Our Light and Delight

3

What Came Out of an Easter Egg

On a visit from Bombay in 1953 I reached Pondicherry on the 11th April. The whole journey had been a passage from state to state of aspiration — particularly aspiration in the head, a mounting movement which sought God with a passion eager to pierce through the skull — symbolising, of course, what Sri Aurobindo calls in Savitri "the intellect's hard and lustrous lid" — and grasp the infinities that seemed to brood overhead. This movement pulled at the heart also, lifting it up, though not quite deepening it into a discovery of its own inmost God-possession. Bombay drifted away like mist — only a few vivid impressions remained, a startle of faces now and then, especially one face. Except for this face, my entire life in Bombay seemed to be over. But even this face had the look of not belonging really to that city. Its future seemed merged in my own future in the Ashram and there was one single light enveloping both it and myself, a light which laughed, as it were, at Time, for it could hold, in a miraculous present, periods that were separated according to earth's calendar.

As soon as I stepped in Pondicherry, a peace came and surrounded me. I did everything with a profound quiet as if nothing had been left to worry over. "All shall be taken care of" — this was the sense of the peace.

I went to the Samadhi, knelt before the Supreme Presence and took his invisible blessing and got wrapped in his love. Then I went to the Balcony Darshan. Only a few people were there, scattered in small knots. Suddenly the Mother appeared. She was in a pink-gold dress. She looked at me, recognised me, smiled and jerked her head to one side in playful acknowledgment. Her eyes swept on to others, but again they came back to me and affectionately rested on my face. It was as if she were caressing it in order to find out what signs it bore of being dedicated. She did not seem displeased. For once more, after turning elsewhere, her eyes

Page 29

returned to me. Oh it was blessedness indeed to be lit up so often by those blue-green-grey-gold stars.

When I had gone to the Samadhi, I had taken with me the parcel I had brought from Sehra. I had kept it in Amrita's room. After the Balcony Darshan I picked it up and went to the staircase. Quite a long "sit" I had there. The Mother seemed busy somewhere along the passage between the balcony and the staircase. At last the incomparable melody of her voice floated down to where I was seated together with some others. We got up, but again we had to wait. Finally, the movement of people up and down the stairs started. On that day the Mother was standing not at the head of the stairs but in the inside room where the girls work. When she saw me, she lifted her right arm and bending it towards her own face beckoned me joyously. I hurried to her with my parcel. I put the latter on the mat and clasped her hand and kissed it. The hand was wet with perspiration; but I found it wonderful to touch my lips to the moisture. Then I knelt and practised my "special discovery" — the ecstasy of hugging her legs. I would not let go the old ecstasy even — that of touching my head to her feet. Twice the Mother blessed me, her fingers brushing through my hair gently.

When I got up, she pointed to the parcel: "What's this?" I replied: "Sehra has sent it with a note. It is an Easter Egg." "How nice" the Mother exclaimed. I gave her the note. She at once opened it and read it through. When she came to the last sentence which had run: "When I am sending this Egg, my prayer is: May I be your chick!" — she gave a loud chuckle. She took the note and stood by an inside table near the wall as if she wanted to reply to it. I went over to her. She said softly: "You were under the impression, it seems, that Mother India would be published here in April only. But how can that be? It has to be published here always if you are to come and stay here permanently." I answered: "Yes, of course, but what about Sehra? Is she ready to come?" "Oh, I'll write to her that I expect her to come with you," I explained to her that Sehra had her job in Bombay. "Job!" the Mother exclaimed as though she deemed it a small matter. Then she asked me: "How much does she earn?" "A hundred and fifty rupees a month plus the commission she gets on the chocolates she personally sells. Sehra feels we

Page 30

don't have enough money to come and stay here. But I believe that if you directly ask her to come, she will." The Mother said: "I have never asked anybody directly to come and stay here." I ventured to suggest: "Why not make a good beginning now? Do invite her." The Mother kept quiet, with a thoughtful face.

We then came back to the Easter Egg. "Open it up, she said, looking at the box. I untied the string and carefully pulled out the straw packing. I explained that the wings of the bird on the egg were delicately projected outwards and they might easily break. "Oh, there is a bird also?" the Mother asked in surprise. As the straw was removed, the bird came into view. Unfortunately, a chip had somehow come off the left wing, a part of its surface plaster had got rubbed away. "It's made in plaster," the Mother remarked. Then, as I was trying to lift the egg out, she stopped my fumbling hands and, with her own most sensitive and protective fingers, picked up the egg herself. It was marvellous the way she lavished an intense quiet care on the egg. After lifting it out with infinite tenderness she took it to her inner room — her dressing-room, of which Jayantilal had made a painting in that collection of nine pictures which I had once reviewed in Mother India. I saw this room for the first time. The Mother placed the egg on a glass-top table.

