CHAPTER: 37 I Go To America "America! Surely these people are Americans!" This was my thought as a panoramic vision of Western faces passed before my inward view. Immersed in meditation, I was sitting behind some dusty boxes in the storeroom of the Ranchi school. A private spot was difficult to find during those busy years with the youngsters! The vision continued; a vast multitude, 37-1 gazing at me intently, swept actorlike across the stage of consciousness. The storeroom door opened; as usual, one of the young lads had discovered my hiding place. "Come here, Bimal," I cried gaily. "I