The author Sri ‘M’ is an extraordinary individual. His uniqueness lies not only in the fact that at the young age of 19 and a half, he travelled to snow clad. Sri M (born Mumtaz Ali Khan) is a living Yogi and disciple of Sri Maheshwarnath Babaji who in In chapter 2 of his autobiography Apprenticed to a Himalayan Master, Sri M describes meeting his Guru Sri Maheshwarnath Babaji, who. An autobiographical account of a yogi and his journey towards understanding his Master and spiritual destiny, Apprenticed to a Himalayan.
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For us, lunch hours were great adventures for there were no teachers supervising.
Apprenticed to a Himalayan Master
What made this case almost unbelievable was that the young man in question was not even born a Hindu. He came out of the water and rubbed himself dry with the only towel that he possessed. My teacher would later refer to this period as the Tantric phase. The book focuses mainly on Hindu practices but successfully drives the point home that religious bias and prejudices are meaningless. Devotees took their bath in the pond and on festival days the deity was bathed in it.
Big thief, come to steal my treasure. By then, I was breathing hard. How this young man became a yogi ; and the mysterious and fascinating world of un-imaginable power and grandeur that opened up for him, is the story of my life. M is founder of the Satsang Foundation. I read the page book in as little time a possible then continued with Yogananda’s and found that it became more lucid than earlier.
Apprenticed to a Himalayan Master (A Yogi’s Autobiography) eBook: Sri M: : Kindle Store
There were two ways to go to school – the main road which was shorter but had heavy traffic, and a windy side road, which was longer but had hardly any traffic.
The well-built unadorned muscular body was bare except for a white loin cloth. People who are believed to be possessed are brought from far and wide and kept there for some time, the violent ones even chained to stone or wooden pillars. Then I stood up and rubbed my cheek. They belonged to a Tamil speaking emigrant family from neighbouring Tamil Nadu. Not only that, I had met several magicians and personally learnt the tricks of their trade so much so that in college and other small gatherings, I could perform a full-fledged magic show, which included levitation, the great Indian rope trick and sawing a lady in two.
He continued to smile and then stretched out his right hand and touched my forehead for a fraction of a second before he withdrew it.
A mosque is attached to the tomb which is maaster a Dargah. He rarely ate, sometimes smoked, and resisted all attempts to clothe him. I mastet everything except the presence of that light which was flowing up and down between my forehead and my heart. In the centre of a small room sat a big built old man in an arm chair, his feet resting on a foot stool.
He lived with his parents and elder sister, not very far from my house. On this road, as you climbed a slope and turned right stood the temple of Subramanya Saami. The boys bimalayan facing him and the fire in a semi-circle.
But I decided to take both of them out. She ate it with great relish and then -touched my forehead with her right hand. He went past us, stopped abruptly, came back to where we were and halted right in front of me.
For me the one take away is sincerity. Would you like to tell us about a lower price?
The approach has mostly to do with this being a travelogue and observation on personalities than sinking in deeper into Indian philosophy or spirituality. I loved every bit of the book and it gives readers an examples of how magnificent the human body is and there are amazing number of people masster planet earth who are unheard of.
This book reminds me of “Autobiography of a Yogi” by Paramahansa Yogananda. Then you will see Rama. Also helped me know that there are lot of spiritually grown souls in India and they are not known to the world still. He deals easily and honestly with the mistrust between religions just as he also shows how these boundaries can melt away.
For the first time, I was filled with fear and loathing. Although orthodoxy demanded the segregation of the lower castes, Nanu had found an unusual upper class Sanskrit teacher called Raman Pillay Asan who treated everyone equally. Even bare rocky hills, I painted white, with my snow-obsessed mind. I paid half a rupee. He said the jungle was thick, there were leopards around, and also the path.
Lessons from a Sufi Master. One day, I met a young ochre clad sanyasin with a shining face. The lower part of his body was covered in a kind of brown tree bark and across his chest was slung a white girdle that looked like cotton rope.