I loved to go for long walks. Everyday, I would walk to the Theosophical Society’s Library. I would walk to the Bazaar.
I knew the whole of Karachi by foot! One day, I was caught in a sudden downpour. I saw a garden near by, and the gardener’s little hut – stood near the gate. It was invitingly open.
I approached the door and asked, “May I come in?” An old, feeble, dark-skinned gardener sat at a chulah, cooking food. “Come in, my child,” he greeted me warmly. “Come in and dry yourself.
I hope you won’t catch a cold.” It was a humble cottage and there was little to see. “Will you eat with me?” he asked, kneading the dough vigorously.
I hesitated before replying, “I’m only here for a short while. I shall have to go home when the rain stops.” “But the food will be ready in no time!” he insisted.
I stared at the fire. How could I eat dal cooked in a mud pot, and rotis rolled on the floor of the hut? But the gardener would not let me go without eating. The gardener said to me kindly “You have blessed my home by your arrival today.
Do you know that our shastras tell us that a house is blessed when an atithi arrives! Alas, I don’t get many guests, but your arrival is indeed a blessing! How can I let you go without eating? How can I send Sri Krishna away without offering Him food?” “I am not Sri Krishna,” I tried to explain politely. “Actually, my name is Jashan.” “Yes, dear son,” he laughed.
“You are Jashan; but you carry Sri Kri.