We came back to the front room. I said: "Roshan, Mina's daughter, has asked me to tell you that today is her examination in History of Philosophy." The Mother made a sound as if to indicate the toughness of the subject. I continued: "Mina has given a message too. She says that she is holding you tight within her heart, but she hopes also to come here soon." Next, I gave Shirin's "lots of love". Finally, as if to crown my messages, I mentioned my sister Minnie and the deep warmth of her feeling for the Mother. The Mother picked out packets of blessings — "How many shall I give you?" "Five." She gave them to me.

In the evening I went to the French-translation class at the Playground. I sat there and meditated while the Mother went on translating Sri Aurobindo's Ideal of Human Unity. I noticed that no Easter Egg could be more perfect than the Mother's own head. It had the most attractive oval shape possible.

Page 31

Later, at 7.15 there was the distribution of groundnuts at the Playground. All the time, I felt I was face to face with an unknown future, a story whose details were hidden from me — a fascinating adventure which I had just to watch without fear. Inwardly I surrendered to the Mother the whole matter of Sehra's coming.

The next day, at the staircase, the Mother said: "I have prepared my reply to Sehra. Most probably I'll give it to you in the evening." There was music in the afternoon, I heard it sitting in the Ashram courtyard. It was a very soft but deep and moving and widely ranging music — it seemed as if something came down with some vehemence into my head, especially the back of the head. This created a genuine headache. Later, at the Mother's tennis-court I had the feeling that an immense egglike dome was above my head, entering the head with its lower curved base. Within the immense skylike egg there were faint far vibrations.

The Mother's letter for Sehra did not come that day. But the next evening at the Playground she handed me an open envelope with "Sehra" written on it in pencil. When I went home for dinner I read the letter. It was in reference to the last sentence in Sehra's note in which she had expressed her prayer to be the Mother's chick. On the same sheet of paper and exactly under that sentence the Mother had written her answer:: "Surely, my child, this is quite possible. Won't you join the 'nest' and do your bit of work here? With my love and blessings."

Before this reply could have reached her, Sehra wrote to me a letter. At the staircase on the 16th I told the Mother: "Sehra has asked me to put my head on your feet on her behalf. She says that putting her head on your feet used to be the one thing she loved most." The Mother looked very pleased and said "Bon!" ("Good!") I did the head-feet touching and the Mother blessed Sehra through me.

On the afternoon of the 17th I had an inner movement of complete self-offering. But there was a strange hardness emerging somewhere in the being, which I didn't like — it was as if I were taking it upon myself to force things, ride roughshod over people and clear my way without any scruple. I had told the Mother that I could not come without Sehra, but the new feeling indicated a likelihood that I might

Page 32

even come without her, waiting for her to follow. In one way this was good, because it made my life and work independent of everybody. But it seemed contrary to the movement the Mother had set going from the first day of my visit. At night all of a sudden I felt very human and the whole difficult of giving up things rushed over me. I imagined vividly how Sehra must be feeling on receipt of the Mother's letter which must have come into her hands that very evening. The whole of the next day I was in a strange mood. I was still shaken inside but I did not encourage myself at all in the weakness. I told myself what Mina had said: "Now, Amal, you must do or die." Yes, she was right. There was no other way. I offered my whole difficulty to the Mother inwardly and went on as quietly as I could.

The next day, at 1 p.m., for the first time I went to Pavitra's room with the Mother's permission to hear her play on the organ. She came in, gave a few looks around, noticed me and sat on her stool and immediately started playing. She was quite absorbed and her arms were tense with inspiration. The music had a varied mingling of melodies. It seemed to me the archetype, the divine counterpart, of the music of Schubert and others like him. Not strictly classical music à la Bach, but semi-classical with a more distinguishable tune about it. It gave me great delight and the manner in which the theme developed and modulated and went from key to key and once started moving backwards, as it were, to match the forward movement with which it had begun — all this enchanted me. I had never enjoyed music so much in my life.

At night the aspiration which had gone on increasing was intense. An opening deepened in the mind and heart and I began hearing distinctly the far-off universal sound which is for me the measure of the inner silence.

The following day was a mixed bag. As the plan of staying here permanently took shape more and more in the mind, all sorts of reactions came from the various parts of the being. Sometimes it seemed impossible to go on here — life appeared dull and uninteresting. Then all of a sudden a breath from the Samadhi or the staircase-meeting with the Mother — and all doubts and dejections vanished. The psychic being is the true key to the life in the Ashram. If it is all

Page 33

the time in the front, there is no problem. But when after a long stay in Bombay, one tackles the situation in a "realistic" way, issues rise up which have no place at all when it is merely a question of a short visit. The Mother would have to help a lot.

