The Story of a Soul

Undated?

From Bombay I went to Calcutta, where my husband was managing a branch of a cotton firm. His family were rolling in wealth. I was loaded with diamonds and pearls, which seemed to burn me alive.

I found Calcutta a gloomy and depressing city. My husband went to his work every morning and came back at night. The whole day I was all alone in a big apartment. After some time he arranged for me to learn the sitar from a Bengali gentleman. I had learned to play this instrument earlier, and now I wished to become more proficient; but I found that I could not learn anything new from this teacher, so I gave up, and once again ruminated on how to escape from this delusive world.

My husband gave me lots of money to spend. Occasionally I would go on a shopping spree, though without much interest. One day I was much amused to see some shopkeepers snoring away in their stalls. If customers, like me, asked them for something they simply advised them in their "classic" Hindi to go further on to find the items they required, then pulled their caps over their eyes again and went back to sleep!

Pradyot Bhattacharya had been in the Ashram during my stay there. When Dyuman introduced me to him, he remarked, "Ah, I know her." In fact we had never met before. But, as the Mother puts it, we are all members of the Divine's family.

Now he had returned to Calcutta, and he often invited me to his house where he ran a small Sri Aurobindo Centre. He and his wife Rani were very cordial to me.

At that time Pradyot was the chief Engineer of the Damodar Valley Corporation, which was building the Bokaro Power Station, a project planned entirely by him. He was a well-known person in Calcutta.

One day Pradyot took me to the Zoo. I was amused to watch elephants raise their trunks to salute us. I confided in him my wish to lead a spiritual life. He was considerate and full of understanding. He asked me to be patient and to leave the matter to the Mother. I appreciated his advice.

Since I had read a lot about Ramakrishna and Vivekananda, I wanted to go to Belur Math, built by Vivekananda on the bank of the Ganges. Ma Sharadamani Devi and Vivekananda had lived there. My husband took me to this wonderful place. My heart was quickened by the evening prayers: various instruments were played while the monks sang in front of the huge marble statue of Ramakrishna. The atmosphere was entrancing—the presence of Ramakrishna, Ma Sharadamani Devi and Vivekananda could be felt there. I was reluctant to return to my house, which was not mine. I was aloof, disinterested. I was pining to return to my true home—the Sri Aurobindo Ashram.

I also had a glimpse of Dakshineshwar, on the other side of the Ganges. Here Ramakrishna lived, meditated, did tapasya and realised the Supreme Goddess. Temples of Kali, Radha and Krishna form part of the complex. There is a big banyan tree known as Panchvati, referring to Sri Ramakrishna's five-fold sadhana which culminated in the realisation of the harmony of all religions. Beneath this tree Ramakrishna sat for hours together—it was his favourite seat for prayer and meditation. I found peace and silence in this place, and his words arose in my consciousness:

You see many stars in the sky at night, but not when the sun rises. Can you therefore say that there are no stars in the heavens during the day? O man, because you cannot find God in the days of your ignorance, say not that there is no God.