The place was now devoid of any Sadhus but the incident left a deep impression on my mind. I said to myself, "Even in Swargashrama (Heavenly abode) I have to witness the scene of Hell and that too for a loaf of bread? The merciful Lord has created a variety of fruits, roots, herbs, and other eatables, by eating which we can do our penance." I decided that I would never go to the Centre for food, and almost immediately, after inquiring from a few Sadhus, I was on my way to the cave of Bhuthnath.

At a distance of about a mile and a half from Swargashrama, to the South, was a range of mountains considerably high. The forest was pleasing and beautiful. In that very jungle, infested with wolves and other wild animals, where trumpet sound of the wild elephants was audible during the nights, I saw a small cave. Though it was a natural cave, a door had been fixed at the entrance and cement flooring had been provided inside. The floor area was hardly 10' by 8'. There was also a small platform inside the cave towards the foot of the mountain on which a person could easily sleep.

I was happy to find a place of my choice and with the required solitude. I placed my things in the cave and went out for a walk to explore if there were any fruit-bearing trees near about which could provide me food. Very near the cave I found a number of Bel and Amla trees. I was filled with joy on the thought that I would not be required to beg for my food. I brought a few ripe Bel and Amla fruit to the cave. I was also happy to find a small stream that flew just behind the cave with plenty of sweet and cold water.

The next day I started my spiritual practices regularly. Early morning I washed my hands and feet and sat for meditation. At sunrise I generally finished my morning routine and practiced asanas. My body was well used to asanas; I was practising about sixty asanas in about three hours.

After taking my bath, I sat at a place from where the sun could be clearly seen and gazed at the sun. In the beginning I experienced a little difficulty in fixing my eyes on the sun, but as my eyes became more and more steady, the concentration of mind sufficiently increased. Thereafter, I recited the Gita and the Upanishads, chanted Gayatri mantram and took the pulp of the Bel fruit well mixed with water for my food. That was my food. I continued this practice for many months. Now I could sit at a stretch for hours together in Siddhasana.

Ramashram Library was on the other side of the Swargashrama. I brought books from the Library for reading. I was extremely fond of reading books on Yoga. From what I had read in the books on Yoga, I was convinced that if the mind was fixed on a particular desire, for some hours, the desire gained strength and fulfilled immediately. I had also started practising Pranayama and to keep Puraka (intake of breath), Kumbhaka (retention of breath), and Rechaka (throwing out of breath) in the ratio of I : 4 : 2, I needed a watch. Knowingly or unknowingly I thought I was a devotee of God. I had no desires of my own and if I had any, they were only to help me in my devotion to Him. It was, therefore, my expectation that without my asking, the God should fulfil my desires. I greatly felt the need of a time-piece, the absence of which proved to be an obstacle in my spiritual practice and cursed the Lord for it. Should he not care to fulfil a meagre desire of a devotee?

One day I was sitting on Siddhasana, for meditation. Abruptly a thought occurred in my mind and was immediately followed by another. It was that if I wanted my desire to be fulfilled, I should add strength to my desire and the merciful Lord will certainly fulfil it. The thought filled me with joy and that very moment I started experimenting. I wanted to test whether a desire kept in mind constantly and exclusively for some time was fulfilled by God or not.

In the afternoon I sat on my asana, wrote the words "I need a time-piece" on a piece of paper, and pasted it on the wall in front of me. After about two and a half hours a gentleman knocked at the door saying, "I have come to see you, will you please open the door?" I took him to be an intruder and opened the door. As soon as he saw me, the gentleman saluted me and took his seat after me. He was six feet tall, of a fair complexion, wearing a dhoti and a closed collar coat, well built, and was in his fifties. From his appearance I could see that he was a Marwari. Later, I learnt that he was the Clerk at the Marwari Centre which distributed food to the Sadhus. First, he inquired as to when I had come and what I was eating, etc. I satisfied his queries and said, "For my food I eat the Bel fruits." "Why don't you come to our Centre and have food?" he asked. "When the food provided by nature is easily available, I don't like to roam about, leaving my spiritual practices for the sake of my belly," I told him softly.

