A Soulful Cry Versus A Fruitful Smile
by Sri Chinmoy
Dedication
At my brother Mantu's repeated request to write rhymed poetry I have written these short poems. I dedicate these heart-offerings of mine to my brother's great seeker-soul.
Chinmoy
12 August 1977
Anecdotes by Sri Chinmoy
The Sprinter
Around 4:30 in the morning I was completing my run. It was not twenty-seven miles like some of my disciples; it was only two miles.
As I was completing my two miles near the famous bus stop on 150th Street, a middle-aged white American said to me, "Man, you are a sprinter — not good for long distance!"
I thanked him and smiled at him, and he also smiled at me. See, his intuition was working so nicely!
The Grace Protects
I had only thirty or forty metres left to complete my mile that same morning, and I was struggling like anything. Then a car with three Puerto Rican youngsters made a right turn at the end of the street and started driving very slowly toward me. Two of the boys stretched out their hands through the window and screamed, "Hey, Sri, Sri!" Then such obscene words they started to use. It was the worst possible foul language — just absurd!
But the Grace was also there. The same middle-aged man who had spoken to me at the bus stop started running toward their car, using the same terms they had used. He repeated their mantra. When he repeated what they had said, they drove away very fast.
Then the man came over to me and I thanked him. He said, "Are you Sri Chinmoy? I am so happy that I am able to speak to you. I have heard so much about you. But I am not ready for the spiritual life, and I will never be ready." He smiled and smiled and thanked me.
This was an attack of the negative forces, but the Grace came to protect me. I would not have said anything to those youngsters. Who cares for them? But this gentleman ran ten or twenty metres and frightened them away by using the same absolutely foul tongue that they had used. This was my morning blessing.
Today's incident is so amusing. The older man had heard about me but had never seen me while those Puerto Rican boys definitely knew much about me.
Two weeks ago, on 150th Street, three black soldiers — cyclists — came toward me all riding together. But on that day I was very brave. I barked at them and they dispersed.
Published in Run and Become, Become and Run, part 1