When I arrived from Madras, Yogiji was sitting quietly in his usual place in the house in Sannadhi Street. He was alone. There were no garlands around his neck and no cigarette in his hand. His head was uncovered and slightly bent, the grey hair hanging loose and disappearing into his shirt. I had never seen him without a headcovering and he looked small and vulnerable. I bent down and offered him the rose flowers I had brought from the bazaar. "I have brought roses, Babaji," I said, ad- dressing him in the affectionate and respectful North Indian manner. Quick as a flash his head came up and he said, "This beggar is not a babaji! This beggar is a beggar -- a bikshu!" He was very assertive and I was taken aback by his response. I sat down in front of him. "This beggar is the kesin yogi in the Rig Veda hymn." Kesin means long-haired and as if to make his point, he pulled his hair out of his shirt and wrapped it around his head, tucking the end in like a turban. He seemed to withdraw when he did this, his face becoming composed and his eyes inward-looking. I withdrew with him, the tension of travel draining away from me like water. I became acutely aware that we had changed dimension, the noise of the bazaar having retreated to a great distance. It was very quiet. We sat for some time utterly relaxed and at peace. Then Yogiji picked a rose flower and put it in my hand, covering my hand with his and holding it. "This beggar is a Yogi," he said, his voice very sweet and intimate. "This beggar is the same as the kesin yogi in the great Vedic hymn.

It took me some to locate the hymn Yogiji had referred to. The key to finding it was the term kesin used to identify an ascetic with long flowing hair. 'Mere was only one such hymn in the Rig Veda but there were a number of garbled and erratic English translations. Many indologists seemed to treat it with distain, referring to it as the Song of the Mad M". Yogiji would have been much amused by their attitude though I did not have the courage to tell him. In fact the kesin yogi was never mentioned again between us and I soon forgot the incident. There were other encounters with Yogiji that seemed more relevant. But one day I carne across Raimundo Panikkar's great anthology of Vedic hymns called The Vedic Experience. He had included the hymn, simply called "Muni", in a clear English rendition that captured the very spirit of the kesin yogi. I give it below and let it speak for itself, even as Yogiji spoke for himself when he identified the Song as his own those many years ago.