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.