A fair share of readers find the book’s almost cinematic descriptions of levitation, clairvoyance and healings hard to swallow. Miraculous accounts—like a guru walking through walls or materializing holy ash out of thin air—spark debate over historical accuracy. Academic critics often label it more hagiography than memoir, pointing out a lack of verifiable sources for many of these extraordinary episodes.

The narrative’s devotional tone doesn’t sit well with everyone, either. Some view it as an unabashed promotional piece for Paramahansa Yogananda’s own Self-Realization Fellowship (SRF). Tighter-than-most copyright controls over unauthorized editions and translations have only added fuel to the fire. In several countries, local spiritual groups clashed with SRF over distribution rights and doctrinal gatekeeping—sparking legal skirmishes that lingered for years.

Cultural scholars sometimes raise an eyebrow at the way Indian spirituality is neatly packaged for Western tastes. Critics argue that precious nuances of yogic traditions become diluted—classic “East meets West” oversimplification, if ever there was one. A handful of feminist voices have also commented on gender roles sketched in 1920s India, suggesting that some portrayals feel dated today, even if they reflected prevailing norms back then.

More recently, ex-members of the SRF organization have come forward with complaints about financial opacity and top-heavy governance. Allegations range from strict hierarchical control to discouragement of outside scholarship—issues that mirror controversies seen in other faith-based movements.

Despite these debates, the book still holds a special place on many nightstands around the globe. It remains a gateway for seekers drawn to yogic philosophy and meditation. Still, taking its more sensational stories with a pinch of salt can help navigate between genuine inspiration and legend—keeping the spirit of inquiry alive in a world that’s ever hungry for both wonder and proof.