Champaklal Speaks

Mother’s Sketches

Mother used to call certain people to the Interview Room to do their sketches. Generally it was in the mornings.

Usually she was indifferent about her own paintings, though she did like some of them very much. Whenever somebody asked to see them, she would avoid it by giving some excuse such as “They are not worth seeing. At times, when she could not say them No, she showed them. To some she would readily show; that was rare. But occasionally she herself would show them. She had a special liking for a portrait of a young Japanese¹ that she had done in oil paints. Whenever the subject of painting was discussed she would mention it and praise it very highly—as if it had been done by somebody else. Her expression, when she was speaking of this portrait, was so happy, indescribable.

One day Mother arranged these sketches in Pavitra's room for showing to Ashram artists, most of whom she had called. The next day I mentioned to Mother that Kamala was sad and unhappy.

Mother: “Why?”

C: “You did not call her to see your paintings.”

Mother: “All right. I will make her very happy. You see, Champaklal,” she added with a smiling, happy expression, “there is a sketch of Sri Aurobindo which I have done but not shown to anybody. I will show her that; tell her.”

C: “Then what has happened is very good, Mother.”

Later, after Mother had shown the portrait to Kamala, I told Mother: “It is not out of pride that Kamala did not want to ask; she was sad because she could not help it. She wishes that everything comes spontaneously from you, not that you are obliged to do it, She knows that she is not an artist. She is only a student. But generally you call her on such occasions and so she had expected to be called.”

Mother: “Now you see what she got!”