My friend Mark35

Every mile Savyasachi would come to give me something to drink. He would come either at the end of the mile or somewhere in the middle of it — wherever he could bring the car.

Many people were running on the sidewalk, so that the trees would protect them from the heavy rain. But I didn’t like the leaves on the sidewalk and also I was afraid I would step in a puddle. At least on the street I could see where I was running.

At seventeen miles I found a friend. A young man, about thirty years old, was driving by in a car. He said to me, “I want to drive with you.”

I said, “Fine!”

Whenever I would walk, he would stop the car and wait for me. He was following me and encouraging me, saying, “Yes, you can make it.”

After driving with me for one mile, the man said to me, “My name is Mark. What is your name?”

I said, “Chinmoy.”

Mark said, “Come into the car. I will take you secretly a few miles ahead and nobody will know.”

I said, “I can’t do that.”

He said, “You are a nice gentleman. Good luck.”

RB 692. 24 January 1983