“My spiritual master,” you said, and your voice, he says, choked to gravel. “My spiritual master,” you repeated, “he was no ordinary spiritual master.” You paused again, and then whispered falteringly, “He saved me.”
I have sometimes reflected on this astonishing transcendental moment and wondered exactly what you meant when you said, “He saved me.” You were born into a family of devotees, and your father was a pure devotee. What, then, was there to be saved from? But this is how you felt—and we honour that. It is another deep expression of yours that we relish and deeply appreciate
