Among the Not So Great

Charu-da at Pondicherry

Charu-da sallied forth from his old familiar haunts and origins towards his avowed Gurus and a new life. Charu-da came to Pondicherry on the 3rd of October, 1925. He met Sri Aurobindo and a new chapter opened. There is an interesting, very tellable story — could be related to this “new chapter opening”. Charu-da met Sri Aurobindo and was talking to Him. He (Sri Aurobindo), educated as he was in pucca British ways, kept repeating, at appropriate intervals: “I see… I see.” This puzzled and alarmed Charu-da, a pucca Bengali, much steeped in the traditions of rural bengal. Charu-da thought: “What is He seeing? Something perhaps not so good inside me.” (The story goes a step further — Charu-da, the next day, buttoned his kurta higher up so that Sri Aurobindo would not “see” too much. But, the Guru kept saying, “I see… I see” all the same! It was much later that Charu-da came to know that it was quite an innocent “Angrezi” way of letting the speaker know that he was with the speaker, that he was listening. Thus did Charu-da come under Sri Aurobindo’s scrutiny and care.

Charu-da was lodged in the room in Atelier near the Gate — to the right (ground floor). Next to him was another old-timer, a Telugu gentleman, the late Krishnayya — an interesting man himself. Charu-da did not stay too long, then left for Bengal. When in Bengal Charu-da fell quite ill. At that time, when he lay feeling physically miserable, he had a darshan (vision) of Lord Narayana. Charu-da identified Him as Sri Aurobindo. He returned to Pondicherry in 1928. During his first stay here, a Frenchman named Barbier Saint Hilaire arrived. He was later named “Pavitra” by Sri Aurobindo (all would, or should be knowing him. He was a great man by all accounts. Suffice it to say he was very close to the Mother, a yogi, Her “sarathi”, and the first Director of Education of our school. He was a scholar and scientist. He had already searched far and wide for a Guru — from France to Mongolia and finally found them (Mother and Sri Aurobindo) here — but all that is another story for another day. When Pavitra-da arrived, he was put to work for Charu-da!! (Can anyone imagine such a scenario now: a newly arrived sadhak given to work for another older sadhak!?) Pavitra-da humbly went about doing the work assigned to him. But Charu-da was not completely pleased. He did not very much relish the fact that a “Christian” should be his worker — specially touch his drinking water (kuja). He did allow the water to be brought, but later discreetly threw away that water and brought some himself! Then Charu-da left for Bengal, maybe to settle and finish some halfdone work there. He came back in 1928 on the 4th of April. (Sri Aurobindo had arrived here on the same day 18 years earlier.) Charu-da came and enquired: “Kothai amar shaheb chakor?” (where is my white servant?) But by then Pavitra-da had passed his test and moved on, to be closer to and serve the Mother. (Pavitra-da had started a workshop — the precursor of present Atelier.)

Charu-da too moved on, he was put in charge of the Dining Room counter. He served then as faithfully as any. The brand of faith that some of the old-timers mustered, which ruled their lives here, which saw them through many ups and downs, would seem to us now too rigid, cumbersome and somewhat straight-laced. But then who draws, or where to draw the line between “good” and “too good” in such matters? Let’s move on with the story. Then came along a young man — (late) Ravindra-ji. He was made the “in-charge” of the counter in D.R. Charu-da stepped down and continued working, without even a whisper of resentment or dissent. It seems some know-all, a worldly-wise man, pointed out this irregularity in “appointments”. Charu-da snuffed such talk saying, “Ma ekta kukoorke rakhleo ami amar kaj korbo.” (Even if the Mother appoints a dog, I will continue my work.) At the D.R. counter was the place I first saw Charu-da, the day I arrived. I think he was serving bananas at breakfast time. At lunch he served RICE — unfailing, punctual and meticulous, thereby earning his title “Bhater”. I don’t remember seeing him at night, i.e. when we the young ones went there after the Mother’s Distribution at the Play Ground. (It is interesting to note that long before, in the days when the Mother was not coming to the Play Ground, the D.R. closed down by maybe 6.15 p.m. We had our dinner before 5.30 p.m., before going to the Play Ground. We were home by 7 p.m. — and off to bed.)

Charu-da, the man, whom I saw on that first day of my arrival, (nigh 60 years ago) was not very impressive; very soon I had to change my views. What I saw was an old wisp of a man. (He seemed the “same old” person decades later. He never through all the years changed size or shape.) He was quite tall — and not much else. An emaciated body may sound a bit strong, but it was so. High cheekbones, a cage of ribs and thin arms and legs all covered by a healthy skin. The eyes held anybody who cared to look and more so when someone happened to rouse his temper. That temper was ever ready to erupt (common in some of the Among the Not So Greats!). He wore quite a respectable beard and long flowing hair — always neatly groomed. Neither the eyes nor the lips held any promise of a smile — until years later. Rather they saw red and showed red when the temper blew. He wore a simple dhoti and a chaddar covering his upper body. A cloth was tied on his head during his serving in D.R.