On the 29th Sehra's letter arrived. It was full of surface thoughts and fears and a lot of annoyance at so precipitate a prospect of settling in the Ashram. The Mother said that there had been no response to the Grace that had gone out to her. The whole thing had been looked at from the viewpoint of insufficient money and material discomforts. The Mother passed the verdict: "Neither of you can come now. I am not rejecting either of you, for, if I reject, that will mean an end. But I am putting the whole thing aside. I have done for Sehra what I have never done before in my life — and the exact opposite of what should have been the effect has happened in her. This closes the entire chapter."

"Mother, be with me. Help me to bring not only myself but also Sehra."

"Of course, I'll help you."

"Mother, if you want that I..." The Mother put her hand on my mouth and said: "No, don't say it. Let things be what they are at present."

"You probably remember that when once in your presence I referred to our future, Sehra said: 'Why talk of the future? I know our future. We shall settle in the Ashram.' So this shows that she is not really against staying here."

"That is quite is different matter. Staying here when you think you can afford everything and you are sure of your position — this is one thing. It is another to rise in response to the Divine's direct call, to be moved by the Divine Grace and come without thinking of how one will live. The situation being what it is, I think it is inadvisable for you two or even you alone to come now. If I let you come and if somehow Sehra comes for your sake, she will be very unhappy. Even good sadhaks become unhappy at times, missing the things to which they were accustomed."

In the very last interview I had with the Mother before I left on the 2nd of May, I reported to her:

"Sehra says that if I had the courage I would tell you the truth about a certain thing. I have the courage. She argues

Page 34

that it is not her fault that she cannot come now. That last sentence in her letter, to which you replied, had been suggested by me and accepted by her on my persuasion. It was not originally her own."

"Oh, I see," said the Mother. "That sentence was so nice that I immediately felt like writing to Sehra."

"Perhaps I should have told you the history of that sentence. But I did not realise any need to do so."

"That's all right," said the Mother and, with a smile, added: "Tell Sehra that I understand. Say that now there is no question of coming. The whole thing is postponed until she herself feels like coming."

Then the Mother added: "I must say that what happened did not show much sense of gratitude."

I said: "Mother, what I feel is this — whether that sentence was mine or hers, your Grace flowed out to her in an extraordinary way. Evidently she did not realise the fact. If she had, she would have written a word of thanks and then mentioned all the difficulties and obstacles. I don't understand what has gone wrong."

When the talk ended, Amrita arrived after a frantic search for a flat for Sehra and me. The Mother .expecting that all would come right, had sent him out to keep everything ready for us. Amrita sadly reported: "Nothing is available."

Well, this was to be expected in the occult dispensation of things.

On the 5th of May I started for Bombay. I was wondering how my meeting with Sehra would turn out. She came to the station to receive me. We exchange smiles. During the car-drive home, the topic of going to Pondicherry arose. She was still agitated over being blamed for everything and not being properly understood. "I am not against coming there," she said. " I am prepared to come. But we must have the necessary money."

At night before going to sleep I told her that I had explained to the Mother her inner willingness. I then told her what the Mother had said about coming at the call of the Divine Grace and coming at one's convenience and how the two things were worlds apart. This went straight to her soul. She said she would come. The whole problem was immediately solved.

Page 35

She said: "I thought Mother wrote to me only because of that sentence inspired by you. I never thought she wanted me for myself. If I know that she wants me without that sentence being there, I am ready to come. Oh I would like so much to fly to Pondi and put my head on Mother's feet. Mother thinks I am most ungrateful. Would I want to do this if I were ungrateful? I have inwardly suffered so much all these days. You have confused me very much."

We decided that Sehra should write to the Mother and tell her that she would gladly come with me. The letter was written, a very good one, in which she explained her willingness, expressed her gratitude and love for the special Grace of the Mother's direct call to her and asked forgiveness.

The certitude of our settling in the Ashram for good — an event which happened on 19th February 1954 — was ultimately what came out of the Easter Egg. The fact that apropos of the words accompanying that present the Mother had done what she herself considered an unusual act — namely, a direct invitation — proved to have been no accidental gesture. And there was another occurrence which showed how profoundly meaningful it had been. Sehra, after a few months of stay in the Ashram, opened very beautifully to the Mother. The Mother even said that Sehra's soul had taken its lodging in the Mother's being. She pointed to the middle of her own chest and declared with a smile that Sehra's soul was dwelling there quite snugly all the time. Act upon act of Grace followed and a lot of love was showered upon her. Sehra once thanked me for bringing her to the Ashram: the utmost happiness possible had been found.

Of course, the psychic being's keenly devotional move towards the Divine does not always change one's whole nature. The rest of the being has itself to consent to change. In measuring progress, many factors have to be weighed. Still, intense love for the Mother is — if I may use an imagery in tune with my narrative — a golden egg holding all divine possibilities and can lead to every progress desirable, provided one knows how to make the shell of the outer self break and let out the inner luminosity to spread into all the parts of our acutely complex being.

Page 36