The Story Of Swami Rama - Holybook

The Story Of Swami Rama
God." This was his language. In his language there
was the rain of his tears along with the sunshine of
his loud laughter, in this fell the snows of calm
serene contemplation, and in this prevailed the
sadness of dry autumn leaves falling, falling as the
winds carried them hither and thither listlessly.
"They do not see the pain of continuous labour that
my roots undergo in toiling for the joy of the
spring burst of my flowers. The world wishes only
to share my joy, the world knows not my travails,"
said he.
He had a message to give, he had joys to share
with the whole world. His passion for Truth was
throbbing with the infinite restlessness of a
missionary.
He was in terrible earnestness as an apostle of
what he called Vedanta. His Vedanta was,
however, no more a Vedanta than the prayer of a
Moslem is, or the devotion of a Bhagavata is, or the
fervour of a martyr is, or the impulse of a patriot
hero is, or the poetry of Shelley is, or the
philosophy of Spinoza or Shams Tabrez, or the
song of a woman in love, is Vedanta, But what was
collecting in him till then, was already breaking the
194