Memorable Contacts with The Mother

IV: DAWN

I arrived a few days before the February Darshan and was lodged in what was formerly called Boudé House near the Ashram Press. A little far but otherwise a nice quiet place on the seaside, ft was meant to be a halting station for the newcomers or even a jumping-board for prospective sadhaks. I had brought a silk dhoti for Sri Aurobindo and a well-known Bengal perfume for the Mother. The choice was made instinctively, or unthinkingly, if you like. My niece was much amused to see my present for the Mother and said with a laugh, "Do you imagine that the Mother uses such ordinary perfumes?" I looked very foolish. All the same, when an interview with her was arranged, I took my presents with me. The interview was not at all like the one on my first visit. She was quite serious as if I was not welcome or had done some wrong. This was my stupid human interpretation of the Mother’s look, an example of an error from which we suffered so much and which Sri Aurobindo took such trouble to correct. Later on, I understood what she had wanted to convey. Yes, the Light I had received was lost in the interval. I told her, however, that I would like to stay on if I were allowed. She replied that after the Darshan I could write to Sri Aurobindo about my resolve. I wrote, "My aspiration and decision still stand. May I hear from you about it?" His answer, kind but non-committal, was, "Before deciding for ever, we can fix a period of time and see - say till August." I accepted the verdict knowing very

Page 18

well that if I was refused afterwards, it would entail a lot of difficulty. From February to August was a long gap, there being no April Darshan at that time. Perhaps Sri Aurobindo wanted to see how I adjusted myself to the Ashram life or did he want to suggest that acceptance needed a little more than the mere asking? Who could say? We know that his answers bear many levels of meaning, but he would certainly not have thrown me out after six months unless I had proved an utter failure. This was of course a later thought. So with the fear hanging over me I started preparing myself with all seriousness so that at the end of the period of trial I might present a better face and say, "Here am I, Master!" and he would graciously smile and answer, "Well done, young man. I accept you, but ’shall beat you a lot’." What actually turned out was nothing so dramatic; I simply stayed on. No question was raised on either side and no answer given.

During these months I felt some Force acting upon me and I could keep up an intense aspiration. The Mother would often pour upon me her lovely smiles at Pranam. From her response I felt an inner certitude that my place was here. As an outward sign of it, I was brought closer and given a room near the Ashram and some work in the Building Department under Khirode. The room was excellent, full of light and air with an opening to the sea. I was lucky indeed, to get so nice a room in such a short time. But the work could not catch my heart, particularly as it involved keeping monthly accounts. Figures had never been my strong point. I was shifted soon to a no better work — supervision in the House Painting Department. Though the Mother put me in contact with two of

Page 19

the finest Karmayogis, Khirode and Rishabhchand, my psychic being refused to be kindled by their bright examples. The fact was that I had always had an aversion to physical work. Neither had I taken up work seriously as an important part of sadhana. I had queer old notions about Yoga. I thought work was adopted as a device to keep us engaged as well as make us do useful service. So the departmental heads could not have given a very edifying report about my performance. Then a vacancy occurred in the Timber Godown and I was asked to fill it. This was a responsible allotment, for I was made the head supervisor. Still, the fire failed to burn. Leaving the carpenters to their job, I would spend my time in reading books. I used to see Dilip and other "intellectuals" of the Ashram engaged in literary activities and my subconscious ambition was to follow them and to become a "literary gent". But suddenly there was a change in my attitude — a psychological jolt lighted the Agni in the heart and instead of a litterateur, I became a Karmayogi overnight. It happened in this way: One day in our daily report to the Mother, I wrote, "Can reading be done during the working hours?" or something to that effect. Sri Aurobindo wrote back, "I don’t know your work." I can’t say what was there in that curt reply. I felt very humiliated and ashamed of myself. I thought, "If Sri Aurobindo doesn’t know what is my work, then what kind of work am I doing?" Thus a simple sentence brought about my conversion. And, as I said, I blossomed into a Karmayogi, for which the Guru awarded me a grand certificate in these terms: "The timber godown made you make a great progress and you made the timber godown make a great

Page 20

progress too." I was happy beyond measure and patted myself for the big success which softened too the Guru’s heart and was the ostensible cause of the sweetness in his letters to me.

Once during supervision, a heavy beam fell upon my big toe causing acute pain and a black bruise. The Mother sent Dr. Manilal, who had come for the Darshan, to see me. Naturally I was deeply moved by this personal gesture coming from the Mother herself. I had to take a few days’ rest, but, strangely enough, I looked forward to rejoining the work as soon as possible. I learnt that any work done with the right attitude creates interest and brings joy. Apart from this, I cannot claim to have had any positive spiritual experience as a timber-supervisor, except one. It happened as far as I can remember after an interview with the Mother. She asked me how my aspiration was formulated. I could not understand what she meant. The language was too yogic or philosophic for my medical brain to understand. She therefore put it in a simpler form. Then I replied that what I wanted most was ānanda. She smiled and said that ānanda was very difficult to bring down. However, there was no harm in asking for it. That very afternoon when I had gone for my work and was looking at the blue sky overhead, a sudden downpour of ānanda came like a cascade upon me and made me feel like dancing, so overpowering it was! Not knowing how to contain it, I sat down to write some poetry and no sooner had I started than the whole experience stopped. How foolish of me to lose such a gracious boon from the Mother! Well-deserved was the scolding I received from the Guru when I narrated the story. In that interview the

Page 21

Mother had also explained the nature of the work that was being done here. She had said something like this: "You must have seen a pool where the water on the surface is clear, transparent and all the mud is quietly settled below. We are churning that mud: as a result all the water has become turbid. It is the process of purification. None has done this before." I could not understand much of it, but it remained stamped on my memory. Now I see the truth of it everywhere. God knows how long we shall have to wallow in this muddy business.

On another birthday interview with the Mother in 1936, I asked Sri Aurobindo, "Guru, any impression of the Mother on my birthday? I am afraid I wasn’t calm but the whole day I felt peaceful."

Sri Aurobindo: Mother’s verdict is "Not at all bad—I found him rather receptive." So, sir, cherish your receptivity and don’t humbug about with doubt and despondency and then you will be peaceful for ever!

I was suddenly whisked away from my "timber throne" to adorn a more respectable one: I became the Doctor of the Ashram and for about four years occupied the "gaddi"³. Then I got a third - or shall I say triple? - promotion and came to serve the Master. As for my medical sadhana, my Correspondence with Sri Aurobindo is a standing testimony to its nature and the result derived from it. But I suspect the new turn of events was really intended to be a stepping-stone from which to take a leap to the Supreme across the Dispensary road. Here also lies the meaning of my going in for medical studies against my inclination.

Page 22