of sleeping beside my guru. “I think that a few students who missed their proper train connections will be here soon. Let us have some food ready.” “Guruji, no one would come at one o’clock in the morning!” “Stay in bed; you have been working very hard. But I am going to cook.” At Sri Yukteswar’s resolute tone, I jumped up and followed him to the small daily-used kitchen adjacent to the second-floor inner balcony. Rice and DHAL were soon boiling. My guru smiled affectionately. “Tonight you have conquered fatigue and fear of hard work; you shall never be bothered by them in the future.” As he uttered these words of lifelong blessing, footsteps sounded in the courtyard. I ran downstairs and admitted a group of students.