Early this morning the sky is as clear as the sky of Italy, delicately
silvered white by regular streamers of mottled chalky
cloud..
One of the loveliest little scenes reveals itself. Gorgeous flame coloured rhododendron flowers are spangled against the dark-green bushes and trees which stretch along
the river sides like an avenue. The fascination of finding Nature in her
wildest and grandest form in this region never passes, for there is a magnetic lure about our environment
which is indescribable. Well does the ancient Sanskrit poet say : “In a hundred ages of gods I could not tell
you of all the glories of the Himalaya.” I do not
think that the scenic splendours of this fifteen-hundred
mile mountain world can be over-written. Whatever
one says of it will never be exaggeration. Dainty white marguerites and yellow, pink and white daisies peep into the air
upon the slenderest of stems ; ….
At the prelude to dusk, when the green peaks become purple shadowed, the bare tracks are flushed with rose, and when the dying sun turns the snow
ranges into gold-tipped crests, a heightened peace
becomes the reigning king of Himalaya.
In this serene, town-free silence, where no car siren hoots,
no tram clangs, no omnibus rattles and no human crowd rushes, the days disappear into yesterdays with
a gentle imperceptible effortless ease.
True, we have no electric light, no running taps, no motor roads, no streets and no shops, but we have
quite enough for a decent quiet existence. And even if those five things are absent, the corollaries which generally accompany them – noise, nerves , political agitation , riots and rumours of war – are equally absent and, so far as I am concerned, may easily be dispensed
with. No traffic hoots and toots past my door, no telephone bell rings every five minutes. I find myself above the clouds surrounded on
every side by the lofty ranges and ridges of Himalaya,
as in my former abode.
Towards the south
stretches the biggest valley of all, along whose deep
bottom gurgles the silver line of the turbulently flowing Bhagirathi river.
Forests of oak and pine-trees are but a stone’s
throw away. I had not expected to hear the warbling
nightingale here, but at times its music comes from
the trees.
Thus it is that to look out of my window each
morning becomes for me a veritable act of worship.
With each glance I give my mattutinal homage to Himalaya and enter into a mood of reverent adoration.
….that purification from all personal taint which Jesus
enjoined upon those who could understand that the
highest wisdom is ” not my will, but Thy (God’s ) will be
done ! ”
Finally he agrees that my
own revered Master is the man who has made the profoundest impression upon him. ” In his presence ‘I instantly felt peace, ” says the Yogi, and during the four days I stayed in his hermitage I received
spiritual experiences which I had never had before.
Our worldly worries may drag us back to pessimism, but Nature draws us to peace. We must retire from the periphery of this earthly case of ours to the centre, from complete extroversion to a
balanced introversion. Those alone dwell upraised above care and
fear , who dwell in the centre.