Among the Not So Great

A Related Story

Vandi-da, one day pulled a rickshaw (not a cycle-rickshaw but hand-drawn). He pulled it on the public road, just for the fun of it. Some local rickshaw-pullers who had seen R as Vandi-da became anxious. They thought he (R) might have in mind to run a regular rickshaw-service. This would lose them customers! A delegation of them approached Amrita-da, the Ashram’s manager, to plead with R to desist from starting an Ahram Rickshaw Service (A.R.S).

(4) R was part-time supervisor in Dortoir. He was a terror to the children because of his close inspection during meals — no talking, no running around, no wastage, — nothing but eating silently, finishing all one took. No finish, no school was the rule.

(5) He had for a time to see to the working of the Laundry and Bakery.

(6) One of the thankless, horrendous jobs R had was to maintain the silence and discipline of the place — mainly D.R. We, young and old feel lost too long in ‘silence’ and irked by discipline. The Mother had, into the bargain, instructed him to go about the job “Quietly”! So we would often see R walking past rows of us noisy youngsters, without a word, a smile on his lips, hands closed behind. He looked straight ahead or just stooped to pick up a morsel of food dropped often deliberately to tease him. I must admit he passed our muster — with credits.

(7) I used to move around on a bicycle. I once rode into D.R. through the Main Gate. R. saw me and said: “You should not ride in. You may walk the cycle in.” I countered with: “What is wrong with cycling in? The gate is wide enough for a lorry”. Luckily he gave in, saying: “I cannot argue with you. I don’t even know cycling — so”! I have never ridden in through the Gate after that day.

(8) R crossed swords (words) with me again at a different venue, with a referee to boot (actually a “refereesse”). It all started in our Sports Ground in its “getting-ready”-days. Many of us ashramites worked there on Sundays. We were given lunch there, brought by R. I was having lunch using my hands to bring the food to my mouth — i.e. no spoon (what most Indians do). There was a notice in D.R. advising diners not to eat with hands. Now R found himself duty-bound to advise me to change over to “spoon-feeding”. I would not give in, and replied “Why not? This is not D.R!” He gave in or seemed to — for when I entered the Play Ground the same evening, he was there and told me: “Oh! Batti, we had an argument this noon at the Sports Ground — I spoke to the Mother about it. You may speak to Her”! When the Mother came round to our group, I broached the subject of R vs. Batti. She asked me to show my hands. I did — palms up and palms down. Her remark was: “Oh! They are quite clean for a boy!” and She moved on. (I must have had clipped my nails recently and washed my hands for the groundnuts.)

(9) R had, it would seem, trained himself to be alert for trouble. There was a young fiery boy named Niranjan. He had an altercation with a boy named Shakti. It came to blows. Shakti was a cool type. They were separated by some older people. This was near the Play Ground after the Mother’s “Distribution”. We all proceeded to the D.R. Niranjan went to his room. We just reached the front verandah of D.R. when Niranjan ran up to Shakti saying (in Bengali) “come on, I will deal with you now”. He had an open penknife in his hand. We were all younger than either Niranjan or Shakti. We were too surprised to make any move. Fortunately R happened to be present. He caught Niranjan’s hand and led him off back to Play Ground to the Mother.

(10) Next in horrendousness in R’s duties must have been being responsible for supplying personnel for the many Departments (Chitra-di & Co. now are at that) and keeping the appointees disciplined (regular, punctual and useful). It appears to me that as a general rule of Nature, a man does not like the duty fixed up for him by another, or if he does like it the duty does not fit him or he is not befitting that work! It takes all sorts to make up our thus small world!

(11) But by far the most horrendous duty that befell R was another. There were even in those “good old days”, unwanted individuals amongst us. The Mother, once in a rare while, required that person to leave the Ashram! R was the man chosen to see that the person is gone, or taken away. Interestingly he failed once — because of the Mother countermanding Herself! There was a tomboyish girl whose general behaviour warranted her being asked to leave. R was to make the arrangements. He was about to finalise the procedure. Just then Nolini-da came and said that the girl may be allowed to stay — the Mother had said so. Soon after the Mother queried to find out if the girl had been sent! This happened thrice in a few days’ time. R was peeved and puzzled. He went up to the Mother asking Her to enlighten him. She said that each time she had thought of sending her away her soul came to the Mother saying: “This is one chance I have to advance. If it is lost — when again?” So the Mother relented.

There was another somewhat similar case. It may not have been connected with R, but it is very instructive. There was a boy who was adjudged “Not Good Enough” for our institution. It so happened that the boy had just written to the Mother (it was just after one of the Darshans) asking Her: “Mother, who was that old man standing behind you during the general blessings?” The Mother said, “Sri Aurobindo was standing behind me. The boy “saw” what none of you saw, and you judge him “not good enough?” [Each reader to unclutter her/his own thoughts.]

(12) It may be remembered that R.S. Pantulu (R.S.P.) alias Durvasa Muni, alias my uncle, was in-charge of the Binding Dept. of our Printing Press. All — all feared and respected him in equal measure. R went to the Dept., may be to check on the labour force there. At some point he managed unwittingly to cross the limits of his duty and step into R.S.P.’s territory. He caught the full blast of R.S.P.’s firepower. He literally ran out of the premises but reported the matter (as was his wont) to the Mother. She advised him to go and apologise to R.S.P. He did so early next morning. They melted into each other’s arms.

Age (Kaala) as he usually and inevitably does, slowed R and also mellowed him. Yet he took on new and lighter responsibilities. He edited the Hindi version of Purodha and Agnishikha. He was a lover of languages with a greater penchant for Hindi. He had a working knowledge of Bengali, Gujarati, Tamil, Telugu, maybe a smattering of French and Oriya. He took Hindi classes in our school.

A not so-long (26.1.1917 to 24.8.2001 = 84 years) but varied and fruitful (pun not intended) life was R’s. He was bed-ridden for some time and shed his mortal coils on the 24th of August of 2001.

I would believe Ravindra-ji went up in a golden Vandi to the Mother who took him into Her embrace of love. He had passed Her muster with credits.

Life only is, or death is life disguised,
Life a short death until by life we are surprised

(“Life and death” by Sri Aurobindo)

Sri Aurobindo, Collected Poems: Life and Death