“No sooner had I passed the ascetic than my astounded eye fell on Babaji. He was kneeling in front of a matted-haired anchorite. “‘Guruji!’ I hastened to his side. ‘Sir, what are you doing here?’ “‘I am washing the feet of this renunciant, and then I shall clean his cooking utensils.’ Babaji smiled at me like a little child; I knew he was intimating that he wanted me to criticise no one, but to see the Lord as residing equally in all body-temples, whether of superior or inferior men.
