The initiation was concluded in a half hour. “KRIYA is your CHINTAMANI,” {FN11-7} I told the new student. “The technique, which as you see is simple, embodies the art of quickening man’s spiritual evolution. Hindu scriptures teach that the incarnating ego requires a million years to obtain liberation from MAYA. This natural period is greatly shortened through KRIYA YOGA. Just as Jagadis Chandra Bose has demonstrated that plant growth can be accelerated far beyond its normal rate, so man’s psychological development can be also speeded by an inner science. Be faithful in your practice; you will approach the Guru of all gurus.” “I am transported to find this yogic key, long sought!” Pratap spoke thoughtfully. “Its unshackling effect on my sensory bonds will free me for higher spheres. The vision today of Lord Krishna could only mean my highest good.” We sat awhile in silent understanding, then walked slowly to the station. Joy was within me as I boarded the train, but this was Jitendra’s day for tears. My affectionate farewell to Pratap had been punctuated by stifled sobs from both my companions. The journey once more found Jitendra in a welter of grief. Not for himself this time, but against himself. “How shallow my trust! My heart has been stone! Never in future shall I doubt God’s protection!” Midnight was approaching. The two “Cinderellas,” sent forth penniless, entered Ananta’s bedroom. His face, as he had promised, was a study in astonishment. Silently I showered the table with rupees. “Jitendra, the truth!” Ananta’s tone was jocular. “Has not this youngster been staging a holdup?” But as the tale was unfolded, my brother turned sober, then solemn. “The law of demand and supply reaches into subtler realms than I had supposed.” Ananta spoke with a spiritual enthusiasm never before noticeable. “I understand for the first time your indifference to the vaults and vulgar accumulations of the world.” Late as it was, my brother insisted that he receive DIKSHA {FN11-8} into KRIYA YOGA. The “guru” Mukunda had to shoulder the responsibility of two unsought disciples in one day. Breakfast the following morning was eaten in a harmony absent the day before. I smiled at Jitendra. “You shall not be cheated of the Taj. Let us view it before starting for Serampore.” Bidding farewell to Ananta, my friend and I were soon before the glory of Agra, the Taj Mahal. White marble dazzling in the sun, it stands a vision of pure symmetry. The perfect setting is dark cypress, glossy lawn, and tranquil lagoon. The interior is exquisite with lacelike carvings inlaid with semiprecious stones. Delicate wreaths and scrolls emerge intricately from marbles, brown and violet. Illumination from the dome falls on the cenotaphs of Emperor Shah-Jahan and Mumtaz Mahall, queen of his realm and his heart. Enough of sight-seeing! I was longing for my guru. Jitendra and I were shortly traveling south by train toward Bengal.