The Story of a Soul

Undated?

I recall some features of my early years among my large family, to whom I had been extremely attached.

Our whole family lived together in one place at that time. Our houses were on mountainous ground, about 3000 ft. above sea level. Three miles away, on a lower level, were thousands of acres of sugar-cane plantations. My father and my four brothers owned sugar mills.

From my parents' house at night I could see the faraway lights of the mills—I had the impression of a vast dark sea with a huge ship on it in the distance. This imaginary vessel took my breath away. There was a moment of silence and serenity as I contemplated the panoramic view of the mills and the expanse of sugar-cane fields, with lights twinkling on them here and there.

This estate was known as Miwani—in the local African language it means "sugar". The climate was temperate, and the site was a little paradise on earth with rippling and gurgling brooks, tall swaying eucalyptus trees, a profusion of smiling flowers, chirping birds and charming animals.

I have two sisters, one older and one younger—both married. All our brothers were older than us, and married. Now the second, third and fourth have passed away. There are quite a number of nephews and nieces. Now they too have children.

My parents were most lovable, simple and straightforward. My mother was precise and meticulous in everything and had a very developed aesthetic sense. Up to the age of 93 she was always very active doing things for others. She went out of her way to help so many people, who now remember and appreciate her noble and generous nature. She passed away on August 1, 1987.

I left them all for the Ashram. Sometimes I would experience acute homesickness and loneliness. Then happy memories and recollections of painful years would sweep through my heart. Most people in the Ashram had families and friends with them, while I was quite alone.

My days passed like unsettled weather: one day I was in sunshine, the next shrouded in gloomy clouds, as I swung from one mood to another.

In the afternoons I usually went to the tennis court to watch the Mother play. I have seen an early photograph of her, taken in 1912 in France, as she was playing tennis. She has said about it:

I remember I learnt to play tennis when I was eight years old—it was a passion. But I never wanted to play with my little comrades, because I learnt nothing (usually I used to defeat them); I always went to the best players; at times they looked surprised, but in the end they used to play with me—I never won, but I learnt much.

I would sit very close to the court. Time and again I captured her swift beaming smile and her shining glance.

Sometimes, after she had left for the Playground, I would go and sit on the sandy beach. The ocean waves splashed upon it. I would dribble sand through my fingers and concentrate on the vastness of the sea, and forget myself for a time.

The water glittered in the sun, a whiff of salt water and fish was in my nostrils—the salty air was invigorating.