He shot another question, "Here the mountains are on both the sides. So you must be finding it difficult to know the time." "No doubt the difficulty is there," I confessed. Meanwhile he saw the piece of paper on the wall. "So you are in need of a timepiece," he remarked. "If you require anything else please let me know," saying so he went away. The next day he brought a beautiful alarm time-piece and placing it before me politely said, "If you require anything more, please do not hesitate to tell me." I thanked the gentleman. I also thanked profusely the Almighty Lord. After this incident I was convinced that if we wanted anything we should make our desire strong and concentrate on it as long as it was not fulfilled. We should enter the realm of God with that very desire in our mind. The desire is bound to be fulfilled within a short time. Later, I experimented with other small needs and my experiments were successful. Thereafter I came to the conclusion that the key to success was in self-confidence and will power. The conviction gave me strength and made me fearless to a very great extent.

The clerk of the Marwari Kshetra (food distributing Centre) visited me once a week or so. He had become friendly with me. Within a short time. He brought me milk without my asking for it. At times he sent me khichadi (cooked rice with pulse) prepared by him or brought it himself. The gentleman had a religious bent of mind and was taking lessons from me to get over the fickleness of his mind.

A few days passed happily. But now a number of young Sadhus and married persons were visiting me to learn asanas. Once I was in my cave. It was nine in the morning when suddenly there was a knock at the door. "Who is that?" I asked. "Narayan," was the reply. I got up and opened the door. There was before me a tall stout person, wearing a saffron robe. He was of dark complexion and had a pleasant look. I welcomed him and offered him a seat. Since he did not know any language other than English, I too had to speak in English. He expressed his desire to learn asanas to which I agreed gladly. He visited me regularly for about six or seven days. I practiced the asanas and demonstrated to him. He was amazed to see that I had a sound, soft, and flexible body and one day be said with surprise, "Swami, how flexible is your body. I think there is no bone in your body. You turn it to whatever side you like and whatever angle you choose."

Later, I came to know that the young sannyasin was none else but Swami Shivananda. There was a time when he was a Civil Surgeon at the Madras Hospital. Shortly we became fast friends. He was a South Indian. He had left his wife and a child to take up Sannyasa. I frequently went to his hut and discussed with him Vedanta. We studied together the books on Vedanta. Later he became one of the well-known sages of Rishikesh and wrote a number of books on devotion, Vedanta, Divine Love, etc. which won him fame in both the East and the West.

Among other practices, I stressed more on trataka (concentration of vision). In the morning I concentrated on the Sun and at night on the flame of a candle. It is the speciality of trataka that as the vision gets fixed the mind becomes thoughtless. I felt as if the activity of mind was getting weaker and weaker. Hence whenever I had a little time I practiced trataka. Not only this but whenever I went out for a walk and was seated at a higher altitude, I concentrated my vision on a tree and rendered my mind blank. The rest of the time I did my japa of Om along with my breath and was so much accustomed to it that if it stopped for a while, I felt suffocated.

I had read somewhere in a book on Yoga that if one gazed at a person with a particular feeling in his mind, the person gazed upon was bound to be influenced by the feeling or thought. I was convinced about the truth of this concept. The event that I am going to narrate now took place perhaps because the God wanted to confirm my belief in this concept.

It was evening. The birds were flying in formations, one after the other. Darkness was slowly creeping in. I returned from an evening walk, opened the door of the cave, washed my hands and feet, and sat at my usual place for sadhana. It was June and the dark half of the lunar month. The sky was rather cloudy. Hence it became dark just after the sunset.

At about 7.30 or 8 p.m. someone knocked at the door saying, "Sir, please open the door." I was in no mood to open the door but the voice seemed to be full of agony. It compelled me to open the door although I was irritated a little. I opened the door and asked him, "Sir, what brings you here?"

