In the forests of Uttar Pradesh, there lived a certain sect of Jogis. Through rigors of self-discipline.
They had acquired some occult powers which they used, not for the common good, but to beguile the simple and innocent. Setting out from Hardawar, the Guru reached their haunt called Gorakhmata. The Jogis tried to overawe the Guru with their petty tricks but failed to prevail upon him. The Guru, on the other hand, within his impassioned discourse on the right conduct and his soul-inspiring song in praise of the Creator, cleared the long-accumulated dust of vanity from their souls. After a short sojourn at Gorakhmata, the Guru resumed his onward journey. One of the Jogis, Machhandamath, chose to travel some distance with the Guru and test him further. AS they had travelled about a score of miles and were passing through a forest of soap trees, the jogis, pursued by the pangs of hunger, asked the Guru for something to eal. He thought that, finding nothing worth eating thereabout, the Guru would betray his helplessness and fee! small. But the Guru asked Mardana to tear off a twig from the tree under which they happened to be seated at that moment. Mardana did likewise. The hesitant Jogi plucked the fruit and tasted it rather with a suspicious tongue, To his amazement, he found it sweet like honey, His doubts thus resolved, he made obeisance to the Guru and returned to his monastery. By the grace of the Guru, even the bitter soaps became sweet and palatable.
Article extracted from this publication >> September 17, 1993
