Lahiri Mahasaya Diary -

A householder scolded me: “You sit like a stone while your children play in the dust of the street.” I smiled. The dust is holy. The child is the Father. Let them play. Let them scold. The one who watches both is not disturbed. This is the only sadhana I know: to remain the silent sakshi even when the world calls you lazy, mad, or dead.

A railway official, proud, asked in broken Hindi: “You sit all day. What do you do ?” I replied: “I watch the train of thoughts. You watch the train of coal. Both are Maya. But one knows it.” He scoffed. Before leaving, he asked secretly: “Can I meditate without leaving my job?” I laughed — the first sound in three hours. “My son,” I said, “the Ganges flows whether you wear a uniform or a rag. Sit like a king inside. The office is your ashram.” lahiri mahasaya diary

Before sleep, a disciple asked, “Sir, how long must I meditate?” I answered: “How long do you hold your breath underwater when afraid?” He looked puzzled. I explained: “Not long. But if pearls lay at the bottom, you would learn to stay. Find the pearl. Then duration vanishes.” He left lighter. I closed my eyes. The Ganges inside never stops flowing. A householder scolded me: “You sit like a