The Story of a Soul

02 November 1954

The following morning I got up early to be ready for the Mother's Balcony Darshan. This was an event of great importance and spiritual value.

At six o'clock every morning she would come out of her rooms onto the balcony, while people congregated in the street below. All eyes were focussed upwards on her. Her eyes serenely scrutinized the upturned faces below. Her Light and Force touched the inner being of every one.

I felt as if time were suspended for a few minutes—as if the fire of the souls' aspiration rose to her. Everyone seemed dazzled.

Then slowly, lingeringly, smilingly, she retreated, leaving her Bliss in response to the people's aspiration.

The Darshan was over. But the gathering dispersed gradually, because people were trying to assimilate what the Mother had given—trying to be more and more receptive, open, honest and sincere. Moreover the Mother's piercing look had worked to obliterate all befogging despair and dejection.

Thus the Ashram people commenced their day.

We took our lunch in the Ashram's well-disciplined Dining Room. After collecting our enamel plates, bowls and spoons, we proceeded to a counter where piping-hot food was served by Ashram volunteers. The food was simple: brown bread, vegetable curry, a serving of rice, curd, sugar, bananas, and some slices of lemon.

Small low individual tables and mats stood in three or four rooms. We took tumblers from a big stand, filled them with water from an earthen pot with a steel tap, and then sat down and ate in an atmosphere of silence—although hundreds of people were there taking their meal.

Afterwards we handed the used utensils to some Ashramites, who washed them first in cold soapy water and then in boiling water. Every job in the Dining Room was performed efficiently in record time. I was amazed at the order and organisation. I saw cleanliness and scrupulousness everywhere: even the flower-pots were kept spotless, no weeds or dead leaves were allowed to remain in them. One could breathe an air of freshness wherever one moved.

Afterwards we went into the Pondicherry bazaar, which at that time was smaller in scale but bigger in sale—because foreign goods were still available in most of the shops. I bought some perfume and a sari of white Swiss voile that resembled georgette.

In the evening it felt good to walk along the promenade by the sea. There was a phosphorescent lustre on the gentle waves, and an absolute hush except for the deep murmur of the solemn sea. I also observed different shifting colours in the sky, and clouds touched by the evening light.