The Mind Creative
with us , and I had no recourse but to depend on yogis for help.
First I had to register before a minor yogi—possibly an intern—and
after a while I was escorted to a room, which had mood lighting.
There was the smell of incense and a yogi was sitting in the centre.
He was a big fellow with a forbidding mien. Looked like Hugh
Griffith with long hair and beard. He had an aquiline nose and a
pair of enormous eyes.
His
name
was
Mrishtanna
Bhojanaaananda
Swami.
In
Sanskrit it means a swami who
likes a hearty meal.
Hugh Griffith
He listened to me patiently and
said that he would give me a
personal ‘mantra’. “Nobody in the
world knows this except the two of
us.” So it was unique. The word was ‘chimp’. I had to sit in a
darkened room, assume the lotus position, light an incense stick,
close my eyes and silently chant the word, with total concentration.
“Think of nothing else, not even the monkey.”
(This last, he said, would improve my powers
of concentration. Absolute control of the mind
follows.) Once I am able to do that, I would
be on the path to recovery.
“How long would it take?” I asked. “Ah, my
son, (He was much younger than me, by the
way. But I chose to ignore the slight.) that
depends on you. Come next year and talk to
me.”
Anyway what happened after my bout with
TM is not of any consequence. Did I get a
good scrubbing? Hardly. Did I go back? No.
24