ON THE HIGH crest of Maruthwa Mala there stands a spacious, airy,
well-hidden cave that seems to have been specially cut out for tapas.
Its high, wide mouth welcomes you to come in. As you enter it, you find the cave is paved with pearl-white sand which furnishes you with a soothing bed. Spread a mat woven of wild grass, and you can sit in meditation or lie down in perfect calm. The murmur of the leaves lulls you to sleep. The song of the birds provides you with an arboreal chorus to wake you up at dawn.
The scenery around has to be seen to be believed. The cave faces west and, at your feet you have a sloping carpet of grass of various shades of green, flowers of variegated colours, the place shaded by trees. The rays of the setting sun shining through the foliage convert the skyscape into a lovely mosaic painted by nature. It is there that you feel that “nature imitates art more than art imitates nature.” All these are laced by the white beach and the foam of the sea glistening under the tropical sun.
on Maruthwa mountain. Climbing up during one of his surveys, he espied a man in white, moving about in the cave. As he approached it and as his eyes got used to the darkness, the Swami came out to the mouth of the cave, and waved away two leopards who were, so to say, guarding the cave. The overseer now felt safe and was emboldened to approach the Swami with folded hands. What they talked about is not known.
Standing straight as a shaft, but gracefully supple with a complexion that was fair and soft and clear, the radiant form that stood before him possessed a vibrant personality framed in the rough-hewn rocky doorway of the cave, with the semi-darkness inside serving as a sober background.