An account of Huta's sadhana & the grace showered on her by The Mother - especially how Mother prepared her for painting the series: 'Meditations on Savitri'.
The Mother : Contact On Savitri
This book tells the story of how Huta came to the Ashram and began her work with the Mother. It presents a detailed account of how the Mother prepared and encouraged her to learn painting and helped her to create two series of paintings: the 472 pictures comprising Meditations on Savitri and the 116 pictures that accompanied the Mother's comments titled About Savitri. During their meetings, where the Mother revealed her visions for each painting by drawing sketches and explaining which colours should be used, the unique importance of Savitri and the Mother's own experiences connected to the poem come clearly into view. The book is also a representation of Huta's sadhana, her struggles and her progress, and the solicitude and grace showered on her by the Mother.
THEME/S
On the 17th Maganbhai, my fourth brother, came from Miwani (Kenya) to fetch me. The following day we left for Miwani. My parents were pleased to meet me. They inquired all about my studies and stay in London. I never told them my difficulties, setbacks and sufferings. I gave them the impression that I was the happiest person in the world! I gave to my family members the gifts which I had brought from London.
Days passed with monotonous slowness. I felt bored. My only refuge was Nature which conveyed so much to me in her silent, secret, sweet way.
The Mother sent me a lovely card depicting the painting of a mauve Iris on white satin. Her words were:
The Aristocracy of Beauty— With love and blessings
She remembered me—my soul responded to her unchanging love. The Mother has given this significance to the Iris:
Aristocracy of Beauty—of so perfect a form that it compels admiration.
She has also described the flower:
Aristocracy of Beauty. It is a noble flower which stands upright on its stalk. Its form has been stylised in the fleur-de-lis the emblem of the Kings of France.
My fortnight's stay in East Africa was filled with parties, picnics, movies and social gatherings: so much entertainment, so many diversions, yet I could not set my heart on anything. My parents were worried and suggested to me several times to consider marriage. How to explain myself to them? Our house was surrounded by huge mountains. I wanted to climb the peak of one of them and shout and scream at the top of my voice: "I DO NOT WANT TO GET MARRIED—LEAVE ME ALONE." But I was silent and refused to answer any questions. More and more I felt suffocated among my own people. I was aloof, because within me I was absolutely conscious that I never belonged to them. Nonetheless, I appreciated their good will with a thankful heart.
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