(Could we, after all these years, dare a knowledgeable guess as to the reasons for the “short-fuse-tempers”? It was perhaps that they threw themselves at their Gurus’ feet with full faith and conviction. In simple terms — to serve them only, the best they could — as a means of progress in their sadhana. They surrendered everything, and expected all to do the same. So they could not tolerate any lapses or half-way measures in themselves or in others. Any move out of the straight path (narrow) in terms of discipline, timings, quality and quantity of work and even incapacity, were taken as weaknesses to be severely and instantly dealt with, without pity or self-pity. They got used to “no compromises”. Of course, short tempers are not uncommon now, nor were they ever non-existent. Only their triggering-off reasons are different.)

Charu-da was, for a long time, living “alone” here, as did most other sadhaks, i.e. with no other family members. But at the back of his mind he had an idea that he would offer his lands (at Mala — and he did) and bring in 101 devotees from Mala to the Ashram. He did attract many from that area. Many of his family members also were drawn in, nephews, nieces, grand-nieces and grand-nephews and...) Many of these had not even seen Charu-da. Arriving here they had their first glimpse and taste of him. They may have heard of him in awe if not plain fear but now (meeting him) the feeling was justified. Take that first meeting Sukhen (grand-nephew) had with him. The poor chap had just arrived from Mala and went to see Charu-da as a mark of respect. Charu-da didn’t give him a chance even to enter his room. He asked: “Samadhi hoye eshchho?” (have you been to the Samadhi?) Sukhen said, “No.” Then Charu-da, with signs of some rising heat, “Why then have you come here, — go, go to the Samadhi first.” Sukhen hurried off to the Ashram. Before Sukhen’s arrival (a very recent event), his aunts and many others from Mala were already settled here — many were here before 1945 — Benoy (teacher in Mala — sugar-tin filler here), Abinash, Surendra (Dairy), etc.

You could get into trouble with Charu-da for no apparent reason at all. (He must have had some reason.) This incident took place within 2-3 days of my arrival. I was very “kuchcha” (unbaked, innocent). I, along with my brother and two or three others (more pucca baked) entered the Ashram, going in for the general daily Blessings of the Mother. As we went past the “gateman” who happened to be Charu-da at that hour, one of my older companions whispered to me, “say loudly ‘Charu-daa’.” I did as bid. Then someone said, “run.” I was bewildered, but ran and looked back. There was Charu-da, red-eyed, making straight for me. I was frightened; I ran, took the Rockery passage and ran out of the Ashram. He followed me out to the corner and there left off the chase. I think I sneaked in later. This was my first encounter with Charu-da. He soon forgot and forgave — must have, — for he never took up the chase nor the topic again.

I have described Charu-da as “emaciated” for want of a better word. Thin and long as he was (when Sri Aurobindo said “I see...”, He must have seen right through him), he amazed me and my brother every once in a while. He was a friend of my uncle, Pantulu (another Vesuvius — see Among The Not So Great, chapter 5). Every time (on occasions) my aunt made some Payas, my uncle would keep aside about a litre of it and ask us to go deliver it to Charu-da. He could put it away in one go or two. This was before the days of fridges and before the arrival of any of his kin. Where did it all go? Apart from this luxury, he had only what was given in the D.R. Later, his nieces would make him some Luchi, fried brinjal and/or toast for breakfast. But you could never even speak of non-veg in his presence (including eggs). Sukhen again was at the receiving end when, unthinking, he said he would go and get some eggs. “Beriye jao” (get out) was the order given.

Charu-da worked on in the D.R. a long long time. I heard it said that he was never late, not a single day. But he was getting old. It was probably not easy for him to stand for long hours, all the while chopping up lumps of rice and serving queues of people. It was thought to ease him out of his work in the D.R. But how? He was too deeply attached to this work. He would be most unhappy to leave. But finally it was done — the Mother too cajoled him — a new job was found for him and She gave him a pair of new special dhoties & kurtas to wear when on duty — he was to be the gate-keeper (Dwarapalaka) of our Play Ground. So he was not retired completely. Then began the sweetening and softening of Charu-da. He came into contact with children and the youthful. This was a new atmosphere, a new current which soaked and softened Charu-da. Yet it was not as if a magic wand was waved and “behold”! an overnight transformation. Neither was it (the change) complete — but there was a beginning and a movement towards mellowing. We have heard and seen Charu-da of old. Now — for the new Charu-da.