Chapter Twenty Six

When Mahendra, having paid homage to the feet of Satyananda, had taken his leave, the second disciple who had been initiated along with him that same day came forward and made obeisance to Satyananda. Satyananda blessed him and bade him be seated upon the black antelope skin. After some courteous discourse, he said, "Tell me now, hast thou deep devotion to Krishna or not?"

The disciple replied, "How shall I say? That which I take for devotion may be but hypocrisy, or else self-deception."

Well pleased, Satyananda said, "Thou hast reflected wisely. Pursue such practices as may daily deepen thy devotion. I bless thee, and thy striving shall bear fruit. For thou art yet very young in years. My child, I have not yet enquired by what name I am to call thee."

The new son of the Brotherhood answered, "Whatsoever pleaseth thee. I am the servant of the servants of the Vaishnavas."

Satyananda said, "Beholding thy youthful years, it is in my mind to call thee Nabinananda; take then this name. But one question must I ask: what was thy name aforetime? If there be any hindrance in the telling, yet tell it. What is spoken to me shall pass into no other ear. The very essence of the Children's faith is this: that what is unutterable elsewhere must yet be uttered to one's preceptor. No harm shall come of the telling."

The disciple said, "My name is Shantiram Devasharma."

Satyananda said, "Thy name is Shantimani — sinful one."

So saying, Satyananda seized in his left hand the disciple's jet-black beard, a cubit and a half in length, and gave it a single pull. The false beard came away in his grasp.

Satyananda said, "Fie, child! Wouldst thou practise deceit upon me — and if thou wert to cheat me, of all men, why a beard of a cubit and a half at so tender an age? Moreover, though the beard be shortened, canst thou hide the voice of thy throat, or the glance of thine eyes? Were I so dull as that, would I have set my hand to so great a work?"

Then did Shanti, abashed, cover her face with both hands and sit awhile with bowed head. The next moment she let fall her hands, and casting a sidelong glance at the old man's face, said, "Master, what fault have I committed? Hath a woman's arm never any strength in it?"

Satyananda said, "As much as water in a cow's hoofprint."

Shanti said, "Art thou wont to test the strength of arm of thy Children?"

Satyananda said, "I am."

So saying, Satyananda brought forth a bow of steel, together with a length of iron wire, and said, "Upon this bow of steel must this iron wire be strung as bowstring. The length of the string is to be two cubits. While the string is being drawn, the bow riseth up and flingeth aside whosoever attempteth to string it. He who can string this bow — he alone is truly strong."

Shanti, having examined the bow and the wire well, said, "Have all the Children passed this trial?"

Satyananda said, "Nay, by this only have I taken the measure of their strength."

Shanti said, "Hath none failed of the test?"

Satyananda said, "Four only have prevailed."

Shanti said, "May I ask who they are?"

Satyananda said, "There is no prohibition. One is myself."

Shanti said, "And the others?"

Satyananda said, "Jibananda. Bhabananda. Jnanananda."

Shanti took up the bow, took up the wire, and with a careless ease strung the one upon the other, and cast it down at Satyananda's feet.

Satyananda sat astonished, fearful, and stricken dumb. After a space he said, "What art thou — a goddess, or a mortal woman?"

Shanti, with palms joined, said, "I am but a common woman, but I am one vowed to chastity."

Satyananda said, "Whence, then, this might? Art thou a child-widow? Nay, not even child-widows have such strength, for they take but one meal a day."

Shanti said, "I am a wedded wife, and my husband liveth."

Satyananda said, "Is thy husband lost to thee, his whereabouts unknown?"

Shanti said, "His whereabouts are known. It is upon his trail that I have come."

Suddenly, like sunlight bursting through a sundered cloud, remembrance illumined the mind of Satyananda. He said, "I bethink me — Jibananda's wife is named Shanti. Art thou Jibananda's wedded wife?"

At this Nabinananda hid her face beneath the burden of her matted locks. It was as though a thicket of elephants' trunks had fallen upon a bed of lotuses. Satyananda continued, "Wherefore hast thou come to commit this sin?"

Shanti, of a sudden flinging her matted locks backward upon her shoulders, raised her face high and said, "What sin is here, my lord? When a wife followeth her husband, is that a sin? If the law of the Children pronounce this a sin, then is the law of the Children itself unrighteous. I am his partner in righteousness; he hath taken up the path of dharma, and I have come to walk that path together with him."

Hearing Shanti's fiery words, beholding her uplifted throat, her swelling breast, her trembling lip, and her shining eyes brimming nevertheless with tears, Satyananda was well pleased. He said, "Thou art a virtuous woman. But mark, my child, a wife is partner only in the duties of the household — what woman hath part in the warrior's calling?"

Shanti said, "What great hero hath ever become great without a wife? Would Rama have been a hero without Sita? Tell me how many wives Arjuna had. As Bhima had strength, so had he wives, the one matching the other. What need to say more? Yet why must I say it to thee?"

Satyananda said, "True are thy words. But to the field of battle, what hero bringeth his wedded bride?"

Shanti said, "When Arjuna did battle in mid-air with the Yadava host, who was it that drove his chariot? Without Draupadi at their side, would the Pandavas have fought on the field of Kurukshetra?"

Satyananda said, "Be it so. Yet the minds of common men are drawn unto women and held back from action. Therefore is the vow of the Children this: that they shall not sit upon one seat with the womanly kind. Jibananda is my right hand. Thou art come to break my right arm."

Shanti said, "Nay, I am come to add strength to thy right hand. I am vowed to chastity, and chaste shall I remain in my master's house. I am come only for the practice of dharma, not for the sight of my husband. The pangs of separation afflict me not. Wherefore should I not be sister to the faith my husband hath embraced? For that have I come."

Satyananda said, "Well, let me try thee some days, and see."

Shanti said, "May I have leave to dwell within Anandamath?"

Satyananda said, "And whither else shouldst thou go this night?"

Shanti said, "And thereafter?"

Satyananda said, "Like the brow of Mother Bhabani, there is fire upon thy forehead too. Wherefore shouldst thou burn up the Order of the Children?"

So saying, with a blessing he dismissed Shanti.

Shanti said within herself, "Ah, the wretched old man! Fire on my brow indeed! Am I the ill-starred one, or thy mother?"

In truth, Satyananda had not meant any such thing — it was the lightning of her eye whereof he had spoken; but in old age can a man say such a thing to a young creature?