RADIANT LIKE THE RISING SUN ... 1

Radiant like the rising sun are these flaming monks of the Order. But for these luminous beings what a dark would have enveloped the earth! Ramakrishna and his Apostles have initiated a spiritual movement the like of which the world has not witnessed since the days of the Buddha when in flowing streams his missionaries of peace carried forth the Dharma to distant lands and veritably established the first democracy of the spirit in the world at large. But this time there shall be a virtual inundation of the world, an impregnation of the mind of man with the pristine principles of the Vedas, undiluted and unsullied by misinterpretation or adjustment to suit sectarian ends for the fountain-head of the movement is the Lord Himself and the Voice of the Word the premier sage of hoary India, fresh-incarnated to sow the seed in this turbulent age when man has lost his spiritual moorings altogether. When an Avatar comes, he brings with him his entourage of kindred souls, his eternal playmates, companions of the Cause. They all of a sudden arrive, sing and dance, enact their play and then as suddenly vanish into thin air. Whither they came, whither they go, none can tell for all things are known in the middle, their extremities elude us, so says the Geeta. But they leave behind a legacy of love that rejuvenates humanity with a hearkening to a voice within and the soul of man springs up to the call of eternity. The song celestial is sung by the Master but it echoes through the corridors of terrestrial space through endless times and beckons many a tossing soul in the depth of the dark night to follow the trail of the seekers of Truth. Ramakrishna is gone and so are Vivekananda and the rest of the Apostles but their spirit lingers on. Even now the Master and his beloved Naren may be seen strolling in the deep dark night on the lawns of Belur Math, even now the image of Raja Maharaj in the Brahmananda Temple at Belur quickens to give a blessed vision to a fortunate one and even now the Mother may be seen feeding her mason children after a gruelling day in the searing heat of Chennai even before their hour of labour at her temple is over and the nuns of the Sarada Math are yet to serve the hungry ones with food at the appointed hour when their job will have been done. So the saga goes on and every generation throws up these luminous sages of the Order, Ramakrishna's apostles of the hour, Mother's children of eternity.