IN 1908, when I was 12 years old, Bhagavan was still in Virupaksha Cave. My cousin, Krishnamurthy, used to go to Bhagavan every day and sing songs of devotion and worship before him. One day I asked him where he went daily. He told me: “The Lord of the Hill Himself is sitting there in human form. Why don’t you come with me?” I too climbed the hill and found Bhagavan sitting on a stone slab, with about ten devotees around him. Each would sing a song.
Bhagavan turned to me and asked, “Well, won’t you sing a song?”
One of Sundaramurthy’s songs came to my mind and I sang it. It’s meaning was: “No other support I have except Thy Holy Feet. By holding on to them, I shall win your grace. Great men sing your praise, Oh Lord. Grant that my tongue may repeat Thy Name even when my mind strays.”
“Yes, that is what must be done,” said Bhagavan, and I took it to be his teaching for me.
Bhagavan turned to me and asked, “Well, won’t you sing a song?”
One of Sundaramurthy’s songs came to my mind and I sang it. It’s meaning was: “No other support I have except Thy Holy Feet. By holding on to them, I shall win your grace. Great men sing your praise, Oh Lord. Grant that my tongue may repeat Thy Name even when my mind strays.”
“Yes, that is what must be done,” said Bhagavan, and I took it to be his teaching for me.
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