“A fine mess you have got me into! Our luncheon was only accidental good fortune! How can we see the sights of this city, without a single pice between us? And how on earth are you going to take me back to Ananta’s?” “You forget God quickly, now that your stomach is filled.” My words, not bitter, were accusatory. How short is human memory for divine favors! No man lives who has not seen certain of his prayers granted. “I am not likely to forget my folly in venturing out with a madcap like you!” “Be quiet, Jitendra! The same Lord who fed us will show us Brindaban, and return us to Agra.” A slight young man of pleasing countenance approached at rapid pace. Halting under our tree, he bowed before me. “Dear friend, you and your companion must be strangers here. Permit me to be your host and guide.” It is scarcely possible for an Indian to pale, but Jitendra’s face was suddenly sickly. I politely declined the offer. “You are surely not banishing me?” The stranger’s alarm would have been comic in any other circumstances. “Why not?” “You are my guru.” His eyes sought mine trustfully. “During my midday devotions, the blessed Lord Krishna appeared in a vision. He showed me two forsaken figures under this very tree. One face was yours, my master! Often have I seen it in meditation! What joy if you accept my humble services!” “I too am glad you have found me. Neither God nor man has forsaken us!” Though I was motionless, smiling at the eager face before me, an inward obeisance cast me at the Divine Feet. “Dear friends, will you not honor my home for a visit?” “You are kind; but the plan is unfeasible. Already we are guests of my brother in Agra.” “At least give me memories of touring Brindaban with you.” I gladly consented. The young man, who said his name was Pratap Chatterji, hailed a horse carriage. We visited Madanamohana Temple and other Krishna shrines. Night descended while we were at our temple devotions. “Excuse me while I get SANDESH.” {FN11-6} Pratap entered a shop near the railroad station. Jitendra and I sauntered along the wide street, crowded now in the comparative coolness. Our friend was absent for some time, but finally returned with gifts of many sweetmeats. “Please allow me to gain this religious merit.” Pratap smiled pleadingly as he held out a bundle of rupee notes and two tickets, just purchased, to Agra. The reverence of my acceptance was for the Invisible Hand. Scoffed at by Ananta, had Its bounty not far exceeded necessity? We sought out a secluded spot near the station. “Pratap, I will instruct you in the KRIYA of Lahiri Mahasaya, the greatest yogi of modern times. His technique will be your guru.”