My Savitri work with the Mother

Undated?

I received Mr. Jaykissen Bahety and Mr. Narottam Mehra—both devotees of Sri Aurobindo and the Mother—at Mercury House. We greeted one another. They were on a business trip. Apart from that they wanted to purchase a wonderful gift to offer to the Mother on the golden occasion—the 1st recurrence of the Supramental Manifestation, which would fall on 29 February, 1960.

Mr. Bahety gave me a packet from the Mother and apprised me of all news concerning the Ashram. Though the Mother had withdrawn from outer activities, her spiritual and occult work continued. In fact, it increased considerably.

Mr. Bahety remarked: "Huta, you have changed a lot. In the Ashram I always saw you so tense—there was no smile on your face—your brows had a frown all the time." I laughed.

We had tea together in my room. I was so glad to meet them and hear them talk enthusiastically about the Mother, her Grace and affection. Their devotion and love for the Mother showed in their eyes.

After thanking them and bidding them Au revoir I sat quietly on a sofa and opened the packet. I found the Bulletin and the message of 24th November with the Mother's love and blessings. I was charmed to see a card: a lovely pink rose painted on cloth on the left side and on the right she had written: "Love."

The message of the Victory Day was:

How can the immortal Gods and Nature change?
All changes in a world that is the same
As man from childhood grows, yet is the same.
Man most must change who is a soul of Time
And the gods alter too who rule his mind.
Out of their Chthonian darkness they arise
And are in their new birth the Suns of Light.
Man then shall change into a Soul of Light.
And be the likeness of his gods.

The next day I saw big clumps of snow-flakes drifting down through the frigid air. It was snowing incessantly. My only moment of real ease was watching the snow. It soothed my nerves. There was peace and a curious impression of timelessness. Everything looked marvellously white and pure. The snow brought an entrancing beauty which gave a sense of serenity. The whole panorama reminded me of the cards the Mother had sent me when I had been in the Ashram. They had illustrated landscapes covered with snow, snow-capped mountains, snow in fairy fronds on trees. One of them was still vivid to me. It pictured a snow-wrapped landscape clustered with a thousand sharp-tipped stalactites like a fantastic array of icy chandeliers. All this was reflected in the glassy surface of a vast lake. Now I remembered the Mother and missed her so much. She too loved snow.

Mr. Bahety and Mr. Mehra came once again before they left for Pondicherry. They told me that they had bought exquisite golden glassware from Harrods. I sent a card and a letter for the Mother through them. How much I envied them, because soon they would meet the Mother.

My principal, Miss Darvall, came back from India. She had lost her best friend during their attempted ascent of Mount Everest. I went to her and conveyed my condolences. She was touched. Then she inquired about my studies. I explained to her my difficulties, and my dislike of boring subjects. I told her also that I wanted to gain self-confidence and experience in the big city. That was the reason why I was in London. After that she suggested to me that I should go to the London Training Centre, where I could choose my own subjects to study.

I entered the huge building of the LTC and met its authorised people. They saw the recommendation paper given by my principal and arranged for my study from January to July 1960. I chose English literature, poetry, business management and typing.

Sudha and I had also chosen to join one of the educational institutions run by the London County Council. We went to the office of the institution and filled in the forms. Sudha was younger, so she only had to pay half fees. I paid half as well, since they refused to believe my age. Our college was in Barrett Street W.I. There we decided to learn how to make flowers from silk and other materials—also how to do bead-work on a tambour frame. In addition I intended to learn drawing and painting in St. Martin's School of Art. Sudha had no inclination to do so. I thought that now my life would be heading somewhere.

Londoners were in a festive mood, because Christmas was approaching in its grand pomp. Snow heaped up in unblemished charm all around Mercury House. The garden was a bright blanket. The white show weighed down on the bare branches of trees like a canopy of frosted sugar. Miss Jarret and Miss Snowdon decked themselves in long white aprons and were busy making the traditional Christmas pudding. While beating a big volume of it, they asked residents to stir once and express their wishes. When my turn came, Miss Jarret joked: "Well, Miss Hindocha, what is your wish—'for Luck'? Have you dreamed of a wealthy and handsome husband?" I was amused and said with a quizzical smile: "Yes, indeed, I have wished so. He is everything: Omnipotent, Omniscient and Omnipresent—my beloved Eternal Companion who will accompany me life after life." She remarked: "Ati, an extraordinary idea!"

Christmas reminds me of a talk by the Mother on Christ:

Christ came into the world to purify, not to fulfil. He himself foreknew the failure of his mission and the necessity of his return with the sword of God into a world that had rejected him.

Are not Sri Aurobindo's verses in Savitri Book One, Canto 1, telling us of Earth's antipathetic response, appropriate here?

Inflicting on the heights the abysm's law,
It sullies with its mire heaven's messengers:
Its thorns of fallen nature are the defence
It turns against the saviour hands of Grace;
It meets the sons of God with death and pain. ||2.12||

Days passed rapidly. It was the last day of the year 1959. I stood near my window in a melancholy mood watching the vast vista of the snow. My heart was filled with a longing to return to those days when the Mother and I meditated in her room. I aspired for Light to make my future bright and successful.