The intruder, who was fairly tall -- about six feet, was wearing a dhoti and a worn-out garment made of gunny cloth, and held a bundle of tattered clothes and a staff, said, "I don't want anything from you. I am extremely tired. I wish to pass the night here. Please give me shelter." So saying be entered the cave and sat down without even waiting for my permission. I explained to him that the cave was too small to make either of us comfortable and that the Swargashrama was nearby where he could have shelter as well as food. "I am too tired to move even an inch. Please permit me to sleep here tonight," he pleaded. The man had put on such a face that I was convinced that he was really tired and, out of sheer compassion, I said, "If you so desire, you make yourself comfortable."

It was pitch dark inside the cave. We could not see each other's face. I lit the candle and arranged a place for him to sleep. I then gave him some water for a wash and asked him to rest. I looked at him in the light of the candle. He had a well-built body and I could clearly see wickedness on his face.

It was time for my meditation but I waited for a little while. I wanted him to sleep before I started my spiritual practice. I told him twice that he was very tired and should sleep. If he wanted anything to eat he could take the Bel fruits as I had nothing else to offer. He did not heed my words. Instead, he sat upright and started staring at me. I was a little frightened. I wanted him to sleep and he sat down. I raised my voice and told him again, "You should rest now." He didn't reply but I found him muttering something. Once in a while he was emitting air through his mouth with a hissing sound and was rolling his eyeballs which were well fixed on me.

I was irritated and got angry. I told him again, "You stop your recitation and go to bed." My words were a little harsh. By that time I had fixed my eyes on him. There was not even a tinge of fear in my heart. But he continued his chanting more loudly and was breathing out more briskly. I fixed my eyes on that Sadhu and with the concept of the terrifying Veerabhadra in my mind, I started gazing at him without winking. In a minute or two, the Sadhu was frightened. In a trembling voice he said, "I ... will ... sleep ... now."

I raised my pointing finger towards him and told him in a tone of anger, "I warn you. You must sleep quietly. Don't dare utter a single word." I saw him lying down and within the next few minutes he was snoring. I put out the candle, did my japa for a little while, and went to bed. The next day I got up as usual at about 5 a.m., meditated, and then finished my morning routine but the Sadhu was still fast asleep. He got up at 8 a.m. after I woke him up, collected his belongings, and hurried towards the Swargashrama.

The experience and the experiment strengthened my faith in trataka. I was convinced that if a person imbibed and dwelt upon the concept of the All-Powerful God, who is described as Sat, Chit, and Ananda, he could never experience fear, agony, or torture. The lives of Mira, Dnyaneshwara, Tulsidasa, and Tukarama were pious, undaunted, and divine only because they had fully imbibed this concept. I decided to develop my conviction.

As luck would have it, the Sadhu went to the place where the Marwari stayed and told him, during the conversation, that he had stayed in the cave of Bhuthnath the previous night. The Marwari gentleman inquired about me and asked him to carry a glass of milk for me if he was going back. The Sadhu took the glass of milk and disappeared forever. The next day the Marwari inquired about the Sadhu and the glass of milk he had sent. "Did you get the milk?" he inquired. "What milk?" I exclaimed.

He was greatly surprised and explained, "I had sent you milk through the Sadhu who had stayed with you last night." "Then I got it," I laughed. "Why, what's wrong?" he said in surprise. I narrated him my experience with the Sadhu. He smiled and said, "So that rogue had been here to try his chanting on you." He told me how Swami Amitananda, a Bengali sannyasin, and another Sadhu, who were living in solitude, were murdered by such rogues clad as Sadhus. The story he narrated was really horrible and pathetic. At the end he said, "Sir, you had a narrow escape. These treacherous men never hesitate to kill anybody." I was sorry to learn about the deeds of the rogues in the guise of Sadhus. The Marwari left and I took to the practice of my asanas.

After the incident I remained there for a month but never did I have such an experience again. After a few days Sri Yogananda of Sri Mandukyashrama arrived and requested me to return to the Ashrama. This time he promised to provide me with all that I required for my penance.

I bowed to the cave of Bhuthnath which had helped me in my spiritual practices, had a look at the beautiful forest with gratitude, and left with Sri Yogananda.