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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'.

My Savitri work with the Mother

  The Mother : Contact   On Savitri

Huta
Huta

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.

My Savitri work with the Mother
English
 The Mother : Contact  On Savitri

24 November 1960

On 24th November 1960—Realisation Day—the Mother handed this message, written by Sri Aurobindo, to all of us in the Meditation Hall upstairs:

Forsaking my godhead I have come down
Here on the sordid earth,
Ignorant, labouring, human grown
Twixt the veils of death and birth.
I have been digging deep and long
In a horror of mud and mire
A bed for the golden river's song,
A home for the deathless fire.

I painted several paintings for the sake of study, but the Mother gave a meaning to each of them. I used to receive the endless flow of inspiration, but many a time I suppressed it. I should not have done this.

I felt that I must make the most of what I had learnt in London. Vasudha learnt to make a few flowers for her Embroidery Department, but owing to her heavy work she could not continue. A few ladies came but I felt that there was not enough response or enthusiasm. Later I realised that the Mother had altogether another plan for my future life, and I was harping on my own plan! Indeed, the human plans usually do not work except when we get true inspiration from the higher source and not from our material vital!

The inner churning was constant. After the darkest night of the past, there came the dawn of the future. At last I met my beloved Savitri! I was strangely and strongly inspired to express Savitri through paintings. I disclosed the matter to the Mother on 26th September when she met me at 4 p.m. She held my hands, a happy smile touched her mouth at my words. She responded:

You know, my child, I had a great wish to express through paintings the visions I had seen from 1904 onwards, but I had no time.

Here in the Ashram I encouraged several people before you were born, but without avail. Now you will fulfil my wish.

Much later I came across some writings of the old sadhaks regarding the painting that the Mother tried to teach them. They were Sanjiban, Anil Kumar, Jayantilal, Krishnalal and Nishi Kanto in the 1930s. All the hints direct and indirect about the spiritual paintings she had been giving me since 1956 came rushing back to me. After a deep contemplation she resumed:

I will help you constantly. I will take you to higher worlds and show you the Truth. You must remember the Truth and express it through painting.

I recalled the most revealing letters she had written to me about the higher worlds and about spiritual and occult painting. They proved to be a wonderful promise. Now my inner mind saw clearly that not only myself but the whole of humanity would benefit by this project. My life suddenly assumed a new purpose—a new meaning.

The following morning the Mother sent through Dyuman a Souvenir Book, The Mother. She had placed a lovely marker on page 49 and drawn attention to these lines from Sri Aurobindo with a red pencil:

What I am trying to do everywhere in the poem is to express exactly something seen, something felt or experienced.... Savitri is the record of a seeing, of an experience which is not of the common kind and is often very far from what the general human mind sees and experiences.

In the afternoon the Mother received me affectionately. Our eyes met—hers held the supreme promise. I smiled in acknowledgment. I knew within me that she would not sway once she had made up her mind. The Mother explained:

First you must do a painting on a small board with various colours—different blues, pinks, yellows, greens and reds. I will certainly help you. I will put my Force into you so there will be a link between two consciousnesses. Go ahead.

I said hesitatingly: "But, Mother, I am not very good at drawing, perspective and landscape. I have shown you the sketches I did in London. They are awful. How is it possible for me to express the Epic?" She shed light on the subject:

You see, these things are not necessary, because the Epic is full of visions and they can be expressed by giving only an impression. The most important thing is that in painting you must bring vibrations, feelings, liveliness and consciousness.

I said: "Mother, how can I paint until I read Savitri word by word? First I must understand the Epic intellectually." She lapsed into a trance for a few minutes. She opened her eyes and said in a thoughtful voice:

I'll see to it.

I could not help the surge of pleasure when I saw the Mother the following afternoon. She looked at me. Her eyes held a fathomless expression. A radiant smile on her face brightened the room. She spoke:

Do you know Purani? I am arranging your reading Savitri with him.

My Consciousness and Force will be present during your study.

She laid her hands over mine—with a light, firm pressure that was reassuring. Out of some far vacancy I heard myself avowing to her:

"Nothing can ever satisfy me except the Divine and His work."

The Mother ran a gentle hand over my forehead; I felt that I was being moulded like clay in her powerful hands. A sigh of great relief escaped me. I gathered together the white roses given by her, kissed them amid my tears of joy, pressed them against my heart and made my exit.









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