In India many, many years ago, there was a great wrestler. He defeated all his opponents. One day he entered into the Ganges to take his bath. A sadhu happened to be swimming at that spot. The sadhu was very thin, almost emaciated, and he was wearing a loincloth. He was swimming to and fro and not bothering anybody.
The wrestler had a mischievous nature. He started splashing the sadhu with water and making fun of him. The sadhu had not done anything to annoy him, but the wrestler was just doing it to prove his superior physical strength.
The sadhu said to him, “Now stop!” Suddenly the wrestler could not move his hands at all, the way my cousin could not move her leg when I showed her my occult power. The wrestler’s hands were raised out of the water because he was in the process of splashing the sadhu. He was stuck in that position, with his hands up — exactly the way people put their hands up when the police ask them to surrender. He literally had to surrender to the sadhu. In terms of physical strength, with two fingers he could have grabbed the sadhu and thrown him onto the bank of the river, but he was no match for the sadhu’s occult and spiritual strength.
After a few minutes, the wrestler was able to move his arms again. He came out of the water, touched the feet of the sadhu and said, “I want to become your disciple.” The sadhu accepted him and the wrestler began to lead a spiritual life. He surrendered to this thinner than the thinnest man and he made so much spiritual progress. By that time, the wrestler had many students and they all became the sadhu’s disciples.
At the ashram where I grew up, one of my friends was the strongest wrestler. He could throw me into the air easily. One day he wanted me to show him my occult power. So I showed him five cents’ worth of occult power from my third eye. He fell down on the ground. Then he ran to the head of the physical education department and began screaming, “That rascal wanted to kill me!”
The head asked, “How? Did he have a gun? Did he have a knife?”
“No,” said my friend.
“Then how could he kill you?” asked the head. “You are such a strong fellow!”
“With his eyes!” replied my friend. Then everybody laughed and laughed at him.
That is how I lost a real friend and a great admirer. His name was Krishna. He was absolutely the strongest person in the Ashram. Nobody could come near him.From:Sri Chinmoy,A mystic journey in the weightlifting world, part 1, Agni Press, 2000
Sourced from https://srichinmoylibrary.com/mjw_1